One man, who Rob could see was an officer, he thought a lieutenant at least, immediately bustled up and faced him. He leaned forward and looked earnestly into the face of the scout, whose khaki uniform must have interested him.
“This boy who turns out to be the engineer’s son,” he hurriedly said, “tells us you and your comrades are American lads and that you have crossed the boundary to give warning that a vile plot was on foot to dynamite the bridge. Is this the truth, or a fairy story?”
“Yes, it is what brings us here, sir,” replied Rob simply. “Most of the credit for discovering the truth belongs to Donald McGuffey.”
“No, no; for where would I have been only for your finding me caught in the auld bear trap?” cried the other energetically. “Besides, I never could hae reached here alone, in time to save the bridge. If there be any honor, every one o’ ye shares in the same.”
“This sounds very fine,” said the officer, who could hardly bring himself to believe that it was the truth. “What proof have you to back your story up?”
Impulsive Andy could contain himself no longer. He was more than a little indignant that their word should be even doubted.
“Rob, show them, won’t you? Seeing is believing every time, and we’ve got all the proof any one would want, a dozen times over.”
“Yes, show him, Rob, please do!” urged Tubby, also beginning to feel a righteous indignation.
“If you will come with us, sir,” Rob told the officer, “you can see enough to convince you we have told nothing but the truth.”
“Lead on, and we will follow,” the other commanded; and then, turning, he added something in low tones to a couple of his men, who immediately closed in on either side of the boys and Zeb.