O’Malley held his appetite in check, but he kept on grumbling.
“Stop watching him eat,” Stan advised in a whisper.
“Sure, an’ I can’t take me eyes off that sausage sandwich. ’Tis the most appetizin’ thing I iver seen,” O’Malley said mournfully.
The cart rattled through a village and moved on down another narrow lane. Presently they came to a gate and the driver pulled up. Stan ducked back.
“German soldiers,” he whispered warningly.
The soldiers were shouting at the driver. He got down and began talking to them excitedly.
“They’re looking for escaped prisoners,” O’Malley whispered in Stan’s ear.
Three burly soldiers walked over to the cart and began thrusting their bayonets into the hay. Stan stiffened. If he was stabbed he meant to make no outcry. He felt the cold steel move across his body a few inches from his chest. It slipped back, then stabbed again. Stan was glad the bed of the cart had a ten-inch high board around it.
After more shouting and poking the driver got back on his seat and the cart moved forward.
“Boy,” Stan muttered. “That was a close shave.”
“I got a small cut,” Sim said.
“And you didn’t yell?” O’Malley spoke admiringly.
“It would have been the end for us if I had yelled,” Sim answered.
The cart continued to jog along slowly. Long shadows fell across the road and the cart passed many farmers returning from the fields.
“I could eat a boiled dog,” O’Malley grumbled.
“We’ll eat later,” Sim assured him.
Darkness settled slowly. The driver turned off the road into a narrower lane as soon as it was dark.
“No traveling is allowed after dark,” Sim explained. “We must be near our second station.”
The cart halted and the driver called to them.
“Come out now.”
They climbed out and flexed stiff muscles. O’Malley faced the driver.
“I’m hungry. Got any food?”
“Come with me,” the man said.
They entered a grove of trees and walked up to a tiny house. The house was dark but, with the aid of a flashlight, the guide located a trap door under some loose straw. He pulled it upward, revealing a stairs. The boys went down into a cellar where their guide lighted an oil lamp.
The cellar smelled stale but it had boxes to sit on and a table. There was a box on the table.
“Your food,” the German said, nodding toward the box.
He turned away and went upstairs again. They heard him close the door and rake straw over it. O’Malley opened the box at once. It contained a loaf of heavy bread, a few pieces of cold sausage and three boiled potatoes. Also there was a jug which contained milk.
Sim produced a heavy clasp knife and cut the bread. The boys made sandwiches and munched them. The jug was passed around and they drank out of it.
“Sure, an’ this is not a bad dinner,” O’Malley said. “It compares favorably with the last roast duck dinner I had in London.” He grinned at Stan.
After finishing their meal the boys sat waiting for their guide.
“He has to care for his horse and dispose of the hay,” Sim explained.
CHAPTER IX
TRAPPED
The boys left the cellar very soon after finishing their meal. Their guide led them down a country lane. They hiked along steadily for several hours, then detoured through a field, making a wide circle.
“We have to go around the patrol stations on the road,” Sim explained.
“It’s nice to have a guide who knows the way,” Stan said.
“I understand the patrol posts are cleverly hidden. Without a guide a man walking down the lane would trip an alarm wire and be caught in no time at all.” Sim seemed to know all about the methods used by the Nazis to trap anyone fleeing the country.
They kept walking until midnight. Then they rested for a half-hour, lying in a hedge beside the road. After midnight they moved more slowly. Several times they dived into the fields along the road to avoid patrols moving swiftly along the lane on motorcycles. Once they almost ran into a bicycle patrol. The cyclists did not make any noise and were upon the boys before they had time to duck. A leafy hedge saved them from being sighted.
“We will have to cross the Dutch border soon,” Sim said after talking with their guide.
“There won’t be much of a guard there, will there?” Stan asked. “The Germans have made Holland a part of Germany.”
“There is a strict border control,” the guide answered. “The Dutch are just pigs and are kept in their pen.”
“That’s what the Nazis say,” Sim added.
“Sure,” the guide agreed. “The Nazis say that.”
“How are we to get through?” Stan asked. “You must have a method which works.”
“Sure,” the guide said. “But it has always been risky. We may be separated. If we are separated, you will ask a Dutchman to take you to 76 Mamur in Arnhem. Do not speak to a Dutchman wearing a swastika. Ask only of a farmer or other working person.”
“We all will meet there,” Sim said. “After that, we will have no more trouble. The Dutch will take care of us.”
“Now we go,” the guide said.
“At any rate, we know where we are,” Stan said to O’Malley. “Arnhem isn’t so far from Rotterdam.”
“Sure, an’ that just means nothin’ to me. I’m stickin’ with this here guide,” O’Malley answered.
They moved along at a fast pace for some time. Finally the German called a halt. There seemed to be quite a bit of activity ahead; besides, dawn was not far away. They had spent most of the last hour ducking patrols roaring up and down the lane.
“We must move very carefully now. We will leave the road. Keep close to me,” the guide said in a low voice.
The party moved off the road and through a hedge. Beyond the hedge they found themselves in a plowed field. The ground was soft and damp. Moving slowly now, because they sunk in to their boot tops, the boys crossed the field and came to a canal. Stan could see murky water in the ditch. He judged the canal was about fifteen feet wide.
They followed the canal for some distance. Lights ahead caused the guide to halt. Stan could see men on both sides of the canal. They were silhouetted against the sky and were moving back and forth.
“We must pass through the guard lines here,” the guide whispered. “There will be soldiers with rifles on each side of the canal. There is much barbed wire and many electrical alarms along the border. We must take to the canal.”
“Sure, and it looks cold, that water,” O’Malley muttered.
“We will keep close to the bank, two on each side. When we pass the guards above we must crouch down in the water and stay against the bank. We must go very slow. Waves or movement of the water will be noticed.”
“Lead on,” Stan said grimly. “Let’s get it over with.”
“Those on the far bank will wade across after we pass the border. We will then go to Arnhem and hide there during the day.” The German was sliding down the bank into the water as he spoke.
“O’Malley and I will cross over,” Stan said. He wanted to keep O’Malley with him.
The water was icy and numbed their bodies almost at once. Stan and O’Malley waded across the canal. The
