“But, Thad,” objected Allan, “you know what we heard about all cars? As soon as the order for mobilization went out it was flashed from the Russian border to Alsace and Lorraine, and from that minute every car worth owning in the entire German country would be the property of the Government. Why, if we owned even an American-made car right now it would be taken away from us, to be paid for by the military authorities. I’m afraid it’s going to be a case of shank’s mare with us.”
“Let it,” said Thad; “we’ve got to make a start inside of an hour or so!”
That was the prompt way in which most of the matters engineered by Thad Brewster were put through. Somehow his manner of saying it thrilled the others, for there could be seen a new grim look come into their faces. Even the woe-begone countenance of Bumpus took on fresh hope.
“Do you really mean that we’re going to start out into the west, Thad?” he asked, with glistening eyes.
“Just what we’ll do, Bumpus!” he was told with a reassuring smile on the part of the patrol leader such as always carried fresh cheer to anxious hearts.
“How about getting rid of the boat that’s carried us down the Rhine so splendidly?” questioned Giraffe.
“That’s already been arranged for,” was what the other told him; “all we have to do is to hand it over to that boat builder, and get his receipt for the same. We have paid the last thaler we owe, and there’s no reason why we can’t leave our duffle here with the same man, to be sent for later on when the war is over and railroads are taking on freight again for America.”
“It sounds good to me,” said Giraffe. “I’d hate to lose a few things I brought along to make myself comfortable with—the red blanket, for instance, that’s been with me on so many camping trips. I hope there’s a good chance of seeing our stuff again some fine day.”
“Well, talking isn’t going to help us any, so what do you say we get busy?” suggested Thad; and as the others were all agreeable they soon made quick work with packing up their belongings, so they could be left in charge of the owner of the boatyard on the outskirts of the city.
All the while they worked the boys could hear a thousand and one sounds connected with the feverish rush of military trains crossing bridges, and starting off anew toward the Belgian border at three points beyond the mobilizing centre of Aachen or, as it was once called, Aix la Chappelle, almost due west by south from Cologne.