The bombardment of Rheims was in full blast, and here it was that the
boys witnessed a strange combination of war and peace. Unaffected
by the terrific shelling of the town, refugees from Northern France
and Belgium were busy in the country picking grapes for the French
champagne yield.
“Can you match that?”
Billy marveled at the scene presented.
Henri and Reddy were intently watching the flight of shells, some of
which struck the cathedral, and a boy bugler, between 14 and 15 years
old, who came out of the heat of the fray, told them that a shell had
fallen on one of the high altars and had considerably damaged it.
This youngster had the grit, for he was as cool as a cucumber under
fire, and with his battalion had been nearly all day where bullets flew
thicker than flies in Egypt.
“That was quite a shake-up,” referring to the shell explosion in the
cathedral, “but,” assuming the easy air of one accustomed to such
things, “it wasn’t a marker to some of the whacks I’ve seen coming from
those howitzers.
“I’m from Dover; name Stetson; came over with the marine brigade; from
where does your ticket read?”
The youthful bugler was looking at Billy.
“From Bangor, Maine, United States of America; Barry is the family
handle, and the front name is Billy.
“Mr. Stetson, I’ll have you know Mr. Henri Trouville and Mr. Joseph
Mouselle, I think that is the way you pronounce it, isn’t it, Reddy?”
“Oh, call me Jimmy,” jovially urged the newcomer; “what’s ‘misters’
between friends?”
“Did you know Capt. Leonidas Johnson and Mr. Josiah Freeman in Dover?”
asked Billy.
“Did I know them?” cried Jimmy. “Did I know the town-clock and the
wharves? They’re the flying machine men, and I have hung around their
hangars so much that I must have worn out my welcome. To tell the
truth, though, I am on the waver between an aëroplane and a submarine.
I’ve have had some training, too, in the underwater boats. Say, coming
back at you, do you know Capt. Johnson, or just heard of him?”
“Rather well acquainted with him, I should imagine,” stated Billy with
a smile; “Henri and I rode up here in the captain’s seaplane.”
“Gee whiz, then, you’re the Aviator Boys I have heard about. I was
in London when that happened, and when I came back to Dover to say
farewell to mother I had no more than time to wave a hand to the
captain before the ship sailed for Ostend.”
“Do you mean to say that Captain Johnson and Josh Freeman are in
Dover?” was Billy’s excited query.
“Just so,” stoutly maintained Jimmy. “I saw them with my own eyes.”
“Glory be!” Billy was happiest when he said that.
“Hear that, Henri, old boy? Capt. Johnson and Freeman are safe in
Dover.”
Billy could not help repeating the glad tidings.
“Wonder how they got away?”
Henri would have been mightily pleased to talk it over with the old
boys that very minute.
Billy had already added Jimmy to his good friend list, and these two
kept up a running fire of questions aimed at one another.
Aëroplanes and submarines were dissected and put together again many
times during the lively conversation.
“How did you get so far from the water? You ought to be blowing a
fog-horn instead of a bugle, Jimmy.”
“I’ll tell you, Billy,” replied Jimmy, “that it was just a fluke that
I got anywhere outside of prisoners’ quarters. They picked up a bunch
of us at Nieuport, and one of the German officers asked me if I had run
away from school. The fact that they classed me kindergarten furnished
me the chance of skipping, and I starved my way to the camp of the
Coldstream Guards. They were going my way or I was going theirs, and
here I am.”
The boys had a reminder about that time that a war was going on, for
chunks of lead began to purr over the exposed position where they were
grouped.
“Blow a retreat,” suggested Henri to the bugler; but none of them
waited for that signal to get to cover.
So great had grown their confidence in the new friend that Henri and
Billy at mess that evening jointly gave him details of their adventures
in the château and the tunnel, and even told about the treasure they
were carrying.
Jimmy was an eager listener, and as the tale unfolded, his admiration
for the prowess of his new comrades reached the top degree.
“I’ve joined the band,” he insisted earnestly, “and I’m going to see
you through. Count me in from date.”
“If we only had Leon with us now,” laughed Henri, “we could push over
an army.”
“You bet Leon was a good one.”
Billy had more than once declared that if he ever got near to a place
where they stocked Christmas ships there would be something special in
the cargo for the little Belgian.
When the sergeant roll-called the boys, as usual, that night he was
requested to include Jimmy.
“If I adopt a few more of you,” he grumbled, “I’ll be fit for the
presidency of Bedlam.”
But the sergeant’s bark was far worse than his bite.