"Oh, Frank," said Henri, wistfully, "I wish I'd been the one to go! Though I wouldn't have done so well, I'm sure of that."
"Nonsense! You'd have done as well, and better," said Frank.
"No! But think of what you have done for France, for what is done for the English now is done for France as well. I am glad the English are fighting with us now, instead of against us. I—"
Major Cooper's return interrupted him.
"Here's your car coming now," he said. "You'll have to take a long way around. There are troops, or will be, on all the direct roads, and, besides, bridges are being blown up fast. Take the road that leads to Abbeville, over toward the sea. Use your own judgment about when you turn south, but keep moving toward the west until you are very close to Abbeville. After that you will have a fairly clear course. We haven't any reason to think that the Germans are in that direction at all as yet, though where they may be to-morrow no one knows. I needn't tell you to keep your eyes open. But if you do run into Germans, don't try to get away. There's very little chance of their finding the papers you carry, and, if they do, it is not important enough for us to want you to run any great risk. If you see them coming, hide at once. The motor doesn't matter."
Henri took the driver's seat and Frank sprang in beside him. And Henri, feeling that he had been pushed a little into the background, started the motor at once. He really could drive a car, having learned from his father years before, and he soon showed, when he had made himself familiar with the details of his machine, that he was to be trusted with it. And so, with a blast of his horn, he made a quick turn and sent the car roaring into the night. That was only to show off, however, for in a moment he muffled his engine, and the car spun along almost in silence, the motor purring evenly, as if to show that it was in perfect trim and ready to give the car all the speed that was needed.
The rain had stopped by this time, but the roads were still muddy and greasy, and at first, too, there was a good deal of traffic. Guns and men were moving, and, moreover, there was another danger. The German guns had evidently moved up, and a shell fell near them once in a while, but not so near as to bother them.
After a few miles of travelling, however, they found the road freer, and found also that the sound of the rear guard engagement that was covering the British retreat was further off. Five miles saw them riding through fields where twinkling lights showed the presence of troops, and they were stopped by a French guard. The pass Major Cooper had given them got them through, and the soldiers laughed and chatted while an officer was examining it. These were fresh troops, hurriedly brought up to hold off the Germans while the exhausted British retired to new positions, and they were gay, light-hearted fellows. True, they had not yet been in action, but to Frank it seemed that they were likely to be jovial after they had heard bullets singing over their heads.
"They don't seem to feel bad," said Henri. "And it is the same with the English. They are retreating, and still they are cheerful."
"You say that as if it was something remarkable!" said Frank, with a laugh. "Of course they're cheerful. They've got faith in their leaders, and they know, I suppose, that a retreat is often necessary. They'll turn the tables before long."