"What if those awful Uhlans took our steeds away with them?" Tubby suggested, with his usual blank look, and that woebegone shake of his head.
"It seems unbelievable to me," Rob replied; "but I'll make some inquiries. The inn-keeper may have had them taken to the stables back yonder, though I remember noticing the animals at the time we were peeping out of the window when the troopers were coming down the village street. Wait for me, and I'll ask him."
"I surely hope you learn good news, Rob!" Tubby sighed, as he thought of three long Belgian miles separating him from some sort of bed, where he could secure the rest he needed so badly.
Presently Rob came back, and, when Tubby saw him shake his head in the negative, he gave a dull sort of a groan.
"Bottom knocked out of everything, is it, Rob?" he asked, in a dazed sort of way.
"Well, nobody could give me any hope," was the reply. "Of course, the landlord was too excited over the burning of his house to notice just what the Uhlans did as they rode away, but one man told us he saw the troopers take our horses trailing behind them."
"Then that settles it," said Merritt; "though I'll never understand what they could want with those bony and tired nags, unless it was to make bologna sausages out of. We're in for a little hike that will stretch our legs."
"Yes, I guess it will," echoed Tubby, in a way that was hardly cheerful.
"And yours can stand a good deal of stretching, Tubby, you know," added Merritt.
"There's no use crying over spilt milk," said Rob, in his usual cheery fashion. "I more than half expected that we'd lose our mounts, sooner or later."