Don stood in the road, looking after the speeding car. Billy’s thoughts were upon other matters. The ambulance ran on until almost out of sight. Then suddenly, instead of turning across toward the dressing station at the western edge of the woods, it veered to the east across fields and ran down a slope to a clump of bushes and low trees where it stopped. The boy wondered if there could a dressing station at that spot. “Don, if you can go on just this once without me, I’d like to stay and bury that poor old couple and the little girl. It seems horrible to let them lie there, exposed, uncared for, as though they had no friends. What do you say?” “All right, Billy you stay. I can make the trip alone. They’ll help me with the _blessés_ at the station and at the hospital too. If anything does happen to me--should I get hit--you couldn’t help much until you got the hang of running over such roads. And say, Billy, you can do something else: when you hear a car going back take a peep and if it’s those fellows that just went by, observe them, will you? If you see them coming, go out and stop them and ask who they are, you can let on you’re making a report. I’m just curious. Tell you why later. G’bye! I’ll stop for you on the next trip down.” Don dashed on, reached the dressing station without mishap, took on two wounded _poilus_ and one Yank; they sped back. Billy quickly found a garden spade an went to work with all his might so as to complete his gruesome task. The ground was soft beneath a wide-spreading apple tree just showing signs of blossoming; a sweet-voiced bird sang the while in the branches above, and this was the only requiem the old couple and the little child should know, as, wrapped carefully in sheets rescued from the destroyed house, they filled the one grave. The tender-hearted youth’s eyes were wet while he labored for the poor souls who deserved a better burial than this. When the grave was filled he made a rude cross of boards and wrote on it a simple inscription, a tribute from his own gentle heart. This was the best the boy could do. The little bird still sang its cheery ditty overhead. He turned away with a sigh and said, half aloud: “I wonder what Father would think of me now. He wouldn’t believe it possible of his youngest boy he used to call ‘a silly, girl-like thing.’ I couldn’t blame him then, but now--well, he’ll change his mind about me if I go back--that is, _if_ I get back.” Then Billy heard a car approaching and slipped out front to take a look, as Don had requested. It was the army ambulance returning. But where was the other Red Cross ambulance? Well, Don would not be here again for perhaps half an hour yet. There would be time to slip along the road and get a glimpse of the other car. Then he might give his pal even more information than he expected.