The boys turned aside from the road; dismounted and leading their horses, struck into the woods for a space. When they had reached a slight hollow far enough from the path of travel, to conceal their fire, they threw off their kits, and undertook the preparation of a meal.
Dick cut a few strips of bacon, kneaded a cup full of flour, and set Fritz to gathering dry leaves, twigs and heavy wood to keep the fire blazing. They were both dog-tired, but neither uttered the slightest complaint, and by the time the coffee was bubbling and the bacon sizzling over the camp fire both boys felt a great deal better, and fell to with keen appetites on their rough meal.
"This is better than taking any chances at a farm house," said Dick. "Those soldiers we chased to-day may come back along this road, and we might get into their clutches again. I don't think we would get out as easily next time."
"Vat mit climbin' chimneys, und hidin' unter straw heabs, und running und fightin'—"
"Anything else you can think of, Fritz?" asked Dick, laughingly, as Fritz stopped for breath.
"Vat happened is happened, anyhow," said Fritz, "und it's a good thing dot Irisher Tim vasn't along to get us into more troubles."
Dick roared at this comment on their friend, and refused to spoil the joke by telling the German what he was laughing at. It was plain that Fritz accounted himself a skilful messenger, and didn't see that part of their troubles had been occasioned by his own good intentioned, but ill-considered acts.
The boys talked for a while, and then when the night grew chilly they rolled up singly in their blankets and soon dropped off to sleep.
For a wonder they passed the night in peace and quiet. Either the English had passed them in the dark, or they hadn't gotten up enough enterprise to prompt them to renew the pursuit after their defeat that afternoon.
The rising sun saw the boys up and ready for their march. A dip into the nearby creek, a hasty breakfast, and they were off on their trip to Vincennes.