“Didn’t you get any guns or grenades?” O’Malley asked.
“No,” Sim answered sharply. “Hurry.”
Stan climbed through the window and slid down the rope. When his feet hit the ground he wiggled the rope. A minute later O’Malley was at his side. Sim arrived within another minute. He caught the boys’ arms and began moving away from the house.
Sim led them to the wall and along it until they came to a gate. It was open; Sim paused and Stan and O’Malley peered out. A small light burned above the gate. The light revealed a truck filled with cans. Stan grinned in the darkness. The truck was a garbage lorry. The night breeze carried that information to him. The truck smelled very strong.
“We hide among the cans,” Sim whispered.
At that moment two men appeared carrying a can. They heaved it into the truck. One of them fastened a chain across the back opening, then they moved toward the cab of the truck.
“When the light is snapped off!” Sim whispered.
From the kitchen of the house a voice shouted something in German. The truck driver answered. The light snapped off and Sim started forward with the boys beside him. The truck was sputtering and backfiring, pouring out rank smoke as they reached it. They went into it as it lurched forward. All of the cans came clanging back against the chain, almost shoving the boys out.
Quickly the three moved cans until they were up in the front of the truck next to the cab. There they crouched down with their knees pulled up. The cans made so much noise there was no danger of the boys being heard.
“’Tis a sweet smellin’ cab ye called,” O’Malley observed.