"For polar bears, if you ask me," put in Billy Waldon, Tom's
companion, as he shook the drops from his raincoat. "How would it
be to be back in the barracks just now lapping up a smoking hot
cup of coffee? Oh, boy!"

"It wouldn't be bad--" Bart was beginning, when suddenly a rifle
cracked and a bullet whizzed by so close that it nearly grazed Tom
Bradford's ear.

"Shelter, fellows!" shouted Frank, as he leaped for an adjacent
hallway.

His companions followed him quickly, and crouching in the hall,
they peered out into the darkness to see if they could detect the
whereabouts of the would-be assassin.

But everything was quiet except for the roaring of the gale, and
the street seemed to be empty.

"Might as well look for a needle in a haystack," muttered Tom
Bradford. "We don't even know the direction from which the shot
came. You can bet that skunk made tracks as soon as he fired."

"It was a mighty close call for you, Tom," remarked Billy. "A half
inch closer and you would have been a goner."

"It would have been hard luck to have been laid out now after
having come through that Argonne fighting alive," grumbled Tom.
"I'd just like to have my hands right now on the cowardly Heinie