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Page 57
"I Wish we could call mom and pop up on a long distance and tell
them we are safe. It's going to be some old time before we see
them again!"
"Sure is!" agreed Porky, his face growing strangely long at the
thought. "There's one thing we got to remember. We are here,
and they were game to let us come. I didn't realize how game
they were, Beans, but they sure were game! Well, we have got to
pay them up for it, and the only way we can do it, is by first
taking the best care of ourselves that we possibly can, and then
by doing something to make them proud of us. Of course we don't
know what we can do, but something will come up, I know; and it's
up to us to do it."
"You bet we will!" said Beany solemnly. They turned again to
watch the sailors.
Colonel Bright appeared on deck just then, and the boys hurried
to his side, and stood unobtrusively behind him.
The next few hours passed in such a whirl that they were never
clearly defined in the boys' memory. Event followed event with
dizzying rapidity. Short trips on strange, camouflaged little
railroads, alternated with dashes in strange, large, unkempt
automobiles driven by haggard, desperate, cool, young fellows who
looked and were equal to any emergency. Little was said.
Occasionally they were personally conducted by one or two French
officers who talked rapidly in their own tongue to Colonel
Bright, who actually understood what they said, and fired back
remarks almost as rapid as theirs.
"Machine guns!" Beany muttered once to his brother.
As they went on, the country commenced to show devastating effect
of war. By the time darkness fell they were passing through a
torn and tumbled landscape, with here and there a ruined village.
They reached a place finally, unlighted, almost unmarked in the
darkness. The boys wondered at the cleverness of the chauffeur
as he silently rounded a corner and brought his car up to a
ruined gateway, behind which a small squat building showed dimly.
Without a word Colonel Bright went rapidly up the path, the boys
following closely behind, while the orderly carried the Colonel's
bags.
A low tap on the door and it opened, disclosing a densely dark
hall or room; the boys could not see enough to tell what it was.
As the door was closed, a flashlight was pressed, and they were
able to follow their guide across the space and through another
corridor to a heavy door. A low tap and this door was opened.
As they entered, a man rose from a desk. He was gray and
grizzled; a man whose keen face and eagle glance ware destined to
live as long as history is written or read, a man in whom America
rests her pride and hopes.
As they entered, he bent his piercing glance upon them; then,
recognizing Colonel Bright, his face was lighted with a bright
smile that suddenly wiped out its lines of care, and he stepped
forward, both hands extended in greeting.
It was General Pershing.
The boys, standing well back in the shadows of the gloomy room,
felt something catch their throats.
France... the firing line... General Pershing...
All at once, they had no doubts, no memories, no homesickness, no
regrets. France; the firing line; General Pershing!
The boys stood rigidly at attention. The room was dark; no one
saw them. It did not matter. Joy and courage and high hopes
filled their hearts.
It was the beginning of their Great Adventure.
THE END
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