The great, unwieldy vehicle came lumbering toward them. It rolled along the road, raising a tremendous cloud of dust, and they could see that behind it were many more. Just behind it, too, a man on a motorcycle came suddenly into view. He was mounted on a high-powered machine, and they could hear the roar of his motor as he came up to them.
"Halte!" he cried, in a broken French. "Arretez vous!"
They were off their machines in a moment, saluting, as he stopped his motor and put one foot on the ground to steady his machine. He was dressed in khaki, and both of them recognized his uniform as that of the British forces.
"We speak English," said Frank.
"The deuce you do! That's good! Well, tell me how to get to Guise. We've lost our blooming way, that's what we've done! And we've got supplies for the troops."
"You're going the wrong way—straight to Amiens," said Henri. "The road to Guise is back four miles, at least. Can you turn your 'buses here? We will guide you. We are going that way."
"You are, are you?" said the English officer. He laughed, curtly. "I doubt that, young fellow! I do, indeed! However, you can come along with us as far as that. Then I'll wash my hands of you. But I can tell you that if you go on much further, you'll get into some fighting that isn't meant for boys!"
They made no reply, for as they understood their errand, they were not supposed to tell every officer they met what they were doing, but were to answer questions only when it was plain that not to do so meant that they would be prevented from reaching their destination.
It was not the easiest of tasks to manage the reversing of the supply train of omnibuses, but the officer in charge was efficient, and it was managed. When the convoy had turned around, he rode up beside the boys.
"Seen any signs of Germans?" he asked.