age?"

"Coney Island on the subway," one of the boys on the fence called.

"Cantigny," some one nearer to him said. "You made a good haul."

"Well--I'll--be----" Roscoe began.

Tom Slade said nothing. Like a trusty pilot leaving his ship he strolled
over and vaulted up on the fence beside the boys who, having taken the
village, were now making themselves comfortable in it. His first
question showed his thoughtfulness.

"Is the brook water all right?"

"Sure. Thirsty?"

"No, I only wanted to make sure it was all right. There were some big
hogsheads of poison up in the woods where the brook starts and the other
feller killed three Germans who tried to empty them in the stream. By
mistake he shot a hole in one of the hogsheads and I thought maybe some
of the stuff got into the water. But I guess it didn't."

It was characteristic of Tom that he did not mention his own part in the
business.

"I drank about a quart of it around noontime," said a young sergeant,
"and I'm here yet."

"It's good and cool," observed another.

"What's the matter with Snipy, anyway?" a private asked, laughing.
"Somebody been spinning him around?"

"He just got mixed up, kind of, that's all," Tom said.

_That was all._

There was much excitement in and about the little cottage on the edge of
the village. Up the narrow path, from headquarters below, came other
Americans, officers as Tom could see, who disappeared inside the house.
Presently, the German prisoners, all except the big officer, came out,
sullen in captivity, poor losers as Germans always are, and marched away
toward the centre of the village, under escort.

"They thought they were taking us to the German lines," said Tom simply.

Roscoe, having recovered somewhat from his surprise and feeling deeply
chagrined, walked over and stood in front of Tom.

"Why didn't you show me that compass, Tom?" he asked.

"Because it was wrong, just like you were," Tom answered frankly, but
without any trace of resentment. "If I'd showed it to you you'd have
thought it proved you were right. It was marked, crazy like, by that
feller I told you about. I knew all the time we were coming to
Cantigny."

There was a moment of silence, then Roscoe, his voice full of feeling,
said simply,

"Tom Slade, you're a wonder."

"Hear that, Paul Revere?" one of the soldiers said jokingly. "Praise
from the Jersey Snipe means something."

"No, it don't either," Roscoe muttered in self-distrust.