In a town they came to, however, there were more stirring sights awaiting them. A regiment was being embarked on a train bound for the front, though just why it had been delayed so long of course the boys never knew. It was a martial spectacle indeed, and one they would often look back to with a thrill. The men were bidding their wives, children, or sweethearts goodbye, well knowing that many of them would never look on those dear faces again.
Those aboard the patched-up train took a deep interest in the going of the reserves to where duty and honor, perhaps a soldier’s grave, awaited them. Being detained on account of the other train that was lying across their track, they could watch all that went on. And when finally it moved off, amidst loud huzzas, and frantic waving of handkerchiefs together with a flood of tender farewells, every one joined in the thrilling shouts, even the four American boys.
Such sights were bound to make a lasting impression on the minds of the young scouts. In years to come they would surely remember them, and in imagination once more see the waving hands, the anxious tear-wet faces of girls and women and children, not to mention the old men; and note how those aboard the departing troop train thrust their hands far out from the windows of the carriages so as to get the very last glimpse of the ones left behind.
But it was over at last. The loaded train bearing brave hearts and valiant souls devoted to the defense of their beloved country had vanished, and those who were bound for Calais could now once more proceed.
“How few of them may ever see their folks again,” said Bumpus, shaking his head sadly; “for we happen to know how men are mowed down like ripe grain before those terrible guns of the Germans.”
“Well, it’s always been going on that way,” added Giraffe, who could survey such things without feeling so “squeamish” as tender-hearted Bumpus, “since the time this world began. Men and animals keep on scrapping, and it’ll be the same to the end of time. Men must fight, and women must weep. But if the women get the vote mebbe they’ll want to do some of the scrapping themselves.”
They understood that by now they were getting well along on their journey, and also if everything went smoothly, in another half-hour or so the slow-moving mixed train could be expected to pull into the seaport whither it was bound.
“Then a whole lot depends on whether we can get transportation to Paris,” Bumpus was telling them, as they discussed this matter.
“Don’t cross a bridge till you come to the same,” warned Giraffe, always confident. “We’ll find a way to get there, make your mind easy, Bumpus. We always do, you know, and that isn’t bragging, either, only telling bald facts.”
Just then the train slackened its speed as though signalled to pull up at the next station, where there was another big crowd awaiting it, perhaps some of whom meant to go on to Calais so as to get across the Channel.