"Well, you may call me Captain Frank Dickerson," said the officer slowly. And he appeared to hesitate over the words.
"Then allow me, in the names of my companions, to thank you from the bottoms of our hearts!" exclaimed Jimmy, rising and saluting. The captain returned the salute. He stood for a minute looking Jimmy straight in the eyes, and the lad said afterward that the officer seemed to be searching out the sergeant's very soul. Then Captain Dickerson said:
"I must leave you now. You will find a little package of food at the end of the mill flume. I'll leave you this canteen so you may carry water with you on your journey toward your own lines. Your way lies there," and he pointed to the south. "Good-bye—and good luck! I hope you may get through, but—"
Then, turning abruptly he strode off between two high grassy hummocks, and was soon lost to sight in the smoke and haze.
For a moment the khaki boys stood, motionless, and then Jimmy, looking around on the circle of his companions, exclaimed:
"Well, if that isn't mysterious!"
"I should say so!" agreed Bob. "Talk about the man in the iron mask—this beats it!"
"Why doesn't he come with us, toward the American lines?" asked Roger. "Why does he want to go over where the Huns are? This gets me. It looks as if he was——"
He did not finish the sentence. But his chums knew what he had started to say. Only it seemed a terrible suspicion to which to give voice, against the man who had saved their lives. Still, with all that, the khaki boys could not help thinking in their hearts that there was something wrong.
"Maybe he's going over there to scout around and see if that's a better way for us to get back to our quarters," suggested Bob.