The cripple disappeared in the black night, the dark form beside them
motioned in a ghost-like way to the blackness ahead of them, and
without a sound they pressed on, as though in a dream, hardly daring
to hope all would come out well.
By daylight they were able to distinguish something of the general
outlines of the country, which was flat, damp and fog covered.
A tall line of poplars led them toward a road. As they reached it,
in the gray of the morning, Bob turned to Dicky and said the first
words either of them had spoken for more than an hour.
"Do you think we are really in Holland, and free?" he queried.
"The whole thing was done in such a mysterious fashion, and silence
so rigidly enjoined by everybody, that I would not be surprised
if we have been smuggled out of Belgium, Bob," was Dicky's reply.
Nevertheless, they were most cautious as day came. They hid for a
time, then decided to go to some homely cottage and see what manner
of folk they would find. Stealthily approaching a simple home, they
waited until they caught sight of the housewife who was outside it,
feeding her chickens.
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