The Khaki Boys Fighting to Win; or, Smashing the German Lines

by Gordon Bates

  CHAPTER V

  BATTLING ONWARD

  Well might Sergeant Jimmy ask himself that question. For a moment hefeared lest the injury to his head had caused his brain to wander sothat he "saw things." But as he looked about on other sights--notedwounded men being brought in, saw fresh fighters rushing up to thefront, to be ready if called on--and when he again looked toward themarching squad of the signal corps Jimmy felt sure that his brain wasnormal.

  And there was no doubt, in his mind, of what he saw. He looked again atthe two doughboys who had attracted his attention. They were in strongsunlight, and Jimmy was sure he could not be mistaken.

  "They're the same two who were in the dugout talking to the two men incivilian clothes," murmured the wounded lad. "And those two civiliansmight be almost anyone. I only hope they weren't German spies! Thatwould be fierce--to have two of our men meeting German spies secretly.But hold on--wait a minute. There may be another angle or twist to thisgame."

  Jimmy raised himself on his elbow and looked after the disappearingsignal corps squad. The two men carrying the black electrical box werein the rear now.

  "They're the same two--no question of that," decided Jimmy. "But I maybe wrong in thinking they were having a secret meeting with spies.Those civilians may be spies, but I don't believe any of our soldierswould be in any underhand scheme with them. Maybe they were layingpipes to capture the spies, or even bag bigger game. I guess that wasit. Hang it! I wish I could get up and follow them. I'd like to have atalk with those fellows!"

  But when Jimmy tried to sit up he found how weak he really was. Theblow on the head had put him out of the fighting for the time being.

  "Anything I can do for you, old man?" asked a Salvation Army worker,coming along just then. He had been going about giving hot soup to suchof the injured as could take it, and now it was Jimmy's turn.

  "Yes, I would like a bit," answered Jimmy Blaise to this rough andready angel of mercy in the guise of an unshaven Salvation Army man."That's great!" murmured Jimmy, as the soup brought new life to him.

  He felt so much revived that a few minutes later, when an orderly camepast and stopped beside Jimmy, the Khaki Boy began a conversation.

  "Is the signal corps ordered to any special place?" he asked.

  "Oh, no, just out on general work," was the answer. "The Germans shotaway some of our telegraph lines, and they're going to repair 'em, Iguess. Wish I was with 'em, but I can't be," and he sighed.

  "Like that sort of work?" asked Jimmy.

  "You bet! I'm a telephone repair man back home, and I was in the signalcorps until I got a wound that put me out. I'm getting better, and I'llsoon be able to chuck this orderly berth, put on my spurs and take mypliers again."

  "Know anyone in that signal corps bunch?" asked Jimmy.

  "Sure! Every one. I've been working with 'em ever since this shindigstarted."

  "What's in that black box the two rear men carried?" asked Jimmy,though he pretty well knew what the answer would be, as he had seensuch boxes before.

  "Part of a wireless outfit," was the answer. "I was just taking up thatwork when I got my wound stripe."

  "Who were the two lads carrying the box?" persisted Jimmy.

  "You mean the wireless box? Oh, they were two lads named Bixton.One--Wilbur--is a private. His brother Aleck is a corporal."

  "Wilbur and Aleck Bixton," said Jimmy, and at once his brain began todo some active work.

  "Yes, they claim to be experts in wireless work," went on the orderly."But, for my part, I think they're a couple of----"

  "Orderly!" came a sharp command from a surgeon, "I need you over here."

  Some more wounded were being brought in.

  "See you later, old man," said the surgeon's assistant to Jimmy. "Hopeyou get out of this dump soon."

  "Same here," and Jimmy smiled. He did not feel the pain so much now,for he was thinking of something else.

  "Bixton!" he said to himself. "Aleck and Wilbur Bixton! Where have Iheard that name Bixton before? Was it----Ha! I have it! Back at CampSterling! Private Bixton! The rascal we helped send to prison, where hebelonged. No wonder that name stuck in my mind! He's in prison still,I'm sure, for he was given a long term for desertion and rascality."

  Readers of the first volume of the Khaki Boys series will, no doubt,readily recall the incidents referred to.

  "Bixton!" mused Jimmy. "It isn't a common name. And yet there may bemore than one who can lay claim to it. I wonder if these two Bixtonsin the signal corps can be any relation to the Bixton we knew. Let'ssee--what was his first name--um--no, I can't recall it. Don't knowthat I ever heard it. But the Bixton part sticks in my mind.

  "And I'm sure these two Bixtons--Aleck and Wilbur--were in the dugoutwith the suspicious-looking civilians. Now, of course, there may benothing wrong in that, and yet if they're any relation to PrivateBixton, late of Camp Sterling, I shouldn't put it past them to havebeen up to something crooked. The thing to do is to find out for sureif the two here are related to the one left behind. That's what I'll doas soon as I get on my feet! Say, maybe I'm on the track of as queer amystery as the poison one back in camp!"

  Jimmy was not quite as strong as he had thought, for, after trying topuzzle this out and piece together the various threads of thought inhis mind, he felt very much exhausted. A little later he was sent to atemporary hospital, where he remained for three days.

  During this time Jimmy had no chance to pursue his inquiries about theBixtons. But he did a lot of thinking. Meanwhile, the tide of battlelulled, but it was only temporary--everyone knew that.

  There came a day when Jimmy could rejoin his friends, and he foundIggy with them ready to welcome him, for the Polish lad had recoveredfrom his injuries sustained in the dugout.

  "Well, how do you feel, Jimmy?" asked Roger.

  "Fit as a fiddle!" was the answer. "That little crack on the head ishardly sore now. The doc told me to wear a cotton pad over it under mytin hat, though, to keep the pressure off. And now, fellows, I've got abit of news for you."

  "Haven't won another five thousand francs reward, have you?" asked Bob.

  "No. Wish I had. But this is about something else. Say, you fellowsremember Private Bixton, back at Camp Sterling, don't you?"

  "I should say I did!" cried Schnitzel, who had good reason to recallthe scoundrel. "What about him?"

  "Well, there are two fellows here," resumed Jimmy, "who are of the samename and----"

  "Fall in! Fall in!" came a sudden order.

  There was no time to tell more. Word had come from the front ofactivity along the German lines, and it was feared there was to be anattack.

  Nor were the fears groundless, for the Khaki Boys had no sooner reachedthe front-line trenches, being sent up to relieve men that had longbeen on duty, than word was passed along that a big battle was soon tobegin.

  "I'll tell you later what I started to say about Bixton," said Jimmy,who received instructions to take charge of a squad of men, none of his"Brothers" being in the squad. He hurried away, and a little later theywere battling onward against heavy odds.

  The Huns had sprung something in the nature of a surprise. It wasanother of their fierce attempts to break through the American line,and though they did not succeed, they placed parts of it in dangerand it required the sacrifice of many lives to hold back the horde offierce Boches.

  "Come on, boys! Come on!" cried Jimmy Blaise, as he led his squadacross an open field which, time and again, had been swept bymachine-gun bullets. "Come on!"

  And with cheers they followed him.