d him with his usual engaging banter, for even glowering
"Fritzie" was not altogether proof against young Archer's wiles and his
extraordinary German.

Meanwhile, Tom, first looking in every direction, slipped under the
bushes and felt carefully of the wiring. It was not simple flat fencing
ranged in orderly strands, but somewhat like the entanglements before
the trenches. As best he could, in the dim light, he selected seven
places where, if the wiring were parted, he believed it would be
possible to get through. The seven points involved four wires. He had to
use his brain and calculate, as one does when seeking for the
"combination" of a knotted rope, and his old scout habit of studying
jungle bush before parting it when on scout hikes, served him in good
stead here. He was nothing if not methodical, and neither the danger nor
his high hopes interfered with his plodding thoroughness.

Having selected the places, he poured a little of the liquid on the
wiring at each spot and hid the bottle in the bushes. Then he rejoined
Archer, the first step taken in their risky program.

"How'll I know the places if I go there?" Archer inquired.

"You won't go there," said Tom. "I'll be the one to do that."

"I'm the entertainment committee, hey?"

There was no sleep that night either--nothing but silent thoughtfulness
and high expectation and dreadful suspense; for, notwithstanding
Archer's loquacity, Tom refused positively to talk in their box stall
for fear some one outside might hear.

In the morning they gave the crack in the cylinder another dose (but
oh, how prosy and unimportant seemed this business now), and at evening
they screwed down the cylinder head, and with a gibing audience about
them, wrestled with the mixing valve, slammed the timer this way and
that, until the dilapidated old engine began to go--and kept on going.

"There you are," said Archer blithely, as if the glory were all his.
"Who're the public benefactors now? Every time you get a drink at that
pump you'll think of Slady and me. Hey, Slady?"

The engine kept on going until they stopped it. And the Philistines put
aside their unholy mirth and did not stint their praise and gratitude.

"Two plaguy clever American chaps," said a ragged British wireless
operator.

"Slade and Archer, Consulting Engineers," said Archer.

It was a great triumph--one of the greatest of the world war, and the
only reason that mankind has not heard more about it is p