"Anyhow, we might as well make the best of it," resumed Blake. "If we had a fight with this chap and made him skedaddle, it would only mean another would be put on our trail. Just take it easy, and in due time, I think, we'll be given our papers and allowed to go to the front."
"It can't come any too soon for me," declared Joe.
So for the next few days the boys made it a point to take no notice of the very obvious fact that they were under surveillance. It was not always the same man who followed them or who was seen standing outside the hotel when they went out and returned. In fact, they were sure three different individuals had them in charge, so to speak.
The boys were used to active work with their cameras and liked to be in action, but they waited with as good grace as possible. In fact, there was nothing else to do. Their moving picture apparatus was sealed and kept in the Foreign Office, and would not be delivered to them until their permits came to go to the front. So, liking it or not, the boys had to submit.
They called several times on the young officer who had treated them so kindly, to ask whether there were any developments in their case; but each time they were told, regretfully enough, it seemed, that there was none.
"But other permits have been longer than yours in coming," said the officer, with a smile. "You must have a little patience. We are not quite as rapid as you Americans."
"But we want to get to the war front!" exclaimed Joe. "We want to make some pictures, and if we have to wait——"
"Possess your souls with patience," advised the officer. "The war is going to last a long, long time, longer than any of us have any idea of, I am afraid. You will see plenty of fighting, more's the pity. Don't fret about that."
But the boys did fret; and as the days passed they called at the permit office not once but twice, and, on one occasion, three times in twenty-four hours. The official was always courteous to them, but had the same answer:
"No news yet!"