"Pretty certain," admitted Jimmy. "I don't know that I'm certain enough of it to report to the captain, but in my own mind I feel pretty sure. I'm going to keep my eyes open, however. If those fellows are up to any underhand work we'll find out about it."
"I wouldn't put it past them to try something like that," said Roger. "Now that we know they're of the same family of Bixtons as the fellow at Camp Sterling we know what to expect."
"You said it!" declared Jimmy earnestly. "Well, I guess here comes our reply message. We'll have to hit the back trail."
A little later they were on their way over the rough roads toward the trenches where their company was quartered, waiting again for the word to go over the top and attack the Huns.
As Roger and Jimmy reached their comrades they saw Bob and Iggy strolling along a camouflaged road that led to some of the dugouts and trenches.
"Any news from Franz?" asked Jimmy, as he slowed down the motorcycle.
Bob shook his head, and Iggy answered:
"No, not efen a letter!"
"Huh! Fat chance he has of sending a letter if he's in a German prison camp!" said Jimmy, a bit gloomily. "I don't wish him any bad luck," he went on, "but I'd rather know he was in a camp than—well than somewhere else, as long as he can't be with us," he finished, and his chums understood what he meant.
After Roger and Jimmy had delivered their answer and had reported back to their company, which was stationed in a fairly comfortable dugout, they told Bob and Iggy of their experience with the two Bixtons.