With trembling hands he held up a small photograph taken with a kodak. The colonel looked closely. Then he nodded his head in a significant fashion that made the faithful heart of Amos Turner beat like a trip-hammer. It seemed as though by the greatest of good fortune he had come a step nearer success in his mission. CHAPTER VI. BEHIND THE TRENCHES. Jack, too, had seen from the manner of the British officer that the kodak picture looked familiar to him. “Would you say there was a resemblance between this face and that of the birdman who drove his aeroplane through the Rhine country?” he asked. The soldier nodded his head again. “It answers to the description given me,” he told them. “My informant was very particular to mention the heavy head of black hair, the strong look on the face, and the arched eyebrows. My word! but I really believe you are on the right track, young fellow. If this Frank Bradford, who threw the old city of Cologne into a panic, turns out to be your brother I heartily congratulate you.” Further talk followed. Amos hoped to be able to pick up more or less information concerning the present whereabouts of the one he fully believed must be his brother. In this endeavor, however, he was doomed to disappointment, for the officer could give him no further clue. Whether Frank Bradford still drove his wonderful machine in the service of the Allies, or had been brought low during some later air raid by the gunfire of the Germans he could not say. So Jack took it upon himself to change the subject. He was not as well posted with regard to the roads of this battle-scarred section of Belgium as he would like to be. The colonel, once he had been thawed out by the sight of that inspiring signature at the bottom of the letter Amos carried, proved very affable. It has always been the way with these icy Britishers--get behind the reserve they throw up as they would breastworks, gain their confidence, and there is nothing they will refuse in the way of accommodation. So Jack was permitted to look at a map of the country which the soldier had in his possession. He even made notes from it which might serve to assist them on their way to Ypres, that hotbed of fighting, a salient the Germans seemed bent on recapturing. So the two boys finally thanked the colonel, who heartily wished them all possible success in their undertaking. “At the same time,” he told them at parting, “deep down in my heart I am hoping you may fail to induce your brother to throw up his job as one of King George’s boldest fliers. We shall need all the outside help we can get from our cousins across the sea, before this bloody business is over with, for these Germans are born fighters, every man-jack of them.” When the two boys had proceeded some distance along the muddy road, on reaching a slight rise they stopped for a minute to look back.