But the last lorry had drawn alongside, and a French sergeant descended from it and joined the Annamites. He walked to the edge of the road, saw the radiator below upon a rock, and shrugged his shoulders. Catching sight of Fanny's face of horror he laughed.
"Ne vous en faîtes pas, mademoiselle! These poor devils sleep as they drive. Yes, even with their eyes open. We started nine this morning. We were four when we met you—and now we are three!"
On the third morning the rain stopped for an hour or two. Fanny had no run till the afternoon, and going into the garage in the morning she set to work on her car.
"Where can I get water?" she asked a man.
"The pump is broken," he replied. "I backed my car against it last night. But there is a tap by that broken wall on the piece of waste ground."
She crossed to the wall with her bucket.
Standing upon the waste ground was an old, closed limousine whose engine had long been injured past repair. One of the glass windows was broken, but it was as roomy and comfortable as a first-class railway carriage, and the men often sat in it in a spare moment.
The yard cleared suddenly for the eleven o'clock meal. As Fanny passed the limousine a man appeared at the broken window and beckoned to her. His face was white, and he wore his shirt, trousers, and braces. She stopped short with the bucket in her hand.
"On est delivré de cette bande!" he said, pointing to the yard, and she went a little nearer.
"Wait till I get my coat on," he said softly to her, and struggled into his coat.