“They must have been sent after us by that smart officer we ran up against at that town; the one who turned us back, and threatened to arrest us!” Allan remarked, this being the one explanation of the pursuit that flashed into his mind.
“Either that,” added Bumpus, “or else the chap who was on the ferry with us told of the meeting after he got to Duren, and they sent out that squad with orders to bring us in, dead or alive!”
Thad was saying not a word. He seemed to be devoting all his attention to manipulating the old car so as to get every atom of speed out of it possible. Besides, since its course was so erratic he had to be very careful how he steered, as even a slight blunder might mean a smash-up.
Thad had not even made the slightest attempt to look back and see their oncoming pursuers. He was content to take the word of his mates for it that they were making great headway, and closing in on them at a rapid rate.
“This is getting mighty interesting, let me tell you!” exclaimed Giraffe, as he twisted his long neck again and again in order to watch the rush of the cavalrymen, and then try to judge whether the car could gain an offing before being overhauled.
“I can see what looks like the border post ahead there another mile!” Allan now told them.
That was indeed cheery news, and must have revived their drooping courage. Still naturally Giraffe immediately expressed a desire to know on what sort of foundation Allan fixed his assertion.
“What makes you think it’s the crossing where we strike Holland?” he demanded.
“Because I can see soldiers in uniforms, and they don’t happen to be the gray kind we’ve seen most Germans wear, either. Yes, and they’ve got what looks like high-peaked caps, which I’ve read the Dutch troops use.”
“Bully!” exclaimed Bumpus, and the others knew he must be greatly worked up, for as a rule Bumpus never used words like this, leaving that to Giraffe.