moved the cans to the center and well forward and crouched beside them.
The truck rattled on through the night. Presently they saw lights ahead.
“According to my map,” Sim said, “that should be a well-lighted inspection post. We better get into the cans.”
The boys got into the cans. Stan kept his head well up out of the can. He meant to keep it up in the wind until it was absolutely necessary to duck down.
The truck swung in under a row of lights. Stan ducked down and held his nose. There was much guttural shouting. Several men moved around the truck. They poked bayonets among the cans and against them. Stan felt a blade strike the can he was in. The can gave out a dull clinking sound, indicating it was full. Stan grinned. Someone shouted an order and the truck rolled on.
As soon as darkness closed over them the boys popped out of the cans. O’Malley was talking to himself in very rich Irish.
“If I’d known this was goin’ to happen to me I’d have brought along a blanket to wrap meself in,” he growled. “We’ll smell so bad we won’t be able to hide any place.”
Stan laughed. “They won’t need blood-hounds to track us,” he admitted.
“We will get other clothing,” Sim said.
The truck rolled on, crossing a hill and dropping down toward a town. Lights winked ahead of them and the road became smoother.
“We unload pretty soon,” Sim said. “There will be a small farmhouse on the right with tall trees. We get off there. The farmer is a member of the underground.”
“Underground in Germany?” Stan asked in surprise.
“They told me it was well established and doing a big business. People are paying well to get out of Germany before it collapses.” Sim was swinging a leg over the side as he spoke.
The boys got out of the truck and clung to the outside. They saw dark forms of trees and a light in a window.
“Now,” Sim whispered as he swung away from the truck.
Stan heard him land with a thud. Stan jumped and landed in a hedge beside the road and rolled on into tall grass. O’Malley hit close beside him, and they crouched behind the hedge watching the truck. It went rattling on into the night. Sim called to them.
“Come on. We have to hurry.”
They moved over beside him and he headed across an open field toward the lighted window. As they neared the house, a dog began barking. Sim halted and they stood waiting. A door opened and a man shouted at the dog. Sim moved forward.
“Hello,” he called.
The door closed suddenly and Stan heard the man walking over gravel toward them. They advanced to meet him. Sim spoke as soon as he was close.
“We were sent by Hans.”
“Goot. Come, I show you,” the man answered.
They walked with him to the house and he opened the door. “Quick,” he mumbled. He began pushing them through the door.
There was no need to shove. The boys dived inside and the German closed the door. He moved to a window and pulled down the blind, then he faced them. He was a short man with a beefy face. His stomach rolled out over a wide leather belt.
“I get you clothes,” he said gruffly.
Disappearing into another room he returned after a time with an armload of clothing which he tossed on a table. The boys changed into rough shirts and dungarees. The clothing was coarse, but it was clean. The German gathered up their uniforms.
“These I burn,” he said and left with them.
“We have to move on at once,” Sim said. “This place will be searched before morning. The Germans are very thorough.”
The boys seated themselves and waited. Their host was gone for a long time. Finally Sim got up.
“I’ll go hurry him along,” he said. “You stay right here.” He left the room hurriedly.
“Sim is no nut. He has this all worked out,” O’Malley said.
“He certainly has,” Stan agreed. He got up and moved to the door Sim had just closed. Opening it gently he went into a dark room. Feeling his way he moved to another door. He could see a shaft of light under the door. Halting with his hand on the knob, he listened. Sim was talking with their underground agent in German. Stan opened the door quickly. The two men whirled about and faced him.
“I didn’t know you spoke German,” Stan said.
“You should not be sneaking around,” the German said sharply.
“I have always spoken German,” Sim answered. “I learned it in school back home. How did you think I managed to line things up so well if I didn’t know German?”
“We got worried,” Stan said. “Thought something might have happened to you.”
“I just wanted to make sure these uniforms were burned,” Sim said and laughed. “German farmers are thrifty people. They hate to burn good wool cloth, which can’t be bought for any price here. These people have only ersatz cloth.”
“We go now,” the German said and scowled at Stan.
“Did he burn them?” Stan asked.
“He buried them in his orchard. We don’t have time to waste having him dig them up,” Sim answered.
O’Malley had heard the talking and joined them in the kitchen.
“Everybody’s here, so let’s go,” Stan said. He was trying to remember if Sim Jones had ever talked to him about his past. He could not remember the flier ever having said much about himself.
The German took the lead and they followed him out through a back door. They walked down a path and came to a small barn. Stan heard a horse snort. The German spoke softly to Sim in German.
O’Malley answered the man in German. The fellow jumped and O’Malley laughed. Too late Stan kicked O’Malley warningly upon the shin. Stan frowned. He should have warned O’Malley. Now the man knew he could speak and understand German. Sim looked at O’Malley and laughed.
“It seems we will be able to get on very well with two of us speaking the native tongue,” he said.
“You talk Kraut?” O’Malley asked.
“Come, we waste time,” the German said. He moved into the barn with the boys at his heels.
The guide untied a horse and led it out through a back door. There, by the light of the stars, the boys saw a two-wheeled cart loaded with hay. The German hitched the horse to the cart.
“Hide in the hay,” he said.
The boys climbed into the cart and burrowed under the hay. Stan worked his way well forward with O’Malley and Sim close beside him. They were forced to lie very close together because the cart was narrow. They worked an opening for air and lay on the hard boards. The German spoke to the horse and the cart moved off.
The cart joggled over rutty roads for hours. Daylight began to show through the straw opening. Stan wiggled over against the slats on the side of the cart and poked a hole to look through. They were moving along a country lane. The cart turned out and a wagon passed. It was loaded with farm workers. Behind the wagon came a motorcycle and sidecar. A German soldier sat in the sidecar, while another, with a rifle slung across his back, drove the motorcycle. The driver shouted at the German on the seat of the cart, but he did not stop him.
O’Malley began squirming. He was in the middle and could see nothing at all.
“Be still!” Sim snapped. “You’ll shake hay loose and someone may become suspicious.”
O’Malley lay still but he made Stan tell him what he saw. They passed other wagons loaded with slave labor going to the fields, as well as many farmers, both men and women, on the way to work.
The German kept on driving and no one stopped him. Noon came and he still kept on. The boys were getting hungry and thirsty, but the driver did not halt. He pulled out a bag from under the seat and munched a sausage sandwich, washing the food down with draughts from a brown jug. O’Malley was able to see this.
“Sure, an’ I’ve a mind to reach up there an’ grab that sandwich,” he said hungrily.
“Better not,” Stan warned.
