Billy was catching the spirit of the occasion.
So it was while good Sergeant Scott was performing a military duty the boys shouldered their well filled knapsacks, and, with Reddy leading, in the dusk succeeded in eluding the sentry first in the way.
The cunning of Reddy as a woodsman was wonderfully shown by the manner in which he took to the brush and the way he avoided notice. It seemed hardly any time at all before the boys were silently picking their way, shadow-like, in the depths of the pitch-dark ravine.
They had heard no challenge until Billy planted his foot on a fallen twig, which cracked like a pistol shot.
“Who goes there?”
Sharp question, in French, from above.
Down went the boys flat on the ground, concealed by overhanging bushes.
The sentry repeated the challenge.
All as silent as the grave.
The boys scarcely breathed. They knew the guard was one of the allied forces, but yet they had no desire to take issue with him. Even if he only turned them back to quarters their chances of getting away again would be few and far between. The sergeant would see to that.