“They look like old hands at the fighting game, Tom. See, one is grizzled, and his face, through exposure, like wrinkled parchment!”
“Watch him walk, and you’ll detect a slight limp,” cried Tom. “That tells the story! He’s been through the mill! It may be he has fought in almost every battle since the war started, and has been wounded many times. You can see the mark of a scar across his left cheek. That has likely been caused by a sabre slash.”
“Yes, and Tom, when he lifts his left arm I notice that he gives a little grimace, as though it hurts more or less still. Why, that grizzled old chap must be a hero of heroes! He means to get back to the front, and have still another try at the Boches.”
The distant muttering sound rose and fell from time to time as the breeze dictated. It was not unlike the roll of the waves on the beach at the seashore, only many times more significant, now that the boys realized its real meaning.
In imagination they could see the smoke of the battle, even to the charging of one side or the other across the open, where the staccato rattle of the machine-guns would lessen their forces, and cause ominous gaps to appear in the ranks.
“Well,” Jack presently remarked, yawning as he spoke, “the question still remains, how are we going to bridge over the remaining distance separating us from the camp of the Lafayette Escadrille, to which we have been assigned?”
“We’ve come so far, all right,” Tom told him, with his jaws set in a determined fashion that indicated his “never say die” nature; “and we’ll find some way of getting to our journey’s end. I never dreamed that we’d be dumped off like this. But then, the walking isn’t so very bad, you may have noticed, and if it comes to the worst we might depend on Shank’s mare to take us along.”
“But Tom, we’ve got our duffle with us!” expostulated the other, in sheer dismay. “I wouldn’t mind walking to the camp; but I’d hate to see myself loaded down with all that stuff. We’d look like gypsies on the tramp!”
“I’ve got an idea that may help us out, and land us where we want to fetch up, sooner or later.”
“Blurt her out! I know I’m tired of this!”