“What’s the use, if we have to get soaked anyway? See here, Jack, have you glimpsed any haven of refuge? Is there a cottage in sight, a friendly cave, or even a big hollow tree into which we might push?”
Jack laughed at the way his cousin said this.
“I think I sighted something like a cottage ahead of us, several of them in fact,” he admitted. “If that was a fact, why, we may be coming to the outskirts of the town of Ypres, which isn’t a very big place.”
At that Amos looked pleased.
“Hurrah! who knows but what we may get something to eat in the bargain, even if sour black bread is all they’ve got to spare. I can run faster than this, if you say the word, Jack!”
“Then whoop it up for keeps!” Jack told him, immediately setting a good example by increasing his own pace.
There were houses ahead. The drops began to come down faster, and it seemed to be an open question as to whether Jack and his cousin would reach shelter fairly dry or not until the rain had drenched them. Almost winded with their exertions, they presently arrived in the midst of the cottages, which like nearly all others in Belgium of that day showed positive signs of having been under artillery fire.
CHAPTER XVII.
SHELTER FROM THE STORM.
“We’re going to make the push, Jack!” gasped Amos, as they found themselves in close touch with the cottages.