ng a cigarette
while the surgeons bandaged his head until it looked like a great white
ball. Out of the huge bandage a white face grinned up as the little
group passed across on the planks and seeing the men to be wire
carriers, the wounded soldier called, "Tell 'em we're here."

"Ever hear of Paul Revere?" one of the Signal men called back cheerily.
And he rumpled Tom's hair to indicate whom he meant.

Thus it was that Thatchy acquired the new nickname by which he was to be
known far and wide in the country back of the lines and in the billet
villages where he was to sit, his trusty motorcycle close at hand,
waiting for messages and standing no end of jollying. Some of the more
resourceful wits in khaki even parodied the famous poem for his benefit,
but he didn't care. He would have matched _Uncle Sam_ against Paul
Revere's gallant steed any day, and they could jolly him and "kid" him
as their mood prompted, but woe be to the person who touched his
faithful machine save in his watchful presence. Even General Pershing
would not have been permitted to do that.

CHAPTER EIGHT

IN THE WOODS

Beyond the enemy second line trench the road led straight into Cantigny
and Tom could see the houses in the distance. Continuous firing was to
be heard there and he supposed that the Germans, routed from their
trenches, were making a stand in the village and in the high ground
beyond it.

"They'll be able to 'phone back, won't they?" he asked anxiously.

"They sure will," one of the men answered.

"It ain't that I don't want to ride back," Tom explained, "but a
feller's waiting on the other end of this wire, 'cause I heard somebody
tell him to, and I wouldn't want him to be disappointed."

"He won't be disappointed."

The road, as well as the open country east and west of it, was strewn
with German dead and wounded, among whom Tom saw one or two figures in
khaki. The Red Cross was busy here, many stretchers being borne up
toward the village where dressing stations were already being
established. Then suddenly Tom beheld a sight which sent a thrill
through him. Far along the road, in the first glare of the rising sun,
flew the Stars and Stripes above a little cottage within the confines of
the village.

"Headquarters," one of his companions said, laconically.

"Does it mean we've won?" Tom asked.

"Not exactly yet," the other answered, "but as long as the flag's up
they probably won't bother to take it down," an