"Why, of course, we are!" admitted the boy with an attempt at a laugh. "We're prisoners in more ways than one. You have the spark plugs and we couldn't make a decent get-away if we tried. Besides, you two fellows have your rifles and we are unarmed."
"I guess you've got us dead to rights," put in Dave.
"Sure you have," resumed Jimmie. "Now, I'll tell you what," he went on, "you sit here," indicating a position between the fire and the aeroplane, "and we'll sit on the opposite side of the fire. You may have your rifles across your laps or ready at your side. If we break and run for it, you may shoot as fast as you please."
"That's fair enough," urged Ned. "It isn't just the square thing to take us prisoners without letting us get some food."
"See here," continued Jimmie, reaching out a hand toward the coffee pot bubbling over the tiny flame and lifting the lid, "did you ever smell better coffee in your life? That's worth drinking, I say!"
"Dot's goot cooffee!" announced Fritz, solemnly. "I take a cup."
"Sure, you'll both have a cup!" declared Jimmie.
"That's a real compliment, Otto," laughed Jimmie, winking at Dave as he spoke. "When a German admits that any other nation on earth can make good coffee it is going some. The Germans can make real coffee!"
"We generally let Dave pour the coffee, because he's an extra boy in the crowd and we make the newcomers do all the heavy work, but he's awkward at it yet owing to his just recently coming off a cattle ranch in Canada, where he had to lasso a lot of cattle every day. This time I'm going to pour the coffee myself."
As Jimmie spoke he glanced back toward Dave, sitting with the others.