Yes, they could hear the old couple moving about below stairs. Jack was not sure but it did seem to him that their footsteps had a more sprightly ring. Somehow the very suspicion of such a thing did him good, though he did not think it worth while to mention the fact to Amos.
“We must be on the border of Ypres, don’t you think?” Amos remarked, showing that he was naturally thinking of the chances they had of finding the daring aviator who answered to the name of Frank Bradford, and whom he fully believed must be his own brother.
“Everything points that way,” replied Jack. “Looking out, I’ve already seen troops hurrying past, British Tommies at that, and all looking fit for any kind of fighting if their eager faces counted for anything. But if you’re ready we’ll go down below, get a bite, and then make the old people accept all we can spare; for the chances are they’ll need every franc they can get together before the end of this nasty business comes around.”
Amos was thinking mostly of the delightful odor of cooking as he came down the ladder-like stairs that led from the loft to the lower floor of the cottage. With Jack it was somewhat different, for his first thought was to look keenly at François and his wife, who had faced about on hearing the trap raised.
When Jack saw that the careworn expression had been magically lifted from those furrowed faces he felt almost like giving a shout of real satisfaction.
Straight over to them he hurried, still keeping his eyes fastened on their telltale faces.
“What is the good word, François?” he asked, in his straight-from-the-shoulder fashion; and indeed there was hardly any necessity to even ask that much, Jack thought, since appearances speak more loudly than words.
“Oh! young M’sieu, what can we say to thank you?” burst out the old peasant, while his good wife nodded vehemently to show that in her mind she echoed all her “good man” said. “The best that ever could happen has come to us. Jean has seen a great light. He has won the great victory over himself. Yes, he signalled to me to let him come up, and then and there he swore that he would go straight back to his place in the fighting line, and die a dozen deaths before quitting again. We are so happy! Now we can look our friends and neighbors in the face without feeling a cold hand at our hearts. Jean may live to see us again; but if he should not surely the Good Father above will console us if we knew that he died for the king!”
Amos had to furtively rub his eyes as though some mote had suddenly blown in there; even Jack felt his own vision a little obscured as he pressed the hands of the relieved old people, who no longer held their heads down in shame.
“Come,” said Jack, cheerily, “let’s have a bite and then we must leave you, François.”