"Oh! we're a long, long way off from Sempst yet, Tubby," he said. "I was referring to a bridge the inn-keeper told me about, that's all."
"What's there about a bridge to worry us, I'd like to know?" muttered the fat scout suspiciously, feeling terribly depressed, because he had been so like a drowning man grasping at a straw.
"Unless it happens to be guarded by the Germans," suggested Merritt softly, "and then we'd have a dickens of a time getting across."
"The trouble about this particular bridge isn't so much that it's apt to be guarded," Rob went on to inform them, "but the inn-keeper was afraid we'd find it gone!"
"Blown up, do you mean, Rob?" Tubby demanded.
"It's been reported that way," he was informed. "Fact is, there doesn't seem to be much doubt about it. From all accounts, the Belgians destroyed it, as they have done many other costly bridges, so as to impede the advance of the German heavy guns. It takes lots of time and trouble to rebuild a bridge and make it strong enough to let a monster siege gun rumble over."
"But, Rob, shall we have to swim across, or is there a sort of ford handy that we might use?" Merritt inquired.
"I certainly hope we don't have to swim, anyway," Tubby declared, "for, if there's one thing I hate to do, it's to get soaking wet. It's so uncomfortable afterward, and especially when you can't change your clothes. But, of course, if it's got to be done, we'll all have to just grin and bear it."
"It may not be necessary in this case," added Rob, no doubt purposely delaying his information, because he liked to hear Tubby drumming up his courage in this way.
"Then mebbe you've gone and got some wings hidden away, which we can use to fly across?" suggested Tubby quickly, "or it might be an aëroplane is kept handy so's to ferry folks over dry-shod."