"Ho! ho!" chuckled von Loringhoven softly. "So that is the Englishman's game? Robbing a farmer's fowl-house. It remains for a good German to turn the tables on the thief."
Retracing his way to the door the fugitive Hun threw it open. The road was quite deserted. Noiselessly, yet unhesitatingly, von Loringhoven dropped to the ground and made his way to the cycle, The next minute he was pedalling rapidly down the incline, thanking his good fortune for the gift of a speedy means of locomotion.
The bicycle was a sound one, for on dismounting von Loringhoven found that the tyres were in excellent condition and the chain almost new, while the bearings gave no indications of undue "play." Unstrapping the basket from the carrier and finding that it was empty, he hurled the somewhat distinctive appendage over a hedge.
Remounting, von Loringhoven rode hard for nearly two hours, until muscular cramp warned him that he was very much out of practice.
He was now within a mile of a large town. Already there were signs of activity in the manufacturing district. Men with food tied up in red handkerchiefs, or carried in wicket baskets, were trooping to work, but to the Hun's intense satisfaction his presence called for no suspicious comments on the part of the passers-by.
"Not much time to be lost," decided the ober-leutnant. "They are now calling the roll-call at Stresdale, and I am still within fifty miles of that hideous spot."
Taking advantage of a lull in the traffic von Loringhoven deftly loosened the valve of the back tyre, The tyre deflated, he tightened the nut again, and resumed his trudge towards the town.
"Hard luck, mate," was the greeting from a sympathetic Tommy, apparently on leave from the front. "Puncture, eh? Got far to go?"
"Only a matter of five miles," replied the mendacious Hun.
"I'll give you a hand at repairing it," offered the soldier. "I used to be in the cycle trade before I was called up."