"An' good luck to ye," rejoined the Irishman. "Faith we'll not be for keepin' ye company for long. Sure, a bargain's a bargain; but we'll jist be havin'a few wurrds wid yez before we carry on."
"You can try your luck with us," said Peter.
"Och, no!" replied Murphy. "Four's jist two too many. Will you have seen any of the bhoys?"
"Not a sign after we separated," answered the elder Carr. "Have you?"
"Only the Sargint, just about an hour ago," replied Private Jennings. "He'd lost touch with his chum an' was limpin' along. It's my belief he copped it from a splinter of a bomb. Anyway 'e wouldn't own up to it, and choked us off when we offered to give 'im a 'and. 'Ow much farther to the blinkin' frontier, Digger? It can't be much more, can it?"
Neither of the New Zealanders could give a definite reply, but, to cheer the men up, Peter expressed his opinion that another thirty miles would see them in Dutch territory.
"An' then it won't be long afore I'm in Blighty again," continued Jennings hopefully. "Three long measly years since I saw an English girl. Honest, I'll go down on me blinkin' knees an' kiss the shoe of the first girl I meet in Blighty, even if she's got a face like a muddy duck-board."
"You're speaking metaphorically, I take it," remarked Peter.
"I met a who?" enquired Private Jennings. "Lumme, I don't want to meet nobody while I'm on blinkin' German soil. Come on, Spud, let's be shiftin'. S'long, chums, an' good luck!"
As a matter of fact, the two fugitives, when they arrived at the canal bank, intended to hide themselves in a similar manner to that decided upon by Peter and Malcolm Carr. Finding themselves forestalled, their simple yet steadfast code of honour would not permit them to remain. The decision made at Düren Camp, that the escaping men should separate in pairs, was to be rigidly adhered to.