"But there are a raft of people around," ventured the cautious Tubby, who had been closely observing each and every soul, as though he suspected that crafty Uhlans might be hidden under peasants' garb, or in the clothes of the stout Belgian dames.
"Well, a lot of them are fugitives, the same as those we've been seeing on the roads all day long," Rob explained. "Some of them have been burned out of house and home; but in the main they're people who have believed all these awful fairy stories about the terrible Germans, and think that if they stay they'll be eaten up."
"This place must have escaped a visit from the Germans so far," Merritt suggested, "and they are coming to believe it's a lucky town, which would account for so many stopping here in their rush to get away."
"That's bad!" muttered Tubby.
"Why is it?" demanded Merritt.
"All the spare beds will be taken, you see," explained the other dejectedly, "and those who come late, like we are doing, must sit up all night, or else sleep in the dog kennel or the pigsty or the barn. Well, I said before and I mean it, if I can have some hay under me to keep my bones from the floor, I won't complain, or make a single kick. I'm easily satisfied, you all know."
"That must be the village inn, over yonder, Rob," Merritt remarked, pointing as he spoke. "Judging from the crowd in front we've got a poor show to get beds for to-night."
"Everybody stares at us as if they thought we might be some kind of wild animal," Tubby complained.
"Well, I can see that they've had some sort of circus here lately because the showbills are still posted on the fences," Merritt observed with a chuckle, "and can you blame them for thinking that the side shows have bust up, with the freaks hiking all through the country, unable to ride on the railroads, which are all taken over by the Government to haul cannon, horses and soldiers? I'll pass for the Living Skeleton, while you could stand for the Fat Boy, Tubby!"