, or has been up to now,"
Merritt continued, which information he may have remembered from his
training at school, or else found in some guide-book purchased in New
York City before their steamer sailed for England.

"I wonder what we'll strike on the other side of this wood?" Tubby
questioned, always speculating on things to come; and possibly hoping
then and there they might run across a hospitable farmer who would
kindly offer to provide them with some sort of breakfast.

"That's yet to be seen," Merritt told him. "Here's where there seems to
be a sort of swampy patch, with water and bogs. Listen to the frogs
croaking, will you? And I can see more than a few whoppers, too. Chances
are this is a frog farm that supplies the big hotels in Brussels and
Antwerp. You know the French are keen on frogs' legs, and pay fancy
prices for them by the pound."

"I've eaten them more than once," Rob informed them, "and I never had
spring chicken that was more toothsome and tender."

Whereupon Tubby cast a wistful eye toward the border of the frogpond,
where the big greenbacks could be seen, sitting partly in the water, and
calling to one another socially.

The boys kept walking on, and finally came to where the trees began to
get more scanty. About this time Rob made a discovery that was not at
all pleasing.

"Hold up, fellows," he said in a hoarse whisper that thrilled Tubby in
particular, "our road is blocked. There's a whole German army corps
camped ahead of us; and it's either go back, or else hide here in the
woods till they take a notion to break camp and clear out. Let's drop
down in the brush and talk it over."

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE FROG HUNTERS.

"That settles me, I guess!" said Tubby sadly, as he followed Rob into
the shelter of the brush nearby, from which haven of refuge they might
watch to see what chances there were of the big camp, a mile and more
away, being broken up.

"I know what you're thinking about, Tubby," Merritt told him; "that none
of us has had any breakfast, and the outlook for dinner is about as
tough as it could be."

"Yes," admitted the fat scout, "I feel just like kicking myself, because
I didn't think of doing it when I had the chance."

"Doing what?" asked Merritt.

"Getting that good-natured old fellow at the inn to put us up some
lunch," was the explanation Tubby offered. "I guess he'd have done it,
too, because he thought we deserved being taken care of, after hearing
wha