"
"All the same," urged Tom, "I'd rather keep quiet about that stunt, for
the present at least. I want to go back and finish the work over there.
If the Huns are going to be driven to the Rhine we ought to be doing our
duty by Uncle Sam; which we couldn't if shut up in the Government
penitentiary at Fort Leavenworth, awaiting trial as deserters."
"Here's a plain trail that may lead us out of this region of scrub oaks,
and to some farmer's place!" the lieutenant exclaimed just then; and in
their eagerness to get in touch with some one who would take them to the
railroad they talked no further concerning the great flight and its
possible serious consequences to them.
Half an hour afterwards they came to the home of a farmer, who was trying
to make a living out of his isolated holdings, eking it out, as he
informed them while his wife was getting up the best meal possible, by
doing some terrapin hunting, and even trapping muskrats and such
fur-bearing animals during the otherwise unprofitable winter months.
It was very comfortable to sit down once more to a table after being so
long taking "snacks" at odd hours, and being cramped in the bombing
plane. And as the farmer's wife had plenty of fresh eggs, which they told
her not to stint, the generous omelet she produced was fully appreciated,
flanked as it was by rashers of pretty fair bacon.
There were also some freshly made soda biscuits which had a true
old-fashioned Southern taste, appreciated by Tom and Jack.
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