"You're jolly well right we can!" Freddy cried and leaped to his feet. "It's a Renault, too, and I've driven Renaults lots."
"Then you're elected," Dave said. "So let's go!"
In less than a minute they were back in the scouting car and Freddy was kicking the engine into life. The instant it roared up he shifted into gear and sent the car rolling around to the left in the direction the dead Belgian Sergeant had indicated.
"I hope he knew what he was talking about!" Freddy yelled above the sound of the clashing of gears. "After that crazy ride I'm not sure at all where we are. But, I'll recognize that Namur road when we come to it. One of the few decent roads in Belgium. Well, we're off!"
The English youth punctuated the last by ramming the car into high and stepping on the gas. Dave's head snapped back and he grabbed wildly for a hold and found one.
"Gosh, you and that Sergeant!" he gasped. "But, it's okay, now. Let her rip, Freddy. Say! It's plenty different riding in the front seat of one of these things, isn't it?"
It was different, too. It was much easier on the bones and tender spots of the human body. Though the car was racing across a rough uneven surface, Dave didn't get half the bouncing around sitting up front. But suddenly when a group of trees came rushing at them and Freddy yanked down on the wheel and swerved past with but a couple of feet to spare, Dave felt his hair stand up straight on his head.
"It's fun driving one of these things!" he heard Freddy shout. "A Renault's a good bus. My father has one."
"Sure, but I'm the passenger, don't forget!" Dave shouted back. "How about some lights? It's getting pretty dark."
"I guess we'd better," Freddy replied and flicked up a switch on the dashboard.