en fired. The thieves had
fled, swiftly, running directly away from all light. But another sentry
had also seen them, and had fired. Both sentries had agreed that there
were four men, and that they wore the uniforms of soldiers.

The thieves made good their escape. Soon after the alarm was given
forty men from A and D companies had been silently turned out to aid in
establishing a stronger guard, and the barracks building had been
watched through the rest of the night.

Yet no soldier had been caught trying to get back into barracks, nor had
any man been missing at roll-call unless well accounted for.

"Somewhere in this battalion, then," murmured Noll to a man in C
Company, "there are four soldiers who are thieves."

"Yes," replied the soldier bluntly, "and it looks as though your bunkie
at the recruit rendezvous might know something about it."

"Hal Overton doesn't know," flared Noll promptly, "or he'd have told!"

CHAPTER XVIII

THE ANONYMOUS LETTER

IT was a four days' wonder, and then it dropped.

The search at barracks had revealed nothing. There was not a soldier on
the post against whom any tangible suspicion pointed.

"There's just one way that a clue might be found," muttered Private Bill
Hooper, one morning in Sergeant Hupner's squad room. "In time it may
turn out that a sweetheart of some soldier gets some pretty jewelry
trinkets given to her."

He glared covertly, though meaningly, at Hal Overton.

But Hal was far enough away neither to see nor to hear Hooper's fling.

"You'll never get caught on that trick, Bill," jeered Private Hyman. "No
girl would look at you, even if you displayed the whole of the missing
jewelry."

"I've had my share of sweethearts in my day," growled big Private
Hooper.

"That was before your face changed for worse," grinned Hyman.

"Don't get gay with me," warned Hooper sulkily, "or your face may
suffer some changes!"

"Go over and thump the kid," proposed Hyman.

It was Hal who was meant by the term "kid."

"I don't like that youngster," muttered Hooper. "And I don't trust him,
either."

"That'll never worry Hal Overton," smiled Hyman. "Hooper, you look so
untidy that it's a wonder Sergeant Hupner doesn't 'call' you oftener for
it. And you clean up your rifle about once a fortnight. Look at Overton
over there."

Hal was at work with his kit of cleaning tools, going over his rifle as
methodically and industriously as though it were a piece of rare