Within a very few minutes he turned into the main highway, soon discovering that he had reached a point close to the place where the explosion had occurred. Of course the train of ammunition and supply wagons was no longer there, in fact the road appeared absolutely deserted, but Chase had scarcely tramped more than a hundred yards or so when he caught sight of a motor car in the distance swinging rapidly toward him.
"One of our ambulances, I'll wager!" he cried.
The surmise proved to be correct
"And, by George, wouldn't I give a lot if it were Number Eight!"
With the utmost eagerness and hope, he kept his eyes fixed upon the vehicle. In a few moments he would be able to tell.
"No!"
He sighed with disappointment. Neither of the figures on the front seat was the aviator's son.
He heard a shout as the car sped swiftly by and saw a hand raised as if in salutation, and, murmuring, "It's Number Five!" continued on his way.
Scarcely had the car disappeared around a bend when another came into view and behind it a third. They, too, were traveling at a rate of speed which showed their mission to be of a most urgent nature.
"Yes siree, the section's busy, all right!" murmured Chase. "Now maybe Don is among these chaps."