"Why, I want to know whether they will expect us to keep on in the Red Cross service?"
"You volunteered, didn't you?" replied Tom. "You helped them out of your free will, and you can leave whenever you want to, if that's what you are getting at."
"I wouldn't mind volunteering in the aviation corps," said Ralph. "I would just like——"
"So they got you this time, eh?" said a voice.
The boys turned, and saw a handsome man with the uniform of a lieutenant in the aviation service, who approached, and leaned over Tom. Tom replied with a smile, and raising his injured hand, pointed to the boys.
"Lieutenant," he said, "I want you to get acquainted with two of my American friends, who have been in the thick of it right from the start. Now you'll be conferring a special favor if you can take them in to help you out. Oh, they're bricks," continued Tom, as he saw a shade of discouragement in the lieutenant's features, "they are made of the right stuff."
"We leave for Verdun in the morning," said the lieutenant, "but I will see what can be done in the meantime."
As they left the hospital the first thought was to go to the Continental Hotel to try to get a trace of Alfred's father. Arriving there a letter was handed them, together with two telegrams from Berne, Switzerland, one of the messages having been received that very day. The missives informed him that his father had not been able to leave German territory until the twenty-eighth of August, and as he had received word that the Germans were approaching Paris he thought it unwise to make the trip to that point, but would await word from them before deciding what to do.
"How far is it from Berne to Verdun?" Alfred asked the clerk.
"About three hundred kilometers," was the reply.