Chapter II: Part 2

"This place has seen some very heavy fighting, and the ground is covered with all sorts of debris. For many square miles there is not a single tree to be seen which has not been hit and killed. The ground is torn up to such an extent that there is no grass to be seen, and the only way I can describe it is to say that it looks like the ocean on a very rough day. The shell holes run into each other, and are often ten or twelve feet deep and thirty feet across. This place, which was once a French village, has been taken from the Germans, and the ground is covered with unexploded shells, hand-grenades, German helmets, old rifles, and all sorts of things that would make wonderful souvenirs if we could only get them home. In every little village around here, there is not a house or tree standing. I am writing in a room in the wing of what was once a magnificent old castle. It was evidently saved from destruction by the Germans, who wished it for the accommodation of their higher officers. We are using it for that same purpose.

"One of the most interesting things here is to watch the airplanes, both ours and the Germans. They are very hard to hit, and they usually don't pay much attention to the firing, but we watch the little bursts of white smoke from the French shells, and the black smoke from the Germans. I have often seen twenty-five or thirty little puffs of smoke at the same time around one machine, but have never seen one hit. The other day a German came over in a cloud while other German planes attracted the attention of our guns.

"He went right up to one of our observation balloons and fired his machine gun into the balloon, setting it on fire. The two men, an American and a Frenchman, came down in a parachute. They said they didn't mind it. Perhaps they didn't, but both were about as pale as they could be. I watched the whole performance. To-day we sent up another observation balloon with exactly the same result, except that the balloon didn't burn, but both men jumped out, coming down in two parachutes.

"It was exciting and a very pretty sight to see the white silk parachutes open up and glisten in the sun. Both landed safely, and wanted to go up again immediately, but could not, owing to the damaged balloon.

"There is some firing going on most of the time, even when there is no pitched battle, and our guns shake the dugout a bit, but we are supposed to be safe here underground and, anyway, the Boche shells don't seem to come this way, though we often hear them. By the way, our machine guns drove the Boche planes off this afternoon, and the balloon was pulled down safely.

"Another day, if I remain unhurt, which I have every intention of doing, I will give you further details of the life and work. As I said in the beginning, the men are well and happy. Strange as it may seem, there is much less illness than there in the training camps at home. I can't make this out unless the men as a general rule reach here greatly benefited by the sea voyage. Certainly the work is much harder, the conditions no better, and I guess 'sunny France' is an invention of the poets. However that may be, our splendid fellows are fit and fine, trim, and hard. We are going to win!"

The Captain leaned over and clapped Porky on the shoulder. "Kid, you're a brick!" he said. "That's all, and thank you a thousand times. It ought to hold 'em for a while, don't you think?"

"I should say it was some letter," said Porky. "And you are perfectly welcome." He rose and looked at his wrist watch, frowning as he did so. "Most night again," he said. "Seventeen o'clock by their queer old way of counting. It's mighty funny where my brother is." He walked restlessly to the window and with unseeing eyes stared hard at the ragged uptorn world outside.

*CHAPTER IV*

*WHERE WAS PORKY?*

Where _was_ Beany?

Beany himself, trussed up neatly with many cords and wearing a scientific gag which made speech or yells impossible, yet which did not hurt him very much, would have been glad to have been able to answer that question.

Where was Beany? Beany didn't know where Beany was, and also he felt a natural and lively curiosity as to where Beany was _going_ to be in the near future.

He had entered the passage in the wall on the spur of the moment; he had acted without counting the possible cost or the probable consequences.

Usually the boys acted together; if possible, they always left some clue for the other to follow. Hence they had hitherto come out of some pretty dark and serious scrapes with whole skins and a desire for further adventures. But this time Porky, in the General's office, Porky, sound asleep with his head on the General's desk, could not know that his twin brother was faring forth alone on a desperate adventure. If he had known at the moment what was happening, if any warning could have pierced his sleep-drugged brain, well, this story would not have been written.

Beany popped into the secret passage and slid the panel shut behind him with a careless backward-reaching hand. His eyes and his thoughts were on the pitchy dark before him. He thought with a sense of relief that he had a tiny flashlight in his pocket, but whether it would flash when required to do so was quite another matter.

Beany was bitter on the subject of flashlights, knowing well how apt they are to respond to every touch when not required particularly to do so, and having learned by sad experience that it was when the festive burglar was _in the room_, the pet kitten _down the well_, or the diamond _in the crack_ that they would not flash at all. So he merely felt of the pocket where the flash reposed, and stood silent, back against the panel, waiting to accustom those marvelous eyes of his to the dense darkness.

Beany Potter had a gift given to few--eyesight that served him almost equally well by day or by night. There was scarcely a limit to his strange focus. And at night, like members of the cat family, he was able to make out not only forms, but in many cases features and colors as well.

When he had become used to the pitch blackness of the tunnel, he discovered that he was in an arched stone passage just wide enough for one person to walk without brushing the sides. It wound forward on an incline, and ten feet from where Beany stood turned a corner. Still forgetful of danger, he ran noiselessly forward and gained the turn, where he stood listening. There was not a sound to guide or warn him, so he went on, scarcely breathing. His footsteps made not the slightest sound, and he could feel that there was something soft and deadening under his feet, either fine sand or bran, or something of that nature, that had been spread for the purpose of stifling the sound of passing steps. Now he could clearly hear voices above, and decided that he was near or right under the room where the General had his office and held all his staff meetings.

Beany stopped at once and commenced tracing the sound. After a little he found the source. At one side of the passage a common funnel was set in the wall. Beany placed his ear to the funnel and was startled by the clearness with which he was able to distinguish sounds in the General's office. He could hear the scratching of the pen as the General wrote, the steady tramp, tramp of Colonel Bright as he paced the room. Even the steady breathing of his sleeping brother was plainly audible.

Beany seized the edge of the funnel and was about to tear it loose but decided that it was better to leave it apparently untouched. So he rammed his handkerchief tightly down the neck of the funnel, and chuckled to note that the sounds from the room were suddenly silenced. If any one should come behind him and try to listen, they would get one good big surprise, but no information, for the handkerchief was packed well out of sight.

This done, Beany turned and, smiling over his precious information, started back, when a sound, a far distant sound, rooted him to the spot. It was a woman crying in a low stifled tone. "Oh, oh, oh!" cried the voice with choking sobs.

Then another voice spoke, and a sneering, low laugh floated back to Beany. The sobbing voice cried out again in English.

"Oh, don't! Oh, please! Oh, I can't tell you because I don't know! Don't hurt him! Don't hurt him!"

Beany forgot that he was alone, unarmed, a boy. He forgot the dark passage; he forgot caution. Afterwards he wondered why he did not think to call up the funnel for the help he needed. He just turned and, trusting to his wonderful eyes to take him safely over the black unknown path, he ran swiftly in the direction of the voice.

Around a corner, down a short, straight passage, around another corner, then through a low, narrow door that swung half way open, Beany shot into a large room or cavern. He did not stop to see where he was, but continued his chase across the space. There was another door beyond. A light shone through this door and Beany headed for it. From within the choked sobbing continued. Half way he smashed into something--a piece of heavy furniture of some sort. He rebounded as if from a blow, and staggered. Before he could get his balance again, a form appeared against the light in the door ahead and another form seemed to take shape from the dark bulk of the piece of furniture he had stumbled against. He was seized in a pair of steel-muscled arms, a heavy cloth was thrown over him and rolled tightly around him.

In the instant he was made helpless, powerless.

He heard rapid orders. Through the thick cloth he could see a dim glimmer of light. He was laid down on a couch of some sort, and tied, hands and feet.

Then and only then was the heavy cloth removed, and Beany, blinking in the glare of half a dozen electric lanterns, stared at the group around him.

He was lying on a great bed that was occupying the middle of the room. It seemed a funny place for a bed, but later Beany noticed that the moisture was thick on the walls and was dripping down the corners. The middle was about the only dry place. The covers had been luxurious--soft and silken comfortables padded with feathers, and delicate blankets, but they were soiled and torn by careless spurs. At the foot of the bed, staring at him with amazement in her face, was the old scrubwoman. It was evident that she recognized him. She had seen him often enough, Beany reflected. He returned her look and nodded. A big man, the one in the duster, standing close at Beany's side, noted the nod and rasped out a remark, directing it at the old woman. She did not condescend to notice him. Two other men were there. From the inner room the sobbing continued. Beany scowled. He fixed his eyes on the old woman.

"Somebody is being hurt," he remarked.

No one spoke. Beany did not take his eyes from the woman's face.

"I know you can hear," he informed her, "and I bet my hat you speak English! I wish you would talk and tell me who is getting hurt. I can't do any harm just at present."

The woman continued to stare at him for a moment, then bared her toothless gums in a cackling laugh. She nodded quite gaily.

"No, you can't do much harm either now or later, my little sparrow-hawk."

She spoke in clear, perfect English, with only the slightest accent to betray her German blood.

"I liked you two boys, up above. You were always agreeable to the poor old deaf and dumb woman. No sneers, no jokes about her, always nice and pleasant. Two nice boys! Made just alike, and such fonny names--Peany and Borky; so fonny!" She laughed again.

The man in the duster commenced to swear in German. Beany knew it was swearing, and recognized it as German.

The old woman raised her hand.

"Calm yourself, Excellency!" she said, with the air of royalty. "There is no need for excitement. Why should I not say what I please to this foolish child who has made such a great mistake; ah, such a great mistake?"

"It iss his last!" snarled the man in the duster, breaking into English. "His last; his last!" he kept repeating.

"Calm yourself," said the old woman, frowning. "We know that; it is all so easy; why do you annoy yourself? I am only sorry that it is one of those nice boys. Such pleasant, _polite_ boys! The other will feel the lonesomeness very much; is it not so, my little sparrow-hawk?"

She smiled in the boy's face. Then she came to the side of the bed, and with a not ungentle hand arranged him in a more comfortable position. Then she touched the man in the duster, whom she called Excellency, and together they went into the farthest corner of the big room and whispered for a long time, while the two other men stood motionless beside the bed and watched Beany as closely as though they thought he might float off through the ceiling. Presently, as though they had come to a decision, Excellency returned, the old woman, whom he called Madame, at his side. They too stood and looked long at the boy.

"How did you get here?" asked Madame finally.

"Through the panel," said Beany, who knew there was no use keeping back anything they could so easily find out for themselves.

The old woman started to ask another question when the low sobbing in the other room was accented by a moan. With a glance at Beany's cords, the group beside him all went out of sight through the open doorway. In a few moments there was silence, with the sound of heavy breathing.

"Drugged!" guessed Beany.

Presently the two men returned. They took Beany from the bed, and sat him down in a chair, binding his legs tightly and, after searching him for a pistol, released his arms. A cord cunningly wrapped around his waist held him firmly in his seat. Beany was glad to have his hands free.

Hours passed. Beany felt cramped and was furiously hungry. His brain milled round and round in a ceaseless effort to find some way out of the situation. He did not feel proud of this last exploit. He had acted rashly and without the least glimmer of caution. He knew well that he was doomed. There was no possible finish but death, and if it could be a swift death without torture, it would only be on account of the ray of friendship that Madame felt for the two youngsters who had respected her infirmities and age.

Beany was against a blank wall. Knowing that he had no possible chance of escape, Madame climbed up on the bed, the three men disappeared in the inner room, and finally, to his amazement, Beany too dozed off, although he could not help thinking that it was not at all the thing to do under the circumstances.

When he woke, he was dazed and stiff. His legs, strapped tightly to the chair, felt asleep. Madame, fully dressed, as she had lain down hours before, sat blinking on the side of the bed.

"Well! Wie befinden sie sich?" she said, grinning at the prisoner.

Beany accepted the friendly tone, although he did not understand the words.

"Morning!" he offered in return.

Madame clapped her wrinkled hands sharply.

The man who had stared through the keyhole appeared.

"Coffee!" said Madame abruptly. It was a command.

The man saluted and withdrew, to return with a tray and a. steaming cup. Madame sat sipping the boiling draft, gazing at the boy meanwhile.

"It is really too bad," she said finally, in her careful, clear English. "Such a boyish, _silly_ thing to do! And you see how it is. You are such a nice boy; I do hate to let them kill you, yet you cannot go back; you must see that. However, you shall have an easy way. I shall assert my authority. You look surprised. Do you think it strange that so old a woman, so _frightful_ an old woman, should still have authority? Even so, I have plenty of it. I am powerful. If I chose, I could call the Emperor cousin. What do you say to that?"

She seemed to expect an answer. Beany did not know what to say, but after a pause in which she stared at him unwinkingly, he managed to retort, "Some dope!"

"Indeed, yes!" said Madame, to whom the slang was Greek. "Indeed, yes! Well, your coming has spoiled nothing but your own life. We have the information that we want, we have two prisoners who are most valuable. The others will go on to-day, while I, the cousin of an emperor, will for the time continue to wait on those pigs of officers upstairs. Deaf and dumb!"

She laughed silently, with queer little cackles. Then setting down the empty cup, she went into the inner room.

Beany sat thinking the big thoughts that come at hours so filled with doom. Yet somehow it did not seem possible to him that he was to be snuffed out so soon; he, Beany Potter! He looked at his wrist watch. The crystal was broken but the watch was still running. Beany started to wind it, then stopped. What would be the use?

"Well, it may as well go as long as I do," he reflected, and finished winding it. It sounded loud as thunder in the quiet room.

He commenced to think of his brother with all his might. His spirit called to him over and over. He thought again of the time and remembered that although he had looked at his watch, he had not noticed the time at all.

Once more he looked. To his amazement it was noon.

Beany commenced idly feeling through his pockets. If he could only find some way of communicating with Porky before it was too late! All at once his fingers closed on an object that he knew. His face lighted..... If there was any way--Oh, if there was _any_ way!

Then Beany's clean boy soul went down upon its knees, while Beany, lashed to the chair, closed his eyes and prayed. Earnestly, humbly he prayed for help; and then, feeling that he had done all he could in the way of asking, opened his eyes and set his whole mind on Porky. He kept his hand in his pocket closed on the object he had chanced on.

Presently the two men came back, untied the cords that bound Beany to the massive chair, tied his hands behind his back, untied his ankles and led him into the inner room. Beany flashed a curious glance around it.

The room was not dark, like the room he had just left. It was well lighted by grated windows overgrown outside with heavy underbrush. Beany guessed that they were away from the ruined castle itself and somewhere out on the grounds. There was more furniture, and another bed like the one in the room that he had just left.

On this tumbled couch lay a form closely covered with a blanket.

"Dead, whoever he is," said Beany to himself.

Facing him was a straight chair and in it, bound and gagged, was a young man in the uniform of the French army. He was trussed up until movement of any sort seemed impossible. Most of his face was covered with the cloths that formed the gag, but over the bandages a pair of sharp, intelligent eyes flashed a message to Beany. He had been buffeted and racked, threatened with all the horrors imaginable and subjected to some of them, but from out those eyes looked a spirit that blows could never break and death itself could never quell. Beany returned the look with a long gaze. He underwent a new agony. Not only was he unable, through his foolhardy action, to save his own life, but here was another as well that he could not save. For he knew that the youth before him must be doomed. His gaze roved to the bed. There was something strangely graceful and soft about the outlines of the form under the comfortable. He felt his hair prickle on his head. All at once he knew. It was a girl! It had been _her_ voice he had heard sobbing. As he looked, he hoped and prayed that she was indeed dead. He stifled a groan.

Madame gave an order. He was once more fastened securely in a chair and the old woman came beside him and offered him a paper and pencil.

"You may write a note to that twin brother of yours," she said. "We are through with this underground hole. It is damp, anyway. I do not need any further help. But you shall write and tell your brother where to look for you. I will see that he gets it in good season. Not to-day, nor yet to-morrow. Little boys in these war-times must be taught not to meddle. Write what you will."

Beany took the pencil obediently, and wrote:

"Open panel at right of office door by pressing upper left-hand carving. Send some one else to look for me. Love to Mother and Father. Good-by.

"BEANY."

Madame took the brief note and read it. "That is short, but it will do," she said. Then she turned to the others. "As soon as it is dark take your prisoners to the foot of the garden. There will be a French car there. The girl, as you know, is to be taken unharmed. Go to our own base. We will make her speak when we get her there. You know what to do with this other."

She picked up a broom and grinned down at Beany. "I am going up to see what they are doing above. Don't you wish you had had the sense not to meddle?"

As she passed him Beany strained forward against his bonds and caught her by the dress. He clasped her knees in his agony.

"Please, _please_, Madame!" he cried. "_Please_ don't let them kill me! I promise that I won't tell!" His voice went up in a cry that was almost a whine. The old woman broke away from him in disgust.

"Bah! You are all alike! live, live, live always! Why don't you learn to die, you Americans! That is what we have got to teach you!" She struck him smartly across the face, and moved to the door with a backward look of command.

"Be ready when I return," she said. "In the meantime _not a sound_!" She grinned at Porky. "I will see you once more, young man," she chuckled, and left the room.

As the door hid her from view, Beany drew a long breath. He seemed strangely excited and relieved. Once more he consulted his watch. It would be at least an hour before dark. There was a fighting chance. Death or life? Life or death? His fate was trembling in the balance.

Where was Porky?

*CHAPTER V*

*TO THE RESCUE*

Porky was getting worried. It was growing late, and there was no sign of Beany.

He asked a couple of the aides when they came in if they had seen anything of his brother, but no one had any news for him. Porky looked into the narrow hall at intervals, and twice he went out and wandered around the grounds that surrounded the castle. But nothing of Beany!

Finally he returned to the office, and took up his station at the window where he could see far down what had been the drive. The office was in a room in what had been the wing, and jutted out into the space now soiled and useless, which had once been a lovely, widespread garden of lawns and flowers, but which now looked worse than any ploughed field.

Something kept pulling at Porky's heart. He knew the feeling, had had it often; and it told him, as it always did, that his twin brother, whom he loved so well, was in trouble and needed him. Usually he felt something that impelled him to go in a certain direction in search of Beany; something, a _force_ directing him--he never could tell just what it was. But he always obeyed it, and so did Beany, to whom the same feelings came. But now Porky sat irresolutely at the window, baffled and worried. He felt anchored to the spot, yet knew in his heart that his brother's need was great. Every time he got to his feet and started out of the room, something pulled him back. Finally in despair, he settled down and stared with unseeing eyes into the growing darkness of the ruined gardens.

His heart beat heavily. His mind and soul called his brother, demanding an answer from the silence and the night. The officers and aides who had been in the room left it, and Porky was alone. Presently, as the waiting grew almost more than the boy could endure, a slight sound caused him to turn around. It was the old scrubwoman, broom in hand.

"Hullo!" said Porky, and turned back to the window. He was too badly worried to be polite.

"Hay-loo!" said the old cracked voice in broken English. Porky looked around again. She was standing at his side, smiling at him, a queer grinning leer not at all pleasant. Porky felt an insane desire to ask her if that was the best she could do. But he did not. He simply stared at her, at the wrinkled face and bright, twinkling, keen eyes. Porky felt that those eyes were almost too keen, almost too intelligent for that old peasant woman.

They looked steadily at each other, Porky wondering more and more at the expression on the old mask of a face. She was little, bent and feeble; she scarcely came to tall Porky's shoulder; yet to the sensitive, worried boy as he gazed at her there came a feeling of something wicked, powerful, and threatening. There seemed to the alert senses of the boy that there was a knowing twinkle in the old eyes when she looked questioningly around the room, and said, "Your brodder. Ware iss he?"

"I don't know," said Porky slowly. "You didn't see him outside, did you?"

"No, I dit not see heem outsite; me, I have seen nozzing outsite."

She smiled and wagged her old head, looked piercingly at Porky again, and turned away. Porky watched her squat old bent figure, then drew his breath sharply as something caught his eye! It was something caught on one of the ample folds of her ragged skirt, something that glittered! All the blood in Porky's body seemed to make a mad rush to his head, then ebbed back to his heart. He started toward the old woman, then stopped and thought, staring at the object on her skirt. He knew it well. The old woman stooped to pick up something and the object on her skirt swung free and glittered in the uncertain light. Porky drew a sharp breath as he recognized his brother's message. For a message he knew it to be. The little glittering object was a leather fob strap. At the end dangled a swimming medal that Beany had won long ago. He had always carried it as a pocket piece, and in some way it had accompanied him on the Great Adventure. It had never been out of Beany's pocket.

Yet there it was, hanging to a fold of the old woman's tattered dress swinging and glittering! Evidently she did not know that it was there.

Porky, suddenly alert, started to his feet and took an impulsive step toward the old woman. Then, before she had time to notice his action, he stopped. He could not remove the dangling medal without letting her know that something was up, and his only move was to watch her when she left the room. Somewhere, Beany was in trouble! Porky realized that the message of the medal was a desperate, last resort. A million to one shot, he told himself anxiously; but it had reached him, and while he lived there was hope for Beany. He studied the old scrubwoman with a new understanding. She no longer appeared harmless, stupid and ignorant. The keen twinkle in her old eyes; what had it meant? The seemingly simple and innocent question, "Your brodder. Ware iss he?" was just to sound him, the boy decided. He knew, all at once, that she knew all about Beany. To follow her was to find his brother, alive, or ... Porky could not say the rest even to his own soul. He _would_ follow her! He would _find_ the brother whom he loved better than his own life! His blood boiled when he thought of the condition he might find that dear one in, and he set his jaw in a way that promised desperate things.

Old Elise went pottering around the room, unconscious of the glittering eyes bent steadfastly on her, and ignorant of the glittering trifle fastened to her dress. Porky felt that he would gladly barter years of his life to know how it came to be there, but he clung to the happiest reason that he could think up: Beany himself had in some way fastened it on the old woman. Porky decided to obey the summons as he imagined them to have been sent. By hook or crook, he would follow the old woman, sly and crafty as he now believed her to be. By hook or crook, he would find his brother. Starting towards the old woman, he waited until she stooped over the General's table, wiping off the papers with a careful, shaking old hand. Porky, suspicious of everything now, fancied that she swiftly read the words on the uppermost pages, but he was busy with deft fingers unfastening the fob from the tattered skirt. He slipped it in his pocket, picked up a pencil and pad from the table, and once more sat down by the window. A few minutes later, while the old woman still pottered around, Porky rose and idly left the room, whistling as he did so. He unconsciously repeated Beany's performance in the dusky hall. He went to the turn, and dropping on one knee, bent a steady gaze on the door he had just closed. He was rewarded in a moment by a sight of the old woman. She came out of the General's office, softly closing the door behind her, and commenced feeling over the secret panel. It opened, and she entered, closing it as she went, but not before Porky was beside it, his eye on the spot he had seen her old fingers press. He waited for what seemed to him an eternity, then pressed the carved ornament of old oak. It gave, and the opening panel disclosed the passage in the wall down which Beany had so recklessly followed his quarry.

Porky was cautious, yet determined. Noiselessly he trailed the old spy until they reached the great chamber where the big bed was. Not once did she look behind. It did not occur to her that she could possibly be watched or followed. She had grown careless. She did not even mind the fact that she had left the heavy door swinging ajar behind her. Why, indeed, should she? Was not the door in the panel too cunningly contrived for any one to find, except perhaps that Boy Scout who now sat fettered in his chair waiting his end? His brother ... bah! She had left him above. She crossed the room, and stooped to reach a shawl she had thrown on the high bed. As she bent, something light and strong and cat-like leaped upon her seizing her wrinkled throat in a vise-like grip. She could not scream. In a second the curtain of the bed was wrapped over her, fold on fold. She struggled furiously, but to no avail. She was nearly smothered. Porky didn't much care. He worked in a frenzy of haste. He pulled down the thick cords that had been used to pull the bed curtains open and shut, and tied his human bundle securely. Then with a cautious thought he shoved her under the high bed, and made for the inner room.

It was silent. A single candle burned on the table. Beany sat in his chair. He was bound and gagged. As Porky sped across the room he saw the diabolical contrivance hanging above the boy's head.

A massive blade with a heavily weighted handle hung directly over the boy, point down. The cord which held the weapon passed through a pulley to another pulley, and from there to the table. There it was fastened to a short stick that was strapped to the alarm key of a common alarm clock. As Porky's quick glance took in the whole scene, the little alarm clock gave the cluck that precedes the striking of the alarm. Porky made a dash across the room, as the alarm commenced to sound and, seizing his brother's chair, swung him aside as the whirling alarm key tightened the cord. One after another, with deadly swiftness, the cords tightened until a quick pull on the smallest cord of all, a mere thread, snapped it.

The heavy blade seemed for a moment to balance in air, then it dropped down and buried its razor point six inches deep in the old floor.

Not until then did Porky slash the cords which bound his brother, and as Beany shook himself free, with many faces to ease his tired jaw where the gag had pressed it, Porky dropped limply into a chair and mopped his brow.

"The sword of Damocles!" was all he said.

"Don't know the gent," said Beany huskily. "Did some guy play this trick on him! If he felt as nervous as I did before you came, I feel good and sorry for him. Gosh, I have been sitting all trussed up there for about a year! Let's get out of this!"

"No special hurry," said Porky wearily. He could not recover at once from the shock, but Beany was chipper as a cricket.

"Well, I don't know," he said, "I have not grown so fond of this little old dungeon that I want to reside here long. Besides, perhaps you don't know the old lady who sweeps upstairs as well as I do. She is apt to be up to almost any trick."

"Not if the Court knows himself, and he thinks he does," said Porky positively. "I left her under the bed in the other room with about a mile of flossy curtain cord twined around her. She is safe enough. We will go up and report this little affair, and get a couple of men to come down and take her to the General. She is a hard character. A spy, in fact."

"I guess I know that!" said Beany, rising and rubbing his stiff legs and arms. "I have a lot more to report than you have. Let's be off!"

Together they hurried into the first chamber, and made for the door leading into the passage. Porky, in passing, looked under the bed. Then with a gasp he looked again and, dropping on one knee, seized a bundle of ragged clothing and a tangle of crimson curtain cords.

He looked at them, turning them over and over. Then he shook them. Then he looked under the great high bed again.

"What ails you?" demanded Beany impatiently.

"She's--she's gone!" said Porky feebly.

The old woman had vanished.

*CHAPTER VI*

*DEATH CLOSE BEHIND*

"Cut for the passage!" cried Porky as he realized that his quarry had escaped and knew that her release meant fresh dangers for them. Instinctively he held on to the bundle in his hands, and with Beany at his heels raced through the door and up the narrow passage that led to the secret door in the panel.

They found it closed tight. Furiously the boys shook and tugged at the heavy handle which was wont to turn and release the sliding panel. It did not budge. They shook and banged.

"It's no good," said Porky finally, as they paused, gasping and out of breath. "We are trapped!"

"Some one will hear us if we bang long enough," said Beany, kicking at the secret door.

"Not so you would know it," said his brother bitterly. "You can't hear a sound. That paneling is six inches thick along here. Made so on purpose, I suppose. We had better go down and try to get out by the passage that leads into the garden."

They turned and hurried back, retracing their steps through the passage and the two underground rooms. As Beany passed the great sword, he dragged it from its upright position in the floor and took it with him.

"I guess this belongs to me as much as to any one," he said grimly. "I'll take it home to Pop."

As he, spoke, the candles on the table shook in a sudden draft and went out.

"That's about the last straw!" said Porky, falling over a chair.

"Gimme your hand!" said Beany. "I know where the passage is and it is short, because I counted the number of steps they took before I heard the outside door open and smelled the outside air. I know it opens into the castle garden because I heard them talking about going out that way. Oh, I have a long story to tell you, Porky, but it will have to wait until we are well out of this. I don't feel any too happy yet."

He clasped his brother's hand in his with a sudden close pressure. Porky returned it, and laid an affectionate arm around his brother's shoulder as together they went cautiously toward the passage leading to the garden.

They found it easily; Beany had used his eyes to good advantage. Feeling carefully as they went, they reached the end where a massive, rough door barred their way.

Porky drew a box of safety matches from his pocket, and by their feeble light they examined the heavy barrier. There was no sign of a latch or keyhole, but the door was securely fastened on the other side.

They were trapped!

"Well, what do you know about that!" muttered Beany, scowling. He felt slowly along the crack of the closely set door and pressed the barred surface, but it did not give under his touch.

Porky flipped a match out of his fingers as it burned him, and the boys stood motionless in the darkness, wondering what to do next. Beany leaned on the hilt of the long sword; Porky traced figure eights on the wall beside him with the tip or the scorched finger that had held the match.

Beany leaned over and tapped his shoulder.

"What's the noise back there?" he whispered.

"Didn't hear anything," answered Porky after a breathless pause of listening.

"I certainly heard something," declared Beany. "Let's pussyfoot back and see if we can find out what it was. I _know_ I heard something. Perhaps our dear friend the old dame is somewhere around."

"There was nothing for her to hide in or behind," said Porky. "The bed was the only piece of furniture large enough and, besides, I feel sure she skipped out the other passage. What would she come back for? She must have known that we were here."

"There is mighty little she _doesn't_ know if any one should ask you," answered Beany. "Oh, just wait until I have a chance to tell you the whole yarn! Only it is not finished yet. There were a couple of prisoners in the room I was in, a young fellow in uniform and a girl. They must have carried them into the garden when they turned my chair around so I could look toward the way you came in. I heard them scuffling about."

"Well, let's go take a look," said Porky.

They silently retraced their steps back to the great chamber where the bed stood. Carefully, with their backs to the wall, they lighted a couple of candles they had taken from the table. The room was empty, but with the keen trained sensitiveness of young animals, they sensed danger.

"I bet it is the bed," said Porky as though answering a question. "Let's look it over."

Beany, holding the candles, stood by as Porky carefully removed the tumbled and tattered fragments which had once been satin and down coverlets fit for queens to dream under. He cautiously lifted the top feather bed in his arms and laid it on the floor. Beany gave a gasp and, reaching forward, almost flung himself on a black object which rolled down into a depression in the under bed. He fumbled with it, then stood erect, his face glistening with a cold sweat. He pointed to the object in silence.

Porky stooped over it. It was a time bomb, large enough and vicious enough to wreck the entire wing.

"That's funny," said Porky. "You turned the trick that time but it does seem they are taking a lot of bother just to get rid of us."

"Why, you're crazy!" said Beany. "What's over this room? The General's office, of course! That was the trick. They had us in here, and after she got away, the old woman came back and set that thing where she thought we would never think to look for it. I think she heard us in the passage that goes to the garden, and thought we would stay there fussing with that outside door. If this thing went off, of course it would wreck this room, and even if we were not killed by falling stones, we would be trapped in there like a couple of rats. Well, it will never harm any one now, but we have got to get out of here somehow or other."

Both boys were unnerved and shaken They stood looking at each other. They knew that it must be very late, but overhead they could hear the muffled tramp of booted feet in the General's office. They stood gazing at the oak paneled ceiling. A big square directly over the high bed was sagging, and it was there that they could hear the sounds from above. Porky commenced to study the situation.

The bed was a four poster, hundreds of years old. When the castle had been shelled, it had been brought down from some upper room of state.

The high, massive posts, beautifully carved, supported a great roof of heavily carved black oak.

"Look here," said Porky. "Can't we shin up on top and beat on the floor with the hilt of that sword?"

"What good would that do?" demanded Beany. "They wouldn't know where to find us. I don't believe we could make enough racket anyhow so they would pay any attention to it."

Porky thought a moment, then to Beany's disgust he commenced to caper around in a manner that Beany thought little befitted their serious position. He knew that when the explosion failed to occur, some one would be sent back by the master spy, and Beany could not doubt that that would mean a quick death for them both.

"What ails you?" he demanded.

"Just this," said Porky. "We will rap out a call for help in the code--the Morse code. Half the fellows in that office understand it. If there is any one there at all, they will catch on."

"Honest, Porky--" said Beany, then he stopped. He certainly was proud of Porky but decided not to tell him so.

Porky chuckled. He knew what his brother was thinking. "Some little nut, eh?" he asked, patting his own head.

"Tell better after you have tried it," growled Beany, shinning up the post nearest him. Porky started after him.

"Wait!" said Beany. "We will have to have a chair. You can't reach high enough."

It was difficult to get one of the massive carved chairs aloft. They had to tear the bedding into ropes and pull it up in that way; but once on the top, Porky shinned hastily up and mounted it. He was rather quicker at telegraphy than Beany.

He wrapped his handkerchief around the blade of the long sword, so he could grasp it, and beat heavily on the paneled ceiling. Then he shook his head.

"Listen to that!" he complained. "That loose panel will have to come down. You couldn't hear that little clack a foot away. Steady me."

He handed the sword to Beany and, springing up, clutched the loose sagging edge of woodwork in his lean, muscular hands. It sprung up and down under his weight, but did not give.

"Grab my feet and pull!" he ordered over his shoulder.

Beany obeyed.

There was a sharp tussle but the old, centuries old wood was not proof against the fresh young strength measured against it. It suddenly gave way and a couple of yards fell with a clatter and cloud of dust, hurling the boys flat on the top of the bed canopy, which swayed in an alarming manner.

They shoved the paneling over the edge, and stood up. Once more their candles were out, but Porky lit a match and soon the little flame made a light about them. Beany kicked something with his toe.

"What's that?" he said.

"Don't know," said Porky, rubbing his hands together. "There's a couple more of them.

"Don't bother with that junk! Bundles of rags, I suppose. We have got to get out of here. You don't know what those spies will be up to next."

But Beany, always curious, ripped a hole in the side of the rough, pouch in his hand.

"It's full of gold money," he said.

"My word!" said Porky, looking down from the chair. "Scoop 'em all into your pockets, for the love of Mike!"

"Pockets!" said Beany scornfully. "There's a couple of _quarts_ of stuff in these three bags!"

He slipped out of his blouse and, tying the sleeves together, made a sort of bag in which he carefully placed the sacks. Then he stepped carefully across their swaying platform and steadied the chair on which his brother stood with the sword hilt thrust between the huge rafters against the floor above.

The tramping in the room overhead sounded quite clear now that the paneling was gone. It annoyed Porky, who was trying the best he knew to make his pounding heard.

"Why don't the geezers sit down?" he complained. And as though in answer, there was a sudden silence above.

"It won't be so funny if they have all gone away," said Beany, listening intently.

"You bet it won't!" said Porky, beating still harder.

"They are all there," said Beany. "If they had gone out, we would have heard the steps all turning in the direction of the door, which is over there behind you."

"Well, here goes!" said Porky, pausing a moment to rest. "I am going to give the wireless call for help."

Then while both boys almost stopped breathing, Porky slowly and distinctly tapped out the thrilling summons that turns great ships out of their courses to race across leagues of angry sea to help the perishing.

"S.O.S! S.O.S!" Over and over, carefully, slowly Porky rapped, pausing now and then to listen.

"No go!" said Beany despondently.

"Wait," whispered Porky; "they are stirring up there."

Once more he rapped out his message, and gave a groan of relief as faintly but distinctly a spurred heel on the floor above beat the answer:

"We hear. Where are you? Who speaks?"

As rapidly as he dared Porky, who was an expert in the code, explained their position, gave the necessary directions for opening the secret door in the panel, received an "All right!" from above, and the boys, leaving the chair standing in its lofty position, slid down the bed post, Beany still clinging stubbornly to the sword.

As they stood for a moment beside the great bed, a gust of fresh air entered the room.

"The garden door!" Beany hissed in his brother's ear. "They are coming! Run for it!"

The boys turned and raced for the passage leading to the upper hall. As they ran Porky stumbled against a chair. It went over with a crash. They turned as they hurried through the door leading into the passage.

Behind them, just perceptible to their eyes now accustomed to the darkness, three forms came running in relentless pursuit. One form reached them just as they turned into the passage. Beany paused in his flight and blindly hurled the heavy sword full at his pursuer, then slammed the door and followed Porky, now several yards ahead of him. Death was close behind.

*CHAPTER VII*

*THE IRON BOX*

There was no need for silence now. The boys heard a stumble as though someone had crashed over some obstruction. The door behind them was flung open. Swift feet pursued them.

"Hope the door's open!" gasped Porky, as he ran fleetly on up the uneven, winding passage.

In the office above there had been an anxious period. Two members of a staff, even though they are only boys, cannot disappear as though the earth had swallowed them without a suspicion of foul play. When General Pershing received the report, he at once sent couriers and scouts to every station where the boys might have gone. On being questioned, the sentries one and all declared that the two boys had not been seen outside of the building. This resulted in a combing out of every cranny that could possibly hold a boy alive or dead.

The hours dragged on. There was a continual passing to and fro for hours until at last there seemed to be absolutely nothing more to do until morning. The tired staff threw themselves into the office chairs, while the General, at the typewriter, commenced a letter. Out of respect to him, there was a complete silence in the room.

On and on clicked the typewriter while the waiting men dozed or smoked or thought of home.

"What's that?" said one of them suddenly, listening intently.

The General stopped writing and looked at the speaker.

"What's what?" questioned a captain, frowning.

"That tapping," said the first speaker. "Sounds like _code_."

"You have been asleep," said the captain, grinning.

"I hear it," said the General.

There was a general gathering up of forces, as the whole room tried to place the faint, monotonous tapping.

"The call for help!" said the first speaker triumphantly. "I _knew_ I heard it. The code is my native language almost. It sounds as though some one was calling from below the floor."

"Send an answer, Lieutenant Reed!" ordered the General.

The young officer obeyed, while his hearers listened breathlessly. Tap-tap went the spurred heel, dash and dot, dash and dot in many combinations.

The reply followed swiftly. The Lieutenant, rather pale, turned to the General. "It's the boys!" he reported. "They are together, in a closed chamber,--a dungeon, I take it--right below us. They are in danger. Don't say what. Something about spies and dynamite. Want help instantly."

"How?" asked the General

"There's a secret door in the oak panel in the hall. They gave directions for opening it."

"Go at once, six of you--you six nearest the door!" The officers designated rose.

"Rush!" said Lieutenant Reed crisply. For the moment he was in command. He alone knew how to open the panel. They hurried outside, where Reed felt swiftly but carefully in the place described by Porky. Twice he went over the heavy carving, pushing here and there unavailingly. Then without a sound the secret door opened and before any one could enter the passage that yawned in inky blackness before them, there was a rush of running feet and the two boys, carrying Beany's coat between them, bolted into the hall. Porky made a motion for silence, and listened.

There was no sound.

"Somebody chased us!" he panted. "Somebody was close behind us in the dark!"

"Men?" asked an officer in an excited whisper.

Porky wanted to say "No, sir, _rabbits_!" but he knew that every one felt nervous and edgy and, besides, he did not want to be disrespectful to the officer who had spoken.

"They came in through the other door," he said. "A door at the other end of the passage that is on the other side of the two big rooms down below there."

"Let's go down," said one of the men, loosening his revolver.