“Well, we’re supposed to be neutral, though favoring the Allies, because their aims correspond with what Americans believe in--as little military government as possible. I’m only wondering whether I had better tear the chart up, or keep it so as to gain favor with the commander of the forces over yonder.” “Keep it, Jack; it may open their hearts to us; you never can tell,” was the way Amos looked at the matter. So, acting on this advice, the other boy concluded not to destroy the work of the chart-maker of the skies. “There’s one of those other monoplanes starting up again,” said Amos, pointing. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the pilot has been given orders to drop down and take a look around where the Taube fell,” Jack continued. “Little we care,” chuckled Amos, “so long as he lets us alone. I wouldn’t like to have a shower of bombs dropped down on me from overhead. Then didn’t we hear that the Allies were using some sort of steel arrow with a sharp point that would go through a German helmet, and do terrible work? Excuse me from making the acquaintance of any such contraption at close quarters.” They pushed along, now and then casting a curious glance upward to note what the man in the aeroplane might be doing. He had not landed, but made several swoops downward, evidently trying to see what had happened to the Taube pilot when his machine had smashed to the ground. Presently Amos sang out that he could hear horses neighing, and there were also other signs of their being close upon a body of troops resting while on the way to the front. Evidently there was some sort of fairly decent road near by, which the artillery and foot soldiers were utilizing in order to get closer to the trenches where the British, flanked by the little Belgian army, held their own against the furious drives of the desperate Germans. As they came out from the undergrowth they discovered before them for a distance of half a mile or more numerous clumps of men in khaki. They had started fires and were evidently trying to heat up something so as to take away their hunger, as well as warm themselves up, for the day was a raw and chilly one. Jack quickly picked out the officers’ mess. There was no display of swords, no gaudy trimmings as in the old days when men fought hand to hand. Bitter experience had shown the British leaders that in these days of Maxims and sharpshooters the object of the enemy was always to mark down those in command, so as to leave the brigades without officers, and render them less dangerous in a charge. “That’s where we want to head,” he told Amos, as he changed his course slightly. “Unless I’m away off my base these must be what they call territorials over in England. They are trained all right, but have yet to smell their first burnt powder. If you find your brother at all, it’s going to be among this class of recruits.”