“Lacks a quarter of twelve,” replied Jack, striking a match and shielding it from observation under the flap of his coat as he looked at his watch.
The boys crouched down in the bushes and waited. It was not long before they heard some one approaching in the darkness.
“That’s Garlach by the way he walks,” whispered Bob Movel.
“Yes,” assented Jack. “I hope Socrat is on time.”
The German professor approached the tree, anxious to take from it the papers that were to prove the valor of German soldiers. A moment later another figure loomed up in the darkness on the other side of the big trunk.
“There’s Socrat,” whispered Nat. “But what is he carrying?”
“Blessed if I know,” answered Jack; “but we’ll soon see.”
He struck a match and touched it to the end of the twisted strings. There was a splutter of flame, and some sparks ran along the ground. A moment later the scene was lighted up by glaring red fire, the fuse of which Jack had touched off. By the illumination the boys hidden in the bushes could see Professor Garlach, with his hand and arm down the hollow of the old oak tree. At the same time Professor Socrat rushed forward, and what he had in his hand was a pail of water.
“So!” cried the Frenchman. “I have caught you in ze act! I will foil you!”
“Don’t bodder me!” cried the German. “Ach! You would steal der evidence of your countrymen’s cowardice, vould you? But you shall not! I vill haf my revenge!”