"Your gratitude is certainly appreciated," Ned answered, "but we scarcely deserve it. It was partly our fault that the bridge was wrecked. If we hadn't been over the railroad, the bomb would not have done that damage. We couldn't do any less than try to stop you."
"Nevertheless, we are all grateful for your act," continued the officer, "and I must also compliment you on your skill as a pilot. You handled the aeroplane with exceeding ease and adroitness."
"You'll have to give Jimmie, here, credit for that," Ned replied with a smile, as he proceeded to introduce his chums.
Protesting his inability to perform any feats out of the ordinary, Jimmie was dragged blushing to the foreground, where he was made to listen again to the complimentary remarks concerning his ability as an aviator.
"But come with me," invited the officer presently. "I wish you to meet the General. You are fortunate in finding him here at this time."
Making their way through the groups of soldiers gathered about, the boys arrived at a car much better appointed than the others. Here were grouped several officers surrounding a sturdily built man of medium height. His white hair and mustache gave a touch of dignity to the rounded face, while flashing eyes betokened the vigor that lurked in his well-knit frame, and indicated one of the secrets of his power with men. He was no less a person than General Joffre, pride of the French army.
Approaching to a respectful distance, the boys stood at attention and gave the Boy Scout salute. This was returned at once by the General, who used the same salute with dignity and gravity.
A few words spoken by the officer who had conducted the boys from their machine served to explain who they were.
"I wish to thank you, gentlemen," said the General. "You have, indeed, averted a catastrophe, and we are very grateful."
"Please do not mention it, sir!" Ned protested. "We felt that we could not do otherwise than stop your train, if possible."