After the late battle a strange calm seemed to have settled down again. Doubtless both sides were replenishing their stock of ammunition and getting in readiness for the next upheaval; for the French would never cease to attack as long as they knew they had the enemy “on the run,” and that it was French soil those detestable German boots were still pressing.
Rod had figured things out as best he could. The wearied army surgeons had also been able to give him a few pointers that might prove of value.
As they progressed they could no longer say that they had the road to themselves. A score of different sights were before their eyes much of the time, consisting for the most part of vehicles bearing the wounded heroes far to the rear; other empty ones hurrying forward to secure their loads; detachments of sullen prisoners being taken under guard to a detention camp; squads of French soldiers bent upon some duty; here a belated regiment hastening forward, eager to be in at the next furious engagement; peasants standing in the doorways of their cottages watching all that went on, and laughing with the passersby, because victory was in the air for France, and it mattered little that they had lost all their live stock when the German hosts trooped by, if only the “day” they had long prayed for had indeed arrived.
So the Motorcycle Boys had to pick their way along now; it could no longer be said of them that they fairly “flew” over the road. Besides the numerous obstructions in the shape of vehicles coming and going, there were many ragged holes to be encountered, where mighty shells had fallen and exploded, forming craters that had to be carefully negotiated lest the riders meet with a serious catastrophe.
Besides this, all along the way they discovered such cast-off material as the retreating German army had discarded in order to hasten their march–broken caissons and guns that had been rendered temporarily useless by reason of some accident; stocks of provisions that could not be carried; cooking outfits that were the most complete affairs the boys had ever seen; and many other things which could not be safely carried off by an army that was being hourly harassed by a fierce and unrelenting foe.
The day had worn on while they were in the field hospital so that it was now getting well along in the afternoon. Rod knew they would soon have to be thinking of seeking some sort of shelter for the night. He was more particular about this because clouds had come up, and there seemed a chance that rain would follow, as often happens immediately after a great battle has been fought in which there is much cannon firing and consequent concussion of the atmosphere.
At noon they had shared the meagre lunch of the noble French army surgeon, who had conceived such an ardent admiration for the trio of young Americans. Josh was already heard saying that he felt as hungry as a tramp who had been walking the railroad ties from early morning; and hoping that they would be lucky enough to soon strike a house where a meal might be secured.
This was what Rod had in mind when ahead of him he discovered signs of a pretty little French village. His hopes mounted higher because from the evidence before them it seemed plain that the retreating Germans had somehow managed to pass around this small place, so that there was a pretty good chance they would find a hospitable woman there, who, after learning that they had been assisting in the field, would be only too proud to cook them a meal, and it might be allow them to sleep in her house.
“I’d be willing to occupy a shed, or even a dog-kennel so long as it didn’t have a French poodle occupant,” Hanky Panky had solemnly said, when they talked this over at the last crossroads, as they stopped a short time to confer upon their plan of campaign.
Their coming created quite a little furore in the village, for being off the main road to Paris the good people here had as yet not learned what wonderful success General Joffre was meeting with in his attempt to force the stubborn enemy back toward the Rhine country.