human
Jones, he got out.
gpt
It must be. A German uniform. Shot in the back. Uniform torn and ripped to shreds. The rats searched him for any secret identification papers he might be carrying. Please God that they didn't find any!
human
Amen! Freddy Farmer said in almost a sob.
gpt
Of course you're right, Dave. It must be Jones, poor devil. Wonder what happened? Wonder how they managed to catch him? Blast this for a fine mess!
human
Another of this war's secrets that will probably never be known, Dave said in a dull voice.
gpt
Why, and how, we'll never know, Freddy. But one thing is sure, according to the way I look at it. The Nazis in this area are wise to the fact that something is up. Jones dead, here. All those patrols we had to sneak around. Freddy! I've got a darned strong hunch that this particular spot is the most unhealthy in all Occupied France for us. Maybe they didn't know that Jones was to contact somebody here, but--
human
But _we_ don't know _if_ they _do_ know!
gpt
Right! Dave whispered, and got up on one knee.
human
So, unless we want to beg for it, let's get distance from this spot, and get it fast. You with me?
gpt
Quite! Freddy murmured, and got quickly to his feet.
human
I say! How about my beggar's machine gun? Think it would come in handy?
gpt
No, leave it, Dave replied.
human
Traveling fast, and light, is our best bet. If we got cornered, the gun wouldn't be much help for long. No, leave the darn thing. But let's get out of here, and--