“There’s the cottage of François 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 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 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 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 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 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,” 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 leads to a
hospital where I gets me load. If so be you’d want to keep on that way
you’re welcome to stay aboard with me.”
Jack, however, believed that their end would be best attained if they
kept on in a direct line for the village where they had passed that
night at the time the great German drive broke like a water dam, and
pressed the Allied armies back for several miles.
They trudged along for half a mile. Then back of them came a battery of
field guns, swinging to the front for service. The boys stepped out of
the way, and as the artillery swept past they waved a hand to the grim
men in khaki sitting on the seats of gun carriage and caisson.
“I wouldn’t mind riding on one of those, given half a chance,” Amos was
saying a little enviously, for as the horses were galloping there was
a promise that the fresh battery would soon be wheeled in position to
take toll of the charging Prussians.
“Look there!” exclaimed Jack. “The very last caisson has pulled up
right in front of us you might say. Something gone a little wrong with
a part of the harness, most likely. I wonder if our pass from the
general would get us a seat on that ammunition cart!”
“Try it, Jack!” advised his chum eagerly. “I’m not so struck on this
walking that I’d refuse a chance to ride on any kind of vehicle.
Besides, it’ll take us to the front all the sooner, you know.”
There were three men with the caisson that had stopped on the road.
Two of them were hurriedly fixing the harness so that it would work
easier. The third Jack saw must be a non-commissioned officer, perhaps
a corporal, who could afford to sit there and order the others what to
do.
Stepping quickly up, Jack held out his paper.
“This is signed by your general, sir,” he said rapidly, for fear the
halt would be discontinued before he had found his chance to make good.
“It’s altogether unusual, I know, but we are anxious to get forward,
and would like to be allowed to sit on the chest at the back while you
push ahead.”
“Utterly impossible, boy!” exclaimed the other, but about the same
time he took in what the commanding general had written, and his eyes
opened wide as he hastened to add. “Why, I hardly know what my duty
is. By this document I am commanded to assist you two boys in every
way possible, no matter whether it is against general orders or not.
Jump up and hold on, then, for we will have to move rapidly in order to
overtake the rest of the battery!”
Jack hastily put the paper safely away. He would not like to lose
that valuable document for a great deal, since it must stand as their
sponsor in the hunt for Frank Bradford. Hardly had he and Amos secured
a seat on the ammunition chest than the two gunners hustled into their
places. Then the horses were started on a furious gallop.
The two boys would never forget that wild ride over the rutty roads
beyond Ypres, where in places German shells had torn deep holes that
had later been filled up after a certain fashion. They had more or
less difficulty in holding on, for the caisson jumped frightfully when
passing over these ruts and holes. The whip was not spared, and the
steaming horses did their best to overtake the balance of the field
battery.
[Illustration: The two boys would never forget that wild ride over the
rutty roads beyond Ypres.--_Page 278._]
Amos could almost feel that he too wore a khaki uniform, and was
speeding to the battle line in order to take his share in the butchery,
the illusion was so complete.
It required more or less dexterity to turn part way around in order to
look where they were going. Jack having a better grip than his chum
volunteered to do this duty, and report progress from time to time.
“We’re overhauling the balance of the battery all right, by slow
degrees,” he told Amos. “I can see signs of the village ahead there,
now.”
“What’s left of it, I guess you mean, Jack,” said Amos, sadly, “because
you remember how we saw the German shells bursting in the streets,
and among the houses by the dozen. I’ll be more than surprised if any
buildings have been spared after such a furious bombardment. Will we
find our host the old burgomaster alive, or poor little Jacques still
marching up and down with his Belgian flag over his shoulder?”
“When the Germans were in the place at one time he may have had his
chance to spring his trap and carry out that childish vow he made,”
suggested Jack. “It’s more than likely the poor little chap has been
sent to join his father by a cruel German bayonet or a bursting shell.”
Several minutes later and Amos heard him utter an exclamation of
disappointment.
“What’s gone wrong now, Jack?” demanded the other.
“Why, the battery has turned off the road, and is heading through a
field at left angles,” replied Jack. “So we’ll have to drop off when we
get there and finish our journey to the village afoot.”
“Well, we got a mighty fine lift, all right,” admitted Amos, “and
shouldn’t complain. But they’re still at it hammer and tongs over
there, you notice. Those Germans never know when they’re licked, do
they? I reckon they’ve sent up fresh columns of troops as many as ten
times against the new line of British and Canadians organized. It’s nip
and tuck between them, because both sides are as stubborn as they make
them.”
“By this time the Kaiser has learned that the British can fight as
well as ever they could in the past,” said Jack. “He called their army
contemptible in the beginning, but I believe he meant in numbers, not
bravery; and it was, compared with the millions he could throw into the
field inside of two weeks, every man drilled and ready to do his part.
But here’s where we skip, and say good-bye to our friends the gunners!
They’ve slackened up speed for us; so jump, Amos, and be careful to
land on your feet, not on your nose!”