When he had delivered what news he had picked up, perhaps verbally as well as through some written process, the spy would most likely assist the flier to get his Taube under way again, after which he could return to take up his risky profession amidst the Belgian forces.
Once Tubby did come near falling, as his toe caught in a projecting stone, which, of course, had been invisible. He managed to clutch hold of Merritt, who was on his left, and in this way avoided a tumble that might have caused more or less noise, even if it did not result in any damage to his nose.
Then Rob came to a stop. The others understood that he must have decided they were as near the place where the lantern glowed in the field as they could get without clambering over the stone barrier. This wall fence came up to Tubby's chin, so that he had to stand on his tiptoes to see over it.
"Has he sailed away yet, Rob?" asked Tubby, in his hushed voice, which sounded as though he might be using the soft pedal on his vocal organ.
"We would have heard the clatter of his motor if he had," returned Rob. "So far it hasn't been found possible to deaden the rattle of the propeller. And, on a still night like this, you could get that some ways off. No, they're talking business yet, I reckon."
"Gee whiz! but they must have a lot to say," muttered Tubby.
"After they separate we'd better lie low a while," suggested Rob.
"What for?" demanded Tubby, bound to understand everything, even if he had to swamp his mates with questions.
"The spy, or spies, for there may be more than one of them, might just happen to cross this way, so as to get to the road; and, if they saw three shadowy figures moving along, the first thing they'd be apt to think was that we were enemies who had been listening."