In the square of the town the boys saw the greatest display of fireworks that ever dazzled their young eyes.
One of the buildings appeared to leap skyward. A sheet of flame and a shower of star shells at the same time made the place as light as day.
Out of the surrounding houses the Germans poured a terrific fire from rifles and machine guns.
The Allies’ cavalry got away with a loss of eight or nine men, and Sergeant Scott headed volunteers that went back and carried away wounded comrades from this dreadful place.
Billy and Henri rushed at the sergeant when he returned from this daring performance and joined hands in a sort of war dance around their hero.
“The Victoria Cross for yours, old top!” cried Billy.
“You ought to have it this minute!” echoed Henri.
“Quit your jabber, you chatterboxes,” said the big sergeant playfully, shaking his fist at his admirers, but it could be plainly seen that he was mightily pleased with the demonstration.
“You and I will have to do something to keep up with this man,” remarked Billy to Henri, with a mock bow to the sergeant.
“None of that,” growled the sergeant, “your skylarking doesn’t go on the ground, and not on this ground, anyhow.”