It had been a victory for Jimmy. He had advanced within fifty yards of the German lines, he had picked up two of his wounded from under their sentry's fire, and the rest of the men and the officers he had gathered on his way.
We sent them all to Ghent with Colville.
Before he left, Kendal implored us just to look at Mr. Jevons's car.
Mr. Jevons's car was worth looking at. It had a hole in the back of it where a bullet had gone clean through and buried itself in the cushions. There were five bullet-holes in its hood. Its flank was scraped by a flying fragment of shell, the same that had tilted its right rear splash-board. Inside, its canvas covers and its rubber mat were stained with blood.
Drawn up motionless in that village street and stared at, Jimmy's car had something of its old self-conscious air. It looked pleased, and at the same time surprised at itself.
And while Jevons was dressing and bandaging his flesh-wound for him an idea struck Kendal and he grinned.
"D'you remember the time, sir, when you wouldn't let her out if there was a spot of rain?"
"I do," said Jevons.
"And look at her now—not three weeks. What a life she's 'ad!"
And when Kendal (he was as pleased as Punch with his bandage) when Kendal had climbed into Colville's car, Jimmy turned his round again; though the officers implored him to come on, for the Germans were on our backs. But Jimmy only jerked his thumb in the direction of Lokeren and made his third bolt. I scrambled in beside him as he started.