CHAPTER XXI

AT JOFFRE’S HEADQUARTERS

It was worse than on the other occasion when, seated on those gun caissons with the French soldiers, they fled through a hurricane of bursting shells. In connection with that never-to-be-forgotten episode their backs were turned toward the place from which the unseen German gunners were bombarding the enemy lines; and consequently they had the comforting feeling that every yard they went the danger kept growing constantly less.

Now it was just the opposite, for a brief period, since the worst was yet to come. It required a vast amount of nerve to carry them through this crisis. Thad had his teeth tightly clinched, and his eyes were riveted straight on the road ahead. Nothing must be allowed to distract his attention. It was of vital importance that he keep the track, and reach that bend which would offer them possible safety.

Shells might burst with an appalling roar, and smaller missiles whirr through the air; but so long as none of them were struck he meant to keep everlastingly at his job of taking the car through the hurricane of iron.

The others, however, were allowed a chance to turn their eyes from right to left as they sped on. Consequently they saw some terrible things that were spared the driver. Here a tree was riven of its limbs as clean as though struck by lightning, leaving the bare trunk standing there like a telegraph pole. In another quarter a dreadful half-muffled burst of sound held their attention; and as they looked it was to see the whole section of ground rise in the air, burst into fragments, and then settle back again in a cloud of dust.

Bumpus hardly breathed, he was so thrilled by all these astonishing things that attested to the frightful power of the great shells hurled by the German military monster machines miles and miles away.

It seemed like a full hour to the stout boy before the reeling car finally arrived at that envied turn in the road, and yet instead of minutes seconds had hardly elapsed.

Thad knew there was serious danger of a spill if he attempted to make that swing around the bend at the reckless pace he had struck. This necessitated a holding up; and poor Bumpus, quick to notice the alteration in their speed, quivered with a new fear, really believing that something must have happened to Thad, who was in danger of collapsing at the wheel.

Indeed, Bumpus involuntarily half raised both hands as though with the idea of catching the chauffeur, and sustaining him; for it chanced that he was directly behind the other at the time.

Then the car hit the curve and commenced to swing around it. Bumpus was jammed up against his seat-mate Giraffe, and came near crushing the elongated scout, such was his bulk.

But they had passed safely around the coveted turn, and were once more hurrying along the road, the speed increasing with a jolt as Thad again gave full power.

Now if they could manage to hold their good fortune for just another half minute they stood a chance of running out of the fire zone, where those dropping shells were plowing up the ground, and leaving gaping craters here, there and everywhere, into each of which a good-sized cabin could be hidden.

All of them began to live again, for during the worst of the bombardment, doubtless, they had simply existed, as Giraffe afterwards candidly admitted, when speaking about the adventure.

It was soon only a horrible nightmare, a memory that would haunt them as long as they lived. The shells still continued to fall, and the terrific crashes kept making a strange martial music that rendered talking next to impossible; but all this was now going on in their rear.

For some reason the Germans meant to make that particular section of road impassable. Perhaps they gave it much more prominence than it really deserved, for the boys had discovered few signs of any movement of troops or supplies along its whole length.

Things began to brighten once they were beyond that turmoil and confusion. Bumpus even had a little color creep back into his cheeks, though he still continued to quiver at times, and suck in his breath with gasps. If Giraffe could read the signs aright, when he turned to look at his chum several times, the movement of Bumpus’ lips told that he was saying his favorite word, “Gee!” again and again. Well, it spoke volumes for the sense of awe that had filled his whole soul during that period of stress and anxiety.

Now they could begin to take notice once more of what lay ahead. Of course, each boy was ardently hoping they would have no more of that sort of business to go through with. It was a bit too strenuous, even Thad was ready to admit. Scouts were not supposed to be the possessors of iron nerve; and really that was what any one must have to pass through such an experience.

A mile, two, three of them soon slipped away. The racket had partly died down by this time, possibly owing to the fact of their being further away from the scene; and then again the German gunners may have believed their object accomplished, so that there was no further need of wasting shells in that quarter.

Giraffe soon discovered a French battery. Then he pointed out another partly concealed under some sheltering branches of trees. They were firing steadily, as if carrying out orders.

Further along he also located a host of men in the French blue advancing at the double-quick over open ground. The sight was inspiring to the boys, for they could easily understand that owing to a shift in the battle the commander-in-chief must be transferring one of his army corps, with the idea of striking the invaders in the flank and hurling them back in confusion. When those Frenchmen do move it is with a rapidity that fairly dazzles their opponents; and their blows are delivered with all the enthusiasm that formerly used to delight the observing eye of the Great Napoleon himself.

“We must be getting near Headquarters by now, don’t you think, Thad?” shouted Giraffe presently; for the car was making so much noise, together with other things near and far, that of course it was difficult to talk.

“I expect so,” the other simply replied, not even turning his head while speaking, lest he lose his grip on the middle of the road; and considering the speed at which they were going just then such a thing might spell disaster.

Indeed, there were also other signs to indicate this fact. The region was very retired, but twice now they had seen a whizzing motorcycle passing along; and somehow they guessed that the man crouching in the saddle must be carrying important orders for some part of the line near by.

Another thing had caught that keen eye of Giraffe, which he hastened to make known to his comrades.

“Hey! notice the telephone wire alongside the road, will you?” he yelled; “it’s a military line to boot, I can tell that by the way it’s strung. The French Signal Corps has put it up on the run. Yes, and you see, General Joffre from his Headquarters can even give his orders to some of the nearest corps commanders, at the same time learning how the battle is going along their front! Wow! what wouldn’t I give to be able to break in and hear what was being said right now!”

“Don’t you dream of trying it, Giraffe!” shrilled Bumpus, galvanized into a sudden state of horror at the very idea; “why, they’d burn you alive if you dared interfere with such a thing as that.”

“Oh! don’t worry, old fellow,” Giraffe immediately assured him; “I haven’t _quite_ lost my head yet. I’m not such a fool as I look!”

“Well, that’s a comfort,” Bumpus told him; and really the tall scout never wholly knew whether that was said in satire or not.

At any minute now Thad expected to be halted by a vidette post, for of course the immediate vicinity of Headquarters would be heavily guarded to secure the safety of the commanding genius to whom the French armies must look for guidance.

“Slow up a bit, Thad,” suddenly cried Giraffe, poking the driver in the back.

“What did you see?” demanded Bumpus, at once alarmed.

“There are men waiting for us at that point ahead where the trees overhang the road; because I glimpsed the glint of gun-barrels in the sun. And we don’t want to be asked to explain who we are after they’ve made sieves out of us.”

So the car’s pace was cut down to a point where they could stop instantly if the order came. Nor were they kept in suspense long, for as they drew near the spot indicated by “Old Eagle Eye” three soldiers suddenly appeared in view and made peremptory motions with the guns they carried.

Thad came to a stand beside them. He instantly recognized that one of the men in blue was a sergeant, from the marks on his sleeves, and to him the young driver spoke.

“We have come with important dispatches for General Joffre; they must be delivered into his hands immediately!”

The man, a grizzled veteran, apparently could not speak English. He was observing the quartette of scouts in evident bewilderment. Their faded khaki uniforms no doubt puzzled him greatly; though doubtless in his mind they were immediately associated with General French’s British army, some members of which he may have seen.

But there was one thing he did understand, and that was the mention of the name of “Joffre.” Accompanied by those commanding gestures, and that serious expression on the face of the determined-looking young fellow it stood for something highly important.

He spoke a few words to one of the privates who immediately hurried away. Thad realized that this probably meant some one would be summoned who could speak the language, and learn what they wanted.

A minute, two of them passed. The boys moved restlessly. It seemed as though too much precious time might be slipping by. After the grand rush that had carried them safely through so many perils, to be held up like this at the very last was annoying, to say the least of it.

But the agony ended finally. They discovered a couple of hastening figures, one of which could be recognized as the private who had gone away; while the other seemed to be an officer of some rank.

“Who are you young fellows, and what do you want here, where no one is allowed to come?” the latter demanded, half angrily as he came up.

Thad guessed that the French officer must believe them to be newspaper correspondents, rashly thrusting themselves into dangerous places in an eager desire for fresh news to send over to London, or American papers.

He had it all mapped out, and meant to explain in as few words as possible so as to save time.

“We are American boys, M’sieu,” he started in with, “who by accident were caught between the lines in this battle. We found a chance to assist the Red Cross Corps at a field hospital. One of our number even drove an ambulance all the way to Paris with a load of wounded. There was an American surgeon who did wonders for your brave men. One was brought in terribly battered. It turned out that he had been on a motorcycle bearing important messages for General Joffre when he ran into a van, and had his machine crushed. He may die from his hurts; but the thing that grieved him most was the fact that his dispatches were being held up. There did not seem to be any one else to intrust them with, and so the American surgeon handed them over to us. We have come through shot and shell to deliver the same to General Joffre; and please, M’sieu, get them in his hands in a hurry!”