"Aeroplanes," chirped Billy.
Bart made a thrust at him which Billy dodged.
"I guess we're picked for a scouting party," remarked Tom. "The captain may want to confirm some of the information he's getting from those chaps."
"Information!" snorted Bart. "More likely misinformation. Those fellows struck me as being dandy liars."
"They wouldn't be Huns if they weren't," remarked Billy. "You know Baron Munchausen came from over the Rhine, so they come rightly by their talent in that line. But what's the matter with Tony here?" he added, as they passed by one of the field kitchens in a protected nook, where one of the bakers was kneading away desperately at some dough and muttering volubly to himself.
"He seems all riled up about something, for a fact," commented Frank.
"What's the matter, Tony?" inquired Bart of the perspiring baker, an Italian who had spent some years in the United States and who was generally liked by the boys of the old Thirty-seventh because of his customary good nature and his skill in compounding their favorite dishes.
Tony looked up in despair.
"I can't maka de dough," he complained. "I worka more dan hour. It lika de sand. It getta my goat."
The boys laughed at his woe-begone face.