"It's all right, Tubby," chimed in Merritt, "because there's a light, yes,—two, three of the same kind. We'll soon be there, and I hope we'll find some sort of a bunk, even if we have to drop in the hay."
"That's what I say," the fat scout declared energetically, bracing up, now that it seemed the haven might be in sight. "I could sleep standing up, I believe, if only you braced me on the sides."
"I believe you," remarked Merritt; and Tubby hardly knew whether he ought to demand an explanation of that insinuation or not; he finally concluded to change the subject.
They soon found they had arrived at another of those frequent little Belgian hamlets where, in the past, thrift had held sway, but which were rapidly becoming demoralized under the pressure of the war fever. Most of the men were serving the colors, of course, those remaining being the very aged or crippled, the women, and always the flocks of children.
"Seems to me they're carrying on kind of queer here, as if something might be going on," Merritt hazarded while they were approaching the border of the place.
"Gingersnaps and popguns!" exclaimed Tubby, "I hope there isn't a bunch of those terrible Uhlans in town, smashing things, and threatening to burn every house unless the wine and the ransom money are brought out!"
"Let's go slow till we can make sure about that," suggested Rob.
Their recent unpleasant experience was so fresh in their minds that they did not care to have it duplicated. The next time they might not be so fortunate about escaping from a burning inn, or avoiding capture at the hands of raiding Uhlans.
"I don't seem to glimpse any cavalrymen around, do you, Rob?" Merritt questioned, as they hovered on the outskirts of the place, ready to melt away in the darkness should any peril arise.
"No, and it's safe for us to push on," the patrol leader announced.