Thrusting the money into his pocket, Alan swarmed up the ladder against the quay. At the top he paused and looked down upon his chums.
"I'm the first of you fellows to set foot on French soil at all events," he remarked proudly.
Then making his way between a crowd of interested waterside loafers, Hepburn set off on his quest.
It did not take him long to find a baker's shop.
He kept his eyes open for the word "boulangerie", and his sense of smell on the alert for the appetizing odour of new bread.
Alan was rather proud of his French. He had gained two prizes at school for his knowledge of that language, but when he found himself confronted by a portly pleasant-faced woman he was literally tongue-tied.
"Let me see," he soliloquized desperately; "what was that wheeze old Patinot taught us: If you eat new bread you'll have an 'ache'. Yes, that's it; ache is the French for bread—Deux aches, s'il vous plaît, madame."
Madame looked decidedly puzzled and shook her head.
"Oh, dash it all!" ejaculated the Sea Scout. "It wasn't ache; it was pain—same thing, only different: Deux pains, s'il vous plaît."
This time Madame was pleased to understand, and Alan was the recipient of a couple of loaves of about four inches in diameter and nearly a yard in length.