Army Boys in France Part 3

suggested Tom Bradford.

"That wouldn't do," objected Hal. "He'd be too frightened to get into it. He wouldn't let go his grip on the pipe."

"Somebody get a ladder," cried Reddy.

"We haven't one that would be long enough to reach him," said Bart.

Frank's keen eyes and alert mind had been judging the situation. Now he spoke.

"We can get him from that window, fellows," he said pointing to a window about six feet above the cat and a little to one side.

"I don't know," said Bart, dubiously, as he eyed the window. "Seems to me like a forlorn hope. A fellow would have to have the arms of a gorilla to reach the cat from there."

"Never mind about that," responded Frank. "Let's get up there quick and I'll show you what I have in mind."

The crowd raced pell-mell up the stairs and then through an old storeroom on the upper floor until they reached the window.

It had not been opened all winter, and had been so warped by sleet and snow that it yielded to the pressure of their arms groaningly and reluctantly. But at last, just when they were about ready to give up, they accomplished the feat and looked out.

Oliver saw them and hailed them evidently as his last hope, for he broke into a storm of wails.

"There," said Bart, regretfully. "I told you we'd be too far off to do him any good."

He leaned out as far as he could without danger of falling, and the cat was still three feet at least from the tips of his outstretched fingers.

"Nothing doing," he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed as he withdrew from his vain effort.

"There's just one chance," said Frank. "One of us fellows will have to hang out there head downward, his full length, while the rest grab him by the legs and hold on for dear life."

"That sounds easy if you say it quick," cut in Reddy. "But who's going to be the goat?"

"I am," said Frank, as he threw off his coat.

"Oh come now, Frank!" expostulated Tom. "That's taking too big a risk.

I hate to see the poor brute go down, but his life isn't worth yours."

"Besides," put in Bart, "even if you got hold of Oliver he'd probably be so frightened that he'd claw your head off."

"Cut out the talk, fellows," said Frank. "Bart, you and Tom hold on to one leg while Reddy and Hal grab the other."

Two others of the group, Will Baxter and d.i.c.k Ormsby, joined the quartette of helpers, although with considerable inward quaking, for they felt that if anything happened to their comrade they would be in part responsible for not having forcibly detained him from such a risky undertaking.

A moment more and Frank had lowered himself outside of the sill and hung at full length, while three strong pairs of arms clutched at each leg. He found himself on a level with the cat but too far to one side to reach him with his extended hand.

"Start swinging, fellows!" he called out, "until I'm able to reach him."

They swayed him gently to and fro, each time bringing him a few inches nearer to the cat, whose strength was rapidly giving way and who seemed to be slipping.

Frank made one grab and missed. His next attempt, however, was more fortunate. He gripped the cat by the neck and shoulders, gave a wrench and pulled him away from the pipe.

The frightened brute, seeing only open s.p.a.ce below him, writhed and twisted about frantically, but Frank held him tight despite his clawings, and in another moment the six above had pulled him up to and over the sill, where he dropped on the floor, panting and breathless.

Oliver, released, flew round and round the room, until his excitement subsided and he curled up in a corner, his sides heaving, and his eyes still big and wild from the fright of his late experience.

"And the cat came back!" chanted Reddy.

"The main thing is that Frank came back," said Bart. "I tell you what, old boy, that was a nervy thing to do."

"There isn't another fellow in the place who would have done it," said Hal. "My heart was in my mouth while he was swinging there head down.

Once I was so scared I almost let go."

"It's lucky for everybody but the undertaker that you didn't," said Frank with a grin, as he dusted his clothes and arranged his collar and tie. "I don't mind admitting myself that the ground looked awful far away while I was swinging there."

"You're in luck to come out of it with a good pair of eyes," said Bart.

"If Oliver's claws had once got to them there would have been something doing."

"Well now let's get back downstairs," said Frank, leading the way, while Reddy brought up the rear with the recovered and somewhat chastened Oliver perched upon his shoulder.

It would be safe to say that for some time to come sparrows' nests, especially if located near leader pipes, would have no further attractions. For once Oliver Twist would not ask for more!

CHAPTER IV

WAR

As the crowd of young fellows came trooping into the office, old Peterson, who alone had kept at his books, looked up with a reproof upon his lips.

"What do you fellows think this is, a business office or an athletic club?" he demanded.

But the querulous look and tone vanished when he had heard the story of Oliver's rescue, and as he turned to his books again the old veteran of many battlefields muttered to himself:

"The old American stuff is in the boys yet. If he's the kind that Uncle Sam is going to send to the trenches, Heaven help the Kaiser!"

Three weeks went by, weeks of stern resolve and feverish expectation.

It was becoming evident now to every mind that America could not, if she would, keep out of the war except at the expense of national honor.

Every day brought its toll of sinking s.h.i.+ps and murdered crews, of wanton brutality and flagrant disregard of plighted faith. The whole world was sickening of the German name.

The city of Camport felt the quickening thrill that was running through the continent from coast to coast. War was the universal topic. In the shop, in the street, in the church, in the courthouse, the one prevailing subject was war.

The mad dog of Europe was running wild, and it was up to America to join with all the rest of the civilized world in putting an end to his depredations.

The Thirty-seventh had come back to Camport from the Mexican border, the men hard as nails, sound as nuts, brown as berries, eager and ardent for the tremendous task before them, and as the regiment swung through the streets, headed by the band, keeping step to the strain of martial airs, the little city went wild with enthusiasm.

"There's no use, Frank," said Bart, as with the other young fellows of the place they thronged the windows to see the regiment go by. "I'm going to join."

"Same here," said Frank. "I can feel Uncle Sam's hand on my shoulder this minute."