attention shown them.

"I don't just like it, to tell you the truth," admitted Merritt.

"Oh! you're too modest by half, Merritt!" jeered the fat scout.

"It isn't that, Tubby," explained the other. "Rob here says he believes
our guide is spreading the report that we're English messengers, sent
ahead to pick up news about the Germans, so they can be smashed when the
British army gets here."

"Well, what of that?" demanded his friend. "It isn't so _very_ dreadful
that I can see, to be mistaken for a Johnny Bull."

"You'll change your tune, my boy," Rob told him, "if the Germans should
come along and nab us. We'll soon see how you begin to roar out that
you're a Yankee, as true-blue as they make them."

"Oh! but they wouldn't know anything about that!" declared Tubby, though
showing signs of increasing dismay at the same time.

"You never can tell," he was told by Rob. "The ways of these smart
Germans are past finding out. They've got spies everywhere. Right now
there may be some secret sympathizer with the Fatherland in that bunch
close by, taking in all that silly Anthony has been saying."

"Gingersnaps and popguns!" gasped Tubby, "if that's really so I guess
we'd better muzzle our guide in a hurry. Where's he gone to, do you
think, Rob? It was all of half an hour ago that I saw him last, talking
to the crowd."

"I was wondering about that myself," said Merritt. "If we expect to be
getting along about this time, we ought to look Anthony up."

"You take a turn that way, and I'll step into the taproom of the inn, to
see if he is there," remarked Rob, who had a slight frown on his face
as he spoke, as if he might not be wholly satisfied with the way in
which their guide was acting.

Five minutes later Rob and Merritt joined Tubby at the same time.

"Nothing doing in my section," remarked Merritt, "except that I'm afraid
somebody has swiped one of our nags, for I could only count three horses
hitched there."

"Then, that settles it!" said Rob positively.

"Settles what?" piped up Tubby.

"Anthony has basely deserted us, and taken to the back road!" Rob told
them. "I feared as much from what the little inn proprietor let out; but
what you say clinches the thing. Our guide is a mile or more on the way
back to Antwerp by now!"

CHAPTER VII.

THE DESERTION OF ANTHONY.

"The miserable hound! Hanging would be too good for him!" exclaimed
Merritt, who it appeared had not up to that instant suspected