Stanley was an observer, not a real pilot; he
might get into trouble; so worried first one and then the other.
"It seems to me, gentlemen," began Miss Daskam, "that instead of
fretting over this you better remain quiet and thus regain your
strength the sooner. We may need it yet."
"Allons, madame," began Brenda, speaking to the girl, yet carefully
refraining from looking at either of the boys, "we cannot tell what
time the Boches may break in on us. After that young man went up in
the German plane, I am sure I heard the sound of far-away explosions.
We are between the lines, yet off to one side, where the enemy are fond
of raiding. It was so a year ago when some of us still made our home
in or close to the chateau. We didn't mind the raiding. All they did
was to rob us of what little stock we had left. But now, since they
began the bombing that has finally ruined the Baron's home, nothing and
no one is safe. Ah -- what is that?"
But it was nothing much; yet it only typified the general nervousness
of the situation. Distant firing along the course they figured that
Stanley would take tended to make even the boys uncertain as to whether
he would get home or not.
"Anyhow, we may as well make up our minds to have to stick it out here
at least until tomorrow, or more likely tomorrow night. If they come
they must come in force, or we will never be able to make a get-away.
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