"Sure. Thirsty?"
"No, I only wanted to make sure it was all right. There were some big hogsheads of poison up in the woods where the brook starts and the other feller killed three Germans who tried to empty them in the stream. By mistake he shot a hole in one of the hogsheads and I thought maybe some of the stuff got into the water. But I guess it didn't."
It was characteristic of Tom that he did not mention his own part in the business.
"I drank about a quart of it around noontime," said a young sergeant, "and I'm here yet."
"It's good and cool," observed another.
"What's the matter with Snipy, anyway?" a private asked, laughing. "Somebody been spinning him around?"
"He just got mixed up, kind of, that's all," Tom said.
That was all.
There was much excitement in and about the little cottage on the edge of the village. Up the narrow path, from headquarters below, came other Americans, officers as Tom could see, who disappeared inside the house. Presently, the German prisoners, all except the big officer, came out, sullen in captivity, poor losers as Germans always are, and marched away toward the centre of the village, under escort.
"They thought they were taking us to the German lines," said Tom simply.