"I don't wonder at hoboes liking haystacks when they're wandering around the country, if only they're as nice as that mow we struck," he told the others more than once. "Why, things couldn't be better. Now I understand what they mean when they say 'hitting the hay.' It means a sweet sleep. But we're really getting there, ain't we, Rob?"
"We're right on top of the village now, Tubby," Merritt told him.
"Yes," added Rob, "there you can see the elevation we stood on when we watched the terrible battle. The village is here on our left. One more tug, and we'll arrive, so brace up, Tubby."
"Oh! I'm getting along quite decent, thank you, Rob. But I'll be glad when we're sitting on that bench under the shade of the tree."
As they entered the village they found that it was quite a different place from the time of their previous visit. Streams of wounded men had been brought in, and every other cottage was turned into a temporary hospital.
Of course the injured Belgians were given the first choice, as was perfectly natural; but Rob was pleased to see that after all these humble villagers had human traits in their make-up. Misery makes the whole world akin, and although they had no reason to love any German invader, the sight of stalwart young Teutons suffering agonies touched many a mother's heart; their own sons might any day be in need of the same attention from strangers, and they could not refuse to aid these wounded foes.
So into many a Belgian home a sorely stricken German was carried, to be cared for until the time came when he could be removed, either to his own lines, or to Antwerp.
The boys first of all sought that shady spot where the bench mentioned by Tubby offered an inviting seat. Here they sat down, and observed the many stirring sights that were taking place all around them.
"I've seen two men taken to the barn," remarked Merritt, half an hour later, "and so I reckon we'll have neighbors in our hay-mow to-night."