"Oh, vell," said the officer, waving his hand in a deprecating manner, "who cares about a little ting like dot in var time?"
"Well, if we had got hit by one of the bullets we wouldn't have felt very joyful about it, I can tell you that!" said Ned.
"Und why was it that this man wouldn't sell you the gasoline?"
"I don't know unless it was because we wouldn't answer his questions about the movement of German troops," answered Ned.
"I don't think that was it at all," laughed the officer. "It was those uniforms of yours. You see, they are different than what he was accustomed to seeing, and he probably thought they were Russian."
"Possibly that was it," agreed Ned, although he secretly doubted this flimsy explanation. "Of course, I don't know."
"Yes," the other went on, "I'm sure that was it, and I suggest that the best plan would be to change them. You will therefore remove your uniforms and we will provide you with others more suitable."
"Well, if you please," Ned remonstrated, "we'd much rather take our chances wearing these same uniforms. They're ours and others are not. It wouldn't be very nice to go back on your uniform."
"But you will change, nevertheless," announced the other. "We need those uniforms and you don't. So be quick about it."
At a signal one of the men now came forward bearing an armful of clothes, which he threw down upon the floor in front of the lads.