However it was, this fine French country house had not even been scratched, as yet.
The chatter in the dining-hall was all Greek to Billy, though Henri and Reddy appeared to be much interested and amused by the lively conversation.
Reddy pointed out here and there a chasseur that he knew by name.
“What’s the matter with us having a little breakfast ourselves?” suggested Henri. There was plenty to eat in the knapsacks.
Billy and Reddy had no protest to make on this proposition, but they found it thirsty work to swallow camp rations without even a sup of liquid.
It so happened that a foot soldier serving as waiter passed close to the wall, carrying a flagon filled with water. At the moment everybody in the hall stood up in attitude of salute. The general was just coming in to breakfast. The soldier set the flagon down near the panel; Henri pressed the knob, making the opening wide enough for Reddy to poke an arm through, and quick as a flash that expert young gentleman yanked the prize through the crack, which was instantly closed by Henri.
The boys could not see what the soldier did when he discovered his loss, but they imagined that he must have been considerably surprised by the mysterious disappearance of the flagon.
The boys had not had a wink of sleep for more than twenty-four hours, and with all their walking and the heavy work they had done at “point of rocks” they were completely fagged.
“Oh, for a good soft place on which to stretch, and some air that is decent to breathe,” murmured Billy with nodding head.
“The surest thing I know,” was Henri’s encouraging words to the sleepy-head. “Come on, fellows.”