There remained still two companies to visit. One of them was quite near, but the other was 600 yards away, far advanced in the zone of fire.
Rene began his terrible journey. At every few yards he was compelled to stop, so fierce was the suffering caused by his wound. Bullets whistled around him, and one pierced his kepi.
He was within twenty yards of safety when a shell burst in front of him and fragments struck him, inflicting a terrible wound. He lay unconscious, but he had been seen from the trenches and two ambulance men ran out, placed him on a stretcher, and carried him to their company.
Rene became conscious once more, called for the commanding officer, and almost with his last breath whispered the orders he had been given.
“Oh, that he could have lived!”
Henri could scarcely realize that their new-found friend, their cheery companion of the past few days, was cold in death. But they brought him back to his regiment, in scarred body, for honor.
“He kept his word,” said the colonel, who turned away that none might see what a soldier must hide.
“There’s a boy that was all gold; I am grateful for having known him, and better for it, too; he knew how to live and how to die.”
This was Billy’s brief but heartfelt tribute to the memory of their fallen comrade.
But our boys must push on to their goal, and though their story must be seamed and crossed by these woes of war, yet it is their story.