Part 11 (2/2)

Like d.i.c.k, he was hopelessly at sea, for the moment, as to his whereabouts.

And he had, moreover, to reckon with the turns and twists of the tunnel, which there had been no way of following in the utter darkness. But Jack Young, who, of course, could have found his way anywhere within five miles of them blindfolded, helped him, and they soon found that they were less than half a mile from the place.

”Can you come on with me, Jack?” asked Harry. He felt that in his rescuer he had found a new friend, and one whom he was going to like very well, indeed, and he wanted his company, if it was possible.

”Yes. No one knows I am out,” said Jack, frankly. ”The pater's like the rest of them here--he doesn't take the war seriously yet. When I said the other day that it might last long enough for me to be old enough to go, he laughed at me. I really hope it won't, but I wouldn't be surprised if it did, would you?”

”No, I wouldn't. It's too early to tell anything about it yet, really. But if the Germans fight the way they always have before, it's going to be a long war.”

They talked as they went, and, though Harry's ankle was still painful, the increased speed the bandaging made possible more than made up for the time it had required. Harry was anxious about d.i.c.k; he wanted to rejoin him as soon as possible.

And so it was not long before they came near to the place where the cycles had been cached.

”We'd better go slow. In case anyone else watched us this afternoon, we don't want to walk into a trap,” said Harry. He was more upset than he had cared to admit by the discovery that he and d.i.c.k had been spied upon by Jack, excellent though it had been that it was so. For what Jack had done it was conceivable that someone else, too, might have accomplished.

”All right. You go ahead,” said Jack. ”I'll form a rear guard--d'ye see?

Then you can't be surprised.”

”That's a good idea,” said Harry. ”There, see that big tree, that blasted one over there? I marked that. The cache is in a straight line, almost, from that, where the ground dips a little. There's a clump of bushes.”

”There's someone there, too,” said Jack. ”He's tugging at a cycle, as if he were trying to get ready to start it.”

”That'll be d.i.c.k, then,” said Harry, greatly relieved. ”All right--I'll go ahead!”

He went on then, and soon he, too, saw d.i.c.k busy with the motorcycle.

”Won't he be glad to see me, though?” he thought. ”Poor old d.i.c.k! I bet he's had a hard time.”

Then he called, softly. And d.i.c.k turned. But--it was not d.i.c.k. It was Ernest Graves!

CHAPTER IX

AN UNEXPECTED BLOW

For a moment it would have been hard to say which of them was more completely staggered and amazed.

”What are you doing here?” Harry gasped, finally.

And then, all at once, it came over him that it did not matter what Ernest answered; that there could be no reasonable and good explanation for what he had caught Graves doing.

”You sneak!” he cried. ”What are you doing here--spying on us?”

He sprang forward, and Graves, with a snarling cry of anger, lunged to meet him. Had he not been handicapped by his lame ankle, Harry might have given a good account of himself in a hand-to-hand fight with Graves, but, as it was, the older boy's superior weight gave him almost his own way. Before Jack, who was running up, could reach them, Graves threw Harry off. He stood looking down on him for just a second.

”That's what you get for interfering, young Fleming!” he said. ”There's something precious queer about you, my American friend! I fancy you'll have to do some explaining about where you've been to-night!”

Harry was struggling to his feet. Now he saw the papers in Graves' hand.

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