“—keep your word, eh, Franz?”
Franz plunged into what sounded like apologies, his rough voice also subdued, ending with, “—two hours in Coblenz.”
Again all that was audible of Herr Johann’s reply was, “—reach the river?”
Franz shook his head dubiously as he said something like, “—harder than ever. And I had to unload it all.”
Alan began creeping nearer. Lucy caught his arm, whispering sharply, “You mustn’t! They’ll see you.”
Alan stopped, nodding agreement. Lucy’s heart was beating fast. For the first time she felt a prickling uneasiness and a fear that all this might not be so innocently explained as she had believed. Straining her ears, she listened once more.
Herr Johann pointed to his stolid companion and, as though comparing the two men, said to Franz what ended with, “—more than you in a week’s work.—a whole month?”
Franz shook his head in eager denial and, dropping on one knee before Herr Johann, he poured out explanations or assurances of which neither Lucy nor Alan could hear enough to piece one sentence together.
After listening a few minutes Herr Johann got up, knocked his pipe against the tree, waved his hand as though to say that words meant little to him, then, as if relenting, he clapped Franz on the shoulder and gave him a short, friendly nod. Franz’ harsh, sour face eagerly watched the other, drinking in these signs of reconciliation. Herr Johann, without more words, started off across the road with his companion beside him and the two disappeared in the forest.
Franz stood a full minute looking after them, motionless, his cap still twisted in his lean hands. Then slowly he remounted his wagon, spoke to his team and passed out of sight along the winding road.