On the border of the little road they stopped. The German rough rider was propped against a convenient tree, where any one passing along could not fail to notice him. They had even seen to it that his face was turned toward the fighting line; since any chance of help must come from that direction.
So they left him there. Amos even turned once and waved his hand to him, receiving in return a like salutation; for the Uhlan by that time could not mistake the friendliness of those two boys.
“Somehow,” mused Amos as they passed along, “I’m beginning to think that a whole lot we’ve heard about the brutality of these Uhlans is humbug. In the terror and excitement of war people exaggerate ten times over. Why, that fellow didn’t look like a savage. His face was that of a young German, and when the fighting light died out of his eyes they were as blue as the skies.”
“I was thinking about the same thing,” admitted Jack. “Between you and me I’ve got an idea most of these terrible raiding Uhlans are at home only ordinary German boys, accustomed to hard riding. When the call to the colors came they dropped their ordinary vocation and hurried to quarters, to put on their uniforms and take up a new life. In other words, scratch the back of a fierce Uhlan and after all is said and done you’ve got a very ordinary citizen of the Fatherland.”
As they tramped along the road they cast an occasional glance back toward the ruined mansion where they had witnessed the terrible battle between the army of the Kaiser and that of the Allies; for they fancied that there were Belgian troops in that line somewhere or other, trying to keep this corner of their beloved country from slipping back into the clutches of the foe.
The fight was still going on. At times the pulsations came in thrilling gushes to their ears, and then again seemed to temporarily die down. It was not long before they began to meet vehicles heading for the fighting zone. These were not artillery trains now but others bent on an errand of mercy—hospital vans, ambulances perhaps with a doctor and a nurse bearing the magical Red Cross on their sleeves; English-made lorries capable of carrying a large number of groaning warriors to a place where they could be temporarily looked after, and then probably sent across to London.
They came in packs, and at times there was a constant stream in sight. Amos was visibly moved by all this. He knew that while these vans were almost empty now, when they returned they would be carrying loads of suffering humanity. The boy had had his baptism along the line of being brought in touch with war’s dreadful scenes, but he had not as yet commenced to feel callous, and this wholesale suffering affected him very much.
Of course all aboard these vehicles intended for missionary work seemed to be British, saving possibly a few chauffeurs who may have been Belgians, able and willing to work in any capacity so long as they were striking a blow for the devoted defenders of their sadly harassed land.
The boys with their cheery faces attracted considerable attention. Each ambulance carried a nurse, as well as a doctor when possible, and these returned the greetings Amos and Jack sent with their ready hands.
“I suppose it would be pretty nervy in us if we dared to stop one of them and ask that they take up our patient on the return trip,” suggested Amos, still thinking of the wounded Uhlan propped up against the tree, and with his wistful face turned down the road.