"Good God, man! Can't you see that if this boy was wounded at Amillis your road to Coulommiers is cut off!"
"It may not be."
"There's no time to argue. My wagons are full to overflowing. Are you going to let this boy stay and be finished by the Germans, or are you going to let me put him in your cart and drive to a hospital?"
"But Provins must be occupied by this time. It's east of here."
"I never had any intention of going there. I'm heading for Melun."
"Melun?"
"Yes."
"Good heavens! That's seventy kilometers! My poor sister-in-law! My horse!" wailed the old fellow.
"Now then—one, two, three—" said I, gently patting my Browning which I had drawn from my outside pocket. "Will you do it gracefully? That's right. Now stop your crying. I'll release you as soon as I can find someone else to take me on. The important thing is to get out of here and quick! It may be too late now."
The boys had fetched a mattress, had found pillows and a sheet, somewhere, and gently we laid the dying man on the old farm cart.