"What for?"
"Haven't you any imagination, old man? Why, to make out I've been wounded in the mouth and am unable to speak a word."
"You may think me an obstinate mule, Kenneth," said his comrade, "but why should two wounded men be trying to make their way to the front? Naturally they would be making tracks to the nearest field hospital."
"You've done me there," declared Kenneth. "But I can't see how we can go direct towards the German lines. Whether we go to the right or left the road runs nearly parallel to the enemy's front."
"Perhaps we may as well risk it," decided Rollo. "I believe I noticed a plank across the ditch about a mile along the road. The question is whether the bike will stand it over the rough ground."
"She will—she'll tackle anything within reason," said Kenneth optimistically. "So let's make a move."
Overcoming their natural repugnance, the two lads recovered the bodies of a couple of Uhlans from the muddy ditch and proceeded to strip them of their uniforms. These they wrung out, and placed on the broken brickwork to dry.
"I say!" suddenly exclaimed Rollo. "How about these boots with spurs? Do Uhlans ever ride motor-bikes?"
"Rather! They've a couple of motor-cyclists to each troop. All we have to do is to knock off the spurs, and there you are!"
As soon as the two lads had completed their change of uniforms they made a final reconnaissance. Finding the road clear of troops, Kenneth started the engine and stood astride the saddle, while Rollo took up his position on the carrier.