"I should say not!" agreed Roger. Though the traitors were gagged their ears were open, and if they had a spark of manhood left they must have squirmed.
"You can't blame the Germans so much," went on Jimmy. "They were working for their country, not against it, and they probably thought what they did was all right. But it was up to us to put 'em out of business."
"And I guess you did to the one you hit all right," said Roger. "Looks as if he was done for."
"Couldn't be helped," was Jimmy's grim reply. "It was the spies or us. How's your man?"
"Well, I hit him pretty hard."
This was evident. Spurred by the necessity for acting with vigor and promptness, the Khaki Boys had struck hard. Both the Germans were unconscious, and, as developed later, one was so badly hurt that he died.
"Well, what's the next move?" asked Roger, as they sat down and looked at one another. Their nerves were a bit unsteady, and no wonder. They had passed through a strenuous time in the last fifteen hours.
"We've either got to take these fellows somewhere to give them up to the army authorities, or get word to our boys that the scoundrels are here," Jimmy said. "There may be more of the signal corps men involved in this spy work, and it ought to be known. But I don't see how we can very well take all four to our lines, provided we can find the lines. This fellow," and he pointed to the badly injured spy, "can't walk."
"Why not leave these two here in the cave, tied as tightly as we can manage?" suggested Roger.
"What about the Bixtons?" Jimmy asked.