The two boys would never forget that wild ride over the rutty roads beyond Ypres.—[Page 278.]
Amos could almost feel that he too wore a khaki uniform, and was speeding to the battle line in order to take his share in the butchery, the illusion was so complete.
It required more or less dexterity to turn part way around in order to look where they were going. Jack having a better grip than his chum volunteered to do this duty, and report progress from time to time.
“We’re overhauling the balance of the battery all right, by slow degrees,” he told Amos. “I can see signs of the village ahead there, now.”
“What’s left of it, I guess you mean, Jack,” said Amos, sadly, “because you remember how we saw the German shells bursting in the streets, and among the houses by the dozen. I’ll be more than surprised if any buildings have been spared after such a furious bombardment. Will we find our host the old burgomaster alive, or poor little Jacques still marching up and down with his Belgian flag over his shoulder?”
“When the Germans were in the place at one time he may have had his chance to spring his trap and carry out that childish vow he made,” suggested Jack. “It’s more than likely the poor little chap has been sent to join his father by a cruel German bayonet or a bursting shell.”
Several minutes later and Amos heard him utter an exclamation of disappointment.
“What’s gone wrong now, Jack?” demanded the other.
“Why, the battery has turned off the road, and is heading through a field at left angles,” replied Jack. “So we’ll have to drop off when we get there and finish our journey to the village afoot.”
“Well, we got a mighty fine lift, all right,” admitted Amos, “and shouldn’t complain. But they’re still at it hammer and tongs over there, you notice. Those Germans never know when they’re licked, do they? I reckon they’ve sent up fresh columns of troops as many as ten times against the new line of British and Canadians organized. It’s nip and tuck between them, because both sides are as stubborn as they make them.”