Their appeal could not be disregarded. With an energy born of an earnest desire to fulfil his duties to the uttermost, he resolutely cast aside every thought of physical discomfort or of fatigue and once more lent his efforts to the work of clearing the road.
Never had he toiled harder than he did during the next three-quarters of an hour, and by that time the last uninjured horse was up and the wreckage and débris sufficiently cleared away to permit the passage of Ambulance Number Eight.
It was a joyful moment to the weary Don Hale when he climbed aboard the car, yet, withal, a very sad one. Where was Chase? How lonely—how depressing it seemed without him!
"Hello, Chase—hello!" he called.
He heaved a great sigh, as no answering hail was received, and, murmuring, "Well, such is war!" put the vehicle into motion. There was no help for it—he must continue on to the outpost alone.
[CHAPTER XVI]
A FOOTSTEP ON THE STAIR
For a few seconds after Don Hale had jumped down from his seat on Number Eight Chase Manning sat motionless. His brain was in a tumult and all power over his muscles seemed to have vanished. There was no escape—there could be no escape, he thought, from such a horrible situation; and when after a few moments had passed and he found himself still alive it came as a matter of great surprise. Then, suddenly, a reaction set in; the benumbing sensations which had robbed him of strength and courage disappeared, and in their stead came a wild, a feverish desire to run—to run in any direction so long as it led away from the vicinity of that terrible road.
He heard Don Hale call, and by a flash of lightning discovered him hastening away. To his mind his fellow ambulancier was seeking safety in flight, and to act in any other way he thought would have been sheer madness—almost like offering oneself up as a sacrifice to the God of War.