“No, don’t!” interposed Jerry, as his stout chum seemed about to put this into execution. “Let’s lay low for a while, and see what we can find out. No use starting anything. We’ve had trouble enough already.”
“Exactly,” chimed in Ned. “There’s been enough of a hoodoo about this homeward trip. Let’s get out to sea before we tackle le cochon. Then he can’t dodge us by getting off and walking ashore.”
“He’s going below, anyhow,” remarked Jerry, as they saw the little man descending a companionway. “He must feel at home. I didn’t know they allowed any civilians to travel on the troopships.”
“They’ve made an exception in his case,” decided Jerry. “Well, it is queer, and I’d like to know what it all means. This man is an American, by his talk, but he isn’t at all like our dear old professor, no matter how much he looks like him from the rear.”
“I’d like to see the professor once more,” said Ned.
“Same here,” agreed Bob. “Well, we’ll see him, I suppose, when we get back home. Gee! After what we’ve gone through it hardly seems as if there is any such a place.”
“You said a mouthful, buddy!” exclaimed a tall soldier who wore the croix de guerre. “I’d rather see my back yard with the sunflowers and the hollyhocks in it than all the gardens of the too-de-loories over here.”
The Sherman was now again rapidly leaving the harbor of Brest and making her way toward the open sea.
“There isn’t going to be much of a joy-ride about this,” observed Ned, as he and his chums found their sleeping quarters and stowed away their few belongings.