"North?" Freddy said in a puzzled whisper. "Why not west toward the Belgian lines? We want to get there as fast as we can. I got a good look at that map, Dave. I think this town, here, is called Estalle. And...."
Freddy cut off his words and both boys froze back against the rear wall of the building as a shaft of yellow light suddenly cut the darkness of night. Dave's heart rose up to clog in his throat as he waited with fear in his heart for the shaft of light to sweep over to reveal them in its glow.
Then suddenly truth dawned and he was almost overcome with an insane, crazy desire to burst out with hysterical laughter. His taut nerves twanged like plucked fiddle strings and his whole body seemed to melt with relief. A light had suddenly been turned on in the building against which they crouched, and the shaft of light had simply been the inside light flooding out through a rear window. When it didn't move where it struck the bottom of the hill slope a dozen yards or so away Dave realized the truth. And so did Freddy a moment later.
"Good grief, that scared me!" the English boy breathed.
"We'll talk later," Dave said. "Right now we're making tracks away from here. Got your shoes on?"
"Yes," Freddy replied. "You lead, Dave. I'll stick right at your heels. Mind your step, though."
"You're telling me!" Dave grunted and started creeping along the rear of the building to the right.
When he reached the corner he stopped and cautiously peered around it. Luck was with him. He had half expected to find himself looking down an alley to the street out in front. But it wasn't an alley. It was just a small court that connected with the next building. A high fence at the front blocked off a view of the street. He couldn't see the street, but the point was that when they started up the hill slope no passing soldiers in the street could see them and give chase if for no other reason than curiosity.
"Stick close, Freddy!" Dave whispered over his shoulder. "First stop is the top of the hill. Here we go!"
Bent over low Dave turned sharp left and went scuttling across some thirty feet of bare ground, and then into the scrub brush that fringed the base of the hill. Hands out in front of him to prevent barging straight into a tree, he started up the slope as fast as caution would permit. By the time he was half way up his breath was coming in sobbing gasps, and his legs felt like two withered sticks that might snap in two at most any second.