"Yes," returned Hilda, "but all's well that ends well."
"How many men did you rescue?" asked the Commandant.
"Three," answered the girl; "the last fellow came slowly. His foot was bad."
The Commandant dismounted and came round to the back of the car. He threw up the hood.
"You did this for black men?" he said slowly.
"Why not?" asked Hilda in surprise. "If they're good enough to fight for us, they're good enough to save."
"The King shall know of this," he said; "it means a decoration. I will see to it."
Hilda's face lighted up for an instant. Then the glow died down; she became grave.
"If anything comes of this," she said simply, "it goes to Smith. I must insist on that."