"I say, do you speak English?" the driver asked as Dave came close.
Dave looked at him. The driver wasn't in uniform. He wore civilian clothes, and he was about Dave's age. Perhaps a few months younger. In the faint glow of the dashboard light his face held a sort of cherubic expression. He wore no hat and sandy hair fell down over his forehead. His eyes were clear blue, and he had nice strong looking teeth. One look and Dave knew instantly that he could like this friendly English boy a lot.
"You bet I speak English," he said. "I'm an American. My name is Dave Dawson."
"Mine's Freddy Farmer," said the English boy. "I'm very glad to meet you, America, but what in the world are you doing here? Good grief, look at your clothes! Did a bomb fall on you?"
"One came mighty close," Dave said with a grin. "I just came to a few minutes ago, and saw your lights. I'm trying to get back to Paris. Is it far?"
"Paris?" young Freddy Farmer exclaimed. "Why, it's over a hundred miles back. This is a part of Belgium. Didn't you know that? What happened anyway? You say you were bombed? A nasty business, bombing."
For a moment or so Dave was too surprised to speak. This was Belgium? But it couldn't be! Freddy Farmer must be wrong. He was sure Defoe and he had not been seventy miles from Paris when they'd met those refugees. Belgium? Good gosh! Did that exploding bomb blow him over thirty miles away? But that was crazy.
"Come, get in and ride with me," the English lad broke into his thoughts. "I can't take you back to Paris but Courtrai is just up ahead. That's where I'm delivering this ambulance. Perhaps you can get something there to take you back to Paris. Right you are, America. Now, tell me all about it."
As gears were shifted and the car moved forward Dave told of his thrilling experiences since leaving Paris that morning. Young Freddy Farmer didn't interrupt, but every now and then he took his eyes off the road ahead to look at Dave in frank admiration.
"Say, you did have a bit of a go, didn't you?" Freddy Farmer said when Dave had finished. "That was mighty decent of you to try and help that old woman. I hope she got through, all right. We heard that the Germans were shooting and bombing the refugees. A very nasty business, but that's the way Hitler wages war."