“That depends upon a man’s health, strength and temperament,” countered the peasant, in an unruffled tone. “Goodbye!”
He laid just enough emphasis on the last words to cause the boys to nod and then walk slowly outside.
They had progressed but a few yards when Bobby began to laugh and chuckle in a most peculiar manner. Then his face suddenly became grave and stern.
“Georgie, I think I’ve made a discovery—quite an astonishing discovery, too,” he exclaimed. “That man is as much a peasant as either you or I. He’s merely a bit of human camouflage; he’s masquerading—do you get me?—masquerading! And what’s the answer?”
Peur Jamais’ brow was knit. His hands were clenched.
“I am willing to admit that just now he did not either speak or act exactly like a peasant,” said George.
“You’ve said something, Georgie,” declared Bobby, very earnestly. “Listen!” As they walked slowly, side by side, he gripped George Glenn’s arm. “Ever since that night old Père Goubain talked to us about spies I’ve been keeping my eyes and ears open. Well, do you want to know what I think the answer is?—that mysterious peasant is a spy—yes sir, a confounded spy. Why has he been nosing around the aviation camp? Why didn’t he want us to go up-stairs? Oh yes, it’s all as clear as day. Who knows—it may even have been he who was the means of sending those bombing machines to spill a little fireworks on the camp!”
By this time the two had reached the road, and Bobby stopped and leaned against the fence.
“It strikes me that this hasn’t been such a mild adventure, after all,” he continued, with increasing vehemence. “And through it we may be the means of ridding France of a dangerous enemy; just think of it—you and I, Georgie! I can almost hear the commander saying: ‘My brave and loyal friends, in the name of my countrymen, I thank you!’”
“Can you also see the medals pinned to our manly breasts?” asked the other, quizzically.