Sim led them to the wall and along it until they came to a gate. It was open; Sim paused and Stan and O’Malley peered out. A small light burned above the gate. The light revealed a truck filled with cans. Stan grinned in the darkness. The truck was a garbage lorry. The night breeze carried that information to him. The truck smelled very strong.
“We hide among the cans,” Sim whispered.
At that moment two men appeared carrying a can. They heaved it into the truck. One of them fastened a chain across the back opening, then they moved toward the cab of the truck.
“When the light is snapped off!” Sim whispered.
From the kitchen of the house a voice shouted something in German. The truck driver answered. The light snapped off and Sim started forward with the boys beside him. The truck was sputtering and backfiring, pouring out rank smoke as they reached it. They went into it as it lurched forward. All of the cans came clanging back against the chain, almost shoving the boys out.
Quickly the three moved cans until they were up in the front of the truck next to the cab. There they crouched down with their knees pulled up. The cans made so much noise there was no danger of the boys being heard.
“’Tis a sweet smellin’ cab ye called,” O’Malley observed.
“The smell will keep the Germans from examining it very closely,” Sim answered and Stan heard him chuckle. “When we come to a lighted town we’ll each have to get into a can.”
“They’re full o’ garbage,” O’Malley protested.
“We’ll empty three cans,” Sim said. “Might as well do it while we’re on this rough country road.”
The truck was bouncing and the cans were banging. The noise was terrific and the darkness total. Stan got hold of a can. It was heavy, but with O’Malley’s help he was able to lift it up and tip it over the edge. The contents poured out on the side of the road. Two more cans were dumped.
“There goes a lot of meals for the prisoners in the ghetto,” Sim said and laughed.
“You mean to say the skunks feed prisoners garbage?” Stan asked.
“I’ve been told they let the prisoners of the lowest class pick over the garbage,” Sim answered.
Stan felt his stomach begin to turn over. O’Malley said nothing. For once he was stumped for words. They moved the cans to the center and well forward and crouched beside them.
The truck rattled on through the night. Presently they saw lights ahead.
“According to my map,” Sim said, “that should be a well-lighted inspection post. We better get into the cans.”
The boys got into the cans. Stan kept his head well up out of the can. He meant to keep it up in the wind until it was absolutely necessary to duck down.
The truck swung in under a row of lights. Stan ducked down and held his nose. There was much guttural shouting. Several men moved around the truck. They poked bayonets among the cans and against them. Stan felt a blade strike the can he was in. The can gave out a dull clinking sound, indicating it was full. Stan grinned. Someone shouted an order and the truck rolled on.
As soon as darkness closed over them the boys popped out of the cans. O’Malley was talking to himself in very rich Irish.
“If I’d known this was goin’ to happen to me I’d have brought along a blanket to wrap meself in,” he growled. “We’ll smell so bad we won’t be able to hide any place.”
Stan laughed. “They won’t need blood-hounds to track us,” he admitted.
“We will get other clothing,” Sim said.
The truck rolled on, crossing a hill and dropping down toward a town. Lights winked ahead of them and the road became smoother.
“We unload pretty soon,” Sim said. “There will be a small farmhouse on the right with tall trees. We get off there. The farmer is a member of the underground.”
“Underground in Germany?” Stan asked in surprise.
“They told me it was well established and doing a big business. People are paying well to get out of Germany before it collapses.” Sim was swinging a leg over the side as he spoke.
The boys got out of the truck and clung to the outside. They saw dark forms of trees and a light in a window.
“Now,” Sim whispered as he swung away from the truck.
Stan heard him land with a thud. Stan jumped and landed in a hedge beside the road and rolled on into tall grass. O’Malley hit close beside him, and they crouched behind the hedge watching the truck. It went rattling on into the night. Sim called to them.
“Come on. We have to hurry.”
They moved over beside him and he headed across an open field toward the lighted window. As they neared the house, a dog began barking. Sim halted and they stood waiting. A door opened and a man shouted at the dog. Sim moved forward.
“Hello,” he called.
The door closed suddenly and Stan heard the man walking over gravel toward them. They advanced to meet him. Sim spoke as soon as he was close.
“We were sent by Hans.”
“Goot. Come, I show you,” the man answered.
They walked with him to the house and he opened the door. “Quick,” he mumbled. He began pushing them through the door.
There was no need to shove. The boys dived inside and the German closed the door. He moved to a window and pulled down the blind, then he faced them. He was a short man with a beefy face. His stomach rolled out over a wide leather belt.
“I get you clothes,” he said gruffly.
Disappearing into another room he returned after a time with an armload of clothing which he tossed on a table. The boys changed into rough shirts and dungarees. The clothing was coarse, but it was clean. The German gathered up their uniforms.
“These I burn,” he said and left with them.
“We have to move on at once,” Sim said. “This place will be searched before morning. The Germans are very thorough.”
The boys seated themselves and waited. Their host was gone for a long time. Finally Sim got up.
“I’ll go hurry him along,” he said. “You stay right here.” He left the room hurriedly.
“Sim is no nut. He has this all worked out,” O’Malley said.
“He certainly has,” Stan agreed. He got up and moved to the door Sim had just closed. Opening it gently he went into a dark room. Feeling his way he moved to another door. He could see a shaft of light under the door. Halting with his hand on the knob, he listened. Sim was talking with their underground agent in German. Stan opened the door quickly. The two men whirled about and faced him.
“I didn’t know you spoke German,” Stan said.
“You should not be sneaking around,” the German said sharply.
“I have always spoken German,” Sim answered. “I learned it in school back home. How did you think I managed to line things up so well if I didn’t know German?”
“We got worried,” Stan said. “Thought something might have happened to you.”
“I just wanted to make sure these uniforms were burned,” Sim said and laughed. “German farmers are thrifty people. They hate to burn good wool cloth, which can’t be bought for any price here. These people have only ersatz cloth.”
“We go now,” the German said and scowled at Stan.
“Did he burn them?” Stan asked.
“He buried them in his orchard. We don’t have time to waste having him dig them up,” Sim answered.
O’Malley had heard the talking and joined them in the kitchen.
“Everybody’s here, so let’s go,” Stan said. He was trying to remember if Sim Jones had ever talked to him about his past. He could not remember the flier ever having said much about himself.
The German took the lead and they followed him out through a back door. They walked down a path and came to a small barn. Stan heard a horse snort. The German spoke softly to Sim in German.