“Is that smoke rolling overhead, or clouds, Jack?” asked Amos, a short time later, as he chanced to look up.
“Clouds, because they are coming from another quarter than the fighting line,” the experienced Western boy announced.
“Then perhaps we’ll get some rain before long, though it feels pretty cold for that, when you come to think of it,” replied Amos.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if we did,” said Jack. “They say that after a big battle it nearly always does rain, whether from the great noise, or something else I can’t tell you. If it comes it means more mud, and goodness knows we’ve had enough of that before now.”
“If only it’s heavy enough it may put a stop to the fighting for today, which would mean some lives saved,” ventured the other.
“Only to be sacrificed tomorrow, so what difference does that make?” Jack returned. “I’m getting kind of cynical about these things. There will be just so many men killed in this war, you see, and so the sooner they reach that number the better. Then perhaps America can patch up an enduring peace.”
“Jack, I really felt a big drop of rain then!”
“Yes, I’m afraid we’re in for a storm that may last the rest of this day, Amos.”
“And no shelter in sight,” groaned the second boy. “I wish we could only run across another ruined chateau like that one we visited this morning. It might seem a little hard to go hungry all night, but we could build a fire, and keep comfortable anyhow, and that’d count for a lot.”
“Let’s start out and run for it,” suggested Jack.