"I don't see any reason for it," said sober Tom, still looking about, unable to conquer his amazement. "That's just it," said Archer. "They do things therre ain't any reason forr just to practice theirr efficiency. Pretty soon you'll see all the allied soldierrs'll be losing their coats. Go-o-o-o-d _night_!" "Well, I can't find any footprints, that's sure," said Tom, rather chagrined. "I usually can." "Maybe it was some sort of an airship," Archer suggested. Whatever the explanation of this extraordinary thing, the coats were gone. There were no footprints, and there had been no wind. And the mysterious affair left the boys aghast. "One thing sure--we'd better get away from here quick," said Tom. "You said it! Ebeneezerr, but this place has got the Catskills and old Rip Van Winkle beat! Come on--quick!" Tom was not sure that one side of the water was any safer than the other in this emergency, and he was almost too nonplussed to do anything, but surely they were in danger, he felt, and would better be upon their way without the loss of a minute. What troubled him not a little also was that the precious spy-glass and the compass were with the missing coats. They could see now that the water was a long, narrow lake the ends of which were just discernible from the midway position along the shore where they stood, and the opposite shore was perhaps a mile distant. "Are you game to swim it?" Archer asked. They felt that this would be easier than the long tramp around and that they would have the advantage while swimming of an extended view and would avoid any danger which might lurk behind the trees. They had almost reached the opposite shore when Archer sputtered and called out to Tom: "Look, look!" Tom looked and saw, hanging from a branch on the shore they were nearing, the two missing field gray uniform coats. This was too much. Speechless with amazement they clambered ashore and walked half fearfully up to their fugitive garments. There was no doubt about it, there were the two coats dangling from a low hanging branch, perfectly dry and in the pockets the spy-glass and the trusty compass. The two boys stared blankly at each other. "Well--what--do--you--know--about--that?" said Archer. "They didn't steal anything, anyway," said Tom, half under his breath. Archer stared at the coats, then peered cautiously about among the trees. Then he faced Tom again, who returned his stare in mute astonishment. "You don't s'pose we could have swum across in ourr sleep, do you?" said Archer. Tom shook his head thoughtfully. Could it be that those Huns, those fiends of the air and the ocean depths, those demons who could shoot a gun for seventy miles and rear their yellow heads suddenly up out of the green waters close to the American shore--could it be that they were indeed genii--ghouls of evil, who played fast and loose with poor wanderers in the forest until the moment came for crushing them utterly?