The watchers were fairly electrified.
“Aha! What did I tell you!” blurted out Bobby, forgetting caution in his eagerness and excitement. “I know those voices. They belong to Hamlin and the spy.”
The altercation grew louder and more turbulent, then quieted down, until, finally, the quietude was as complete as before.
“I wonder what it all means!” murmured Don. “The mystery deepens. Ah! Things seem to be developing fast.”
Cautiously, he stepped over to Peur Jamais’ side. “What’s the next move in the game, Bobby?” he inquired, sotto voce—“the point-of-the-pistol act?”
“Keep still!” commanded Bobby, fiercely. “I’m trying to hear what they have to say. Did you catch any of the words?”
“Not one,” answered Don. Then, with a muttered exclamation indicative of extreme surprise and annoyance, he faced about, nudged Bobby in the ribs, and exclaimed in a low, suppressed tone: “As I live, some one is coming along the road. It won’t do to stay here. We’ll be seen.”
“And if we get around on the other side we’ll most likely be observed by the chaps in the house,” burst out Peur Jamais. “Who in the world could have expected anything like this? By George! It must be a veritable spies’ retreat.”
Somewhat precipitously, Bobby began to move around the vegetation, and Don joined him a moment later on the opposite side.
Peering between the leaves, the latter could soon make out a shadowy form approaching. But the light was too dim for him to see whether the man was civilian or soldier. The boy’s interest was aroused to the highest pitch.