“So long as he stands up to the job neither of them will complain,” the other commented. “They felt the disgrace much more than they would the stab if news came that Jean had fallen while doing his duty for his country.” “For one I’m glad we had a chance to run across a little side drama like that, Jack. It showed us of what stuff these patriotic Belgians are made. And you can find some mighty bright material for your correspondence in that happening, too.” Chatting after this fashion they trudged along. The way seemed fairly familiar to them, since they had so recently come over it. As before, the road was at times almost clogged with the numerous vehicles passing back and forth. These consisted altogether of motor vans or lorries going after more wounded, or fetching loads of the same from the front where the battle still raged; cars containing officers hurrying to the fighting line; artillery trains of cannon; supplies; ammunition, and even more armored cars. Then at one time the boys had to get out of the way when a squadron of hard-riding cavalry swept past. Jack again believed many of these men must have come from the Canadian Northwest, for they sat their saddles after the free and easy fashion of cowboys. He was almost tempted to give vent to a whoop just to see if some of them would answer; but discretion or second thought caused him to forego this, as it could do them no good, and might get them into trouble. “Here comes a van heading our way,” called out Amos, about half an hour after they had left Ypres, “and it seems to be nearly empty for a change. Most of them are chock full of Tommies being rushed forward. Jack, will you make the try with that paper the general gave us?” “Surely,” returned the other, “if we can get them to stop. Here’s a bad spot in the road, and they’ll have to go slow in passing. Now to see what luck we have.” When Jack made motions indicating that he wanted the driver of the motor van to stop, possibly that worthy, seeing the bad spot in the road, feared he might become mired. At any rate he pulled up. Jack had his paper ready, and stepping up shoved it up at the chauffeur, who was undoubtedly a Britisher, perhaps one who had up to recently been driving some business van or motor ’bus in the congested streets of London. “Please read this communication given to us by the general in command,” was what the boy said, without any show of bluster. When the chauffeur glanced over the brief but pointed order that every one in authority should render assistance to the bearer and his companion, he knew instinctively what was wanted, for he at once made room on the seat. “If you want to go along, get aboard, young fellows!” he said, and without waiting for further invitation they both clambered up alongside, after which the big van started on again, bent on taking another load of wounded to the hospitals in the rear, perhaps at Dunkirk.