It was presently opened by Franz’ wife, who, by shaking her head and pointing toward Coblenz, evidently explained that her husband had gone to town with his load of wood. Herr Johann gesticulated with some vehemence. The woman listened in stolid acquiescence. The second man waited in silence, shuffling his booted feet in the snow. After five minutes’ conversation the two turned away and, recrossing the clearing, disappeared among the trees. Franz’ wife stood watching them until they were out of sight.
“Lucy, I’m jolly curious to know where they are going,” exclaimed Alan. “Why shouldn’t we walk in that direction ourselves? I expect we can go where we please in American-occupied territory as well as a couple of sly, whistling Boches.”
Lucy nodded agreement, willing enough to dog the Germans’ footsteps, though she had little idea that they would lead to anything of interest. She and Alan began skirting the clearing at a quick walk, keeping just within the last fringe of pine trees. In a few minutes they reached the opposite side and, without much search, came upon the Germans’ footsteps in the snow, and, in a moment, heard them talking together as they walked on a dozen yards ahead, an occasional twig cracking beneath their feet.
“Don’t let them hear us if you can help it,” said Alan, close to her ear. “Don’t hide, but be as quiet as you can. I want to learn their direction.”
The Germans walked on at a brisk, swinging gait, Herr Johann talking volubly, his companion answering mostly in monosyllables. They never looked back and seemed oblivious of their stalkers. Alan and Lucy kept them just in sight, though this became more difficult as the forest grew denser, the pines alternating with low-branching firs and cedars and the broad brown trunks of oaks.
Suddenly a narrow woodland road came into view, winding among the trees. Herr Johann and the other paused to look keenly along it, as far as its windings would permit. Then they followed it a short distance, each one taking a different direction. In a moment the man who looked like a farmer gave a low shout and, reappearing in sight, made a gesture that brought Herr Johann walking quickly toward him. He pointed down the narrow road, and Herr Johann, giving a nod of satisfaction, sat down on the bulging root of an oak tree and proceeded to fill a pipe. The other stood waiting, leaning against the trunk.
“What do they see?” Lucy whispered to Alan from behind their shelter of fir-boughs.
“I expect it’s old Franz himself,” Alan murmured, his face aglow with excited amusement. “I say, Lucy, isn’t this simply priceless? What a pity Bob isn’t here with one of his theories. I can’t make it out.”
As he spoke a faint creaking of wheels sounded on the road, and in another minute a team composed of a horse and donkey appeared in sight from the direction of Badheim and Coblenz, drawing Franz’ wagon, upon which he himself sat, in front of a slender load made up, so far as Lucy and Alan could see, mostly of a bale of hay and some cabbages. At sight of the men awaiting him he pulled up with a start, sprang down in front of the tree where Herr Johann sat, took off his cap, and made his awkward bow.
Herr Johann spoke too low for Alan and Lucy to hear the whole of his phrases. Something like this was the best that they could catch: