"What is it?" asked Bob.
"Don't you hear some one walking toward us?" went on Jimmy, his voice still low and tense.
They all listened. The fog swirled around them in cold, white clouds. And then, through the darkness, they all heard, and distinctly, this time, the measured beat of marching feet.
"Soldiers all right!" commented Roger in a whisper.
"Yes, but what kind?" was Jimmy's question. "Are they our boys, some of the Allies or—Germans?"
"What shall we do?" asked Franz, and, in the misty darkness he turned toward Jimmy, as seemed natural.
"Keep still," was the advice given. "And crouch down. If they are Boches well let 'em pass—if they'll be so obliging as to go on. If they're some of our boys—"
"Oh, boy! If they only are!" sighed Bob.
The tramping feet came nearer.
"They're headed right this way!" declared Franz, who was crouching down next to Jimmy.