"Everything's all clear, as far as I can see," reported Kenneth. "The question is, how are we to rejoin our regiment?"
"I can foot it," declared Rollo.
"But not ten miles. Your ankle would give out before you walked a hundred yards. What I vote we do is that I ride the bike and take you on the carrier."
Rollo shook his head.
"Too jolly conspicuous," he protested. "One fellow might stand the ghost of a chance, but two——"
Kenneth turned over the question in his mind for a few moments. To remain where they were was impracticable. They would be starving before many more hours had passed.
"Tell you what!" he exclaimed as an idea flashed through his brain. "We'll rig ourselves out in German uniforms——"
"And get shot as spies if we're collared! No, thanks, Kenneth. If we are to be plugged I'd rather be in Belgian uniform, since a British one is at present out of the question."
"It's a risk, I admit. Everything is, under existing circumstances. If we are spotted, then there's an end to it and us; otherwise we stand a better chance by masquerading in these fellows' clothes."
"But if we are challenged? We couldn't reply in German."