"If ever guilt looked out of a man's eyes they looked out of his," agreed Bart.
"It seems so," admitted Frank with reluctance, "and yet he was in his bunk when I went through last night." "How do you know it was Rabig?" Tom retorted. "Are you such a cute detective that you can tell one man's snore from another?"
"Who else could it have been?" asked Frank. "If it was some one else, that some one else must have been in cahoots with Rabig and agreed to make him seem to be in his bunk. I'd hate to think that there was more than one traitor in the regiment.
"One's more than enough," agreed Bart.
"What do you think we ought to do about it?" asked Billy.
"I don't know," replied Frank, with a worried look on his face. "It would be a terrible thing to accuse a man wrongfully of such a thing as treason. Rabig would simply deny it and put it up to us to prove it. Then, too, every one knows that there's no love lost between us and Nick, and they might think we were too ready to believe evil of him without real proof."
"On the other hand," replied Tom, "if we let him go on, we may wake up some time to find that Rabig has done the regiment more harm than a German battery could do."
"We'll simply have to keep our eyes peeled," was Billy's solution of the problem, "and watch that fellow like hawks. But if he makes one more bad break I don't think we ought to keep silent any longer. Let's hope that next time, if there is any next time, we'll have the goods on him so that there can't be any denying it."
But pleasanter thoughts diverted their attention just then, for the camp postman came into view and the boys rose with a whoop and pounced upon their letters. And all their spare time that morning was spent in reading and rereading the precious missives from their friends so many thousand miles away.
Frank was poring over a letter from his mother for the tenth time when he heard his name spoken and looked up to see Colonel Pavet, who was passing along in the company of another officer.