Some of those they met eyed them in wonder, doubtless at a loss to know who the three youngsters were, and what brought them to the battle lines. No one seemed to think of stopping them and asking questions; it might be from lack of time.
Whenever Rod noticed some officer near by he gave the regulation salute, which may have induced the others to believe the boys actually belonged to some branch of the service; though their khaki uniforms would rather indicate a connection with the British army just then co-operating with General Joffre.
The boys had just succeeded in stacking their machines when an opportunity came that allowed them to render assistance in carrying several poor fellows into one of the tent shelters. A lorry had arrived, and there did not seem to be any attendant on hand to help the driver, who looked around in despair.
“Come along, Josh, and lend a hand here!” exclaimed Rod, equal to any emergency, as he sprang forward.
Hanky Panky started, but soon held back, unable to bear the sight of the wounded men who were in the motor truck.
The two boys succeeded in carrying three of them inside the shelter, where they were placed as comfortably as possible, awaiting the time when the bustling surgeon, engaged with other cases, could attend to their hurts. One of them was in a very bad way, having been terribly injured by a bursting shell. It pierced Rod’s sympathetic heart just to look at his white, blood-specked face. But the black eyes were still full of fire and animation; and when Rod held a dipper of cold water to the lips of the soldier of the republic the other drank greedily, and then thanked him in French.
“It may be the last drink I shall ever want,” he told Rod complacently, “but I rejoice to know I have lived to see the day when a French army has made the German beast turn tail and run. My father died before Paris many years ago, and I have prayed for this glorious day to come. I am satisfied. I have done my duty to France.”
It made a powerful impression on both the boys. Such bravery and devotion to country could hardly fail to do otherwise. Secretly they hoped the valiant soldier might survive his terrible injuries, and live to see the day when victory crowned the tri-color of France, which he adored.
The busy surgeon now found a chance to pay attention to the later victims of German bullets and bursting shells and bombs. At the same time he started a conversation with Rod, the latter being the only one of the boys who could speak French.
Presently Rod turned again to Josh to say: