They took turns in carrying the can which was by this time beginning to feel rather weighty. Even Bumpus insisted on taking his regular spell, for when they tried to spare him from doing his share of things he always grew indignant, and wanted to know why they tried to make him out to be a baby. Bumpus was getting to be exceedingly touchy on such matters, it seemed, for his pride received a severe jolt every time it happened.
When the next half hour had expired and Thad told them they must go back to the inn so as to make a start they had close on seven gallons of petrol. Apparently the fluid famine had already started in that part of little Belgium, and it was certain to get worse continually as the bitter war went on.
The scouts quitted their refuge of the night, feeling that they had passed through another novel experience in watching the coming and going of the raiding Uhlan troop.
CHAPTER XVII.
A MAN IN THE TREE TOP.
“To-day ought to tell the story whether we’re going to get through or not,” Giraffe was saying, after they had been making more or less progress.
“Put it a little stronger, Giraffe,” ventured Thad. “Say to-day and to-morrow will go pretty far toward settling it; because with such a knock-down machine we’re apt to meet up with all sorts of delays.”
Bumpus shook his head and sighed.
“I know I’ll be glad when the agony is over,” he remarked pensively; and there was not one of his companions but who felt he was thinking of his waiting mother rather than himself.
For a little while their progress was indeed very fair, and as Giraffe counted the number of miles they were putting behind him he kept smiling more broadly than ever.
“Bully for the busy little worker!” he exclaimed finally. “I sure believe it’s taken on new life, and is renewing its youth. And yet they say they can’t come back.”