took him back to a night months before,
when he had stood in a remote mountain trail and watched a figure
clinging to a tree, and he remembered how he had stood speechless and
listened, as a man may watch a thunderstorm. No one in all the wide
world but those two had known of that meeting.

"Or ever will," thought Private Bent.

Suddenly he paused again, and he, Private Roscoe Bent, who would take
delight in canning the Kaiser, who would give his young life if need be,
to make the world free for democracy, trembled like a leaf.

The figure had moved--he was sure of it. For a couple of seconds he
could not speak, he was breathing so heavily.

"Hello!" he finally managed to call.

"Hello!" came a dull voice. "There ain't any need to be afraid," it added.
"_I_ couldn't hurt you. I can't see very good--is--it--you--Roscoe?"

Roscoe spoke not a word but went forward and cautiously felt of the
figure, laid his hand on the heavy thick shoulder and peered into the
face.

"Tom Slade," he muttered.

"I didn't know you in your soldier's coat," said Tom; "it makes you look
so tall and straight and--brave----"

Still the soldier did not speak, only kept his hand upon Tom's shoulder
and looked into his square ugly face. And again the ghostly hoot of the
owl made the little patch of woods seem more spooky and lonesome.

Then Private Roscoe Bent, Second Infantry, U. S. A., who intended to
help roll the Teuton lines back and smash militarism once and for all,
who would go over the top with all the fine frenzy of his impulsive
nature and send the blond beast reeling, slipped his arm farther over
Tom's shoulder until Tom Slade could feel the warmth from the thick
sleeve of Uncle Sam's big military coat upon his own bare neck and
threadbare flannel shirt. And the handsome head with its wavy blond hair
which Private Roscoe Bent knew how to hold with such a fine air, hung
down against that threadbare shirt in anything but martial fashion.

"Oh, Tom--Tom Slade----" he said, a feeling of great relief taking
possession of him. "I know what to do now--now I can _see straight_--as
you used to say.--You've come--to show me the right way, just as you did
before."

CHAPTER XXVI

ROSCOE BENT BREAKS HIS PROMISE

"There ain't so much more to tell," said Tom, in his old lifeless way.
"After that we got torpedoed. The officer said only sixteen could get on
a raft, and there was a man who was anxious to get on and he made
sevente