But once more he had to suffer the pangs of disappointment.
Just as soon as the cars had passed he broke into a run, not so much on account of the danger from the falling marmites, the explosions of which every now and again jarred over the air, but because of his intense anxiety to fulfil his duties and to learn if anything had befallen Don Hale.
When Chase, panting from his exertions, reached the scene of the disaster he was not surprised to find a great amount of wreckage bordering the road on either hand. Several camions, battered and smashed beyond repair, were before his eyes, as well as poles, harness and chains, remnants of cases which had once contained goods, and, here and there, the bodies of horses, the whole forming a truly melancholy spectacle,—all the meanness and sordidness of warfare with nothing of its grandeur.
Chase, thankful indeed that he could not discover anything among the débris belonging to Number Eight, nevertheless shuddered as vivid recollections of the bombardment crowded into his mind.
Passing around the curve in the road, he began toiling up the hill. In his impatience to reach the post the way seemed to drag out interminably.
The guns in the forest were roaring at intervals—much too short intervals to suit him; for many had their muzzles almost pointed over the road, and the early morning air was filled with a purplish haze of smoke. Now and then the German gunners, searching to put these batteries out of commission, sent shells hurtling among the trees, to create still further havoc. That walk of Chase Manning's to the outpost was certainly the most eventful he had ever taken.
"It is like flirting with death!" he grunted, after recovering from the effects of a blast which had made him jump with alarm.
And it was not the last time either that he experienced such sensations while traveling over the hilltops and down in the valleys. At times he almost gave up hope of ever reaching his destination, as the guns blazing furiously away suggested that the tir de barrage was about to start again. In spite of all his efforts, just at that particular time, Chase could not altogether master a feeling of dull despair. And while in the midst of one of these moods he happened to stop abruptly and look behind him.
A cry—a joyous cry escaped his lips. A Red Cross car was coming down the hill at a rate which fairly astonished him. Now and then it jolted and bounced or took a wide, swinging curve around some bad place in the road, but it was not reckless or careless driving. The young chap at the steering wheel seemed to be handling the car with all the skill, all the courage displayed by the drivers in an automobile race.