When Bumpus put up this piteous plaint the other scouts exchanged glances. Here was an unexpected complication that faced them, a puzzling riddle that would have to be solved.
Undoubtedly, when the news reached Antwerp that the great Kaiser had sent his terrible army into Belgium, it was realized that although King Albert’s little army might offer a desperate defense that would cover them with immortal fame, there would be but one end to such an uneven struggle. The Belgians might inflict more or less sanguinary losses on the Teuton host, but the machine-roller would eventually overwhelm them, and even Antwerp must fall into the hands of the invaders. And so the managers of the famous Spa had concluded that it would be just as well if they changed their location. They had a companion Cure in Paris, as the boys well knew, and, accordingly, the entire faculty, together with the trained nurses and most of the rich patients as well, had taken their departure some time before.
If, indeed, Paris were seriously threatened by the Germans, it might be like jumping from the frying-pan into the fire. At least the step had been taken, and here was Bumpus looking aghast at the idea of trying to follow his mother, when the whole of Northern France must be seething with war preparations, trains taken over for military purposes, private cars commandeered, and every available horse drafted into the service of the government.
No wonder, then, that Giraffe presently broke out in his explosive way:
“Gee whiz! Here’s a pretty kettle of fish, now!” he ejaculated. “Your mother is in Paris, it seems like, just when the Kaiser’s army is heading that way hot-footed. And she asks you to follow after her, does she, Bumpus? Whew! I can see a bunch of fellows I know breaking into a lot of new trouble trying to dodge a million fighters, more or less. But remember. Bumpus, we’re bound to stick to you whatever happens.”
The party addressed gave Giraffe a look of affection. He could not trust his voice to utter a single word just then, being so completely overcome with emotion, brought on by his bitter disappointment.
As usual, they turned to Thad. When things all went wrong it was queer how these boys of the Silver Fox Patrol placed their dependence on Thad Brewster to guide them out of the wilderness; and rarely had he failed them in an emergency.
“We might be able to make it,” the leader told them, seriously, as though he had been weighing the chances in his mind and already reached a decision; “that is, if things favored us about getting away from here. We ought to go to the railway station at once and see when the first train for Paris starts.”
“But, from all accounts we’ve had, the Germans are already far over the border, and there is desperate fighting going on in a dozen places on French soil,” observed the cautious Allan. “I’m mentioning this fact, not because you’ll find me hanging back whatever you decide to do, but only to get the situation clear in our minds before we take the jump.”
“You’ve got an idea of your own, I take it, Allan?” suggested Thad quickly.