“Whew! it’s wonderful when you come to think of it,” Giraffe exclaimed, with a whistle to indicate the state of his feelings; “and I can see how an up-to-date war with such a country as Germany is bound to give the world heaps of surprises and thrills.”
“Just stop and consider,” said Allan, still gazing at the far-away soaring objects among the light clouds, “what those chaps are seeing as they sail around up there. It must be a wonderful spectacle, and I’d give a lot to be up there half an hour or so.”
“But it must be dangerous work at that, I’d think,” observed Bumpus.
“All aeroplane work is,” admitted Giraffe, “and if you once started to take a drop it’d be the end. You’d never know what had happened; but, say, I’d pity the poor fellow underneath when you landed, Bumpus!”
“I didn’t mean that, Giraffe,” expostulated the other; “don’t you suppose now if those are German airships the Belgians must be cracking away at them with their guns and trying to bring them down?”
“They’d be silly not to, Bumpus,” replied Giraffe, “and if we only had a glass along the chances are you’d be able to see some of the bombs or shrapnel exploding up there. But it’s hard to hit such a moving target, and besides I reckon the pilots fly high enough to be well out of range.”
Since leaving the roadside inn they had covered quite a few miles, with nothing out of the way happening, except that little trouble on the slope of the hill. Thad had studied the little chart he carried with him, and tried to lay out a route which he hoped would carry them beyond the danger line.
He understood that the invaders must be stretching out toward the west so as to control that section of country. There was a chance that at any time the boys might meet with a raiding band of rough-riders connected with the German army; but he hoped this would not happen, for it was likely to spoil all their plans and set them back.
“Why, this is getting too sleepy for anything,” Giraffe was complaining finally. “We don’t even have any housewife rush out and threaten us for running over her dog, or killing a poor old hen. Why, even the ducks can waddle out of reach of our slow-poke car. It makes me feel like I’m going to a funeral.”
“You’re the same old Giraffe,” declared Bumpus, chuckling, “always finding fault. Now the only thing that makes me sad is because I never yet had a chance to show what I know about driving a car. I took three lessons last spring, and later on Thad might let me spell him some.”