Streaming high into the sky was a great pyrotechnic display. Balls of brilliant white fire sent a ghastly light over the surrounding landscape; red and green signal rockets were continually ascending, while powerful searchlights flashed this way and that, until the night was fairly driven away and a strange, almost supernatural illumination held sway.
Breathless, almost spellbound, Don Hale sat in the seat of the ambulance. Then, suddenly, recalled to his senses by the words "tres pressé" flashing through his mind, he put the car in motion again. Truth to tell, the boy had never been more frightened—more unnerved in his life. While such a fearful commotion was under way it seemed as if nowhere could any safety possibly exist. All things impressive at other times now dwindled into insignificance.
Occasionally the vari-colored lights in the sky shone faintly on the now moving line of "empties." Amid the immensity of the conflict even the great camions appeared like mere atoms. However, it gave Don Hale a sense of vast relief to know that he was not alone.
The ambulance descended a slope and mounted a hill beyond.
The danger point was right before him. The vehicle lurched heavily. The rear wheels had narrowly missed sliding into a shell-hole. Yes, there had been some work going on at the crossroads that night. Now the driver increased his speed, and Number Eight presently shot over the brow of the hill.
And from the heights Don caught a glimpse of another extraordinary scene—the bright flashes of the French shells, a literal stream of fire, bursting over the German lines—withering, scorching blasts, which must have been fairly annihilating to the enemy's trenches. And in the heavens above was another magnificent display of star-shells and signal rockets. But this time Don did not halt a second.
The thunder of the guns showed no signs of abating, and as blow invites blow, so the artillery on the eastern hills was stirred into frenzied action, and the terrible din of the French batteries was answered by the terrible din of the foe's. Countless projectiles whistled and screamed overhead in both directions. Every instant terrific detonations came from shell-bursts in the forest, and frequently the frightened driver of the Red Cross ambulance caught glimpses of their lurid gleams.
"It seems almost like the end of the world!" he reflected, with a shiver.
About this time the boy began to vaguely wonder if dawn was not breaking. At first quite uncertain, he soon realized that the blackness actually was being dispelled.
"Ah, what a relief!" he cried.