“I believe that! But come now, lads; you’d better beat it while your skins are whole.”
Tim began turning the car. “Sure an’ ye loike t’ give orders. An’ Oi’ll be tellin’ yez this; if a shell comes your way an’ mixes wid yer anatomy, er yez git overcome wid hard wor-r-rk sett in’ on thot plug all day ye’ll be hopeful glad t’ see us comin’. So long!”
Not many minutes later the boys reached the hospital and out came the Major in his long, white blouse. When the brancardiers had carried the wounded man into the X-ray tent, the chief had a word to say to the ambulanciers gathered by the roadside.
“Hold yourselves in readiness, boys; we have orders to evacuate at once; get every man that we can let go out of here and be ready to pull up stakes at a moment’s notice. That’ll be if the Germans succeed in advancing. It is believed they are getting ready to make another push. So, as soon as we list our cases fully as to condition and treatment, in half an hour’s time, we shall ask you to go get busy. You had better line up along the road. Those cases in the first three cars you will report and they’ll go on through to the convalescent bases, as ordered by the Red Cross commission assistant; the others will go to the nearest Red Cross base. Now, then, stand ready boys, and tune up your motors till we call on you for the stretcher work. We haven’t enough brancardiers to do it quickly.” The Major re-entered the tent.
Don turned to a fellow-driver and was making a remark when Tim pulled his sleeve.
“Do yez hear thot coffee grinder comin’?”
From a distance there was the hum of a motor high in air. As it grew louder, it was easily recognized as a double motor—the unmistakable sound, never in tune, that giant twin propellers make.
“Sounds like a bombing plane. Ours or the Huns’?” queried a driver, gazing aloft. The bunch were all doing that now, as a matter of habit. One chap was squinting through a field glass.