I tell you, Bart, I don't like the looks of things, remarked Frank
Sheldon to his chum, Bart Raymond, as the two stood on a corner in
the German city of Coblenz on the Rhine. "What's on your mind?"
inquired Bart, as he drew the collar of his raincoat more snugly
around his neck and turned his back to the sleet-laden wind that
was fairly blowing a gale. "I don't see anything to get stirred up
about except this abominable weather. It's all I can do to keep my
feet." "It is a pretty tough night to be out on patrol duty,"
agreed Frank. "But it wasn't that I was thinking about. It's the
way these Huns have been acting lately." "Are you thinking of that
sergeant of ours that was found stabbed to death the other night?"
asked Bart, with quickened interest. "Not so much that," replied
Frank, "although that's one of the things that shows the way the
wind is blowing. But it's the surly way the whole population is
acting. Haven't you noticed it?"
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