"Hello, Snipy," some one said.
But Roscoe Bent was too astonished to answer. In a kind of trance he saw the big Prussian officer start back, heard him utter some terrific German expletive, beheld the others of the party herded together, and was aware of the young American captain giving orders. In a daze he looked at Tom's stolid face, then at the Prussian officer, who seemed too stunned to say anything after his first startled outburst. He saw two boys in khaki approaching with lanterns and in the dim light of these he could distinguish a dozen or so khaki-clad figures perched along a fence.
"Where are we at, anyway?" he finally managed to ask.
"Just inside the village," one of the Americans answered.
"What village?"
"Coney Island on the subway," one of the boys on the fence called.
"Cantigny," some one nearer to him said. "You made a good haul."
"Well—I'll—be——" Roscoe began.
Tom Slade said nothing. Like a trusty pilot leaving his ship he strolled over and vaulted up on the fence beside the boys who, having taken the village, were now making themselves comfortable in it. His first question showed his thoughtfulness.
"Is the brook water all right?"