The Khaki Boys over the Top Part 8

"I sure do!" was the answer. "Just as much as if I'd borrowed it from you!" declared Jimmy. "And I'm going to pay up, too!"

He returned from his little trip much sooner than his comrades had expected. There was a joyous light in his face as he greeted them, and cried:

"Good news, fellows! Good news!"

CHAPTER VII

UNDER FIERCE FIRE

There were so many sorts of good news possible for Jimmy to have brought back from the former headquarters at the rear that, for a moment, his three chums did not know what question to put next.

The war might be over, though until the Germans were worse whipped than they then were there would be poor satisfaction in that, reflected Roger.

It was Bob, however, who blurted out:

"Is Iggy all right?"

"You said it!" cried Jimmy, dancing around "like a venerable ostrich,"

as Bob said afterward. "He isn't all right, exactly, for he's pretty badly mussed up. But he's not going West, and if that isn't good news I don't know what is!"

"That's the best news you've given us since you said the soup kitchens were on their way the day after the big fight," declared Schnitz. "How much is he hurt?"

"Well, really not any at all, except for some bad bruises, and he says they'll be better in a day or so. No internal injuries that the doctors can find, and outside of the bruises and scratches--and he has them in plenty--he's as good as any of us."

"But how in the world did it happen?" asked Bob. "Didn't you see him with his head all caved in and his spine broken?"

"Well, I thought I did," admitted Jimmy. "But the fact is that the blood on his face, as I guess I told you before, came from a man who was killed by a sh.e.l.l, right in front of Iggy. And that numb feeling of his legs was because they were both 'asleep'. You know, when you lie too long on your arm, or keep your leg in a cramped position. He got all over that after he'd been in bed a few hours.

"You see the stuff that caved in on him, after the sh.e.l.l exploded, formed a sort of arch over his head, and took the weight off his face.

He'd have been dead except for that. But he's practically all right, and will be back with us soon. He's crazy to see you fellows. I thought he'd kiss me, the way some of the Frenchies do when they get excited."

"Well, we'll go to see him as soon as we get leave," decided Bob.

"Don't think I'm asking this because of the money involved," said Schnitz, a little later, "though we all agree that it's fine and generous of you to have offered to whack up. But did you hear anything of Sergeant Maxwell?"

"Not a word," declared Jimmy, "nor the missing five thousand francs, either. Both have mysteriously disappeared."

"What's the official report on the serg.?" asked Roger.

"Just missing--that's all," said Jimmy, simply. "I made inquiries about him as soon as I had located Iggy in a hospital. Sergeant Maxwell is down as missing. Of course, there's no report about my money. In fact, we five, and the serg. himself, are the only ones who know about it."

"Missing," mused Bob. "Does it say without official leave, or anything like that?"

"No, it doesn't," went on the owner of the five thousand francs. "He isn't cla.s.sed as a deserter--yet."

"Do you think he will be?" Franz wanted to know, impressed by something in Jimmy's voice.

The latter did not reply for a moment. And then he felt that he must not only be generous but just. So he said:

"No, I don't! Sergeant Maxwell has proved himself too many times to be as straight as a die, to go wrong now. I don't really believe he went away purposely with my money. He may be wounded, and have wandered into the German lines. If he did, with that cash on him--good-night little old five thousand francs!" and Jimmy pretended to kiss them adieu. "And, fellows, we mustn't forget that he may be lying dead in some rain-filled sh.e.l.l hole," he went on softly. "We'll just suspend judgment, that's all. Forget the bad news about Maxwell and remember the good news about Iggy. And we'll all go to see Ig as soon as we can."

"You said it!" declared Bob. "I won't forget how it seemed like a bit of home and heaven to me, Jimmy, when you came to the hospital where I was. We sure will go cheer up Iggy!"

"He wants to write to his mother the worst way," went on Jimmy. "And he insists on writing in English. You know how his letters read, but he simply won't stick to Polish which he can handle all right. It's got to be English or nothing."

"Did he write?" asked Roger.

"Not while I was there. His wrist is still too sore. But he made me promise to bring paper, a pen, and everything, when I came again, and, if he can't write, one of us is to do it for him--but in English, mind!"

"Well do it!" declared Bob.

It was three days later when they all received permission to go to the rear and call on Iggy who was still in the hospital, though likely to be discharged as cured inside of a week. There was still a lull in the fighting about the sector where our five Brothers, or, rather, four, were stationed. But there was an indefinite something in the air that told of fierce battles to come. The Huns had too much at stake to wait long.

"Ach! So glad it is I am to see you!" voiced Iggy, when the four were admitted to him. "Dit you paper and pen pring!" he asked Jimmy, eagerly. "I myself can write to mother now. See, shmine wrist she is all so K.O. now."

"K.O.?" cried Roger. "What's the commanding officer got to do with your wrist, Iggy?" For, of course, you know that the commanding officer in an army is designated as "K.O."

"He means O.K." declared Jimmy. "Got his letters twisted; that's all.

He means his wrist is all right."

"His wrist is all right and his letter will be all write," punned Roger.

"That will be about all from you!" commented Bob, sternly.

"Yes, Iggy, I've got all the makings for a first-cla.s.s screed," went on Jimmy with a smile. "Do you want to write yourself, or shall I?"

"Myself will I do it," said Iggy, simply. And when, after considerable labor, mental and physical, he handed the scribbled paper to Jimmy, he said: "Read her and see much how better as I do him in English now.

Read him," and he indicated the letter he had written to his mother.

And, to please him, and because there was nothing very personal in the epistle, Jimmy read it. His chums, at Iggy's request, read it also.

And this is what Iggy's four Brothers saw:

"Deer Mother. In bed am i and a pritty lady she bring to me all i can eats good, i was not shooted like is some of thee soljiers, but on me fell rocks and stoanes so i was moastly mushed but Roger and jimmee thay gat me oaut. i tell you of loav for yon i have mauch. soon i go fightting agen wich is batter than in hoa.r.s.e-pottle bein. i got b.u.mps an kuts but noat mooch alse. jimee he is to give me soam moaney what he gat for killing a bad germans and wen i gats my share to you i it sand will yet. good-bye deer Mother from your loafing soan Iggy."

"That's a dandy letter!" declared Jimmy when he had finished reading it. "I'll get it right off for you, Iggy."

"Better writing I am doing yes, is it not?" anxiously inquired the Polish lad.

"You bet!" declared Bob, and his eyes, as well as those of his chums, were moist, for there was a pathetic note in the missive, in spite of its queerness.

"He knew enough to use a capital now and then, which is more than he did at Camp Sterling," declared Bob, when they had left the hospital, to go back to their stations.

"You didn't tell him that his share of the five thousand francs, as well as yours and ours, was missing; did you?" inquired Franz.

"What was the use?" asked Jimmy. "Poor Iggy has troubles enough as it is. But he'll get his share all right to send home."