“You got more than even for that kicking, then, Gill? asked Don.
“A little. They’re out there and to bury. Say you fellers, have you got anything to eat and drink? My ol’ stomach would be thankful for melted lead and horseshoe nails raw.” Herbert turned to the corporal:
“That about states our case. We’ve had nothing to eat nor drink since I don’t know when. You’ll get a history of our experiences later. We must go now and join the other fellows out yonder. Where is Captain Lowden?”
“Down the hill, now,” Peters replied. “The company is on this slope. But won’t the captain be glad to see you? Calls you his lost sheep; thought you were all dead or behind the enemy’s lines by this time. What I’m thinking you’ll want most to see is the chuck wagon.”
“We want everything that’s coming to us. If you are glad to see us, how do you think we feel about it? Now, we’ll be getting along. We owe you barrels of gratitude, Corporal—all of you. Come on, Don and Gill!”
Rejoining the men with the docile Hun prisoners, the three quickly told the story of their very short captivity; then all headed for the valley. That Captain Lowden received them warmly is putting it mildly; his joy seemed unbounded. After getting a brief report from Lieutenant Whitcomb he gave immediate orders that the needs of the lost squad be looked after in every way. In this poor Judson, Wilson, the honored dead and the battered, though still defiant Gill were tenderly considered.
Gratified at their reception and eager to recoup at once and to get back into the fight with his platoon, Herbert looked about for Don, wishing to share with him the present happiness.
But Don was missing. He had believed a report from him was hardly needed and so, thinking of Judson and Wilson in the shelter beneath the spruces, he had turned his steps that way. It would be fine for them also to know that the Americans had come.