“The two boys who bear this letter from me are under my especial charge. I hope that all officers in His Majesty’s service in Belgium, France, or elsewhere will do whatever they can to assist them to find the person for whom they are searching, and who is believed to be in the British ranks serving under the name of Frank Bradford. (Signed) “KITCHENER.” No wonder the officer stared, and then bent closer to scan that wonderful name again. It represented the whole hope of the British nation just then. K. of K., standing for Kitchener of Khartoum, the hero of the Soudan campaign, as well as the fighter who had stood shoulder to shoulder with General Roberts--“Bobs”--in winning the fight for the country of the Boers in South Africa--to actually have the head of the army asking as a personal favor that these two American lads be treated in a friendly way was something quite out of the common. “We win!” whispered Amos, who had been watching the red face of the consequential officer steadily as he read the contents of the paper Jack gave into his charge. Indeed, a wonderful change had seemingly taken place in the colonel. Why, he actually smiled upon them as he handed the paper to one of his subordinates to read, and then thrust out his plump hand to Jack. If these lads were in the good graces of Lord Kitchener it might be of advantage to any soldier to do them a favor. Somehow, Amos decided that when he chose to unbend his dignity the stout colonel was rather inclined to be a genial sort of man after all. “I am Colonel Atkins,” he said, affably. “Would you mind favoring me with your names? A hint over that signature is as good as an order to any British soldier. You must forgive my suspicions. We are in a strange country, and are compelled to look upon every one as an enemy until he proves his right to be called a friend. Those Germans are full of tricks, we have been told.” “My name is Jack Maxfield, and that of my cousin, Amos Turner. His father was a noted military authority in his day, and somehow became very friendly with Lord Kitchener, I believe out in India, or in Egypt, long ago. When we came across the water on this errand of ours, the first thing we did was to see K. of K., who readily gave us this letter, and wished us every success.” “As I understand it you are looking for some one; is that correct?” asked the territorial officer. “An older brother of my chum, Frank Turner,” replied Jack. “Some years ago he had an unfortunate rupture with his father, who is a martinet in his way, and since then Frank has been traveling in many corners of the world. It has now been discovered that the boy was unjustly accused, and his father is fairly wild to see him again so as to make amends for the sad mistake of the past.”