Bob
advised the old man to remain where he was till morning light, and
the boys pressed on.
Before dawn they took refuge in a shed behind a house whose stately
lines were marred by the marks of bombardment.
The owner of the half-ruined house and the shed where they had taken
refuge proved to be a fine old Belgian, courageous and full of resource.
As soon as he found that the boys were escaping American airmen he
brought food and drink to them in plenty. They were a long way from
the Holland line, he said, but they might, with care, get across.
Others had done so. He would look into the probabilities and
possibilities, and let them know.
The shed was a bare, small building of rude boards, with nothing in
it. A few boards were placed across the eaves, forming a sort of
loft extending for some seven feet from the end of the building.
It was on these boards that the boys spent their days while waiting
for an opportune moment to go further. Their host would not hear of
their suggestions that they should leave the shed until he had arranged
plans for their reception at a further station on their journey.
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