“Traitor!” came a savage cry uttered in German. “Die then, with your kind!”
“Not yet,” panted Schnitzel as the supposed colleagues fought desperately for the possession of the camera case, to which Schnitzel clung like grim death. “Got it,” he bellowed. “Hold him tight! He’s Freidrich, not Fernando! He’s a German spy! He poisoned the boys! He tried to blow up the barracks! I swore to run him down! I’ve done it. Let him die like a dog! Shooting’s too good for him!”
CHAPTER XXIV
CONCLUSION
“We’re here because we’re here!” announced Bob, beaming fatuously on four young men gathered about a round table in a Tremont restaurant.
A week had elapsed since Franz Schnitzel had sprung the dramatic dénouement that had rid the world of one more fiend. Johann Freidrich, alias Juan Fernando, had been shot at sunrise of the morning before. Bob whimsically declaring that the event needed celebrating, he had straightway invited his Brothers and Schnitzel to a celebration in Tremont.
“We’re not going to be here long. I mean at Camp Sterling,” smiled Roger. “I expect any minute to get the order to pack.”
“We should worry,” rejoined Bob. “We’ve stirring times ahead of us. We’ve had a few right in camp, too.”
“Gee whiz, Schnitz, you must feel great!” glowed Jimmy. “Think of all you’ve done already for your country. I thought I was some when I nabbed Bixton. Beside you—well—I’m not so much. What a shame there aren’t any medals handed out in the Army. You ought to get enough to cover up your chest. You’re due for a rise in ranks, though. Bet you my hat on that. Now you’ve got to tell us how you did it all. You’ve never peeped. We’ve been laying for you. Got you down here on purpose to-night. Now spill.”