Bon and Billy boarded their little car again, and just as they were turning around, two other ambulances dashed up. The first one was a light army truck, manned by members of the regular corps of the army service. The other bore the Red Cross and it looked like a higher grade of car than that commonly in use by that organization. Don was swinging into the road and just caught sight of the driver and helper in this last car. But as he glanced at the side face of the former a rush of partial recognition mixed with an undefined feeling of hostility swept over him. Where had he seen that face before? There were not many persons he remembered unpleasantly. He had been in one or two student rows with ruffians, who had fared badly as a rule and the boys at Old Brighton had it in for a disagreeable fellow who was even opposed to their speaking above a whisper when they passed his place in the town. The face he had just seen was not one of these. Well, there was more big work cut out ahead and he would think over this question later. Yet the matter kept returning to his mind in spite of the battle sounds and sights, among which they soon came at close quarters. “I can’t understand one thing:” Billy remarked, as they sped on. “Why is the shooting so at random? Just look at the shells that have landed all around us, in the fields, in the roads, almost everywhere, doing no real damage, except to stir up the ground, hitting hardly anyone. It looks like fool business to me.” “And when you think how much one of these shells costs and how much must be paid for a hundred rounds of cartridges fired by a machine-gun, no wonder they say that it costs a good many thousands of dollars for every man that gets hit,” Don offered. “Well, if it costs so much I wish they’d save those that come my way. I’d just as lief treat even the Huns more economically!” declared Billy. Don had to laugh, though at the moment they were approaching again the old farm house, now torn to pieces, where the Hun airman had dropped his bomb but an hour before. Billy also noticed it and asked Don to stop. “Couldn’t we go in and see, Don? It will be solemn enough, but we can be sure they’re all--they’re not suffering.” The boys alighted and rounded the house once more, stepping over broken bits of stone and mortar and twisted framing. Billy was ahead and he took but one glance and turned about. “Beyond doubt. They had at least their wish not to suffer.” He uttered the words like a funeral benediction, and followed Don back. As they were about to emerge from the trellised gateway the other Red Cross ambulance shot by, the occupants, no doubt, supposing those in the boys’ car had stopped here for a drink. Again Don caught sight of the driver of that car. Instantly it came to the boy who the fellow must be. The recognition was quite complete--and startling.