“S. I. W.”
There seemed no doubt on the subject, at least in the minds of the three Motor Boys. Bob knew full well that he had left the treat of sweet things in the hole in the wall of his trench. Now the hole was empty, and a knife with Noddy Nixon’s name on it was picked up at the very spot. It surely indicated that Noddy had been there, and it needed no very discerning mind, after one was acquainted with the character of Nixon, to say that he was the guilty one.
“What’ll we do?” gasped Bob.
“Let’s go and accuse him and get the stuff away!” suggested Ned. “Maybe he hasn’t eaten it all yet.”
“Not much chance but what he has,” commented Jerry. “It wouldn’t last long with him and his crowd. Still I’m in favor of letting him know we’re on to his game. Let’s go and have it out with him.”
But this was not to be. Just as the three chums were about to go from their part of the trench to 195 that where Noddy Nixon was stationed, the signal sounded for Ned, Bob, and Jerry to take their places on official duty.
“Too late!” exclaimed Bob. “We can’t reach him now, and he’ll eat it all up.”
“The pig!” muttered Ned.
And they had to let the matter rest there. They could not ask to be relieved from trench sentry work to go and get back, possibly, doughnuts and chocolate stolen by Noddy Nixon. It was too trivial a matter from a military standpoint, though to Ned, Bob, and Jerry, forced to be on duty during the long, wet, dreary night, it meant a great deal.
But it was another of the fortunes of war, and it had to be borne.
However, it was not as bad as it might have been, for during the night a relief party came along with hot chocolate, and this was grateful to the lads in the trenches.
“But I’ll have it out with Noddy to-day!” declared Bob as he and his chums went off duty in the morning. “I’ll turn him upside down; that’s what I’ll do!”
But again his plans went astray, for orders came from headquarters, shifting many of the regiments, and the three friends found themselves on the move, without a chance to see Noddy.
“But his company moves, too,” declared Ned, 196 who had made some inquiries. “He’s in the same division we are, and we’ll see him when we get settled again.”
But they did not see Noddy Nixon again for some time, though they heard of him, and under tragic circumstances.
The guess the boys had made about a great offensive was a correct one. The time had come for the turning point in the war, and the backward movement of the British and French was about to stop. The American forces were increasing, and now General Foch was able to put into practice the strategy he had so long waited for. He could attack, and with great hope of succeeding. The turning point had been reached.
There were rumors and all sorts of stories floating around the camp. Ned, Bob and Jerry had been moved to the north and farther toward the great Hindenburg line which was so soon to be pierced, impregnable though the Germans boasted it.
Professor Snodgrass, too, managed, by means of some influence he possessed, to be allowed to accompany that part of the army to which his young friends were attached. He had not ceased his efforts to locate the two girls, but he realized, as did Jerry and his chums, that it was an almost hopeless proceeding now. However, there was still the study of explosive noises on insects to 197 which the professor could devote himself, and he did.
The boys noted, however, that the strain of his uncertain financial situation was telling on the little man. Cheerful as always, and seemingly oblivious to practical affairs, yet there was at times a strained look about his eyes.
“Yes,” he said one day in answer to a question Jerry put, “I have enough for my immediate needs. If I do not get back what I lent to my old friend—and I may even lose more, as I endorsed a note for him to cover a loan from another—and if I cannot use what Professor Petersen left me, I shall have before long to give up my work here, however. And, of course, the trip to the Amazon and the investigations there must be given up.”
“I am sorry, Professor. Can’t we––” began Jerry.
“Tut, tut!” interrupted Professor Snodgrass, with a kindly smile. “We’ll no doubt find the girls—I hope so for their sake as well as my own—and perhaps my friend may be able to adjust his affairs, though I fear––Poor man, poor Albert! It will be a dreadful thing for him to lose all he has and be compelled to start the world over again at his age.” And Professor Snodgrass walked away, his personal trouble forgotten in sympathy with his friend, the very man who 198 was the cause of his own anxieties and probable losses.
Vast were the preparations that went on for the advance against the enemy. Never was there such a collection of cannon, large and small. Never was there such a store of powder and shell. The back lines were like a hundred arsenals turned into one. Food, too, there was in great quantities, for it has been well said that an army fights on its stomach, and there must be no lack of nourishment when the troops went forward, as they were destined to do.
All these war-like preparations the three chums noted with every manifestation of delight. They wanted to whip the Hun, and whip him well, and all this argued for success. The soldiers knew they would be well backed-up as they went forward, and forward they were going.
Orders were given that every man must look well to himself personally—to his uniform, his belongings, and his weapons. All gas masks were tested, and those in use for some time, or which showed the least defect, were thrown away and new ones issued. There must be no holding up of the advance once it had begun, because of poison gas. And it could not be doubted but what the Germans would use it lavishly.
Rifles and hand grenades, likewise, were looked to. Everything must be in readiness so there 199 would not be an instant of unnecessary delay. But it was the store of cannon and ammunition back of the firing lines that was most amazing.
The three chums, being sent on duty to the rear one day, had a chance to observe some of the measures being taken there to insure the defeat of the Kaiser’s troops. The ground was fairly covered with ammunition boxes and shells—well concealed from hostile airmen, of course, even had they been able to pass that far to the rear. And the guns, large and small, lined up ready for the forward movement, were wheel to wheel for miles and miles in extent. The greatest artillery firing in the history of the world was about to take place.
“If the professor wants to see the effect of a rattle-te-bang on his bugs he’ll soon get his chance,” said Jerry, and his chums could only agree with him.
“I only wish one thing,” remarked Bob, as they prepared to go back to the front, after having accomplished their mission.
“What?” asked Ned.
“I’d like to have it out with Noddy Nixon before the big show. I just want to get one whack at him for taking our wood and those doughnuts and cakes of chocolate. Just one whack!”
But this “whack” Bob was destined never to have. 200
They again went on duty in the trenches. The day of the great offensive was approaching.
Suddenly a shot rang out in the sector near the three Motor Boys. They started, and Ned exclaimed:
“Can that be the signal for the attack?”
“No, it doesn’t begin until to-morrow,” said Jerry. “That’s one of our own men. Guess his rifle went off by accident.”
There was a little excitement, but what had caused it the boys could not learn at the time, as they must stay at their posts. But a little later, when their lieutenant came through the trench, Ned, saluting, asked:
“Did one of our sharpshooters get a Hun, Sir?”
“No,” was the answer. “It wasn’t that. Private Nixon was shot.”
“Noddy Nixon shot!” gasped Bob. “How?”
“S. I. W.,” was the terse reply of the officer, as he passed on.