old man gave the young one a searching scrutiny,
up to that time Dicky had not spoken.

"You, too, are American?" he asked, as if doubtful that so perfect
a disguise could have been so hurriedly assumed.

Dicky's answer was short, and made in a tone and with an accent that
made the good Father look still more sharply into the boy's eyes.

"No one would dream it," he murmured. "You are very like the poor
dead woman's son---so like that the resemblance is startling. It
is no doubt the clothes that make me note it."

"Not altogether," interposed one of the old ladies. "His voice is
strangely like that of Franois. I know, for Francois frequently
worked here for us until they took him away. If the American would
limp as Franois limped, most folk would take him for Franois, surely."

Franois, it was explained, had been hurt when a boy of twelve, and
while not seriously crippled, always walked with a slight limp in the
right leg.

Once having convinced their new-found friends that they were American
soldiers whose object it was to restore Belgium to the Belgians, they
all set about the discussion of what should be the next step.

Pere Marquee had known the dead woman. She had been ill for weeks,
and he had been expecting to hear she had passed away. Too much was
required of him in the village to allow of his leaving it to look
after her.

The German colonel was not a hard man, "for a German," said the priest.
The soldiers molested but little the townsfolk that were left. After
some discussion the Father decided that the best plan would be to
have a funeral in the morning, attended by the two American boys
openly. Both spoke French sufficiently well to answer any questioning
by the Germans. Dicky's disguise was perfect, they all declared.
With the addition of the limp, which he decided to adopt, he might
even fool some of the townsfolk. Before they lay down on the floor
and snatched some sleep Bob's wardrobe had been replenished with old
clothes gathered from a house nearby.

Little interest was taken in the funeral next morning so far as the
Germans were concerned. For that matter but few townsfolk attended
the actual interment. Those who did were very old folk or very
young. Not one of them spoke to either Bob or Dicky. The whole
affair seemed uncanny to the boys. Bob stooped as he walked at the
suggestion of the priest, and Dicky's limp was very naturally assumed.
No sharp scrutiny was given them,