The newcomers had now approached within a distance of a hundred yards. The boys looked in vain for any one wearing an officer's uniform, but there was no one who seemed to be in command. The crowd advanced in straggling formation, some of their faces exhibiting merely curiosity, while those of others were ugly and determined. There were perhaps half a dozen rifles among the lot, but the boys could see army revolvers at the belts of half a dozen more. A few had nothing but heavy sticks. The clothing of all was worn and travel stained, but all were of military cut and pattern, indicating that the wearers had belonged to the German army. The Army Boys went boldly toward them, and their confident bearing seemed to impress the Germans, who hesitated in their advance and crowded close together as though in consultation.
The boys kept going until they were within thirty feet, and then Frank handed his rifle to Billy and went forward with empty hands to show that his intentions were peaceable.
"We're American soldiers, as you can see by our uniforms," he said in a clear voice, in which there was no trace of wavering. "We are on our way to camp. We saw you turn from your line of march and come our way as though you wanted to speak to us. What do you want?"
Frank had spoken in German and they all understood him, but there was no answer ready, although the men's eyes glowered as they rested on his uniform and there were muttered exclamations.
"Is there any one of you that speaks English?" Frank asked, after waiting a moment.
Again a whispered consultation, and one of their number was pushed forward by the others.
"Do you speak English?" Frank asked.
"Yes," replied the man roughly. "I lived for five years in your accursed America."
The tone and words were offensively insolent, but Frank took no notice of them.
"Then perhaps you can tell me what you and your comrades want with us," he said.