This was the best the boy could do. The little bird still sang its cheery ditty overhead. He turned away with a sigh and said, half aloud:
“I wonder what Father would think of me now. He wouldn’t believe it possible of his youngest boy he used to call ‘a silly, girl-like thing.’ I couldn’t blame him then, but now—well, he’ll change his mind about me if I go back—that is, if I get back.”
Then Billy heard a car approaching and slipped out front to take a look, as Don had requested. It was the army ambulance returning. But where was the other Red Cross ambulance?
Well, Don would not be here again for perhaps half an hour yet. There would be time to slip along the road and get a glimpse of the other car. Then he might give his pal even more information than he expected.
The clump of bushes was not more than three hundred yards from the farm road and if there was a dressing station there Billy would find it out—the information might be of value. To keep out of sight of Hun airmen, should they fly overhead, the youth followed close to the line of low evergreen trees that skirted the road and when he reached the end of these but stood still within their welcome shadow, he gazed across at the clump. In all this section of land north of the distant woods and between where the American regiment in reserve on the cross-road was stationed, there were no troops. Evidently it was not a spot where the Huns could break through because of the strongly entrenched positions of the Allies facing them. There had been some Hun raids and some Allied counter-attacks, platoons of Americans fighting beside the French—hence the wounded. But the Germans had not succeeded in pushing their line any farther than the western outskirts of the small village of Cantigney, another half mile east of this ground. Here had come to an end the German drive around Montdidier, a part of the Amiens offensive during the early spring, which is called the first great drive of 1918. The effort to take Amiens, a few miles to the north, was to meet defeat about two weeks later. And meanwhile the great armies intrenched themselves, crouching like lions at bay. They almost ceaselessly growled with their numerous artillery and every little while kept up the clawing and biting through local raids and counter-attacks, adding constantly to the wounded and the dead.
It was strange, Billy thought, if there should be a dressing station here. He had been told that the stream, the south fork of the Avre, bent here to the west and that the German positions followed the river at this point. Therefore, while the Allied reinforcement was stronger against attack, the Huns had made themselves stronger also, to match their opponents and the local fights were all the fiercer, therefore making the wide expanse of low land sloping toward the stream subject to continual bombardment from higher and overplaced shot and shell. It was across this area that the ambulances were forced to travel from the dressing stations in the shelter of the hillside woods beyond. That was dangerous enough without the further exposure of a dressing station, even in a well covered abri, or dugout, to this zone of flying shells.
But what could the men with this ambulance be about for such a length of time, when they were probably sent to the other dressing station to bring away the wounded? Surely they had met with some urgent call here. Billy pondered. Might he not go over and aid them?
He started on a swift trot and had covered more than half the distance in less than half a minute when a thing occurred that made him drop to a walk, watching, wondering. Out of a thicket a tiny puff of white smoke rose in jets, as though measured by time; two close together, then four, then two, then six, then one, then six again and 2-6-6-3-2-6-4-4-2-6-3 and so on for another half minute. By that time Billy had stopped. Was it mere instinct that made him dodge back of a wide bush and peer through its budding branches?
Again the funny little jets of white smoke. Why were they doing this—these Red Cross men? There was the ambulance itself, in plain sight, by the edge of the thicket and, moreover, a Red Cross sign had been raised on a pole above the low trees.
Billy’s eyes rapidly scanned the surroundings. A line of trees on the slope toward the south shut off the thicket from the view of the woods and the low ground here could not well be seen by the reserves back on the cross-road. It seemed a place that might be well chosen for isolation, if desired. And high in air, far over the enemy’s trenches, a Hun observation balloon could be plainly seen against the white, cumulus clouds.