“For about a mile, sir. Then we branch off into a lane leading west to the river Schelde, which we cross by a ferry. Once past that ferry, an’ there’s no more Germans.”
“Very well. Have you searched the enemy for papers?”
“Yes, sir. We’re stuffed with note-books an’ other little souveeners.”
“Do your men ride?”
“Some of ’em, sir, but they’ll foot it, if you don’t mind. They hate killing horses, so we turn ’em loose generally. This lot should be tied up.”
“What of the car?”
“Smithy will attend to that with a bomb, sir.”
Bates evidently knew his business, so evidently that Dalroy did not even question him as to the true inwardness of Smithy’s attentions.
The squad cleared up their tasks with an extraordinary celerity. Smithy crawled under the automobile with the flashlight, remained there exactly thirty seconds, and reappeared.
The corporal saluted.