"Anyhow, I wanted to get this off my chest tonight; not for you, only for myself. I didn't want to have a shell get me before I'd said 'Veever la France!' before all of you.
"See here, boys—the Marsellaze!"
She snatched a flag from the wall, drawing herself up to heroic height; and the whole cellar joined her in a roar.
CHAPTER X
THE next morning Jacks dragged Troy out of bed by the feet. The room was still dark, and through the square of the low window glittered a bunch of stars.
"Hurry call to Montmirail—step lively!" Jacks ordered, his voice thick with sleep.
All the old names: with every turn of the wheel they seemed to be drawing nearer and nearer to the ravaged spot of earth where Paul Gantier slept his faithful sleep. Strange if, today, of all days, Troy should again stand by his friend's grave!
They pushed along eastward under the last stars, the roll of the cannon crashing through the quiet dawn. The birds flew up with frightened cries from the trees along the roadside: rooks cawed their warning from clump to clump, and gathered in the sky in dark triangles flying before the danger.
The east began to redden through the dust-haze of the cloudless air. As they advanced the road became more and more crowded, and the ambulance was caught in the usual dense traffic of the front: artillery, field-kitchens, motor-trucks, horse-waggons, hay-carts packed with refugees, and popping motor-cycles zig-zagging through the tangle of vehicles. The movement seemed more feverish and uncertain than usual, and now and then the road was jammed, and curses, shouts, and the crack of heavy whips sounded against the incessant cannonade that hung its iron curtain above the hills to the north-east. The faces of soldiers and officers were unshaved, sallow, drawn with fatigue and anxiety. Women sat sobbing on their piled-up baggage, and here and there, by the roadside, a little country cart had broken down, and the occupants sat on the bank watching the confusion like impassive lookers-on.
Suddenly, in the thickest of the struggle, a heavy lorry smashed into Troy's ambulance, and he felt the unmistakable wrench of the steering-gear. The car shook like a careening boat, and then righted herself and stopped.
"Oh, hell!" shouted Jacks in a fury.
The two lads jumped down, and in a few minutes they saw that they were stranded beyond remedy. Tears of anger rushed into Troy's eyes. On this day of days he was not even to accomplish his own humble job!
Another ambulance of their own formation overtook them, and it was agreed that Jacks, who was the sharper of the two, was to get a lift to the nearest town, and try to bring back a spare part, or, failing that, pick up some sort of car, in which they could continue their work.