"So would I," replied Harry. "But I don't regret anything. All I'm sorry for is that poor old Ginger is collared. I'm afraid he's having a rotten time of it."
The road was winding and hilly, running through country for the most part bare, but dotted with clumps of woodland. Presently they passed a train of artillery transport. Shortly afterwards they came in sight of a low hill from the further side of which they expected to see the ruined hamlet. As they rode up the hill they suddenly noticed, just below the crown on their left, a battery of British field-guns getting into position. The gunners were masking it from aerial observation by means of branches of trees and shrubs on which the foliage was well advanced. Then a bend of the road brought them in sight of a battalion of infantry, evidently in support of the guns.
"Halt there!" cried a man, coming towards them.
They slipped off, left the bicycle by the side of the road, and accompanied the man to the colonel.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
Kenneth mentioned the name of their village.
"You can't go this way," said the colonel. "The enemy isn't far on the other side of the road this leads to, and I don't want anything to attract his attention to this quarter. Ride back, and go along the main road."
"We can't get along very well for the traffic, sir," said Kenneth. "We rode the other way yesterday, and know it quite well. It's much shorter, and a good deal of it is in a hollow, so that we are not very likely to be seen. Besides, sir, we might possibly do a little scouting on the way."
"You're not in a signal company?"
"Not officially, sir, though we carried an emergency despatch yesterday."