"Oil," replied Dick promptly, not that he was sure of it, but because it was unwise to profess ignorance.
Half an hour later the smith, puffing and blowing like a grampus, completed the task, apologising for the roughness of the finish.
"It will be as strong as ever it was," he declared. "The roughness is to be regretted, but after all, the makeshift job will last until you return. Is it to the Russian front, herr leutnant?"
"No, to the Bulgarian," replied Dick. "Only this terrific gale blew us out of our course. We were indeed lucky to land at all, except as a crew of corpses. Now, how much is your charge?"
The smith named quite a small sum. Experience had taught him the folly of demanding anything more of a German officer.
Dick paid him by means of the mark notes that Athol had taken from the spy, Karl von Secker, and with which his chum had thoughtfully provided him before setting off for the village.
"And now," he continued. "I must have your English prisoner to carry the thing back. I will make him return within three hours."
"He may take it into his head to escape, herr leutnant," objected the smith. "You will understand that I am responsible."
"I order you," said Dick sternly.
"In which case I must obey," replied the German. "But if your excellency will permit me, I will go with him. It will ease my mind of a lot of worry, and in these times one has quite enough trouble what with war taxes and food tickets."