“Sure we ain’t, ner in love with no little old guard house. Me fer the road an’ the outdoors; eh, Willies?”
“That’s us, Pete!”
“Well, you fellows hold these Huns until I back your car out of the ditch; then two of you can go back with me and these spies, and the rest can camp here until we return, or go on in the next lorry up, as you choose.”
Thus the good camion, doing the duty of a Black Maria, retraced its tracks to general headquarters. Here Colonel Walton had come to confer with his superior and what he and the General Assistant Chief of Staff at the head of Enemy Intelligence and Information had to say after hearing the lad’s story and questioning his prisoners would have considerably swelled the head of anyone less modest. They boy, though he could not but feel somewhat cast down that his efforts had led two men to pay the supreme penalty, was inclined to treat the matter with more levity than it deserved, for there had been, on thinking it over, several rather ludicrous circumstances concerning his duplicity, though not once had he directly lied, nor played unfair. It seemed, indeed, all quite too simple and Don wondered if his next case would prove as easy. He was to find, later, that it was anything but that.
The general and the colonel conferred; then the latter officer again beckoned Don.
“My boy, it’s too bad that you are so young. But this war is filling many youthful heads with very adult knowledge; making men of many mere boys. Despite your youth we’ve got to reward your immediate ability. The general has ordered your promotion and his recommendation for a commission as second lieutenant of infantry will go through at once. It will be kept here on file and you may assume the rank and the shoulder straps now. Well, go to it again, young man, and good luck.”
Once more the staunch lorry followed the road toward the front, guided now by a new and undoubtedly loyal driver. Don saw to it that the brandy that had been smuggled beneath the seat was all thrown out, the bottles smashed. The four sappers and the other cook were again taken aboard and on the car went, with few stops. Camp for the night was made in a deserted and shell-torn old house within sound of the occasional firing and bursting of heavier caliber shells. Early the next morning, about two hours after the start at daylight, Lieutenant Richards and his companions crossed a bridge over the Aire River, reached the top of a long hill and were suddenly almost within range of the German machine guns at the edge of the Argonne Forest.
“You fellows go on to your destinations,” Don said. “I stop here; the bunch I’m hunting are in there fighting now.”
As Don approached the woods habit was strong within him and he wanted an ambulance with which he could aid in helping the seriously wounded that seemed to be everywhere. But the stretcher men, the brancardiers, were on the job and the boy had now no business to take a hand. Guided by the plop, plop of rifles and the more rapid staccato of machine guns he ran on into the dense woods, from out of which all along its edge wounded men were staggering, crawling or being carried and some few were going in; messengers also from the division C. and C., liaison men with information tending to hold the units together, Y. M. C. A. and K. of C. workers, relying on the success of the Americans and at once eager to advance their depots, even some Salvation Army lassies, two of whom Don saw ministering to the wounded, but being gently checked from further dangerous advance by the Military Police.
Don had made several inquiries of the M. P.’s and of less seriously wounded soldiers; he knew he was on the right track, but knew not how he would find Captain Lowden. Under the stress of immediate circumstances the officer would hardly have time to talk with him now, but the boy could stand by and wait; he could even take some part along with the soldiers, and at this his heart leaped. With an instinct born of knowing well how to use a gun and how to play at Indian fighting, he would welcome a chance to join this sort of thing.