He gritted his teeth and called upon every ounce of strength in his strong young body. It was mighty hard going. From the prison room window the hill slope had looked not at all steep, but now climbing up it in the dark, dodging around tree trunks and jutting rocks, it seemed almost to rise right straight up in front of him. Every so often he half twisted around to make sure Freddy was still with him. And each time that was exactly the case. Freddy was right there at his heels, puffing and panting, but sticking like glue.
The English youth's courage and stick-to-itiveness made Dave doggedly refuse to permit himself to rest even for a moment. Freddy wasn't complaining, and if Freddy could take it then he could, too. Freddy might be younger, and a bit shorter, and weigh less, but there was no difference in the quality of his fighting spirit, or of the courage in his heart. And so Dave kept on climbing upward, and upward through the black night until finally ... and it seemed as though a thousand years had passed by ... he finally reached the crest. He staggered along the flat crest for a few yards and then sank wearily down on the soft earth. Freddy dropped down beside him, and for a long time there was no sound between them save the sounds of their labored breathing.
Eventually, Dave pushed himself up to a sitting position, wiped his dripping face on the sleeve of his shirt, and let out a long sigh.
"Gee, am I out of condition for track!" he breathed. "That was plenty tough. I thought we'd never make it. You okay, Freddy?"
The English youth groaned softly as he sat up.
"I guess so," he murmured and sucked in great gulps of cool night air. "But I certainly hope we don't have to do that often. You can't see very much from here, can you? I guess they're not taking chances on showing many lights in case our bombers come over. I'd like very much to see a big bomb drop on that Colonel Stohl, though. He deserves one!"
Dave chuckled and instantly felt much better. Freddy might be dead on his feet, but he still had the old fight.
"Two, one for me," he said and stared down at the town.
In all there were not more than two dozen lights showing, and at least half of them were the shaded lights of army cars and trucks moving along the one main street of the town. If there were others they were blotted out by the trees.
"About that map, Freddy," Dave said presently in a low voice. "I think this is Estalle, myself, but that's not much of a help. I mean, I couldn't figure how far we are from the Belgian lines. I guess it can't be very far, though. They only started the invasion yesterday morning, so they can't have gone very deep into the country."