CHAPTER XI.
MYSTERIOUS SIGNALS IN THE NIGHT.
Of course once Rob found himself away from that pungent smoke his sight was gradually restored to him, though for quite a while his eyeballs smarted more or less from the experience.
"What will we do now?" asked Tubby, who was very happy in the knowledge that he had been allowed to have at least a hand, two of them, he affirmed, in the saving of the little one.
"I did have an idea of staying here all night," returned Rob. "But, since the inn has been destroyed, or will be utterly before the fire dies down, of course that's out of the question."
"You remember we asked questions of the tavern-keeper," Merritt remarked. "He told us there was another village about three miles farther on along the road. We might make out to go there, and see if they will put us up. If not, it's a haystack for ours, provided there are any haystacks around."
"H'm! three miles or more, on that animated saw-buck, eh? I like that. It just invigorates me, of course," they heard Tubby telling himself, but his voice was anything but cheerful.
"Here comes the mother and the baby; she wants to thank you, Rob," Merritt told the patrol leader.
"Let's hurry and get out of this, then!" urged Rob, who, above all things, seemed to dislike being made a hero of when he felt that he had not done anything worth mentioning after all.
"No, you don't!" exclaimed Tubby, laying violent hands on his chum. "It's only fair that you give the poor woman a chance to tell you how grateful she is. As it stands to reason she speaks only Flemish, none of us can make head or tail out of what she says, unless she mentions that one word I know, which isn't likely."