"That was taking a chance, old boy," whispered Bart, as his friend resumed his place among them. "If you'd knocked against anything and the Huns had heard you, they'd have been down here in a jiffy."
"I suppose it was a little risky," returned Frank, "but we've got to take risks sometimes, and it struck me that there might be something in that paper that our officers would like to know."
Just then Billy, in trying to get in a less cramped position, knocked against one of the rifles that had been stood in a corner. It fell against one of the barrels with a clatter that in the confined place and the tense state of the boys' nerves sounded to them like thunder.
Frank grabbed it before it could fall on the cellar floor, but it seemed as though the mischief must have been done, and their hearts were in their mouths as they listened for anything that might indicate that the sound had been heard on the floor above.
But the debate had reached a lively stage just at that moment, and the incident attracted no attention, so that after two minutes more of strained listening the boys were assured that they had come off scot free from what might have been a disaster.
"This is sure no place for a man with heart disease," murmured Tom, and his comrades unanimously agreed with him.
The conference in the room above had come to an end, as was shown by the shuffling of feet as the men rose from the table. There was a sound as of a sheaf of papers being hastily gathered together. But there was no outcry to indicate that any one of them was missing, and the boys drew a long breath and relaxed their grasp on their rifles. There would be no search, and for the moment they were safe.
The lights above were extinguished and the party went out. The horses clattered away, and once more the house and the town were as still as the grave.
"So near and yet so far," murmured Frank, when he was sure that the last of the unwelcome visitors had departed.
"That was what you might call too close for comfort," grinned Billy.