place and, aiming his gun or pistol at
some extremity--a hand or a foot--where a wound was likely to be
slight and not very painful, pulled the trigger. Then followed the
story that a stray German bullet, coming over the top of the trench as
the man exposed himself, had done the deed.

But the nature of the wound, the character of the bullet, and, above
all, the appearance of the man himself, told the real story. Sometimes
the victims would say their weapon went off by accident as they were
cleaning it, and this was perhaps worst of all, for it put the canker
of doubt into genuine cases of this sort, and there are bound to be
some such in every army.

So Noddy was carried away to the hospital, and "S. I. W." was
inscribed over his cot.

As to the causes leading up to the self-inflicted wounds they are many
and varied. Sometimes a soldier may become fear-crazed, and
irresponsible for his act. Other men are just plain "yellow," clear
through, and ought never to have gone into the fighting. They should
have confessed cowardice at first, though, of course, that would be
hard.

Sometimes, though rarely, these "S. I. W." cases "came back." That is,
they were given a chance to redeem themselves and went to the fighting
front with a song on their lips and undaunted courage in their eyes.
And then, if they died doing their duty they were absolved. But it was
a desperate chance.

Every one recognized that there was an element of doubt in these
cases, but as for Noddy Nixon, when his significant question to the
surgeon as to the relative pain of a hand or foot wound was recalled,
he was condemned already. He had shot himself slightly in the left
foot. He was dishonorably discharged when he was cured, and sent home,
and, therefore, did not trouble the Motor Boys again, nor did Bob get
his revenge for the stolen articles.

Ned, Bob, and Jerry did not feel much like talking after they learned
what had happened. They had no love for Noddy Nixon, and he had
treated them exceedingly badly in the past, as well as tormenting them
since they had been associated in the army. But they knew that nothing
they could have done or said would have been half as effective
punishment as that which he had brought on himself. Henceforth, among
decent men, he was an outcast; a pariah.

The long night passed. Sentries were changed, a watch was kept to
forestall any attack on the part of the Germans, but none came. Save
for the occasional clash