At the order the climber descended, as before paying no heed to the three officers. Upon regaining the ground he was marched off to make another ascent on a useless search. An hour later, having, as they thought, thoroughly searched the wood, the patrol withdrew, cursing and grumbling at their ill-luck, since, it appeared, a reward of two hundred and fifty marks for the arrest of the fugitives had been offered.
"A proper sport, that Belgian," said Fuller in a whisper, realising the wisdom of speaking in a low tone lest the Huns had left men to guard the woods. "He could have given us away as easy as winking."
"Perhaps he'll inform the Boches now he's out of sight," hazarded the cautious A.P.
"Great Scott! I hope not," ejaculated Fuller. "In fact I'm willing to lay long odds that he won't. I'd like to meet that chap on the quiet again. I'd make it worth his while."
"So would I," added Barcroft. "Well, this affair has done us a good turn. The Huns have evidently satisfied themselves that we are not anywhere in this wood. The coast will be clear for to-night. How's that arm, old bird?"
"Feeling a bit stiff," replied Fuller. "The air's so confoundedly cold."
"It is a bit fresh," agreed Kirkwood. "And probably it will freeze hard to-night. And your ankle?"
"Can't feel any sensation in it," replied the flight-lieutenant. "The damage, if any, will assert itself when I place foot to ground. What an ass I was not to have brought my Thermos. Full of good old hot tea, too. I left it on the bank, after the smash."
"You deserve a vote of censure for importing food stuffs into German-occupied territory, old man," said Barcroft. "Can't you imagine a thirsty Hun mopping that stuff?"
"You speak for yourself, my festive," retorted the flight-lieutenant. "What did you do with your flasks?"