At Dammartin they saw the first Red Cross railway van,—an entire train load, filled with wounded from the emergency stations, and here also they were joined by fifteen vans taking the wounded on to the city. It was thus a fortunate stroke for the boys that they undertook to help the field hospital workers, for it directly assisted them in their effort to reach the end of their journey.
Traveling was slow, and many detours were necessary, so it was not until the fourth day of September that they caught sight of the walls of Paris, and they soon had the pleasure of driving over the beautiful smooth streets again. They went directly to the center of the city, passed down the rue de l'Opéra, through the Place de la Concorde, and over the bridge to a hospital near the Place des Invalides.
Their charges in the van were soon provided for, and carried into comfortable berths. As they were leaving the ward, they heard a weak voice calling: "Ralph; Alfred."
They were startled, and turned around with wondering glances. A nurse motioned to them, and pointed toward a figure with bandaged head and arms. They approached.
"You don't know me, I suppose?" said the voice.
"No,—no," said Ralph.
"I believe it's Tom," said Alfred.
"Right," said the voice.
The boys knelt down at his side at once. "How did it happen?" asked Alfred.
"Well, they got me first; but I brought down two of them before I was hit," Tom told them.