“This one has for a fact, Amos,” remarked the young fellow called Jack, as he pointed at numerous jagged holes in the concrete foundation, where evidently a storm of bullets had struck. “You can see how it’s been bombarded on all sides; and that top corner on the left was torn off by a passing shell. Here inside is a pile of empty brass cartridge-cases that tells the story as plain as print.” “Made in Germany they were as sure as you live, and used in a rapid-fire gun at that, Jack. Yes, it’s all written out before us. Here in this concrete base of the windmill tower, some daring gun squad of the Kaiser’s men took up their stand with their outfit, and held the Allies off as long as their ammunition lasted. I wonder what happened then, Jack?” “I’ve got a hunch we’ll find out something after we get up where we can look around a bit. But come on, let’s climb this ladder to the upper part of the windmill. Have a care how you trust your whole weight on anything, because they’ve riddled the place for keeps.” While the two boys climb upwards with the intention of taking a look around and getting their bearings, we might as well become better acquainted with them, and learn what sort of mission it was that brought two American lads over to the battle-scarred fields of Southwestern Belgium at such a perilous time. Jack Maxfield and Amos Turner were first cousins, and the latter lived in one of the best-known suburbs of Chicago; while Jack, being an orphan, was in the habit of saying that “his home was wherever he happened to hang his hat.” Both boys were passionately fond of outdoor life, but fortune had allowed Jack to spend several years on a Western ranch, where he accumulated a fund of knowledge through actual experience; while Amos had to be content with what he could pick up through reading, theorizing, and association with a Boy Scout troop. Jack had been left with independent means, and chanced to be visiting at the home of Colonel Turner, his uncle, at the time a strange event took place which resulted in the dispatch of the two boys across the ocean, bent upon an errand of mercy. Just what that mission was the reader will learn by listening to the conversation between the two boys after they reached the top of the windmill tower. Day and night it bore heavily on the mind of Amos, so that he frequently found himself sighing, and seeking consolation in the reassuring words his cousin was so ready to pour out. After some little effort they managed to pull themselves up and land on the top of the windmill base. Roughly treated under the bombardment to which, as a fortress, it had been subjected, the material was crumbling in numerous places. The boys, however, had no trouble in finding room on the top. Overhead arose one of the gaunt arms with its tattered sail; another had been shattered by the same shell that had torn the corner away, and lay in a heap close by.