gritty with dust; his hands and face were smudged and stained. But his eyes shone brightly with the unquenchable spirit of his proud race.

Passing through the arch to the court

years to return to America, where Bob had been brought up in the true democratic

way.

During that fateful summer when Germany descended upon her little neighbor and with fire and sword attempted to obliterate her, Bob, who had lost his father the year before, was visiting his grandfather in Brussels, and the close attachment that had sprung up between him and his cousin Egmont seemed to be only strengthened by the stirring events that shocked the whole civilized world.

yard, he reached the grand staircase, and ascended to a private room above, where his coming was welcomed by another boy of about his own age. Bob Lane was an American first and a Belgian afterward. His mother, Count d'Anethan's daughter, had married Herbert Lane, a former attaché of the American Legation in Brussels; a post which he relinquished in a few

when the starvation of Belgium hung in the balance, from which America's relief ships finally saved her, Bob stood loyally by the stricken people with whom he claimed kinship.

When America entered the war, Count d'Anethan had come to him and advised him to leave the country with the rest of the Americans; but the weary eyes of his grandfather were filled with tears when he spoke. "Your mother needs you, Bob," he said. "You can do nothing more here now. We must bear our grief as best we can." Looking the old man in the face, with

eyes that reflected the spirit of a long line of d'Anethans, Bob had then replied: "No, Grandfather, I'm not going to leave you. I'll stay here until the American soldiers sweep the Huns out of Belgium."

Count d'Anethan shook his head as he smiled wistfully and affectionately at this grandson who had come to him from across the ocean to cheer his declining years. "It will be a long time," he faltered. "America is not prepared."

"That 's so," admitted Bob, ruefully. Then smiling, with a gleam of pride in his eyes: "But you don't know America! She 'll prepare, and come across with enough soldiers to whip the Boches. She 'll never I quit until it's done!"

"How will she get here without ships?" mildly asked the aged count, smiling at the cock-sureness of this young American grandson.

"Build them!" was the prompt retort.

In spite of his skepticism, Count d'Anethan experienced a little glow of hope and enthusiasm, for Bob had a way of making others share his own optimistic prophecies.

"She's done wonderful things in feeding our people," murmured the count. "Wonderful! Without America we should have starved. Belgium will never forget."

"Then she 'll help you lick the enemy. She 'll drive them across the Rhine. Wait and see! I want to be here when the

American soldiers come. I'll shout myself hoarse when I see the Stars and Stripes passing through Brussels on the way to Berlin."

Egmont had clapped his cousin on the shoulder in an excess of enthusiasm. "I know they'll come, Bob, these Americans," he exclaimed. "It will be a gala day for Brussels then. Grandfather, you must believe it and pray for it. You'll live to see our country's wrongs avenged."

"I hope so, Egmont, I hope so! Yes," he added, stiffening his bent figure to the soldier's attitude, "the day must come when Belgium shall rise triumphant from her ashes! And God grant it may be the Americans who will help us!"

"Vive la Belgique! Vive l'Amerique!" shouted Egmont, tossing his cap in the air.

"Hurrah for the good old United States!" laughed Bob, joining in the enthusiasm.

But the days and weeks and months had passed, and still the Americans had 'nt come. Germany had become more brutal, if possible, toward her small neighbor, deporting the young and vigorous to work in her mines and factories. The world had looked on in horror and uttered protest after protest, but nothing except a mightier power than his own could swerve the Hun from his diabolical way.

In America, Bob had been a typical boy, and the team spirit was strong within him.. Baseball, football, and all the other outdoor sports had taught him the advantage of coöperation in play and work.

Working alone and independently, the boys of Brussels were a great help in cheering the old men and women; but their patriotism needed direction and organization to make it effective. Something had to be done to counteract the demoralizing influence of the German false reports, the people had to be kept in touch with their army, coöperating with the Allies on the western front.

"Egmont," Bob said one day to his cousin, "I'm going to organize the 'Boy Vigilantes of Brussels.'"

"What's that?" asked Egmont, a little puzzled by the abrupt announcement. "Vigilantes? I don't know what they are."

"No, but in America we have them. They 're writers, who give their services to counteract the German propaganda. They spread true stories of what's happening every day in my country; and when they hear of a German lie, they nail it on the spot."

"I did n't know you had boy writers doing that in America," said Egmont, in surprise.

Bob laughed good-naturedly. "I did n't quite mean that," he explained. "These writers are not boys. They 're men and women. The first Vigilantes were men who restored order in California and the West at a time when nobody's life was safe from the desperados who had flocked there."

In a graphic way he sketched the early history of the Vigilantes, and their adventurous career in the days when life in the turbulent Far West was almost as uncertain as in Belgium under the iron heel of Germany.

"The men here can't organize such a secret society," Bob added, "for all except the old are dead or in prison or fighting with King Albert. But why can't the boys of Belgium become Vigilantes?"

Egmont's eyes opened wide in astonishment, for he had not yet entirely grasped the full meaning of the other's words. "Could we do it?" he stammered. "We could n't fight the Huns. They're too many for us, and they 're men, and we 're only boys."

"I did n't mean to fight them with arms, Egmont," was the smiling reply. "No, we could n't do that. But we could band together and do lots of things to help. There are the English papers and 'L'Écho Belge.' They tell the truth about what's happening. Could n't we smuggle them around and let the Reynteins and the de Lignes and the d'Oultremonts read them? would certainly cheer dear old Madame de Chokier and Marie Van de Weyer if they could read about their sons and grandsons with King Albert, would n't it?"

It

From this small beginning, the Boy Vigilantes of Belgium had spread to include most of the country held by the Germans. Bob and Egmont had been less ambitious in their plans than circumstances determined, for they called their organization "the Boy Vigilantes of Brussels," at first; but later, by their underground system of communication, it spread until there were branches organized in Ghent, in Antwerp, in war-torn Malines, as far east as Liège, and in the west to the very gates of Bruges. It was a boy propaganda, and therefore.

most difficult for the Germans to ferret out and crush. There were no printed documents, no letters, to fall into the hands of the invaders to incriminate the members; nothing definite that could point to Bob or Egmont, to Phil or Leo, as the ringleaders. Henri Rogier, of Ghent, made occasional fishing-trips or took long tramps in the country; but ragged, barefooted, and disreputable in appearance, he looked to be the most harmless vagrant in the world.

Yet Henri, and Albert de Decker of Antwerp, and Alva Chassé of Malines, as well as dozens of other Belgian boys of the different towns and villages, met and exchanged messages by word of mouth. Sometimes it was only a message of cheer, and at other times it was important military information that would be of value to the Allies, for the organization had increased until Belgium was covered by a boy spy system that defied the intelligence department of the German army.

Bob and Egmont had worked assiduously to make the Vigilantes a power to help their stricken country. It gave them an outlet for their restless spirits, and the very secrecy of their work appealed to their imagination. The old Count d'Anethan never dreamed of the plots hatched under his roof. Perhaps, if he had, fear for the boys would have compelled him to stop it; and certainly, if it were discovered, the German rulers would have unhesitatingly imprisoned or shot him for harboring spies.

It was the fear of directing suspicion to their grandfather's house that had induced the boys to locate their meetingplace in an abandoned sewer under the lower part of the city. This could be reached by two small canals, whose waters, fed by the Senne River, rarely rose high enough to close any of the entrances. Like rats with many holes through which they could scurry if surprised, the young Vigilantes felt safe and secure in their artificial tunnel.

In Brussels there were twoscore members; in Antwerp nearly as many; a dozen in Ghent; and ten in Malines. But in

each of these places were numerous "tenderfeet," who shared some of the responsibilities of the regular members and aspired some day to be admitted as fullfledged Vigilantes. They worked indefatigably to gather news of value, listening, observing, searching for information. to spread by word of mouth from one end of Belgium to the other.

Each member, before he was given a part to perform, had to take the oath of secrecy, which had been prepared by Bob and Egmont:

"I shall fear nothing, but brave everything, until my beloved country is freed of the tyrants. I pledge my life, and all I have and am, to do

everything to help my country and king. If I am captured, I swear that I will not divulge any of the secrets of the Vigilantes, nor will I betray any of my comrades nor get them in trouble. I pledge myself to carry out the orders given me and keep them secret from the enemy until the day comes when Germany is driven out of the country and Belgium is once more free."

The Boy Vigilantes of Belgium had already accomplished much for their country, and their work still went on, for they continued to spread among their countrymen the real facts of the war and to put new cheer into the hearts of the aged and infirm whose burden had become almost unbearable.