Standing by the side of a tree, he began tapping on the bark.
The smiling Don translated the following message:
"Perhaps the castle by moonlight may be too much for our friend's nerves."
The aviator's son replied:
"I wonder if he'll have an irresistible impulse to run."
"He wasn't cut out for this sort of life."
"No; an easy chair in an office for him."
"Bodkins' woodpeckers again!" broke in Chase, with a yawn. "A funny kind of a habit, I call it."
"Maybe so," grinned Don.
The three began to stroll leisurely here and there, quite often accompanied by one or more of the poilus. Down by a little creek they came across a number lined up alongside the bank engaged in the prosaic occupation of washing clothes and hanging them out to dry on convenient saplings and branches.