“We couldn’t do that,” objected Frank. “They were brutes and those things came natural to them. But we’re Americans.”
“Of course, you’re right,” admitted Tom. “Just the same it makes my blood boil at the contrast between what they deserve and what they’re getting. Look at these streets and houses, not showing a mark of war, and then picture the towns of France and Belgium, where only heaps of rubbish mark the passage of the Hun.”
“Speaking of that,” broke in Billy, “here’s a picture post-card that I picked up in the street a little while ago. It shows a group of Germans destroying the machinery in a French mill, smashing delicate and costly machinery to bits. The Germans had stopped working for a few minutes, so that they could be photographed and the pictures could be published in Germany. That’s what it is that makes the case of the Huns so hopeless. If any other nation did such things, it wouldn’t at least brag of it. But the Huns are actually proud of it. The dirtier the deed the greater the pride.”
“Yes,” replied Frank, “and I heard of a case where they sank lower still. After they had taken a picture of a mill they had broken up, very similar to this, they sent one of the pictures to the former French owner of the mill, and the picture had written on it: ‘This is the way your mill looks now.’”
“Oh, well, what’s the use,” growled Billy. “We’ve licked them and licked them good and proper. We’ll have to let it go at that, though I think as Tom does, that they ought to get a stiffer dose.”
“One thing is certain,” grunted Tom, “and that is if I’m a member of the provost-marshal’s guard in this town, I’ll make these fellows walk Spanish if they look cross-eyed at me.”
But Tom had no chance for this, for in another day or two the regiment went on, while other units of the division remained to garrison the town.
In the meantime, the boys had seen Dick, but to their disappointment he had no definite news for them. Only once more had he caught sight of the lonely figure, but while he was manœuvring his machine to make a descent the man had disappeared. He landed and made a search, but without result. Since that time he had kept a sharp lookout, but had seen no further trace of him.
“But I’ll keep on looking,” promised Dick. “I’m getting just as much excited about this mystery as you fellows are yourselves.”
“Here’s hoping,” replied Frank. “But it wrings my heart to think of poor Bart, if it is he, wandering around in that forlorn way. I only wish that we could get off to look for him.”