“Sure he’s a German?” asked the M. P. Clem had said no word and seemed to wish to avoid acknowledging Don. The M. P. turned to Clem.
“Say, Corp, if you know this spy we’d better be getting on. That’s the orders. The P. C. told you to get these fellows.”
Corporal Stapley turned slowly to reply. “Ask you informant here how he came to discover these Germans.”
“Ask him yourself,” retorted the M. P.
“Look here, Clem, don’t be a fool—twice!” Don blurted, angrily. “This is big business and allows for no petty child’s play.”
“How did you get on to them?” Clem deigned to ask, then. And Don briefly related the adventure with the two signalers back of the Mondidier front and then told of the incident just past.
“Couldn’t hold them,” remarked Clem. “Fool trick. I guess you’re better when you’ve got another that’s some account backing you. Let them get away! Fierce! Poor work!”
“Hey, yo’ white fellah, hit ain’t so!” Wash put in, angrily. “Yu ain’t in yo’ right min’, Ah reckon. Wha’d yu done ef yu’d ben thar?”
Clem paid no attention, but asked another question. “Did they scare you very much?”
Don, though hurt at his townsman’s words, decided to let them pass; he merely waved his hand up the road, but Wash was more than game.