"If either of us is lucky enough to make a find, remember, Tom, nothing must be done until we've had a chance to talk matters over."
"Oh, sure thing," affirmed Tom. "I wouldn't dream of trying to cut in and steal your thunder Jack. Jeanne is your find, and we're pals in this game, as we've always been since we were kids together in the U. S. A. When the hour strikes for General von Berthold to have uninvited guests drop down on him from the skies, we'll be in cahoots, as usual. And you may lead off."
Jack looked relieved. Apparently he had begun to suspect dimly that his ambitious chum might have thought to cut the ground out from under his, Jack's, feet, by planning a bold raid on the chateau, spurred on to such a rash deed by his ardent desire to impress Nellie Leroy.
Tom began to stretch himself.
"Feeling some tired after such a rushing day's business," he told them, in a vein of apology. "And I think, mates, I'll turn in after I've munched a cake or two and had a drink of lemonade. Join me in a glass, will you, Jack, Harry? I feel like treating to-night, I'm so perfectly satisfied with the way things are going."
The other two exchanged looks and chuckles, which, however, Tom pretended not to notice; for he had made up his mind not to be disturbed any longer because of his comrades' jokes concerning his warm friendship for Harry's sister. What boy among the tens of thousands of Americans in that sector but would be pleased to have such a delightful "sister" with whom to hold occasional interesting chats when opportunity arose?
They accepted the invitation, however, for really it was rather warm in the Red Triangle dugout, mostly underground, just as the fleeing Hun officers had left it when compelled to run. Somehow those enterprising Y. M. C. A. workers managed to keep constantly on hand a supply of certain articles deemed necessary to the comfort of the fighting men; and lemons stood near the first in this preferred list.
When coming in on a hot day from hard work in the trenches, or after creeping through tangled undergrowth where not a breath of breeze stirred, with their nerves strained every second of the time, nothing could revive the flagging energies more quickly than a lemonade mixed by the dextrous fingers of a clever girl in khaki, a sunny smile on her face, and a love for everything connected with America in her warm heart.
Those huts erected by the Red Triangle corps, what oceans of comfort they brought to the boys over there! Sometimes they were large and commodious, possessing almost every conceivable means for gratifying the normal appetite of a healthy-minded but tired and homesick soldier boy. Then again it might be, as in the present instance, that circumstances prevented any display, and the restoration bivouac had to be opened under rather discouraging conditions, while the supplies also ran low, for it was not easy to get them so far up along the line.
But the main thing was that there could be found the cheerful, never-failing services of those who gave every minute of their time to working for the boys wearing the khaki, and braving death itself under Old Glory.