They found a scene of desolation around them, however, after they entered the village. Once it had undoubtedly been a pretty hamlet, but this was before the rush of hostile armies across Belgium’s borders. Fugitives from less favored localities had sought safety among those who still had roofs over their heads. Curious eyes followed the boys as they passed along. Doubtless their coming and their well-fed appearance aroused the wonder and envy of these hapless people who all through the storms of the winter season had fought against starvation and freezing. Soldiers, rumbling artillery trains, galloping horses, and all the brave trappings of new levies going to the front to become food for the cannon they were accustomed to see day after day. Then would come the ambulances and motor vans laden with the groaning victims who were being taken to field hospitals in the rear of the fighting line. But when two sturdy lads, one of them wearing a little American flag in his buttonhole, walked into their village, the natives became interested at once. It was known throughout the length and breadth of Belgium that charitable America had fed their suffering millions all through the winter. On this account any one who claimed to be a citizen of the generous republic beyond the sea was welcome in their midst. So Jack and Amos found smiles upon some of the wan faces around them as well as wonder and curiosity. “If we can only run across some one who speaks English I’d call it lucky,” Amos was saying as they reached the center of the village. “Here comes the man we want to see, then,” Jack told him. “The rest are pushing him along as if they knew he could talk with us. My French isn’t all it should be, and I have to depend on signs half the time so as to make myself understood. But it’s going to be all right now.” Jack proved to be a good prophet, for the old man with the white beard addressed them in very fair English. He told them he had worked in an American arms factory for several years, and considered that he knew Yankee customs very well indeed. “If you wish to spend the night with us,” he continued, “we will do the best we can to entertain you. In these sad times most of us are content to find a roof over our heads, and have something to satisfy our hunger. I will take you to my own poor house, though it is already crowded with relatives from other parts of our distracted country. Such accommodations as we have you are quite welcome to.” Of course the boys thanked him, and hastened to say they would be satisfied to sleep in a shed, if there was no other place vacant. He asked them to accompany him, and with quite a procession tagging at their heels they started off. It turned out that their host was really an important man in the village. Jack guessed he must be the mayor or burgomaster, since every one seemed to defer to his judgment.