As he walked along by the side of the tall monk in his coarse gray gown Bumpus talked of the war and its possible end in a general limitation of armies and navies all over the world.
“It is the one great result we hope and pray for,” said the other, soberly; “and toward that end we are ready to devote everything that we possess, property and life, too, if need be. ‘Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad,’ and certainly that is what is happening in these dark days. But we have faith to believe great good will surely come out of all this terrible destruction.”
Bumpus was sorry to say good-bye to the friendly monk when the latter had placed him on another road, which, he said, was the thoroughfare leading to Paris in one direction and the field of battle in the other.
“I’ll never forget all I’ve seen and heard while your guest, sir,” he told the other, whom he now knew as Brother Ambrose; “and perhaps some time or other I may write to you from my home over the sea.”
“We seldom receive letters from the outside world,” the grave man replied, “but under the unusual conditions I can promise to reply should you think to send me word. I would like to learn if you found your mother safe, and that with your brave comrades you had again reached that wonderful land of promise, America.”
So they shook hands earnestly and parted. It must have been a wonderful experience to this recluse, who had for so many years kept away from the bustling world to meet a lively American boy and learn so many surprising facts concerning the new spirit of usefulness that had taken hold of the rising generation across the sea.
Bumpus strode on, with his mind filled with the things he had just passed through. As he progressed he could notice that the dreadful roar was constantly increasing as new batteries took up the refrain and belched out their noisy defiance. Von Kluck evidently could not give up all idea of keeping on in the direction of the coveted prize in the shape of the French capital, now only ten miles more or less distant. Visions of that other successful occasion, when Paris was taken by siege, doubtless spurred him on to further strenuous efforts; and if the French eventually prevented a breach in their lines, wonderful generalship would be necessary.
The road was far from deserted now. With the break of day fresh streams of vehicles of every description had commenced moving, generally toward the front, as new supplies of ammunition and food were being constantly required to keep the army up to top-notch fighting pitch.
And those motor trucks and other moving vans that came from the front were never empty, Bumpus saw. Every one carried wounded Frenchmen, brave fellows, who doubtless had already received first aid at the field hospitals, and were now being taken to other institutions around Paris, where they could in time possibly recover from their grievous injuries and once more join their regiments.
Bumpus heard few groans as these vehicles, with their ghastly freight, passed him on the road. How his heart beat in sympathy with the gallant occupants. Many times did he snatch his old campaign hat off to wave it around his head in vigorous salute as he let out a lusty cheer. This was in answer to some waving hand that even pain and weakness could not wholly subdue.