“Certainly not, Bumpus,” he was informed, and that satisfied the stout chum, for he sank back again into his place with a grunt.
It turned out that the second road was almost as good as the other, a fact that caused the boys to congratulate themselves more than once.
“They certain sure do know how to make roads over here in the Rhine country,” Giraffe declared; “fact is, they do about everything in a thorough way that makes a Yankee sit up and take notice. No slip-shod business will answer with these Germans.”
“Yes, they even turn you back when your passport is O. K., and you’ve got rights they ought to respect; they’re thorough all right, but it’s too much red tape to suit me,” Bumpus complained.
“No kicking yet awhile, Bumpus,” Giraffe warned him; “you notice that we’re still on the move, and headed for the upper corner of Belgium’s border. If we’ve got any decent sort of luck at all we ought to make the riffle.”
“I’m afraid we’re coming to some sort of town,” Thad told them, “and as there’s no way of turning out here we’ll have to take our chances.”
“I did see a side road back a piece,” remarked Allan.
“Yes, and running to the northwest in the bargain,” added Giraffe.
“That would mean if it kept on straight it would finally bring up at the Holland border, wouldn’t it?” Bumpus wanted to know.
“I don’t suppose we’re twenty miles away from Holland right now,” said Allan.