watchful eye out even if we are in a
hurry. What do you make of that farm house?"

"I've been thinking about it," Dave grunted. "There are Germans there,
of course, but there must be food, too. If we could only manage to swipe
some food I'd feel a lot better about starting out again. It's going to
be a long walk, and it's a cinch we won't be able to do any hitch-hiking
with German tanks and armored cars all over the place."

"True," Freddy murmured. "But we might have to walk for days, and days.
Then the information we have might not be of any use to the Allied High
Command. We've got to get back quickly, Dave, and I'm afraid we can't do
that by walking all the way."

"No, I guess not," Dave said unhappily. "But we'd be taking a heck of a
chance trying to thumb a ride. Maybe, though, if we moved over close to
that road over there, an empty truck or something might come by and we
could slip aboard it for a little ways, anyway. Gosh, it seems a hundred
years since I left Paris!"

"Two hundred," Freddy said with a sigh. "I certainly never even dreamed
that anything like this would ever happen to me."

"Me, too," Dave said and gave a little half shake of his head. "Boy,
what I'll have to tell the fellows when I get back home!"

"We're not back home, yet," Freddy said grimly. "Let's talk some more
about what we should do."

It was as though Lady Luck or the Good Fairy had been waiting for that
exact moment. From up in the sky to the east came the throbbing drone of
a German plane. The two boys swiveled around at once, shielded their
eyes with their hands and peered upward. The plane was down fairly low
and coming straight toward them. A moment of panic seized hold of Dave
and he unconsciously grabbed hold of Freddy and pulled them both down
under the bushes.

"Gosh!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Maybe they've got planes out looking
for us. Don't move a muscle and they won't see us. Gee, it's a biplane,
but it's got the swastika marking on the tail. I thought all the German
ships were monoplane design."

Freddy didn't answer for a moment. He sat crouched low under the
protecting bush branches and squinting his eyes up at the plane.

"That's a German plane, right enough," he said presently. "I recognize
it, now. It's an Arado AR-95. It's a two seater, and was built as a
torpedo plane. They use it off airplane carriers, but it's a pretty old
type. Look, Dave! The pilot has cut his engine. He's gliding down. I
say, let'