The boys jumped at the sound of the voice and saw a man evidently about thirty years old, standing by the edge of the road. His face, though dark as an Indian’s was pleasant of mien and, although he was evidently a half-breed, the feeling was instinctive that here was a man one could trust.
“And it’s as good as it is cold,” Bob smiled.
“Oui, eet ver’ bon. But what dem bike you ride? Me no hear sound.”
Bob explained the construction of the wheels and the man showed great interest.
“Dem ver’ fine bikes,” he declared as he finished.
“Are you the forester?” Jack asked.
“Oui, dat me, Pierre Beaumont.”
“But I thought the state always appointed an American.”
“Me American. Geet papers, oui,” the man drew himself up proudly. “Me een big war.”
“Shake,” and Jack held out his hand and Bob quickly did the same.