Christmas festivities at Lofton, like those in nearly every live town in the United States, were such as to engross the attention of the youthful population, especially the rehearsing for Christmas Eve carols. The plans for home enjoyments, the doing up of packages, procuring and trimming of trees and many other happy duties kept both boys about their widely separated homes very busy.

Clem Stapley lived in the mansion on a hill overlooking the town and the mills. Don Richards dwelt in a big house on the main street. In the days following—the Sunday and Monday preceding Christmas—the lads saw each other but once, and then only to exchange a few words. These had been in effect that if the suspected strangers were up to any mischief here they would probably defer it until after Christmas, and now spend the time having a beer-fest with fat old Shultz. Clem thought more probably that the men had gone away again, or would soon go, but Don believed otherwise; he had been reading of German propaganda and plots against munition factories and ships, and with a mind keen for gathering facts and making deductions, he felt, half instinctively, that there must be an evil purpose in these men stopping in this town where the large factory was turning out war materials for the Government. It was almost with a conscientious protest that he turned now to the immediate business of Christmas gaieties.

And the jolliest day of the year came on with its usual zest and pleasure, and went quickly by. Late in the afternoon Don and a younger brother, to try new skates, went out to the pond not far from the Galaville road and as they were returning, just at dusk, they observed three men standing on a high knoll just above the road and looking off toward the town, one pointing, with out-stretched arm, from time to time. The figures could be clearly seen against the sky: one, a short fellow, apparently with whiskers, one a slender, tall chap and the other big, paunchy, heavy-set. It did not require much imagination to identify them as Shultz and his two guests—the Germans of the train.

The boys were evidently not seen. Don commanded his brother to follow him and kept on the far side of a row of cedar trees until they were out of sight of the hill. He found himself much disturbed by the circumstance, trivial as it seemed; and yet, was it trivial? It was possible that these men were merely out for exercise, or a bit of novelty; they may have been simply noting the interesting features of the town, or even contemplating the purchase of farm land near that of Shultz.

That night Don went to bed with the subject still uppermost in his mind to the extent that it was becoming rather tiresome because barren of results; and beyond any chance of solution. More to relieve his mind than anything else he managed to get Clement Stapley on the telephone quite late and told him of seeing the men, half expecting his partner in the mystery to characterize him as a boob for considering such a thing of sufficient importance to bother him. To his surprise Clem appeared tremendously interested and insisted on their getting together the next morning. Don agreed, hung up and went to bed. He usually slept like a log, the result of good health and a clear conscience, he himself declared, and there could be little doubt of this, but however tightly wrapped in the all-absorbing arms of slumber, the dulling influence suddenly and entirely relaxed an hour or so after midnight. Along with a large majority of the townspeople, according to later evidence, he found himself sitting up in bed and wondering why the house was trying to do a dance and the windows to imitate a drum corps. Then came voices from within, some in alarm, others in quieter comment and the words:

“Great fury! Is the house coming down?” from Merrill, next to Don in age.

“What was that, Dad?” a younger scion questioned.

“An explosion of some kind; two of them!” This from the doctor.

“Where ’bouts?”

“Yes, where do you think it was, Father?”

“Over on the other side of town; perhaps the mills.”

“Ooh! Can we go an’ see, Daddy?” This from the baby of the family.

“No; in the morning. It’s only two o’clock now. Go to sleep.”

“But you’re going, Father; they may need you,” Donald offered.

“Yes, and I’ll take you with me.”

It was the mills. One building with the office in part, had been utterly wrecked, another had been partly destroyed and one end was on fire. And while the volunteer department and helpers were valorously extinguishing the flames another explosion occurred that hurt two men and flung some others down, Don amongst them. The boy was uninjured, though the jarring up made him see red. But with a shrewdness beyond his years he kept silent as to what he suspected and his ears were keen to catch the talk going on around him. It seemed to be the idea of one and all that this was the work of German spies.

Presently, from behind some splintered boxes, they found the half-unconscious watchman and resuscitated him, getting him to talk. He had obtained one good look at the miscreants as they ran away.

Don kept an eye open for Clem and as that youth appeared leaping with his father, from a big motor car, he was grabbed and pulled aside.

“Don’t say a word about what we know,” Don whispered. “Here’s a chance for us to get right up on top of everybody. It was those two, Clem.”

“But, look here, Don, Father ought to know—”

“Sure! And he will, sooner and more satisfactorily than if he put some of those bum detectives on the job; you know that. They’d kick around for about a week, but you and I can get busy right now; to-night. They won’t get here before—”

“But Father can have those men arrested and then—”

“Oh, hang it, yes, and give us the go-by! Let’s be the ones to spring the surprise. Come on; I’m ready to tackle it, when I get a gun somewhere.”

The idea appealed to Clement Stapley, for he did not want to be outdone in daring by his old-time rival. It would never do for Don to say: “Clem fell down on the job; wasn’t equal to it; hadn’t the backbone.” He turned to Don:

“I’m with you! Hold on, I can fix the shooting-iron matter. Wait half a minute.” Into the debris of the office wreck the lad climbed and wriggled, and after a moment’s looking about, in the light from the yard lamp-poles, which had been re-established by some quick-witted employee, the boy located a shattered desk, pried open a drawer and drew forth two long-barreled revolvers of the finest make.

Don, waiting and watching, heard Mr. Stapley say to several men:

“I have a notion that those fellows will come back. They’ll believe we think they’ve left for distant parts and that will make them bold. You see they’ve got reason: the stock mill wasn’t hurt. Riley found two bombs that hadn’t gone off in there; the fuses had become damp, I suppose. And that was probably the big game they were after. Probably they’ll take another chance at it. Well, we’ll put detectives on the job as soon as possible. Have any of you noticed anyone about; any strangers whom you could have suspected?”

There was a general negative to this; then one hand spoke up:

“How about that fellow Shultz, out beyond the station? He’s a red-hot German and before we went into the war he was shouting pro-Prussian stuff till his throat was sore. He’s about the only Hun around here except old man Havemeyer, and he’s a decent, good citizen and wants to see the kaiser punched full of holes.”

“Yes, Havemeyer is all right,” assented Mr. Stapley, “but we will have to look into the doings of this Shultz.”