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"I don't know how Fritz would make out in that field of endeavor," he said. "He is so big he couldn't get within a mile of the redcoats without their seeing him," commented Ben. "Yes, that's the only trouble with Fritz," said Tom. "He is too big to be a success as a spy." "I didn't said dot I vould be a goot sby, Dick," responded Fritz.
"I said dot I vould be as goot a sby as vot Tim Murphies vould be, see? und I vill stand me by dot statements, alretty." "Wull, Oi have not said thot Oi would make a good spy, Dootchy," said Tim, "so you wouldn't have to be much in thot line to aquil me. But whin it comes to foightin', now, it's mesilf belaves Oi have yez bate, Fritz, me bye."
"I bet me dot I vould mage ein better sby as vot your vould, Tim Murphies," he said placidly. And then ensued a good-natured dispute between the two, who, although they quarrelled frequently, and to one who did not understand them would seem to be very angry at each other and enemies in fact, were the best of friends.
"I wish I could go with you," said Tom, looking wistfully at his brother. "It will be best that I go alone, Tom," said Dick. "One can do spy-work better than two." "I vould lige dot sby vork," said Fritz Schmockenburg, a fat, Dutch soldier, gravely. "It's a foine spoy yez would be afther makin', Fritz," chuckled Tim Murphy, a merry Irish patriot.
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