and found it full of pigeons.
"Who owns these?" I asked.

"An Algerian soldier left them there," he answered.

We then examined the cellar and entire basement, but found nothing
further. We took the old fellow over to the gendarme who immediately
took charge of him, and returned to the battery where we imparted the
news of our find. It was the consensus of opinion that the spy was the
farmer himself, and that the Algerian uniform was a blind. We were
chatting away, discussing the matter, when the shells commenced flying
as thick as peas in a pod; so swift and smashing was the fusillade that
for awhile I thought hell's gate had opened wide. In less than no time
one of our guns was knocked out and, getting a "Stand to!" we replied as
fast as our legs and arms and heads would work.

The excellent quality of the work that Fritz did here made the fellows
unanimous that his information came from the farmer. Presently the duel
cooled down and we resumed our chat.

About a hundred yards off from the farmhouse where we had found the
heliograph and Algerian uniform, was a windmill of the kind commonly
seen in the farmhouses of the country, with large wings, and it happened
that while firing, one of the boys, Boxer, noticed that the mill was
going around in an irregular fashion,--going first one way and then
another, and then stopping, and he called our attention to it and we all
noticed it, and almost simultaneously with our observation of the mill,
four shells came over, knocking another of our guns into uselessness and
wiping out the crew, and after we got "Stand down!" and had cleaned up,
Boxer suggested that we go over and see what was in the windmill.

Together we went, going first to the house, and found the children
crying with fright; some of them tried to tell us something, but we
couldn't make out what they were saying. We crossed over to the windmill
and a phenomenon indeed met our eyes,--the wheel was turning in the
opposite direction from that in which the wind was blowing. We started
up the steps and--Ping! Ping! and Boxer fell with an oath and a bullet
in his leg. I assisted him to the farmhouse and then scooted over and
communicated with the O.C. I also informed a French battery that had
been terrifically shelled.

In the meantime a stretcher had been sent for, and Boxer was brought
back to the dressing station, where he had his wound dressed, which
luckily turned out to be slight.

That night I was fille