"We'll see to it that they find out what is the trouble, Fleming," said the
patrol leader, whose name was Burridge. "By the way, I know a scout in your
troop--Graves. He was on a scout with us a few weeks ago, when he was
visiting down here. Seemed to be no end of a good fellow."
Harry was surprised for he had heard nothing of this before. But then that
was not strange. He and Graves were not on terms of intimacy, by any means.
He decided quickly not to say anything against Graves. It could do no good
and it might do harm.
"Right," he said. "I know him--yes. I'll be going, then. You'll give my
message to Mercer or Young if there's any way of getting the line clear?"
"Yes, if I sit up until my next turn of duty," said Burridge, with a smile.
"Good luck, Fleming."
Then Harry was off again. Dawn was very near now. The east, behind him, was
already lighted up with streaks of glowing crimson. Dark clouds were massed
there, and there was a feeling in the air that carried a foreboding of
rain, strengthening the threat of the red sky. Harry was not sorry for
that. There would be work at Bray Park that might well fare better were it
done under leaden skies.
As he rode he puzzled long and hard over what he had learned. It seemed to
him that these German spies were taking desperate chances for what promised
to be, at best, a small reward.
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