Watching him, his comrades saw him ushered inside the house by a pretty young French girl.
Ten minutes later he emerged, grinning like a Cheshire cat. At his heels trooped two or three children, the girl and an old man, all of whom made bobbing little bows to Les Americains.
"He's mine!" called out Bob jubilantly. "I bought him for two plunks. He's an old-timer, and not very popular with the family. He's going to billet here, though, while I'm in the trenches. I'm going to pay for his keep and be a father to him when I'm not on duty. If I get plugged the first whack, then somebody else can have my goat. But as long as Bobby's in good health, Gaston's going to have a friend. Believe me!"
[CHAPTER X]
THE LAST LAP
Though the shadow of the trenches hung over them, Bob's latest acquisition put his bunkies in a decidedly lightsome mood. After bidding a pleasant good-bye to Gaston's keepers, and giving the redoubtable Gaston himself a fairly wide berth, the five Brothers wandered on through the village. It was not yet three o'clock, and they were not due back to camp until four o'clock.
Dusk would see them under full pack again, and ready to take the road to the firing line. The advance guard, composed of military police, were to start at least two hours ahead of the main detachment. They would not march in a body, but would straggle along by ones and twos, lest some lurking enemy along the road might learn from their numbers that a new army was soon to be on its way to the front-line trenches.
"We'd best turn back to camp," Schnitzel at last suggested. "It's twenty after three, and we must be almost a mile from headquarters. I want to fix up my pack before we start."