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     [Illustration: SAMMY MACHINE GUNS AND RIFLES MOWED THEM DOWN.
              _The Khaki Boys at the Front._ _Page 127_]




                            THE KHAKI BOYS
                             AT THE FRONT
                                  OR
                _Shoulder to Shoulder in the Trenches_


                                  By

                          CAPT. GORDON BATES

              Author of "The Khaki Boys at Camp Sterling"
                   "The Khaki Boys on the Way," etc.



                             _ILLUSTRATED_



                               NEW YORK

                        CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY




                          COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY
                        CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

       *       *       *       *       *

                      THE KHAKI BOYS AT THE FRONT




CONTENTS


          CHAPTER                      PAGE

     I A JOYFUL REUNION                 1

    II MEETING COUSIN EMILE            10

   III TRAILED                         20

    IV AN UNSEEN FOE                   27

     V A WILD GOOSE CHASE              32

    VI THE UNFORESEEN                  38

   VII "AT HOME"                       45

  VIII A BOCHE TESTIMONIAL             51

    IX ON THE MARCH                    59

     X THE LAST LAP                    68

    XI IN THE FIRE TRENCH              75

   XII GETTING USED TO IT              85

  XIII UNDER FIRE                      94

   XIV DETAILED TO SCOUTING DUTY      104

    XV OUT IN NO MAN'S LAND           114

   XVI FOREWARNED IS FOREARMED        122

   XVII MISSING: A BROTHER            128

  XVIII "IT'S A GREAT LIFE"           139

    XIX OUT OF THE AIR                144

     XX THE RETURN OF COUSIN EMILE    155

    XXI UP ABOVE THE CLOUDS           167

   XXII THE UNSPEAKABLE CRIME         178

  XXIII LOYAL UNTO DEATH              188

   XXIV WAITING FOR ZERO HOUR         197

       *       *       *       *       *




THE KHAKI BOYS AT THE FRONT




CHAPTER I

A JOYFUL REUNION


"I suppose we might as well be hiking along," announced Roger Barlow
regretfully, as he consulted his watch. "We've lots of time yet, but
we'd better be early than late back to camp. We are strangers in a
strange land and we've quite a long way to go."

"I'm satisfied to go. I came up here to see Paris and I've seen it.
That is, a scrap of it. I guess it would take a long while to get
really wise to it. I sure would like to use up a little time poking
around _la belle_ Paree. My, but this hash house is a dead place,
though! Nobody alive here but us."

Bob Dalton glanced disapprovingly about the unassuming little cafe
in which he and his four Brothers had elected to dine. Its hushed
atmosphere oppressed him.

"Oh, Paris is altogether different from what it used to be," informed
Sergeant Jimmy Blaise. "It's lost a lot of pep since this war began.
Can you wonder?"

"It's lost more than pep," cut in Franz Schnitzel. "It's lost a whole
lot of its best citizens. Almost every woman one sees is dressed in
black. That tells its own story."

"So think I no many Franche solder more," sighed Ignace Pulinski. "Mos'
is died."

"Oh, there are probably a dozen or two left," was Bob's cheering
reassurance. "I guess they need the Khaki Boys over here all right
enough, though."

"I wish we'd get orders to move on," grumbled Jimmy. "I'm dying to take
a ride in one of those 'Eight Horses' affairs--not."

"We've been in training here longer than I expected." This from Roger.
"I guess we needed it. When the war began, before the U. S. got into
it, they used to rush the Tommies to the front pretty fast. They got
about ten days' or two weeks' training and that was all."

"The war game's been systematized a lot since then," commented Bob. "We
have fared better than those fellows did. They had to put up with most
any old thing. So far we've led a peaceful, happy life over here."

Several weeks had passed since those of the Khaki Boys who had come
safely through the disastrous sinking of the _Columbia_ had been landed
"somewhere in France."

Readers who have followed the fortunes of the quintet of Khaki Boys,
known among themselves as the five Brothers, will at once remember them
as old friends. What happened to these young soldiers during the period
in which they were in training at an American cantonment has already
been set down in "THE KHAKI BOYS AT CAMP STERLING."

It was while on the way to Camp Sterling that Jimmy Blaise, Roger
Barlow, Bob Dalton and Ignace Pulinski met and instantly became
friendly. From being merely friendly they soon grew to be bunkies,
loyal to one another through thick and thin.

Later they took into their little circle a young German-American, Franz
Schnitzel, who had had the misfortune to be entirely misunderstood by
his comrades. Suspected of being in sympathy with Germany, Schnitzel
was accused of poisoning a number of men in his own barracks.

Due to the untiring efforts of the four Brothers, his innocence was
proven, and his good name restored. Afterward Schnitzel himself was
responsible for bringing the real poisoner, a German spy, Johann
Freidrich, to justice.

Their fortunes firmly linked to Schnitzel's by trouble, he had become
a real brother to the four Khaki Boys, who decided that thereafter they
would call themselves the five Brothers.

After an exhaustive course of training at Camp Sterling, the five
Brothers had been sent with a large detachment of their comrades to
Camp Marvin, a southern cantonment. While at this camp they met with at
least one exciting adventure, which was the forerunner of a series of
amazing events.

In "THE KHAKI BOYS ON THE WAY" will be found the details of
that adventure, which had to do with an attempt made by an unknown man
to blow up a bridge near the camp. Readers of this story will recall
Jimmy Blaise's fight with the miscreant under the bridge, and his
narrow escape from death.

This narrative also contains a full account of the Khaki Boys' journey
to the seacoast, where they boarded a transport for France, and of the
hazardous voyage over, which ended in the torpedoing, by a U-boat, of
their transport the _Columbia_.

Though many of their comrades perished at sea, the five Brothers were
spared. Briefly separated by the catastrophe, they were re-united in
Ireland. From there they had gone on to a rest camp in England, from
which, re-uniformed and re-equipped, they had at last set sail across
the channel for France.

Landed in France, they had gone directly to a training camp, there to
receive the final necessary instruction which would fully prepare them
for the strenuous life of the trenches.

Since arriving in the French town where a concentration camp had been
established, they had been kept constantly busy learning new things
about trench warfare.

At Camp Sterling and Camp Marvin they had undergone considerable
instruction along this line. Compared to the experience they were daily
gaining, their past training seemed a trifle rudimentary to the Khaki
Boys.

Under the competent direction of French officers who had seen service
at the front, the Khaki Boys were rapidly acquiring fresh knowledge
concerning bomb-throwing, reconnoitering, listening posts, methods in
attack and defense, wiring parties, mass formation, and the proper
procedure for poison gas attacks.

They had learned to construct and repair barbed wire entanglements.
They had now become familiar with the intricate inner construction of
the trenches. They knew how best to shelter themselves when in these
trenches. They had learned trench cooking and sanitation, and were now
beginning to feel that they were really ready to live at the front.

Their camp being situated in a village not many miles from Paris, the
five Brothers had been most eager to spend a few hours in the beautiful
city. Although they had seen much to interest them since coming to
France, their minds were set on seeing Paris.

For one reason or another, however, they had put off the trip until
Roger had declared that if they didn't "make a break" at seeing Paris
soon, they were not likely to see it until the end of the war, if ever.

The upshot of the matter was a concerted request for passes on the
part of the five Sammies. Mid-afternoon of a cold, though gloriously
sunshiny day, saw them invading the city they had so earnestly wished
to visit. Strangers in a strange land, they had, nevertheless, hugely
enjoyed poking about the French metropolis, constantly drawing
comparisons between it and their own "big town" in America.

Long familiar with the French language, it fell to Jimmy to do most of
the talking. For once Bob did not take the lead in this respect. Both
he and Roger were able to carry on a halting conversation in French and
that was about all. Schnitzel knew even less of it than they, while
Ignace had added but little to the "six word by Franche," of which he
had earlier admitted as being his entire French vocabulary.

Content to follow their own bent, the five bunkies had asked few
questions of the friendly passersby, who invariably beamed on them
in passing. The Sammies were at any time a very welcome sight to the
French people, but the five Brothers were an especially striking
example of stalwart young American manhood, and attracted an amount of
attention of which they were quite unaware.

Toward six o'clock steadily growing hunger had prompted them to drop
into one of the many excellent restaurants of which Paris boasts.
Having ordered a most delectable dinner, they had taken their time
about eating it. In consequence, it was now after seven o'clock and, as
Roger had reminded, "time for us to be hiking along."

"There's always a calm before a storm, you know."

It was Jimmy who spoke. The remark followed Bob's assertion regarding
the peacefulness of the life they had been leading since their arrival
in France.

"Yes, it's the last lull before we get into the real thing," nodded
Roger. "We'll soon be getting up in the morning and turning in at night
to the music of the big guns."

"I hope it'll be Allied artillery that'll make the most of that music,"
put in Schnitzel.

"Yes, and _I_ hope a Fritzie trench gets it in the neck with every
blamed tune our fellows hammer out," was Bob's vengeful rejoinder.
"What I've heard since I came over here about the way those Boche
brutes have treated the Belgians makes me hot under the collar."

"They say the Fritzies have it in for us Sammies," shrugged Roger.
"They're crazy to take us prisoners. They want to make an example of
us. Think they'll scare the U. S. into putting up a big yell for peace.
Wonder what they'll do if they do manage to grab any of our men?"

"Hard to tell. Crucify some poor fellow, maybe." Bob's dark brows drew
sharply together. "That's one of their pleasant little methods of
getting even." Bob's tones quivered with loathing. "If it ever came to
that with me, I'd die game. I'd never let 'em think they'd got my goat."

"Oh, can the croak!" exclaimed Jimmy impatiently. "We came out to enjoy
ourselves. What's the use in dragging up the horror stuff?"

"So think I," agreed Ignace, who had been listening round-eyed to Bob's
dire surmising. "We ver' smart, so then we don' be it that prisonar. I
no like."

"You _don't_? I'm surprised," bantered Bob. "I thought you were just
aching to be run in by a Boche patrol."

"Now you mak' the fon to me," snickered Ignace. "Only you wait. Som'
day I mak' the fon to you."

"Go as far as you like," challenged Bob, grinning benevolently at his
Polish Brother.

"Come on," urged Jimmy. "Let's settle with the _garcon_, and beat it.
Where did he go to, anyhow? He was standing right over there a minute
ago."

Five pairs of eyes immediately busied themselves in an effort to locate
the waiter.

"He's in the kitchen, I guess. Don't see him. He'll show up in a
minute."

Leaning back in his chair, Roger continued idly to survey the few
diners scattered about the cafe. His eyes rested amusedly upon a
pair of elderly Frenchmen, who appeared to be conducting a vigorous
argument. Their wagging heads, shrugging shoulders, and the almost
continual play of their hands entertained him immensely.

"Look at those two old grandpas over there near the door," he said to
Bob, who was seated beside him. "I'll bet you most anything they're
arguing about the war. They're not a bit huffy with each other; just
dead in earnest."

Bob's gaze obediently traveled toward the two ancients. It interrupted
itself on the way, however, to take stock of three men who were just
entering the cafe.

"For the love of Mike!"

His shrewd, black eyes widening with amazement, Bob leaped to his feet.

"_Look_ who's here!" he exclaimed so loudly that his voice reached the
entering trio. "Oh, you Twinkle Twins!"




CHAPTER II

MEETING COUSIN EMILE


"Where, where?"

Seated with his back to the door, Bob's gleeful announcement brought
Jimmy also to his feet. By this time Bob had deserted his bunkies and
was making straight for two young men in the uniform of the U. S.
Aviation Corps, who were advancing to meet him.

"Well, well, _well_! If it isn't old Bob and Blazes!"

The blue-eyed, broadly-smiling youth who uttered this jubilant
recognition, now had Bob's hand in a firm grip, and was shaking it
vigorously. Standing beside him, his brother, an exact counterpart of
himself, was engaged in greeting Jimmy with equal cordiality.

"Let me in on this," commanded a laughing voice, as Roger joined the
delighted quartet. "I believe I've seen the famous Twinkle Twins before
to-day."

"You'd better believe it," retorted Jack Twinkleton. "How are you,
Rodge? You're looking all to the mustard."

"Put her there! How's the good old scout?"

Jerry Twinkleton now claimed Roger's attention.

"Oh, we're simply fine. You can't lose us. It isn't being done, don't
you know, with this gang."

Roger's face glowed with friendliness as he greeted the illustrious
twins. They were truly a welcome sight.

"How long have you been over, and where do you go from here?" were
Jimmy's quick questions. "We've been keeping an eye out and an ear open
ever since we landed in France. Thought we'd see you or, maybe, hear
news of you."

"You're the great little scribes, you are," declared Bob. "We haven't
had a line from you since just before we left Sterling."

"When was that?" promptly asked Jack.

"Oh, early in February. You fellows wrote that you were expecting most
any day to go across."

"Well, we went; right after that," grinned Jack. "We've written you
gazabos three letters since then, and never got even a post card in
return. We've abused you to each other for fair. Slackers; that's our
pet name for you."

"Yes, that's it," immediately chimed in Jerry, always his twin
brother's faithful repeater.

"We never got 'em." Bob shook a disgusted head. "We didn't get half of
our mail at Camp Marvin. I suppose it's chasing us around yet. We'll
get it some day if we live long enough."

"We wrote you fellows a couple of letters, too," informed Jimmy,
frowning.

"Then we've got something coming to us, too," was Jack's cheerful
retort. "Now let's flop and have a chewing-bee. Come on over to our
table. We've a fine surprise for you. We want you to meet----"

"Cousin Emile," supplied Bob. "I spotted him right away. We have a
couple of fellows with us. They belong to the gang. One of 'em is Iggy.
You remember? We told you about him. The other is a new pal of ours.
We're the five Brothers now. Oh, maybe we haven't a bag of beans to
spill!"

"Get your two Buddies and bring 'em over to that table," directed Jack,
pointing to an alcove table, larger than the others. "I'll steer Emile
to it, by the time you round up your strays."

With this he and his brother turned and bolted for their table, at
which the famous aviator had already seated himself. An amused smile
touched his firm mouth, as he watched his lively cousins and their
friends.

"Now listen to the howl Iggins'll put up," laughed Jimmy, as the three
Brothers returned to their table. "This time he can't fade away and
disappear, the way he did when the Twinkle Twins came to see us at
Sterling."

"I can no go," was the prompt refusal Jimmy met with.

Half rising from his chair, Ignace showed signs of making a quick
retreat from the cafe.

"I can no go," mimicked Jimmy. "You're going, you old clam, if I have
to lead you along by the ear."

Noting signs of refusal on the German-American's face, he next warned:
"Don't you get panicky, either, Schnitz!"

"If you two mules go to balking, we'll turn you out