"All right! But you'd better come
back--because we've got your motorcycle, and we'll keep that until you come
back for it."
But it made little difference to Harry that he was, so to speak, out on
bail. The great thing was that he was free. He rushed out, but he didn't
make for the scene of the disaster to the reservoir, caused, as he had
guessed, by some spy. All the town was pouring out now, and the streets
were full of people making for the place where the explosion had occurred.
It was quite easy for Harry to slip through them and make for London. He
did not try to get his cycle. But before he had gone very far he overtook a
motor lorry that had broken down. He pitched in and helped with the slight
repairs it needed, and the driver invited him to ride along with him.
"Taking in provisions for the troops, I am," he said. "If you're going to
Lunnon, you might as well ride along with me. Eh, Tommy?"
His question was addressed to a sleepy private, who was nodding on the
seat beside the driver. He started now, and looked at Harry.
"All aboard!" he said, with a sleepy chuckle. "More the merrier, say I! Up
all night--that's what I've been! Fine sort of war this is! Do I see any
fightin'? I do not! I'm a bloomin' chaperone for cabbages and cauliflowers
and turnips, bless their little hearts!"
Harry laughed.
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