CHAPTER XVIII

MAKING HISTORY

The three chums exchanged looks when the surgeon made this extraordinary request. At least it proved what confidence he had in their ability to carry out the work of delivering the interrupted dispatches. Had there really been any one else handy in whom he could trust possibly the American surgeon would never have thought of imposing such an arduous duty upon Thad and his comrades. It was really a Frenchman’s task and hardly fitted for those who considered themselves neutral in the battle that was going on.

Somehow or other Thad quite forgot that just then. The mere fact that he had been asked to do this thing appealed to all that was valiant in him; and we happen to know that times without number he had proven himself the possessor of red blood in his veins.

“Say yes, Thad!”

That was Allan urging him to accept, and yet in times past this same Allan had often betrayed unusual signs of caution. He, too, must have been overwhelmed with a sense of the high honor thus suddenly thrust upon them; though, for that matter, the tragic events of the day would have been quite enough to make those lads feel that they were enlisted heart and soul in the cause of the Allies.

“How did he come to be hurt, sir?” asked Thad, first of all.

“He was riding a motorcycle at mad speed when a van crossed in the way,” explained the surgeon promptly. “The result was bad for the messenger, since his machine was smashed and he himself hurled against the van. They found him there, doubled up in the road, and carried him back to us. That is all I have learned, except that he has plain directions where Headquarters can be found. He will give them to me as soon as any one swears to carry his dispatches through.”

“Thad, we ought to do it, sure as anything!”

Why, if it wasn’t Bumpus himself who was saying that; and surely if the stout chum felt that a duty had been thrust upon them that they ought not attempt to shirk, Thad should be the last one to hold back.

“We’ll undertake to deliver the dispatches, sir, though of course it’s none of our business what their nature is,” he immediately told the waiting surgeon.

“That’s fine of you, but no more than I expected, son,” the other hastened to tell him; and then, once more bending down closer to the wounded officer, he commenced to talk with him.

They guessed that he was asking for the directions as well as where he would find the dispatches secreted about the person of the wounded man. Presently the surgeon stood up again. He was holding a small packet in his hand, and it looked as though it might be of importance, seeing that it was wrapped in yellow, water-proof material such as Thad remembered sailors’ garments were made of.

“Here is the packet you are to place in the hands of General Joffre personally and as quickly as you can get to Headquarters. If they could have been sent by aeroplane it would have been done, but that means was not available. I am putting a great trust in your hands, my boy; see that you carry it through as becomes a true-hearted American Scout.”

Thad without any hesitation accepted the packet and hastened to conceal it upon his person. It must have struck him that in so doing he was taking more or less risk, for should he happen to be caught by any raiding German column he would be treated harshly, and might even be looked upon as a spy.

“And now, sir, how about the directions?” he asked quietly, trying to keep his voice well under control.

“I will give them to you plainly, and I request all of you to listen carefully, so that if one should forget another can remedy the defect.”

Then the surgeon proceeded to describe just how the course was to be followed; telling how many miles they would proceed along a certain road, how they were to know where to branch off, and, finally, taking them to an obscure spot far in the rear of the French battle-line, where the great General Joffre had his headquarters, sending most of his orders forth by telephone, or it might be aeroplanes, which, it appears, is the modern way of conducting a great engagement between hundreds of thousands of combatants on either side.

“Do you think you can remember it all clearly now?” demanded the surgeon, when he had finished his instructions.

“I’ve got it printed like a map in my mind,” said Thad. “Scouts are taught to do that sort of thing, you know, sir; and unless something we don’t count on hits us a hard blow we’ll get to General Joffre’s headquarters all right. Now please make some arrangement for a vehicle. Can you get us a car, sir?”

“I suppose you are used to driving one?” queried the other with a smile; he had apparently taken a most decided fancy to Thad, and deep down in his heart believed the wide-awake lad could do almost anything that was possible for the best of them to attempt.

“Oh! yes, we know a whole lot about such things, sir;” Thad assured him; “but I hope we have better luck than with an old rattletrap affair we got hold of along the Rhine when we heard war had broken out and tried to break through the lines so as to reach Antwerp.”

“I’ll see what can be done,” said he.

His word was law in the field hospital, and hence Thad was not at all surprised when he saw him take possession of the best car in sight. The owner, an old though patriotic Frenchman, who had been urgent in trying to do all he could to assist in taking care of the wounded, even to risking his own life in the cause, upon hearing why his car was wanted, instantly handed it over to the good American surgeon, to whom all France would later give praise for his wonderful work during those dark days along the Marne.

“He’s beckoning to us, Thad!” called out Bumpus, who seemed to be intensely interested in the adventure, which appealed to that natural love for excitement such as dwells in the heart of the average boy.

When they hurried over to where the surgeon waited he gave them each his hand.

“Here you are, boys, a pretty decent car placed at your service by this gallant citizen of France. If you live to get through, let us hear from you. As for the car, turn it over to the military authorities to use as they see best. Its owner has already dedicated it to the service of his country and does not expect to ever see it again.”

“Get in, Bumpus, and hurry!” urged Allan, impatient to be off on the run which might mean so much for the French cause.

“Yes, get away quick as you can, boys,” said the surgeon, “before I have a chance to change my mind. Even now my heart misgives me, and I begin to feel doubts as to whether I am doing just the right thing in letting you go.”

Upon hearing him talk in that strain both the others scrambled aboard with all haste. They did not mean to give him a chance to go back on his word if it could possibly be avoided.

“Don’t fear for us, sir,” Thad told him, as he grasped the wheel and took a look so as to familiarize himself with the working of the car, which, of course, differed from any other which he had ever handled, being of French make. “We’re accustomed to getting whatever we go after, and this sort of thing doesn’t feaze us one whit. Good-bye, sir!”

“Good-bye, boys, and the best of luck go with you!”

Then they were off, for Thad had started the motor going while talking, and it required only a simple movement of his hand to complete the operation.

Allan and Bumpus might look back and wave their hands to the kindly surgeon, but Thad, as the pilot at the wheel, had his work cut out for him elsewhere. It was no easy task to thread his way in among the numerous vehicles in motion without a collision of some sort. The road was close at hand, however, and once on that he would have things easier. At times fair speed might be made, though often they must follow in the wake of a clumsy laden van because the other side of the road was taken up completely with vehicles going to the front.

And now they could no longer see the field hospital, since a spur of land hid it from the view of those who looked back; but they would often have distinct visions of that amazing picture in days to come, and always must find indelibly stamped upon the picture the face of that noble American surgeon who gave all that was in him for the cause of suffering humanity.

“Well, we’re off at last!” said Bumpus, when they found themselves gliding along the road smoothly, dodging trouble as it loomed up in the shape of puffing motor trucks and lorries, both French and English, all packed to the limit with such supplies as a vast army must have day by day.

“And say, this machine is a big improvement on that old shebang we ran up there in Belgium a while back,” added Allan with a smack of satisfaction in his manner.

“The proof of the pudding is in the eating of it,” Thad told him. “Don’t crow too soon, boys. It may turn out that I’ll wreck the car in some way before I’m done, though you can bet your last cent I’m going to be mighty careful. We’re making history right now, come to think of it, and can’t afford to take chances.”