"I'm killed."

"Nonsense! It's only a flesh wound---"

"Is---is he shot?" stammered Walter Perkins.

"Of course I'm shot. Don't you see I am?" demanded Chunky with
considerable spirit for a man who had been the mark of a bullet and who
according to his own word was dead.

Tad half dragged the fat boy down to the creek where the blood was
quickly washed from his cheek. It was then seen that a bullet had
grazed Stacy's cheek, leaving a raw streak across it.

Professor Zepplin, now mindful of his duty, had hurried up to them, and
down on his knees was examining the wound critically.

"Hm---m---m!" he muttered. "Bad business, bad business!"

"But---what does it mean?" urged Walter.

"What does it mean? It means that the Germans have got us," wailed
Stacy Drown. "Oh, I knew we should be in this war sooner or later,
but I didn't think I should be the first man to get shotted up."

"It means some one has been trying to shoot us up," answered Rector.

"Trying!" exploded Chunky. "They did more than try. They succeeded.
Don't you see this wound on my countenance? Wait till I get sight of