“And you know,” George once said, “a whole lot can happen in a month. Those Germans have an ‘underground telegraph’ that beats anything the negroes and their Northern sympathizers had during, and previous to, our Civil War.”
“Aw, don’t bring up ancient history,” growled Al, who tried to be cheerful, but who found it hard work when the older boys seemed determined to see the dark side of the shield. “I’ve forgotten ’most all I ever knew about every war before this one we’re into with both feet—and then some!”
“Sure, Torry,” put in Frenchy Donahue, “don’t you remember the war of that showman who antedated Barnum—the one they say got a herd of elephants over the Alps to fight for him?”
“Oi, oi! Hannibal!” cried Ikey.
“Say! it would take a friend of yours to do that, Frenchy,” said Al in disgust. “I’ve always had my doubts about that fellow, Hannibal.”
“Besides,” went on Ikey, going back to Belding’s statement, “it’s nothing to do with ‘underground’ or any other telegraph. The Germans use wireless. If that spy got news across the pond——”
“Right-o!” broke in George, with increased good-nature and an answering smile. “But let’s ‘supposing.’ That spy has had ample time to transmit to friends on the other side of the ocean information about the gold my father is carrying to South America.”
“Why,” said Whistler, slowly unpuckering his lips, “he might even have crossed to New York himself by this time—if the British didn’t catch him.”
“If they had caught him wouldn’t we have been told?” asked Belding quickly.
“How? By whom?” demanded Whistler.