“Not very well.”
“I wish I were safe at home; I’d get indoors and stop there,” growled the driver, chirping his team into motion again.
Dalroy’s doubts were stilled. Better leave this rustic philosopher to work out their common salvation.
A few hundred yards ahead the road bifurcated. One branch led to Visé, the other to Argenteau. Here was stationed a picket, evidently intended as a guide for the cavalry.
Most fortunately Dalroy read aright the intention of an officer who came forward with an electric torch. “Lie as flat as you can!” he whispered to Irene. “If they find us, pretend to be asleep.”
“Hi, you!” cried the officer to Maertz, “where the devil do you think you’re going?”
“To Joos’s mill at Visé,” said the gruff Walloon.
“What’s in the cart?”
“Oats.”
“Almächtig! Where from?”