CHAPTER XXXII.
A PIECE OF PAPER.
Upon the two following days Hal and Chester, in company with the young German lieutenant, viewed the sights in the German capital. Instead of the peaceful, pleasure-loving city of their vacation, it now bore naught but signs of war.
Officers in automobiles, afoot and on horseback, were rushing hither and thither continually. Troops were moving through the streets of the city upon every hand—some preparing to entrain for the west, and some for the east, where even now it was known that the great hordes of the Czar of all the Russias were approaching as fast as their vast numbers would permit.
It was indeed a scene to delight a war-like eye, and it was not lost upon the two lads.
“It’s going to be an awful job to lick these fellows,” Chester confided to Hal, as they strolled about one afternoon.
“There is no question about that,” was Hal’s reply. “Still, it has to be done.”
“And will be done eventually,” declared Chester grimly. “The trouble is that we are not likely to see it done.”
“Don’t lose heart,” said Hal. “Something may turn up. You never can tell.”