He led Tubby and Merritt over to the stairs.
"We'll slip up here," he told them, for a quick glance around had assured Rob that no one was watching them.
Most of those who had been around the tavern hurried outside at the first sign of alarm, and were now gaping at the coming troop. The proprietor, guessing that his establishment would be the first object of attention on the part of the invading enemy, was wildly striving to conceal certain valuables he possessed under a board in the floor, where, perhaps, he also kept his choicest wines.
Once the scouts had climbed aloft they managed to gain a sort of garret where broken furniture and hair-covered trunks seemed to be stored.
"This will answer us as well as any other place," Rob told them, as he closed the door, and managed to push a heavy trunk against it.
"And there are two little peephole windows, too, for all the world like eye-glasses, but big enough for us to see through," Tubby remarked, groping his way among the collection of riffraff with which the garret was encumbered, until he found himself able to kneel and look through the dusty glass of a window.
"They're spreading all over the place," he immediately announced, "and making the village people get supper ready for them. Chances are, too, they won't whack up a red cent for all they eat and drink. Whee! so this is war, is it? Well, all I can say is it's a mighty mean game."
"Some of them have come into the inn," ventured Merritt. "I can hear heavy voices below us, German voices, too. You know sound travels up walls like everything. And there's a heap of bustle going on below, as if the landlord, his wife and everybody else might be on the jump to wait on the Uhlan guests."
"Can you blame them?" said Tubby, "when like as not if they said no they'd find a torch put to their house? Rob, you don't think they'll come up here, do you?"