Neither of the boys said a word. As for Dave, it all sounded as though he were listening to a broken phonograph record. "Tell me the truth.... Tell me the truth.... Tell me the truth!" It was like the title of a song. He sat silent and kept his eyes fixed on the huge map on the wall. He stared at it hard and tried to memorize the dates he could read there, and the names of the towns and cities, and the locations of the pins and flags. One town on the map was well smudged by finger and thumb marks. It was named Estalle and was close to the Belgian-German frontier. He suddenly had a hunch that that was where they were. At Estalle, close to the German frontier, but how far behind the advanced German lines? He thought of the long ride in the motored transport last night and his heart sank down toward his boots.
"Well, for the last time!" the German Colonel suddenly thundered. "Do you tell me the truth?"
"For Heaven's sakes, we already have!" Freddy shouted at him. "We've told you nothing but the truth a dozen times. What must we do to get you to believe us?"
The German didn't answer at once. He slammed both hands down flat on the desk, hoisted his huge bulk forward, and glared at them.
"Very well," he said. "I have tried to be gentle and kind with you, because you are only young boys. But, you refuse my kindness. So, I shall treat you as grown men. I shall have you both shot!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Shoot!
If the roof had suddenly fallen down on top of his head Dave Dawson could have not been more astonished or surprised. Shot? He gaped at the German officer half expecting to see the man burst out laughing. Colonel Stohl did not laugh, however. He remained leaning forward over the desk and raking them with eyes that looked like twin cubes of ice.