“Hear that, Henri, old boy? Capt. Johnson and Freeman are safe in Dover.”
Billy could not help repeating the glad tidings.
“Wonder how they got away?”
Henri would have been mightily pleased to talk it over with the old boys that very minute.
Billy had already added Jimmy to his good friend list, and these two kept up a running fire of questions aimed at one another.
Aëroplanes and submarines were dissected and put together again many times during the lively conversation.
“How did you get so far from the water? You ought to be blowing a fog-horn instead of a bugle, Jimmy.”
“I’ll tell you, Billy,” replied Jimmy, “that it was just a fluke that I got anywhere outside of prisoners’ quarters. They picked up a bunch of us at Nieuport, and one of the German officers asked me if I had run away from school. The fact that they classed me kindergarten furnished me the chance of skipping, and I starved my way to the camp of the Coldstream Guards. They were going my way or I was going theirs, and here I am.”
The boys had a reminder about that time that a war was going on, for chunks of lead began to purr over the exposed position where they were grouped.
“Blow a retreat,” suggested Henri to the bugler; but none of them waited for that signal to get to cover.