“I can’t tell you, Don, how glad I am to see you; and yet I’m almost sorry to see you,” exclaimed Albert, enigmatically. “You’re in for excitement that will make your days as an ambulance driver with the Red Cross seem tame by comparison.”
“And they were plenty thrilling enough to suit me,” laughed Don. “What’s the latest news?”
“That this little village was recently bombed.”
George Glenn pointed to a sign painted on the side of a building.
“‘Cave Voûté,’” read Don, aloud.
These caves, he knew, were underground retreats, where the soldiers or inhabitants could find a refuge in case of a bombardment or a bomb-dropping expedition of the enemy.
“One good thing—our camp is outside the range of the guns,” said George.
As the boys walked through the little village, which, during the earlier stages of the war, had been the scene of many an exciting event, Don Hale could not help but remarking on the changed appearance of T. Singleton Albert. There was a gravity and sedateness about him which he judged to be caused by the dangers to which the airmen are constantly exposed.
“Had any exciting adventures yet, Drugstore?” he asked.
“Plenty of them,” responded Albert. And then a light which Don Hale had never seen before flashed into the young chap’s eyes. “Yet, in spite of that, I wouldn’t have missed this experience for all the world. Flying has all the joys, the thrills and excitement of every other sport beaten a thousand miles. I certainly owe a whole lot of thanks to Lieutenant William Thaw.”