regain his charge. "Say, but you 're game all right!" At the word of appreciation and the slap of camaraderie on his shoulder, Davy suddenly did n't mind any more. about the long waiting, losing the job, and 'having the wind knocked out of him.

"You 're looking pretty white about the gills, though," the big young man's voice was very kind. "Beastly long ten minutes, was n't it? She did n't count on fainting, you see, and that sort of thing. She's my sister-teaches in the South-was going to spring a surprise on the family by coming home for the holidays. Here, I'll take that ark off your hands now and start you homeward. Your folks 'll be getting worried about you."

Oh, how Davy longed to accept the proffered release! But no "I—I—I can't," he stammered. "I promised, you see, and a scout has to keep his word." Oh, it was so hard to say no to this friendly young man. It took almost more courage than fighting the ruffian.

"Well, that's a good one on me!" The big young man turned away his face to save Davy's feelings. "A scout, did I hear you say?" He was quite serious now. "But you 're some way short of twelve?"

Then, of course, Davy had to tell about the secret badge, who he was, where he lived, Cousin Fred, and the encounter with the ruffian.

"Come, give us your hand, brother scout. You're the real article, certificate or no certificate!" Davy's small, mittened palm was taken in a mighty grip. "Now stand on the suitcase and look here," the big young man opened his greatcoat,—“on my sleeve-can you see?" taking out a pocket flash-light.

Davy saw! The badge of the scout master-a sure guarantee of all that was honorable and loyal, trustworthy and brave! It was like the coming of the Prince in fairy-tales. Davy's eyes glowed. Words failed him, but off came his right red mitten and three fingers were raised to his forehead in reverent salute. Then he quietly slipped from the suitcase, and, the weary watch over at last, joyfully resigned his charge into lawful hands.

"I say! you 're a dandy little scout, just the kind I'm looking for! and if only I were a magician, I 'd hustle those next three birthdays of yours along in no time at all! But here 's your car-you 'll hear from us later. Good-by!" And with a parting slap for Davy and a nickel to the conductor, the scout master was gone.

On Christmas morning there came a package for Davy and a letter, both in the same unfamiliar hand. The package contained a most wonderful book, and the letter read:

My dear little Merry-Christmas Scout:

Yes, that is what I have named you, for where would there have been any Merry Christmas for me but for your valiant defense of my precious bag! I am so sorry for what you had to endure on my behalf, but I am very happy to add to my acquaintance one more person who can be perfectly trusted, whatever the cost. Surely, never was a real, truly boy scout more faithful to his oath than my little scout of the secret order. I hope you will enjoy the "Animal Book and Camp-fire Stories," by Dan Beard, National Scout Commissioner, which my brother and I are sending you as a small token of our gratitude.

We are planning to see you very soon.
Most cordially your friend,
AGATHA ALDEN.

"Gee!" gasped Davy, turning rapturously from letter to book and back to letter again. "But any scout would have had to do it, would n't he, Dad?"

Father, admiring his new Christmas tie before the sideboard mirror,. smiled down into Davy's earnest face reflected therein. "I should certainly say he would, my son," he agreed, without hesitation. But the eyes he turned to Mother, across the room, were brimming over with pride.

"Our little Merry-Christmas Scout," softly responded Mother, who was tending a gay little Jerusalem cherry-tree at the window. Sometimes there are bargains, you know, the last thing before Christmas, and so Davy's ten-cent deficit did n't matter, after all!

CHAPTER III

"TEACHING THE HUNS A TRICK"

WHEN Egmont met his cousin in the upper room of the Palais d'Anethan, after his adventure with the German sentry, he was shaken and excited, and stood a moment in breathless silence.

"Did you see Henri?" Bob asked eagerly. "Yes," was the reply, accompanied by a nod of the head. "I told him the news, and he will carry it to Ghent."

"That ought to cheer them up, then," Bob said, smiling grimly. "I don't know of anything better that has come to us for a long time. But," observing Egmont shrewdly, "you look tired and pale. Anything happen to you on the way?"

"No-yes."

Bob waited for him to explain his contradictory answer, watching him anxiously, for it was apparent that Egmont was shaken and troubled by something out of the ordinary.

"Bob, do I look as if I might be fourteen?" his cousin asked suddenly.

"Why, yes, you might almost pass for fifteen, cousin. You always were big for your age. So am I. Why?"

Egmont gulped before replying. "I was stopped by a sentry, and he threatened to have me sent to Germany to work in the mines. He said I was fourteen and forced me repeat his words. I was helpless, of course."

Bob's face grew serious. "And then what?"

Egmont smiled at the memory of what had followed. "After I had been so obliging to the fat pig, he knocked me down. Then-then-I got away. I tripped him, and ran for the woods."

"It's a wonder he did n't shoot you!" Bob exclaimed. "They shoot for less than that."

"I think he intended to. Once I turned my head, and he was aiming his rifle at me. But he did n't shoot. Anyway, I don't

believe he could have hit me, I was running and dodging so fast; very few of these sentries can shoot straight. If they could, they'd be at the front."

"Yes," nodded Bob, "there are only fat, bald-headed Landwehr in Brussels. That is why we have so little trouble with them. They 're stupid clerks and business men turned into soldiers."

Egmont agreed with him, for, since the battle-line had moved farther west, Germany's real fighters had disappeared, leaving Brussels in charge of the older men. They had no fear of an uprising in their rear, for had not all of Belgium's young men been driven back of Ypres ?

"The time has come, Egmont, for you to be more careful," Bob added after a pause. "If they think you look old enough to work, they'll take you away to Germany. That would be worse than-than almost anything. Prisoners who work in the mines either die or come back living wrecks."

"Are n't you in danger, too, Bob?" asked Egmont. "You look older than I do, and you 're taller?"

"Yes, I've been expecting it for some time. But they 'll never take me to Germany! Not on your life! I'll see to

that."

"How can you help it if they seize you?" asked Egmont, knitting his eyebrows in surprise.

Bob shrugged his shoulders expressively. "Oh, I'll find a way-break away, or wreck their train. I'll never cross the line into Germany as a prisoner."

This boastful statement impressed his cousin, for Egmont had great admiration for the bravery and resourcefulness of Bob Lane. More than once he had extricated himself and others from difficult positions. It was the American way. Egmont sighed. "I hope they 'll never try to take us," he added.

"No, I hope not, but I suppose we ought to be prepared for it and make our plans. If we 're taken, or have to leave Belgium,

"I don't like to think of it," muttered Egmont, scowling. "We 're needed here." "Sure! but for the sake of the cause we must be prepared. It's been bothering me a good deal lately. Every day some German officer or sentry stares at me as if he was sizing me up. I'm getting too big to be allowed to stay. The time will come soon when they 'll try to deport me."

"I had n't thought of it before to-day," replied Egmont, walking the floor nervously. "I don't know what I'll do if they seize me. I-I-think-I 'd rather die."

"You would n't do your country any good by dying," smiled Bob. "It 's better to live for it. Now my plan is to choose now some of the smaller boys we can trust to take our places if we 're deported or vanish. There's Leo and Albert. Why not elect them as our successors and pledge them to go on with the work?"

"Guy d'Assches is cleverer than either Leopold or Albert," suggested Egmont. "Well, put Guy in, or Georges de Ligne. They're both good."

Bob, who had been waiting to see Egmont on important business, suddenly recalled that his cousin's story had completely driven this from his mind. With a little catch of his breath, he now remembered it, and turned excitedly to the other.

"Egmont, I forgot!" he exclaimed. "We 've just found something important. Guy and I stumbled upon it this morning."

"What is it?" asked Egmont, aroused by the other's eagerness.

"The key to the German mines under the Hôtel de Ville. The whole square is mined, ready to be blown up the moment the Huns have to evacuate Brussels."

"You 've found the mines?"

"Not exactly, but something better. We 've found the wires that lead to them. The mines are laid deep down under the cellars, and we could hardly dig for them, but they 're all connected by wires that run into the old Guild House on the corner. That's where the German officers are quartered, you know."

Egmont nodded, and Bob went on ex

might have ears that could not be trusted with such a weighty secret.

"They start from the cellar of the corner Guild House, and run in all directions to the mines. A touch of a button would, of course, blow up the whole square, wrecking the Hôtel de Ville, the Maison du Roi, and all the historic guild houses of the archers and skippers and printers. It would be terrible!"

"The dastardly cowards!" exclaimed Egmont, angrily. "They 'd destroy everything that is beautiful in Belgium! They stop at nothing! Why do they want to blow up all we have left, Bob? Is that war?"

"Is it war to bayonet and kill women and children?" asked Bob, in a hard voice. "Is it war to torture prisoners and starve non-combatants? No, it 's savagery, Egit's mont, the kind of savagery that our American Indians would be ashamed of! But it's Germany's method of war. We ought to know it by this time. If she 's forced to evacuate Belgium, she 'll blow up or destroy every building that she can. That's why we must defeat her plans, and save the superb Grande Place."

"Save it? How can we do that?"

"I'll explain," said Bob. "We 're going to cut the wires,-all of them, one by one, -and then repair them." Then, as his cousin stared blankly at him, he laughed good-naturedly. "See these, Egmont?" and he held up what was apparently a bunch of short wires, carefully insulated with cotton sheathing. "What do you think they are?"

"Pieces of copper wire, are n't they?"

"They look like that, don't they-the kind of wires you use for electrical work? But they 're not, Egmont. There's no wire in them. The center of each is nothing but a strip of candle wick. Guy and I wrapped them carefully with this insulation that we stripped off of some old wires. Nobody, by looking at them, could tell them from the real thing, could they?"

Egmont shook his head as he took one of the strips in his hand and examined it. "Well," Bob continued, "we 're going

to cut the wires that connect the minesseveral inches out of each one-and then repair the break with these strips of candlewick. No inquisitive German, nosing around down there, would ever discover the trick. He'd report the wires in good condition. Then, on the day set for the explosion, what would happen? There would be no explosion! The electricity could n't bridge the gap.

"But where are the mines and wires?" demanded Egmont. "I want to help cut them to have a hand in it.”

"Of course; the future Count d'Anethan must be one of those who are to save Belgium's beautiful capital from destruction by the Huns. If you 're rested now, we 'll go. Guy will be waiting for us. We want to finish the job before night."

Forgetting all his weariness and hunger, Egmont picked up his cap and followed his cousin down the broad stairway and through the central courtyard into the street. They waited at the entrance long enough to look up and down for any signs of German soldiers, and then scurried along to another house a block away.

This was the home of Guy d'Assches, a boy a year or two younger than either of the cousins. Guy had been expecting them, and let them in. "Why did n't you come before?" he asked. "I've been waiting hours for you."

"I had to explain our little scheme to Egmont," Bob replied. "He knows all about it now."

"Is n't it a fine idea?" asked Guy, eagerly.

"The best yet! We must hurry and fix the wires. Something might happen to set off the mines by accident. Suppose some stupid soldier should tamper with them."

"No danger of that," laughed Bob. "They won't have the wires connected with the battery. That would be too dangerous."

"We ought to go out one at a time," said Guy, "otherwise we 'll excite some Hun's suspicion. If a sentry sees three boys together, he thinks he sees an army, and instantly gets excited. Suppose we separate now, and meet in the sewer."

"That's safer," replied Bob. "I'll start first."

Leaving the house stealthily, he made his way along the street until he reached the main boulevard, where his identity was immediately lost among the crowd there. Following the stream of pedestrians to the lower part of the town, he turned once more into a narrow side street lined with old houses, whose faded fronts had a picturesque effect.

A few blocks farther brought him to one of the canals that had been partly covered. These canals, fed by the Senne river, had at one time been important arteries of commerce, but many of them had been abandoned and partly or completely arched

over.

Bob halted at one of the arches, and began aimlessly tossing small stones and chips. into the water; but all the while he was furtively glancing back and in front of him to see if any uniformed German was watching him. Suddenly he slipped down out of sight so swiftly that an observer might have thought the ground had opened to receive him.

Once out of sight in the shallow canal, he waded up it rapidly until he came to a familiar opening, which he knew to be the old, abandoned sewer that entered the canal at right angles, above the water-line. Dripping and muddy, he crawled through the opening of the dry sewer and threw himself down on the hard stone floor to wait for his companions.

They appeared a few moments later, creeping through the darkness like halfdrowned rats. Guy came first, reaching the sewer from the right, and Egmont next, from the left. Bob rose and struck a match, with which he lighted small candles.

"This way, Egmont," he whispered to his cousin. "Follow me!"

Then followed a long, tortuous, underground trip, which, to the uninitiated, would have been decidedly puzzling; but the boys knew every canal and every foot of the sewer. When they came to a point half a mile away from the first entrance, Bob stopped and raised a hand.