Do you wonder, monsieur, that the good wife sobs and that I haunted the road hoping to find a German soldier alone and to slay him?

But I must hide you, for Germans might come here at any moment."

Throwing open a door the old man revealed a flight of stairs.

He led the way to a room above. Here a door cunningly concealed behind a dresser was opened after the guide had moved the dresser.

At a sign d.i.c.k entered the other room, only to find himself confronted by another man, whose face, revealed by the candle light, caused Captain d.i.c.k Prescott to recoil as though from a ghost.

CHAPTER XXII

CAN IT BE THE OLD CHUM?

"You know each other?" cried the old peasant, as he observed the amazement of two young men. "You are enemies?"

As he saw the pair fairly hug each other he added hastily:

"But no! You are friends!"

Then he added, as if he were saying something new:

"Friends, quite certainly."

"You, d.i.c.k Prescott!" gasped the other young man.

"Tom Reade!" uttered the young captain delightedly.

The old peasant held the candle higher that he might see better what was taking place. In that light d.i.c.k made another discovery.

"Tom, you're in uniform! Aviation service, at that!"

"What else did you expect?" Tom demanded. "Especially after I wrote and told you all about it."

"When?"

"Last July."

"Where did you send the letter?"

"To you at Camp Baker."

"It was in July that we left Camp Baker for Camp Berry. Your letter must have gone astray. I heard from the old home town of Gridley that you and Hazelton had gone across---something to do with welfare work. I couldn't make it out," d.i.c.k hurried on,"

neither did I know where to address you."

"That's just it, though!" exclaimed Tom Reade, with a happy laugh.

"Welfare work explains it to a dot. We're working for the welfare of the world by helping to kill as many Huns as possible!"

"But how came you to be here?"

"I might ask as much of you, d.i.c.k, as you and I appear to be in exactly the same boat."

It looked rather ungrateful toward the old peasant who had brought these old, old friends together, but for a few moments both forgot him. When they remembered him they found that the old man had gone, closing the door.

Then d.i.c.k told what had befallen him, after which Reade explained that, three nights before, on a night flight over the German lines, his plane had been damaged by a fragment of sh.e.l.l from an anti-aircraft gun. Reade had been obliged to descend some forty miles behind the German front lines. Fortunately he had come down in a field near the house in which he now hid. He had cautiously come to this house, and as cautiously aroused the inmates, reasoning that they must be French and should befriend him. This the peasants had cheerfully done.

"I've been hiding here since, and my machine was found, but I wasn't," Tom wound up.

"You see, this room has no windows, and I keep very quiet, and so, perhaps, I could remain here safely a month. But I won't.

I have plans for escape back to the French lines."

At this moment the door opened again. The old peasant came in with a tray on which was a dish of smoking meat, dark bread and potatoes and a pot of coffee.

"Now, since you are old friends I shall leave you," said the old man smiling, as he patted both young Americans on the shoulder.

"But Monsieur Reade knows how to call me if I am wanted. Good rest and stout hearts, young gentlemen!"

"We'll feast a bit!" cried Prescott eagerly.

"You will," Tom corrected. "I've had my evening meal and am not hungry. Eat before the candle burns out, and while you do so I will fix the ventilator for the night. When you have eaten we can turn in on the bed, for we can talk there as well as when sitting in the dark." d.i.c.k fell to ravenously on the food and coffee, while Tom attended to ventilation by removing a loose brick from a chimney, half of which was in this blind attic.

"We must pay this peasant well," d.i.c.k proposed, when he had nearly finished the meal, "for I'll wager he is not rich."

"I can pay him all right," declared Reade, striking a hand against his waist-line. "In my money belt I have a stock of American gold. Gold is a money that is very popular in Europe in these days of hardship."

Later the chums disrobed and turned in. There was abundance of covering to the bed.

"Now," proposed Tom Reade, talking in whispers, "for my plan of escape. It's dangerous, and it sounds impossible, fantastic.

But now that you're here, d.i.c.k Prescott, I feel equal to putting anything through! So here's for the plan!"

It was dangerous enough, certainly, as Tom Reade outlined it.

It didn't even strike Captain Prescott as being possible of performance, but he didn't say so. It was the only plan of escape that presented itself, and Tom had evidently put in all his hopes on that idea.

From the plan the chums fell to talking of other days. In the end, however, their whispers became more indistinct, then died out. Both were asleep.

d.i.c.k, as he slumbered and tossed, still felt the motion of that hideous prison train, but at last fell into deep slumber.

When he finally awoke he beheld Tom Reade, fully dressed in his uniform, seated at some distance under a little opening in the roof, reading a book.

"Awake, eh?" asked Tom, when he heard his chum stir. After glancing at his wrist watch, he added:

"You've slept nine hours and a half, and I guess you needed it.

There is water for washing, and I'll consult our host about breakfast.

What do you think of this way of letting in daylight? Toward night I shove this black cover over the hole in the roof, so that candle light may not show through the roof and give us away to the Germans."

Stepping to the chimney, from which the "ventilator" brick was still absent, Reade put his hand inside, finding a cord and giving it a gentle tug.

By the time that Prescott was partly dressed the door opened and the old peasant looked in.

"We are wondering what you can give us for breakfast?" Tom said in French. "Are eggs to be had to-day? Omelettes?"