“Jack, tell me, isn’t that some one moving around inside the ruins of the cottage?”
“I do believe you’re right, Amos. We’ll soon know who it is,” replied the Western boy, as he made for the doorway.
The cottage could only be called a ruin, even though its four walls still stood, and part of the roof seemed to be fairly intact. A tree just outside that had given grateful shade for many years was stripped of its limbs, and the trunk stood like a gaunt skeleton, a grim reminder of the furious hail of bombs that had fallen upon that devoted village for hours.
Jack had to almost climb over the mass of debris that cumbered the open doorway. He immediately found that the wrecked cottage did have occupants. Several figures were stretched upon blankets on the floor, and others hovered over them, showing that the place was really being used as a sort of hospital.
Jack immediately saw, however, that those who were being thus attended were not soldiers of the line. One was a woman, another an old man, while the third seemed to be a small figure, presumably that of a mere lad.
A hand clutched Jack’s arm, and the voice of his chum whispered hoarsely in his ear:
“Our old friend has come through it all with his life, Jack; don’t you see him giving that boy a drink, and passing his hand over the poor little chap’s forehead? Seems to me I’ve set eyes on that boy before, and—yes, as sure as anything, Jack, I do believe it’s little Jacques. He’s been struck down, just as we feared.”
“They seem to be hovering over him in a strange way,” ventured Jack. “There’s a Belgian soldier holding his other hand, and two women doing what they can. Jacques doesn’t lack for friends, it seems. I wonder what it all means, and if he tried to carry out that foolish vow he made about getting revenge for his father’s death.”
Just then it happened that the old burgomaster, who no longer had a village under his charge, looked around. He may have heard the murmur of their voices during some lull in the dreadful chaos of sounds that came from the front, rising and falling as the wind chanced to swerve.
At sight of the two American boys his wrinkled face showed great pleasure. He immediately got up from his knees and hurried toward them, holding out his hand in warm welcome.