encounter with the spies, they would have had a still more thrilling expe rience, for at midnight Uncle Sam, Jim, and the Captain had quietly stolen away from camp and hidden themselves in the straw.  There they stayed until in the gray of the early dawn they saw a boat come up the river, and the slouching figure of the spy stalk across the meadow to his rendez-vous under the shed.  They stayed there until the soldier appeared, and until they had heard with their own ears the plan for signaling the German airplane that night, and for giving information which would en able the aviator to blow up their stores of powder and ammunition.  Then, suddenly and swiftly, at a prearranged signal, the three men sprang from the straw, and the astonished spies found themselves surrounded and covered by the muzzles of three guns.  They saw at once that resistance was useless, and sullenly obeyed the Captain’s order to throw up their hands.  They were then marched back to camp, turned over to the proper authorities, and the next morning at sunrise they met the fate of all spies who are caught.

That was not the end of the affair, however, for, knowing that the airplane which the spy had referred to as the “Buzzard” was to be expected that night, and that the German aviator would look for signals from the straw-stack, plans were made for his reception, and this part of the drama was witnessed from the village as well as from the camp.  The night was clear, and at about eleven o’clock the whirr of a motor was heard in the distance.  The Doctor, who had returned late from a visit to a sick patient in an adjoining village, heard it, and at once gave the alarm.  Out of their beds tumbled the sleepy people of Fontanelle, and, wrapping themselves in blankets or any garment they could snatch, they ran out of doors and gazed anxiously into the sky.

Pierre and Pierrette, with their parents and grandparents, were among the first to appear.  They saw the black speck sail swiftly from the east, and hover like a bird of ill omen over the meadows.  No alarm sounded from the camp, but suddenly from the shadows three French planes shot into the air.  Two at once engaged the enemy, while a third cut off his retreat.  The battle was soon over.  There were sharp reports of guns and blinding flashes of fire as the great machines whirled and maneuvered in the air, and then the German, finding himself outnumbered and with no way of escape, came to earth and was taken prisoner.

“Three of ’em bagged, by George,” exclaimed Jim to Uncle Sam, when the aviator was safely locked up in the guardhouse, “and all due to the pluck and sense of those two kids.  If it hadn’t been for them, the chances are we’d all have been ready for cold storage by this time.  They’ve saved the camp—­that’s what they’ve done!  There are explosives enough stored here to have blown every one of us to Kingdom-come!”

“Right you are, Jim,” replied Uncle Sam with hearty emphasis, “we surely do owe them something, and that’s a cinch.  Let’s talk with the boys.”