with the turns and twists of the tunnel,
which there had been no way of following in the utter darkness. But Jack
Young, who, of course, could have found his way anywhere within five miles
of them blindfolded, helped him, and they soon found that they were less
than half a mile from the place.

"Can you come on with me, Jack?" asked Harry. He felt that in his rescuer
he had found a new friend, and one whom he was going to like very well,
indeed, and he wanted his company, if it was possible.

"Yes. No one knows I am out," said Jack, frankly. "The pater's like the
rest of them here--he doesn't take the war seriously yet. When I said the
other day that it might last long enough for me to be old enough to go, he
laughed at me. I really hope it won't, but I wouldn't be surprised if it
did, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't. It's too early to tell anything about it yet, really. But
if the Germans fight the way they always have before, it's going to be a
long war."

They talked as they went, and, though Harry's ankle was still painful, the
increased speed the bandaging made possible more than made up for the time
it had required. Harry was anxious about Dick; he wanted to rejoin him as
soon as possible.

And so it was not long before they came near to the place where the cycles
had been cached.

"We'd better go slow. In case anyone else watched us this afternoon, we
don't want to walk into a trap," said Harry. He was more upset than he had
cared to admit by the discovery that he and Dick had been spied upon by
Jack, excellent though it had been that it was so. For what Jack had done
it was conceivable that someone else, too, might have accomplished.

"All right. You go ahead," said Jack. "I'll form a rear guard--d'ye see?
Then you can't be surprised."

"That's a good idea," said Harry. "There, see that big tree, that blasted
one over there? I marked that. The cache is in a straight line, almost,
from that, where the ground dips a little. There's a clump of bushes."

"There's someone there, too," said Jack. "He's tugging at a cycle, as if he
were trying to get ready to start it."

"That'll be Dick, then," said Harry, greatly relieved. "All right--I'll go
ahead!"

He went on then, and soon he, too, saw Dick busy with the motorcycle.

"Won't he be glad to see me, though?" he thought. "Poor old Dick! I bet
he's had a hard time."

Then he called, softly. And Dick turned. But--it was not Dick. It was
Ernest Graves!