One of the motionless shadows moved, and Freddy Farmer was at his side.
"Didn't come back," the English youth said, and ran his hands over Dave as though to make sure. "Heard a racket, and guessed you'd stumbled into a blighter. Couldn't tell in the dark. Phew! That must be the biggest Nazi Hitler has!"
"Had," Dave corrected grimly. "And it was closer than I ever want it to be again. Guess I'm a pretty punk Commando. He must have heard me and played dead dog until I passed by. Gosh! I feel as if I didn't have a strip of skin left on my neck!"
"We'll have a look into that, later," Freddy said, and started to help Dave to his feet. "We've got to be getting along. We're behind schedule. Maybe it would be better to stick together, at that. Yes, it would. Come on, old chap. Can't spend the whole night chit-chatting."
"Okay by me," Dave grunted, and was just a little surprised when he found out the rubber had gone out of his legs. "Let's get going. And that's my last dumb idea for a while. Going it alone, I mean. Okay, give me your hand, Freddy. Let's keep contact that way."
"Right-o." The word just managed to drift to his ears. "I'll squeeze if I hear something on my side. You squeeze if you hear or see something on yours. And let's make it as fast as we can."
Dave just grunted faintly. He didn't bother to say anything. For that matter, there wasn't anything to say. Besides, he was too busy feeling and sensing his way forward through the night, and getting more strength back into his still aching body as soon as he could.
Then began a night journey that Dave vowed he would never forget as long as he lived. The closer they approached the area surrounding Evaux, the greater the risks they ran of bumping into Nazi soldiers. It seemed that they would take no more than a couple of steps before they would be forced to drop flat and hold their breath while a squad of German troops went past.
That fact worried Dave not a little as Freddy and he stole forward through the dark night. True, he had expected possibly to meet a few Germans. But not meet so many, so often. The more he thought of it, the more a gnawing little fear worked on his heart. Wasn't it just possible that the Germans were suspecting that an attack of some sort might be made on von Staube's and von Gault's headquarters? Were the Nazi expecting something like that, and so had they thrown out patrols all around the area? And if that was true, what chance would Freddy and he have of capturing the two Nazi big shots even with Jones' help? And what if they didn't meet the U. S. Intelligence officer posing as a German? Supposing something had happened to Jones—and he wasn't there?
The thought made a film of ice coat Dave's heart, and beads of clammy sweat break out on his forehead. After all, maybe Freddy and he were walking with eyes wide open straight into a Nazi trap. There were just too darned many German soldiers about for comfort. No two ways about that. Something was wrong. Or at least the eerie tingling sensation that had come to the back of his neck seemed to warn him that things were not as they should be, or he had hoped they would be.