The potatoes were stored in a narrow, dark underground tunnel that one entered through a door at the back of the Hideout. “A grand air raid shelter,” suggested Dave. “Hope we never need it,” Alice replied soberly, “but you never can tell.” Her brow wrinkled. She was thinking of the hole in the ground where an ancient playhouse had once stood. “How about a tramp to the village?” she suggested. “O. K. by me,” said Dave. “I’ll see if my boots are finished.” The boots were not finished. But then, boots at the cobbler’s never are—at least, not the first time you call. “You’ll have to pardon the delay,” the old man apologized. “So many boys from the airdrome have brought in their boots. “But things will go faster now.” His face brightened. “You see I have a helper.” For the first time Dave noticed a short, sturdy young man sitting in the corner. He was sewing on a sole and never once looked up. Dave thought with a start, “He has a vaguely familiar look. But I’ve never seen him before, that’s certain.” “He does very fine work.” The old man rubbed his hands together. “Very fine indeed.” Appearing a little disturbed by Dave’s lingering look at the stranger, old John followed him out of the shop to close the door behind him. “He’s quite proper,” he said, jerking a thumb backward toward the shop. “He looks like a German, but he’s a refugee, a Hollander. You understand?” “Yes,—I” “His papers are in perfect order. I saw to that you may well believe.” The old man laughed a trifle uncertainly. “Our local magistrate looked over those papers for me,” he went on. “We can’t take chances. But this, you see, is a rare opportunity. I’ve never made any real money, not in all my long life. And now, with all these fliers coming in—” “Gives you a break,” said Dave. “I wish you lots of luck.” As it turned out, the old man was to need it,—lots and lots of luck. When the cobbler opened the door to retrace his steps, Flash, the collie, who had come up as a sort of vanguard to Alice, put his nose in at the cobbler’s door, gave a long sniff, then uttered a low growl. “Well now, I wonder what he means by that?” Dave thought as he hurried away to join Alice. That night, after the others had retired, Mrs. Ramsey, Dave and Brand sat for a long time silently watching the fading glow of the wood fire. “Mother,” Brand said suddenly, “I’d like to join the Royal Air Force.” “Oh! No!” The mother’s words came short and quick. “You are needed here. Besides, there’s little enough for our aviators to do now. After the beating up we gave them, the Jerries, as you call them, are only coming over at night. You can’t find them at night. That’s work for the anti-aircraft batteries.” “I’m not so sure of that,” Brand murmured beneath his breath. “But mother,” his voice rose, “the Huns may come over, a million of them, by air and sea, perhaps tomorrow. We must be prepared!”