“Get across as quickly as you can,” he told them; “for my superior officer will be due here presently, and he might look at things in a different light from what I do. I spent several happy years in your country once, and then came back home to marry, and serve out my time in the army. Good luck to you, young mynherr, and to all of you. That is all; you can go!”
They lost no time in making a fresh start. The superior officer might happen to come along ahead of time, and spoil all their plans.
It was with considerable satisfaction Bumpus looked around him at the new sights that met their eyes as they passed across that narrow strip of territory belonging to Holland, and which stretches down between the other two countries as if it were used as a convenient buffer, and for no other purpose.
“There’s a real Dutch windmill, yes, and I can see some more of the same kind!” Bumpus was telling them, pointing excitedly as he spoke.
“Oh! they’re as common as dirt, you’ll find,” Allan told him. “They not only pump water but are used for a great many other purposes. A Dutchman would almost as soon think of doing without his vrouw as his windmill.”
“Given half an hour, and if this road isn’t too wobbly we ought to be at the Belgian frontier,” Thad announced.
“We’ve carried everything by storm so far,” said Giraffe, exultantly; “and there’s some hope we may get to Antwerp. If the Germans over the line couldn’t hold us in check we oughtn’t to be much afraid that the Belgians will try to detain us.”
“I wonder now if that can be an inn we see ahead there?” suggested Bumpus, with a most intense longing look on his face as he shaded his eyes with one hand the better to see.
“It looks like some sort of a road-house,” Thad ventured.
“Yes,” added Giraffe, almost as eagerly as the fat scout, “and I can see what must be a swinging sign hanging there. Thad, hadn’t we better take a chance, and say we’ve tasted one meal in Holland?”