"Sh-h-h," said Archer. "Listen."
From far, far away there was borne upon the still air a dull, spent, booming sound at intervals.
"It's the fighting," whispered Tom.
"Wherre do you suppose it is?" Archer asked, sobered by this audible reminder of their nearness to the seat of war.
"I don't know," Tom said. "I'm kind of mixed up. That feller in the prison had a map. Let's see. I think Nancy's the nearest place to here. Toul is near that. That's where our fellers are—around there. Listen!"
Again the rumbling, faint but distinctly audible, almost as if it came from another world.
"The trenches run right through there—near Nancy," said Tom.
"Maybe it's ourr boys, hey?" Archer asked excitedly.
Tom did not answer immediately. He was thrilled at this thought of his own country speaking so that he, poor fugitive that he was, could hear it in this dark, lonesome dungeon in a hostile land, across all those miles.
"Maybe," he said, his voice catching the least bit. "They're in the Toul sector. A feller in prison told me. You don't feel so lonesome, kind of, when you hear that——"