“As it is, what we’ve run across will haunt us the rest of our lives,” he was telling himself as he led the way along the difficult road; “and for one I’m longing to wake up again, and find myself wandering by the peaceful waters of the river bordering Garland in the far-distant States. And here’s hoping that this may turn out to be our very last day in the track of the battling armies.”
The dust was thick in places, partly on account of the season of the year, and then again because of the unwonted use to which that particular thoroughfare had been put of late. When several hundred thousand feet have tramped along in almost endless procession, and then innumerable vehicles of every known description, not to mention heavy artillery, some of it drawn by traction engines, some by horses, passing back and forth, it can easily be understood that the best of roads must be well nigh wrecked.
Hanky Panky had coughed a number of times, as though his throat was beginning to clog up with all this dust, and he found himself in danger of choking. When no attention was paid at first to these plain symptoms he coughed louder than ever, and with such evident distress that Rod guessed what he wanted.
“All right, Hanky,” he shouted back, “wait till we come to a well, or a spring of some sort, and we’ll drop off to wash it down.”
After that Hanky Panky quieted considerably, his main object having been accomplished. As he rode along the boy kept watching ahead, hoping that it would not be long before they sighted some oasis in the desert where a sparkling rill ran, or the thrice welcome sweep of an old-fashioned well told of water to be had for the trouble of raising the same.
“I see one, Rod!” he presently called at the top of his voice, which was quite husky from the accumulation of dust; “there’s a well in that place we’re coming to, and I hope you keep your word, because I’m nearly perishing for a drink.”
“Same here,” said Josh, thinking to relieve the other’s mind, because that would make two in favor of a stop, and majority always ruled with the Motorcycle Boys.
It happened just then that the road was next to deserted, though again just the reverse might be the case. The well sweep could no longer be seen, but Hanky Panky had marked the spot in his mind, and was not to be cheated because a knoll hid the well from the road, so it was only visible in that one quarter.
Rod drew up. A gate stood before him that was now in ruins, showing that the invaders had been there. They pushed their heavy machines past, and followed the lane leading over the knoll, to find a cottage in ruins, having been burned to the very ground.
It was a sad sight, and filled the boys with distress; but by this time they were naturally becoming a little hardened to such spectacles of warfare, and could view them without the same sensation of anger and disgust toward the aggressors that had filled their hearts at an earlier date.