Of course there had been talk of enemy spies and of German activities, and a great deal of it had a basis in fact, or easily could have. And it was true that a German spy could do a great deal of damage around Camp Dixton if he tried. There were great store-houses that could be set on fire, there were barracks and stables that could be burned, and more than one fire that did occur during the early days may be set down as having been the work of an enemy alien. If such were the men meeting at midnight in the hollow, just off the posts of Jerry and Ned, they wanted to know it. Even if one did wear Uncle Sam’s uniform, that was no reason for believing him true. There are traitors in all walks of life.
“What do you make ’em out to be?” asked Ned in a whisper of his tall chum.
“I’m not sure. One seems to be a soldier, but the other isn’t. And the soldier, if he is that, came from the direction of our place.”
“Going to yell for the corporal of the guard?”
“Not yet a while. Let’s see who they are.”
The thick grass muffling their footsteps, Ned and Jerry drew near to the place where they had last seen the figures. They were not in sight now, being crouched down in the dark shadows. But as the boys paused to listen, they heard the murmur of voices, and some one said:
“It’s a little soon to start anything yet. Wait about a week and the place will be full. Then the damage will be all the greater.”
“All right; just as you say,” came the response. “Only my friends are getting impatient to have me do something.”
“Oh, you’ll do it all right!” said the first speaker. “And now you’d better hop along. The sentries may be over this way any minute. I’ve got to sneak back. See you again in the usual way.”