The scout troop halted at a respectful distance and dismounted.
“Put on your best manners,” suggested the troop captain as he preceded the boys in quickstep to headquarters.
After a brief conference with an orderly, the boys were ushered into the presence of several officers in fatigue uniform seated at a table littered with papers. At the head of the table was a ruddy-faced man, clean-shaven, with iron-gray hair, to whom all heads bent in deference.
“We have visitors, I see.” The general’s tone and manner were kindly.
The boys stood speechless, their eyes fixed upon the little Maltese badge of honor suspended from the left breast of the general’s coat by a crimson ribbon. It was the Victoria Cross!
CHAPTER XII.
WITH THE BRITISH ARMY.
“Now, my young men,” said the general, speaking briskly and to the point, “what are you doing here, where are you going, and is there anything else you wish to say?”
As Billy had not as yet opened his mouth, he thought the general was rather ahead of his questions in the last quoted particular.
“Allow me, general, to introduce Mr. Trouville, a native of France, who only lacks the years to vote in America. He has the desire, I assure you. As for myself, I am William Thomas Barry of Maine, United States of America, known as Billy—and together we are known as the Aviator Boys. We are in the flying trade, and with your kind permission we would like to fly now.”