“So long as we don’t go down with it I won’t kick,” asserted Giraffe, who seemed to be feeling much more cheery since that last little exciting affair. “And Bumpus, after all what does it matter how you get to Antwerp so long as you pull up there sooner or later?”
“Oh! I’m getting reconciled to almost anything,” admitted Bumpus, showing that this constant series of happenings was beginning to have an effect on even his stubborn nature, just as water dripping constantly will wear away a stone in the course of time.
Thus talking they moved speedily along the river road until finally Giraffe announced he had sighted the bridge over which they hoped to be able to cross the stream, and head once more for the big city on the Schelde.
There were some Belgian soldiers on guard here also, possibly older men who had not expected to go to the front, yet had a certain line of duty to perform in this the latest crisis of their beloved country’s history.
Just as Thad expected they had to stop and give an account of themselves, as well as show their passports, and the letters with the American stamps. They were again lucky in having one of the Belgians able to talk with them, for it turned out that he had been in America, and even asked them how Hoboken was getting along.
Satisfied with being permitted to cross the bridge and pursue their journey the four scouts waved good-bye to the guards and started on.
“Well, that was a hard river to cross let me tell you,” said Giraffe after they reached the other side. “Just stop and think how many times we’ve been knocked out of our calculations. There was the battle we saw that blocked us; then the bridge that had been fixed to trap some of the raiding Uhlans when they came galloping along, and tried to rush things; after that there was the one that was being built in the village, and which of course we couldn’t use; and at last we struck oil up here, many miles out of our way.”
“Seems to me we’ve been pushing backwards part of the time, Thad, instead of advancing,” ventured Bumpus. “Makes me think of the boy who was late to school and told the teacher that every time he took a step forward he slipped back two; and when the teacher asked him how he ever managed to get there he said he just turned around and headed the other way; so mebbe that’s what we’re doing. Where do you figure we are now, Thad?”
“As near as I can find out,” replied the scout leader, “we’re not far from the town called Moll, which is on the railroad. There’s a canal somewhere nearby, that swings around to the city of Turnhout, and then still on to Antwerp. I should say that we’re not more than seven miles or so from the Dutch border.”
“And how far from Antwerp?” asked Bumpus, anxiously.