It had required a considerable effort for him to tell his story, and a still greater to enter into the general conversation.
Finally the thunder began to roll less frequently; the storm was breaking away.
Soon afterward one of the mechanics stepped into the room to inform Don that his machine had been found full of holes.
“Just a little bit more, and it would have made a capital piece of mosquito netting, Monsieur l’Aviateur,” he declared.
“If I should happen to see any mosquitoes around here so big that they couldn’t get through such holes I’d sure take that next train for home,” guffawed Bobby Dunlap.
“And if I’d had a piece of mosquito netting manufactured for me by German bullets, I wouldn’t even wait for the train; I’d start running,” laughed the mechanic. He turned to Don.
“It’s a great wonder to me, Monsieur, that your nose and ears weren’t clipped off.”
“I expected more than that to happen,” returned Don, with a faint smile.
At length Bobby Dunlap began to tell the hero of the afternoon about the mysterious peasant.
“He’s a German spy, sure as shooting,” he whispered. “But don’t say anything to the boys about it, Donny. George Glenn promised me he wouldn’t.”