“But there’s no sign of them retreating, you notice, Amos. They’re going to stick like leeches. I reckon in this war German stubbornness is matched evenly against Scotch persistence, and English bulldog holding on. What the end of it all will be I can’t see.”
Amos moved uneasily.
“We oughtn’t to have any great trouble getting down from here, I should think,” he mentioned, significantly.
Of course Jack understood the hint. It would be with only an effort that he could tear himself away from that wonderful spectacle of modern man, at war with his neighbors, and bringing every ingenious device known to latter-day invention into the conflict.
Left to his own devices and he might have clung to that elevated watch tower for hours, impressing on his memory the strange pictures that were changed with each passing minute. But he had to consider the wishes of his companion, and also remember that he had given his promise.
“No trouble about that, Amos,” he agreed. “Watch your step when descending.”
“Then you’re ready to come along, Jack?”
“I said I would, so lead the way,” returned the other.
Amos waited no longer. Perhaps he entertained a little fear that Jack might change his mind if he lingered, because of some new and astounding phase of the furious, long-drawn-out battle taking place.
Accordingly, he started down the ladder by means of which they had reached the cupola on top of the deserted mansion.