“I thought I was thirsty,” said Bumpus, “but I guess I can wait till we come to a well that isn’t used for a swimming tank by dogs.”
The woman seeing them moving off tried to thank them for having saved her little pet. Of course not being able to talk French the boys could not understand just what she said, though they caught the meaning, and nodded their heads accordingly.
Once they were going they found occasion to laugh again and again as different remarks were made concerning features connected with the adventure. Giraffe laughed louder than any one else. He said he no longer felt sleepy, and that he believed it would be better for him to sit with his feet in the sun so as to dry off.
Half an hour afterwards it was found that they were once more approaching what seemed to be a bridge. Remembering the tragic occurrences that had taken place at that other crossing of the river the boys naturally felt more or less anxiety as to what they might run across here.
“It’s guarded, as sure as anything,” said Giraffe, who had stretched his long neck in order to give those keen eyes of his a better chance to see. “Yes, and by Belgian soldiers in the bargain, sure pop. I can tell by their uniforms.”
“I hope they won’t think of stopping us from crossing,” said Bumpus.
As they drew nearer to the bridge they saw several men in blue uniforms, and wearing high-peaked hats, holding their guns in a significant manner as though giving plain warning that access to the bridge was forbidden. Thad felt from this that they were doomed to meet with a disappointment.
He stopped the car close to the guard. To the surprise of the boys one of the soldiers, evidently guessing their nationality from the little flags which they still wore fastened to their coats, addressed them in very good English.
“It is not possible for you to cross the bridge!” was what he said.
“We are hoping to reach Antwerp, where this boy has a sick mother who needs him,” Thad explained, laying a hand on Bumpus’s shoulder as he spoke.