“Something like that. But, glory, I’m glad you weren’t killed! I thought you were.” “The Huns haven’t got a real bullet with my number on it. This was only a fake one made of corn pith. Say, let’s make the ambulance and get out of here.” It was now a still slower and sorrier procession than before, but pluck and mutual helpfulness got the two boys over most of the way until _brancardiers_ came to them. One of these latter could drive a car, and he offered to run the ambulance to the dressing station. Two hours later the two boys, both swathed in bandages, lay on adjoining cots, following operations. Two days later the big, roomy Red Cross base, with its abundant light, comforts, attentive nurses and absence of flies, received them. As they left the evacuation tent for this delightful place, Major Little, still on duty, said to Don: “I always believed you’d get hit, my boy. You took too much risk. Came pretty near ending you. Just missed the lung by about one inch. But you’ll be all right and so will your friend, the corporal, here. Well, I want to say your work has been admirable and I think they will have something to say about that at the base. Good-bye and good luck!” And at the base they did have something to say about it, but not alone to Don. A month later some French and American officers visited the hospital and they came direct to the easy chairs occupied by Clem and Don on the wide veranda of the old château which had been turned into a convalescent ward. The American general spoke first, taking the right hand of each lad. “Well, I suppose you two young scamps know what we do over here to show our appreciation, eh?” Both boys were silent and much embarrassed. “Well, one American way, like that of the British, is to mention names in dispatches. You fellows won’t object to that when you hear what is going to be said of you. Corporal, there has been no braver part taken than that by you in the charge on the Bois de Belleau. And we have it that you did some fine work in Bouresches, and on Hill 165. And you--Master Red Cross driver--we have heard some great stories of you. But better than dispatches will be the Medals of Honor for both of you. Here is another matter: We have received data about the arrest of some spies. This, it seems, started back in the States and ended here. Well, that was notably fine work--fine work! But our friend here, _Monsieur le Général_ Marcier, also has something to say.” Mister the General, twirling his pointed mustache with a beaming smile, spoke what he had to say quite briefly and it was just as well that he did so, between very bad English and very nasal French, rapidly delivered, the boys could hardly get head or tail of it. They did, however, both get the well-known words at the end of the speech. These delightful syllables were _Croix de Guerre_. And then again the American commander spoke: