“Do you mean for their own use, Giraffe?” he asked finally.
“No, if you ask me plainly, Thad, I don’t,” the other admitted.
“That’s queer,” muttered the fat scout, who would not stay squelched; “why do people go around taking cars if not for themselves, I’d like to know?”
Giraffe lowered his voice still more, and in consequence Bumpus felt an additional thrill pass through him, it was all so mysterious.
“For their Government they might,” he said. “How do we know but what these Belgians are so patriotic they think it only right strangers should be made to contribute to the good of their army? They must have great need of every kind of motor conveyance just now, to bring up their troops. The German army has tens of thousands of big motor-trucks, we heard. Well, they looked over our old car with the idea of running her off if it seemed worth while.”
“Thad, do you take any stock in that idea?” asked Allan, as though somewhat in doubt himself.
“It might be possible,” was the reply of the patrol leader. “But there’s one thing I do know, and that is, no matter what they want our car for, they mustn’t be allowed to take it!”
“Hear! hear!” said Bumpus joyfully.
“While we all feel sorry for poor little Belgium, dragged into this terrible war when she hadn’t done a single thing to bring it on, still we’ll need that car ourselves for some time yet.”
“Yes,” added Bumpus, “and, Thad, for one I’m willing to turn the machine over to the Belgians, such as it is, if they can make any sort of use of it, just as soon as we strike Antwerp.”