"I haven't," admitted Private Mock. "Do you know, I began to think that before you admitted it?" sneered the other. "Not the way you mean," flared up the ex-sergeant. "I can be mean in order to get square with a mean officer. But I can get along without putting him under the sod. I'm a good hater, but my mother didn't raise me to be a real crook." "You're a quitter, I guess," jeered the other. "Anyway, if you claim to be a man of sand you'll have to show me." "And I guess it's about time that you showed me something, too," challenged Mock, looking furtively at the stoop-shouldered man. "I'm ready enough to show you a whole lot of things, when I find out that you're man enough to stand up for yourself and pay back those who treat you like dirt," retorted the other. "There's one thing you can show me, first of all," challenged Mock. "Yes? What?" "Show me why you're so anxious to have harm happen to Captain Holmes and Captain Prescott." "Because I like you; because I'm a friend of yours," returned the stoop-shouldered one. "You're a pretty new friend," Mock went on. "I never saw you until that day when the captain caught me shirking and told off two men to prod me back into camp." "That was the time for you to know me," declared the other brazenly. "That was the time when you needed a friend to show you how to get square like a man instead of like a coward and a quitter." "Be careful with your names!" commanded Mock harshly. "Say, Mr. Man, who are you, and what are you?" "Private Mock, I believe I can answer that question for you!" broke in Captain Dick Prescott, stepping out from behind his leafy screen. CHAPTER VI THE ENEMY IN CAMP BERRY "Captain Prescott!" uttered Mock, starting back in dismay. "Donner und blitzen!" (thunder and lightning) ejaculated the stoop-shouldered one. "The fellow has just answered your question for you," Dick went on, pointing an accusing finger at the stranger. "You know what language he was betrayed into using just now." "German, sir," said Mock. "That's right," nodded Prescott. "Is he one of them Kaiser-hound spies, sir?" demanded Mock, stung to wrath and throwing grammar to the winds. "Why, I've dreamed of catching one and tearing him to pieces. With your permission, sir-----!" Not stopping to finish Mock threw himself upon the stoop-shouldered one, But that worthy had foreseen it, and adroitly stopped the ex-sergeant with a blow on the end of the nose that dazed him for an instant. "I'll take care of him, Mock!" cried Captain Dick, leaping forward. As he did so the stranger turned and fled. No longer stoop-shouldered, but bearing himself like an athlete, the unknown turned and darted away, Prescott racing after him. "Get back!" warned the fugitive, drawing an automatic revolver and flourishing it over his head. Though unarmed, save for his fists, Prescott continued to pursue with all speed. After both of them raced Private Mock.