"What's this I see ahead there, boys? Looks like there might be some other motorcycle fellows around these regions, though I guess they've left their mounts behind."
It was Hanky Panky who said this. They had halted at a wayside spring to refresh themselves, for the road was proving pretty dusty.
At noon the three boys had swung through Ostend on the Belgian coast. The famous watering place did not look just the same as on other summers, when tens of thousands visited it for the sport to be enjoyed in the sea. True, it was swarming with people, but in the main soldiers walked the sands, and there was a decidedly martial air to the place generally given up to gaiety.
The boys had, of course, been stopped quite frequently. With war in the land this was only to be expected. Still the papers they carried always won the day, and they were allowed to proceed. This could hardly be wondered at when one of those little documents was written wholly by King Albert himself, and contained an express desire that the bearer and his friends should be given every possible courtesy by loyal Belgians, as they had proved their friendship for the little kingdom to the utmost.
Then later on the motorcycle trio knew they were on French soil, for they had been stopped by a patrol in the famous blue tunics of the republican army. Once more had their passports been scanned, and after a little consultation, in which Rod was able to mingle a few sentences, he speaking French, they were saluted respectfully by the patrol, and allowed to proceed.
After that they had arrived at Dunkirk, where later on hundreds of thousands of British soldiers were destined to be landed.
Once through this city the boys headed on south, aiming to reach Calais before evening came. So far nothing serious had hindered their forward progress, and all of them felt light-hearted indeed.
Then had come the halt at the cool wayside spring; and it was after drinking their fill of the delightful water, thanks to a gourd some kind person had supplied, that Hanky Panky announced his discovery.
Josh took a look, and then burst out into a loud laugh.
"Why, if you're going to believe because a fellow wears khaki he must own a motorcycle," he told the other, "you'll have the whole country full of spinning machines. Those are British soldiers, Hanky; Tommy Atkins, you know, come over to France to give a helping hand to keep the Germans out of Paris."