They looked at the figures on the raft. Some of the Germans were dead, and others, apparently, dying. There was nothing Roger and Jimmy could do, and, watching their chance, when the raft was within a few feet of the shore they jumped off. There was a rope fastened to one end of the crude craft, and, catching hold of it as he leaped ashore, Jimmy cried to the officer: "Do you want to be made fast here?" The man muttered something in his own tongue, but as it did not seem to be an answer in the affirmative to Jimmy's question, the lad tossed his end of the rope on the raft and let the structure go floating on down stream. "They'll have to take their chance, same as we did," remarked Jimmy. "Though I'd have anchored them if they'd said the word." "They may be rescued by friends below here," suggested Roger. "And now what are we going to do? It's going to be dark soon, and we don't know which way to go to get back to our lines." "You said something then!" declared Jimmy. "It's going to rain, too. I felt a few drops. Say, this is about the worst plight we've been in since we left Camp Sterling." "Oh, it might be worse!" declared Roger, with as much optimism as he could muster. "Let's hike along until we get somewhere and find something to eat." "Say, don't get sarcastic!" begged Jimmy. They walked up the river bank and saw a lonely bit of country stretching before them. There did not appear to be a house on it, but that war had passed that way was made evident by many signs, few of them pleasant. "Let's see where this road leads to," suggested Jimmy, pointing to one that did not appear to have been used recently. "Might as well take it as any," agreed Roger. "I wish it led to a can of beans and a ham sandwich." "Don't rub it in," groaned Jimmy. They were tired, wet, and hungry. They were exhausted from the battle in which they had taken part, they were sore from the treatment accorded them by the Bixtons, and they had hardly recovered from the strenuous battle on the raft. Still they did not give up, but tramped on. They passed a field in which a few miserable turnips were growing, and, digging out some, they ate them. Poor as this food was, it served to put a little more life into them. It was getting dusk when, as they were going down the road, they heard voices ahead of them, around a turn. Jimmy and Roger looked at one another. The same thought was in the minds of both. Were these friends or foes? "Let's hide until we take a look," suggested Jimmy. "Hide where?" Roger demanded. "Up in that hole, or cave," went on Jimmy, pointing to one that showed through a fringe of bushes in the face of a hill which was bordered by the road. "We can stay there until we see who is here." In the fast-falling darkness they scrambled up the hill and dodged into the cave. As far as they could tell it seemed to be a fairly large one.