“There’s the cottage of Fran?ois Bart,” observed Amos, some time later, as they passed through the village on the outskirts of Ypres. “Yes, and some one is waving to us from the open door,” added Jack. “It must be his good wife, and she has recognized her lodgers of last night.”
“I hope they get no bad news about their boy from the front where the Belgian army is holding out so stubbornly,” said Amos, reflectively.
“So long as he stands up to the job neither of them will complain,” the other commented. “They felt the disgrace much more than they would the stab if news came that Jean had fallen while doing his duty for his country.”
“For one I’m glad we had a chance to run across a little side drama like that, Jack. It[270] showed us of what stuff these patriotic Belgians are made. And you can find some mighty bright material for your correspondence in that happening, too.”
Chatting after this fashion they trudged along. The way seemed fairly familiar to them, since they had so recently come over it. As before, the road was at times almost clogged with the numerous vehicles passing back and forth. These consisted altogether of motor vans or lorries going after more wounded, or fetching loads of the same from the front where the battle still raged; cars containing officers hurrying to the fighting line; artillery trains of cannon; supplies; ammunition, and even more armored cars.
Then at one time the boys had to get out of the way when a squadron of hard-riding cavalry swept past. Jack again believed many of these men must have come from the Canadian Northwest, for they sat their saddles after the free and easy fashion of cowboys. He was almost tempted to give vent to a whoop just to see if some of them would answer; but discretion or second[271] thought caused him to forego this, as it could do them no good, and might get them into trouble.
“Here comes a van heading our way,” called out Amos, about half an hour after they had left Ypres, “and it seems to be nearly empty for a change. Most of them are chock full of Tommies being rushed forward. Jack, will you make the try with that paper the general gave us?”
“Surely,” returned the other, “if we can get them to stop. Here’s a bad spot in the road, and they’ll have to go slow in passing. Now to see what luck we have.”
When Jack made motions indicating that he wanted the driver of the motor van to stop, possibly that worthy, seeing the bad spot in the road, feared he might become mired. At any rate he pulled up. Jack had his paper ready, and stepping up shoved it up at the chauffeur, who was undoubtedly a Britisher, perhaps one who had up to recently been driving some business van or motor ’bus in the congested streets of London.
“Please read this communication given to us[272] by the general in command,” was what the boy said, without any show of bluster.
When the chauffeur glanced over the brief but pointed order that every one in authority should render assistance to the bearer and his companion, he knew instinctively what was wanted, for he at once made room on the seat.
“If you want to go along, get aboard, young fellows!” he said, and without waiting for further invitation they both clambered up alongside, after which the big van started on again, bent on taking another load of wounded to the hospitals in the rear, perhaps at Dunkirk.
Amos noticed that the bottom of the van was covered with fresh hay, and he was glad to discover no signs of previous occupancy.
The driver was curious to know why two boys were roaming around close to where tens of thousands of soldiers were engaged in the gruesome task of killing each other; it was only natural he should feel this way, for that document he had examined, signed by the general, told him[273] Jack and Amos were no ordinary strollers bent on seeing the sights.
Jack thought it best to tell him just a little so that he might understand how they stood in with the commander-in-chief at Ypres Headquarters. It was as small a compensation as they could make in return for being given such a splendid lift on their way.
Louder grew the discordant sounds that spoke of the hot work being done along a line that must cover many miles of front. In places the Germans must be attacking furiously again, hurling masses of fresh troops forward in hopes of pressing the Allies back once more.
“But they’ve shot their blooming bolt,” said the van driver, exultantly. “Gas is wot done it, I tell you; but our men have turned and pushed the mob back a full mile or so, I hears. There we stick, and they can’t budge us, try it as they will.”
Every chance Amos got, when the road was fairly clear of trees ahead, he leaned forward and seemed to be intently examining the heavens[274] as though fearful that it might start in and rain again.
Jack knew, however, it was something besides this that was causing the other to act as he did; and that it concerned those venturesome fliers who during the entire day would be sailing back and forth through the upper air currents, spying on the troop movements of the enemy, and sending numerous valuable messages back to those who with glasses bearing on the aeroplanes were reading to receive such news as came.
“I can see half a dozen of them sailing around away off there, Jack,” remarked Amos, with a vein of deep anxiety in his voice and manner. “I wonder if one of them can be Frank. They’re too far away right now for me to say which belong to the Allies and which are Taubes of the enemy.”
The chauffeur, while not knowing why they should have any particular interest in aeroplanes, kindly volunteered to pick out those that were connected with the cause of the Allies.
“Germans always have a queer way of flying,”[275] he explained. “They all learn to do things the same way like they was parts of a big machine. Our men go it every one like he learned his own style. But say, boys, I have to turn off the road here and follow this trail which ............