"The fastest heavy craft I ever sailed in," was Henri's expressed belief.
"I think you youngsters could make a living here if I were to bounce you," said Roque, who had been talking to some of the factory chiefs. "But you are hooked to my train for a while yet. And that reminds me that the mentioned train starts in the direction of Austria in the next two hours. Vienna is not a slow place, you will find."
As Roque was likely to jump anywhere at the drop of a hat, the boys in his company had long since lost the emotion of surprise.
Perpetual motion had become a habit with them.
In the Austrian capital the travelers encountered many invalids from the front, men who limped a little, had an arm in a sling, or a bandaged head. The Viennese on the surface did not seem to be greatly impressed by the tragedy of the war—evidently becoming used to it—yet the determination to fight to the finish, while not as grim as in Berlin, was there, nevertheless.
Another thing that impressed the boys was that here foreign terms were still much in evidence—French and English. In Berlin it was different.
As Billy said, "we're in a better mixing town." He and Henri were told that quite a number of medical and art students from America had decided that Vienna was safe enough for them, but Roque kept his airmen close under his wing, and they had no opportunity to pass even the time of day with any of the U. S. A. crowd.
They had no present desire, however, to attempt a bolt from Roque and did not believe, anyway, that their detention was just then seriously affecting their health.
"Time enough to run," was Billy's philosophy, "when his nobs begins to kick in our ribs."