Читать книгу Our Young Aeroplane Scouts in France and Belgium. Or, Saving the Fortunes of the Trouvilles онлайн

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Marie “got busy” with little pocket scissors, cut the jacket and shirt free of the wound, washed away the clotted blood and soon brightly announced:

“No bullet here; it went right through the flesh, high up; much blood, but no harm to last.”

Cutting up a linen hand-towel, Marie skillfully bandaged the wound, and, later, as neatly mended the slashes she had made in Henri’s jacket and shirt.

For ten days the boys rested at the farmhouse, Henri rapidly recovering strength.

They learned much about Belgium from Marie. She laughingly told Henri that his French talk was good to carry him anywhere among the Walloons in the southeastern half of Belgium, but in the northwestern half he would not meet many of the Flemings who could understand him. “You would have one hard time to speak Flemish,” she assured him.

Henri confided to Marie that they were bound for the valley of the Meuse.

“La la,” cried the girl, “but you are taking the long way. Yet,” she continued, “you missed some fighting by coming the way you did from Bruges.”