It must
mean that their task, whatever it might be, was nearly accomplished--the
blow they had come to strike was about ready to be driven home.
"'Ere, who are you a shovin' off?" complained one of the linemen, as he was
pushed toward the motor. He made some effort to resist but the next moment
he pitched forward. One of the Germans had struck him on the head with the
butt of his revolver. It was a stunning blow, and the man was certainly
silenced. Dick recoiled angrily from the sight, but he kept quiet. He knew
he could do no good by interfering. But the sheer, unnecessary brutality of
it shocked and angered him. He felt that Englishmen, or Americans, would
not treat a prisoner so--especially one who had not been fighting. These
men were not even soldiers; they were spies, which made the act the more
outrageous.
They were serving their country, however, for all that, and that softened
Dick's feeling toward them a little. True, they were performing their
service in a sneaky, underhanded way that went against his grain. But it
was service, and he knew that England, too, probably used spies, forced to
do so for self-defence. He realized the value of the spy's work, and the
courage that work required. If these men were captured they would not share
the fate of those surrendering in battle but would be shot, or hung,
without ceremony.
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