"But we told him that is what we wanted."
They walked down the rue Rivoli, passed through the place de la Concorde, and reached the Champs Elysees in a half daze. Soldiers were moving hither and thither, vehicles of every description, Red Cross vans, and even cavalry squads were in the procession, but none of them seemed to attract their attention, so completely were they absorbed in the last episode of their lives, and, besides, they had seen so many of the trappings of war that a few more or less did not seem to cause much of a ripple.
But as they slowly moved along the street they stopped, as by a common impulse, to witness a procession of machine guns mounted on smart little autos, followed by two full batteries of field guns. The artillery pieces were mounted on specially made auto trucks, and trailing behind each truck was the caisson.
"Now, that looks like business," said Ralph. "It would have taken from eight to twelve horses to pull the gun and ammunition around. Gee! how soon those fellows could get into action and pull out when the command is given!"
"That would suit me about as well as the flyers, but I suppose we haven't an earthly chance to get in on that," said Alfred ruefully.
"Why not? We can get there if we try hard enough," responded Ralph.
Alfred, with his eyes intent on the fine display before him, did not respond. The discharge, honorable though it was, made a sore spot in the heart of each.
The following morning they awoke earlier than usual. The usual topic was again taken up and discussed.