“Down here at a sort of little inn; jolly fine place, but expensive. Major Little sent Clem and me there. How about your bunking with me now? Then we’ll go back together. If I go on again I guess it will be in an auto and there’ll be room for you. They want me to report at the base somewhere southeast of Rheims. Where is your old command?” The boys had turned aside from the khaki-clad procession, Donald conducting Herbert toward a side street that led to his inn. Several of the “Yanks” shouted words of friendly banter at the lieutenant, whom they had come to know and respect aboard ship. “Hey, you scrapper! Don’t let the Red Cross get you this soon!” “Where you goin’, boy? Stay with the bon tons!” “Sure, we need your cheerful reminders of what the Heinies will do to us!” It was long past the noon hour and the hungry boys ordered a meal; then began a long and minutely explanatory chat during which the affairs at Brighton, the pro-war sentiment in the United States, the retreat of the Germans and the American influence thereon were discussed with the vast interest that only those who had taken and expected again to take part in the conflict could so keenly feel. Presently a Red Cross messenger on a motorcycle came to seek young Richards. “How about conveyance?” Don asked. “Major Little said not to bother with the roundabout on the crazy railroad; a car would make the direct run across in less time.” “There are two new ambulances stored here that came in on the last freighter across. I have orders to turn one of the ambulances over to you if you wish,” the messenger said. “Then I can deliver my reply to the Major in person, after I have dropped my friend here at general Army Headquarters. Let’s have your order. I’ll be on the road early in the morning and likely make the run by night.” CHAPTER II TO THE FRONT THAT swift ride through France in the new Red Cross ambulance was quite devoid of any startling incidents. There were the usual bits of well traveled and rutty roads and long stretches of fine highway, the occasional detours by reason of road mending; here old men and boys labored to keep up the important lanes of traffic for the oncoming hosts of Americans and the transportation of overseas supplies. The lads overtook heavily laden lorries, or camions as the French call them; they passed columns of marching men and those billeted in villages or encamped in the wayside fields. They noted the slow moving forward of heavy field pieces and here and there they came to drill grounds where lately arrived Americans were going through mock trench fighting or were bayonet stabbing straw-stuffed bags supposed to be Huns.