He began to back up, for the sand ahead was too deep for a turn, and the way he managed the huge car along that narrow ridge aroused the admiration of Ajo, who alone was able to witness the marvelous performance.  Slowly, with many turns, they backed to the road, where Maurie swung the ambulance around and then stopped with a jerk that drew several groans from the interior of the car.

“What’s wrong?” asked Mr. Merrick, sticking his head from a window.

“We nearly ran over a man,” answered Jones, climbing down from his seat.  “Our front wheels are right against him, but Maurie stopped in time.”

Lying flat upon his face, diagonally across the roadway, was the form of a man in the blue-and-red uniform of the Belgian army.  Maurie backed the ambulance a yard or so as Maud sprang out and knelt beside the prostrate form.

The firing, which had lulled for a few minutes, suddenly redoubled in fury.  There rose a wild, exultant shout, gradually drawing nearer.

“Quick!” shouted Gys, trembling and wringing his hands.  “The Germans are charging.  Drive on, man—­drive on!”

But Maurie never moved.

“The Germans are charging, sure enough,” he answered, as the line of retreating Belgians became visible.  “But they must stop here, for we’ve blocked the road.”

All eyes but those of Maud were now turned upon the fray, which was practically a hand to hand conflict.  Nearer and nearer came the confused mass of warriors and then, scarce a hundred yards away, it halted and the Belgians stood firm.

“He isn’t dead,” said Maud, coming to the car.  “Help me to put him inside.”

“There is no room,” protested Gys.

The girl looked at him scornfully.

“We will make room,” she replied.

A bullet shattered a pane of glass just beside the crouching doctor, but passed on through an open window without injuring anyone.  In fact, bullets were singing around them with a freedom that made others than Dr. Gys nervous.  It was chubby little Uncle John who helped Jones carry the wounded man to the ambulance, where they managed to stretch him upon the floor.  This arrangement sent Patsy to the front seat outside, with Maurie and Ajo, although her uncle strongly protested that she had no right to expose her precious life so wantonly.

There was little time for argument, however.  Even as the girl was climbing to her seat the line of Belgians broke and came pouring toward them.  Maurie was prompt in starting the car and the next moment the ambulance was rolling swiftly along the smooth highway in the direction of Dunkirk and the sounds of fray grew faint behind them.

CHAPTER IX

COURAGE, OR PHILOSOPHY?

“I never realized,” said Maud, delightedly, “what a strictly modern, professional hospital ship Uncle John has made of this, until we put it to practical use.  I am sure it is better than those makeshifts we observed at Calais, and more comfortable than those crowded hospitals on land.  Every convenience is at our disposal and if our patients do not recover rapidly it will be because their condition is desperate.”