me, sure.'

"The man was quite dead when I rolled him over. I took from his pockets
a leather bound code book, English, French and German bank notes, and a
gold stop watch.

"'No good stayin' here,' said Tommy, 'I vote we crawl back and talk it
over. This is a crummy old place.'

"When we got back to billets and examined our loot, it was a sure enough
German spy's code book, and it contained a rough sketch of all our
trenches and what not, quite sufficient to use in conjunction with the
squared map he carried. The book was printed in German.

"'You know,' said Tommy, 'we must report this to the Colonel as soon as
we can.'

"'An' be collared for being out at night without a pass first thing? Not
much,' said I.

"'We must hide this loot. They may search us when they find him out
there,' said Tommy, looking to the future.

"'Hide away, then,' I said, but my mind was elsewhere, for all of a
sudden, I had been hit in the eye with a brilliant inspiration.

"The following morning, when I took our ole man his early tea, I found
'im sitting up in bed sucking a fat cigar and bewilderin' himself with
the brigade orders.

"'I beg your pardon, sir!' I says, 'but may I have a word with you?'

"'You know, McNab,' he says, screwing his eye-glass into his eye with a
smile--'you know that I am at any hour of the day or night glad to have
a talk to a man of understanding like yourself.'

"'That's good of you, Colonel,' I says, 'to meet me with such kindness.
But I think, as you say, that I have just a little more than the usual
share of intellec' under my hat, but what I have come to lay before your
notice is this: I have discovered why the Boche guns always register on
our artillery positions the moment they are taken up, and the source of
the leakage of information.'

"'Oh, you have, have you?' says he.

"''Tis a spy, sir,' says I, 'and it's signalling to the Huns he was when
I caught him.'

"'Another blessed spy legend,' he yawned, 'I really thought that you,
McNab, would be the last man to become afflicted with the spy craze. I
have arrested half a dozen so-called spies this week already only to
find they were harmless rustics--'

"'I beg your pardon, Colonel,' I returns, with that chilling dignity
which has at times even made generals falter, 'but there is no legend
about Private McNab's spy.'

"'Then trot out your spy,' he says, 'and I'll come and look 'im over.'

"'I not only caught him red-handed at his nefa