Breaking his way through a jungle of creepers, he presently made a discovery that started his heart to beating faster than its wont. Sure enough he had come upon a road. It did not seem to run from north to south, as that one had upon which they stood at the time they watched the fluctuations of the terrible battle. However, a road of any kind encouraged Bumpus.
“I may find some sort of house on it,” he conjectured, sucking in fresh hope; “where the folks would consent to take me in, give me a royal feed, and even supply me with a cot for the night.”
That delightful thought buoyed up his drooping spirits wonderfully, so that he started along the road filled with high hopes. Ten minutes afterwards he made another pleasant discovery. There was a building to one side of the road. True, he failed to discover the first sign of any light about it, but entering the lane leading amidst shrubs and trees, he approached the structure.
His surprise increased as he drew closer. It was a very large building, and made of stone at that, as most houses in France seem to be, for wood is seldom ever used, being too expensive and not lasting enough.
“Say, looks a heap like it might be some queer old rookery, with a tower up there in the centre,” Bumpus observed, as he stopped to stare again, having come close to the structure by this time. “I wonder if this is some sort of sanitarium like the one up there in Antwerp where mother stayed? Anyway, I guess it’s deserted, all right. Mebbe the military authorities have ordered the folks to clear out, because it happens to interfere with gun range. Now, I wonder had I better try to find a bed in here, or go on further?”
His tired condition forced him to make a decision in favor of a stop. And once he had really decided, Bumpus lost no time in putting his plan into execution.
There was no trouble about getting into the building, for the door stood invitingly open as though hospitality might be a leading feature connected with the people who had formerly lived here.
Bumpus had some matches with him, and once he found himself in a broad hall he struck one. This showed him that beyond lay a flight of stairs leading to the upper story. Still not a sign of anything moving. Bumpus was more convinced than ever that he had the whole building to himself.
“I’m too dead tired and sleepy now to prowl around looking for any grub,” he observed, with a sigh; “and a bed is about the best thing I can think of. When morning comes along, why, I’ll skirmish about, and see if I can’t pick up a few bites; for sure there must be a kitchen connected with such a big old establishment; and the cook may have forgotten to clean it out entirely.”
He dragged his heavy feet up the stone stairs. At the time he vaguely wondered why everything about him was so severe and cold and plain; and made up his mind that living in such a sanitarium would be almost like being in prison. A tired boy, however, could hardly be expected to bother his head very much over such things. If only he could find some sort of bed, he would not be so very particular, for Bumpus believed he did not “care whether school kept or not.”