“I will, of course,” replied Kelsey quietly.

“Doctor Gys will be needed on the ship,” asserted Uncle John.

“Yes, it will be best to leave me here,” said Gys.  “I’m too great a coward to go near the firing line again.  It destroys my usefulness, and Kelsey can administer first aid as well as I.”

“In that case, I think I shall take the small ambulance to-day,” decided Ajo.  “With Dr. Kelsey and one of the sailors we shall manage very well.”

A launch took them ashore, where the ambulances stood upon the dock.  Maurie had admitted his inability to drive, but asked to be allowed to go into the town.  So he left the ship with the others and disappeared for the day.

Ajo took the same route he had covered before, in the direction of Nieuport, but could not get within five miles of the town, which was now held by the Germans.  From Furnes to the front the roads were packed with reinforcements and wagon trains bearing ammunition and supplies, and further progress with the ambulance was impossible.

However, a constant stream of wounded flowed to the rear, some with first aid bandages covering their injuries, others as yet uncared for.  Kelsey chose those whom he considered most in need of surgical care or skillful nursing, and by noon the ambulance was filled to overflowing.  It was Jones who advised taking none of the fatally injured, as the army surgeons paid especial attention to these.  The Americans could be of most practical use, the boy considered, by taking in charge such as had a chance to recover.  So nine more patients were added to the ship’s colony on this occasion, all being delivered to the care of Dr. Gys without accident or delay—­a fact that rendered Ajo quite proud of his skillful driving.

While the ambulance was away the girls quietly passed from berth to berth, encouraging and caring for their wounded.  It was surprising how interested they became in the personality of these soldiers, for each man was distinctive either in individuality or the character of his injury, and most of them were eager to chat with their nurses and anxious for news of the battle.

During the morning the young Belgian who had lain until now in a stupor, recovered consciousness.  He had moaned once or twice, drawing Maud to his side, but hearing a different sound from him she approached the berth where he lay, to find his eyes wide open.  Gradually he turned them upon his nurse, as if feeling her presence, and after a moment of observation he sighed and then smiled wanly.

“Still on earth?” he said in French.

“I am so glad,” she replied.  “You have been in dreamland a long time.”

He tried to move and it brought a moan to his lips.

“Don’t stir,” she counseled warningly; “you are badly wounded.”

He was silent for a time, staring at the ceiling.  She held some water to his lips and he drank eagerly.  Finally he said in a faint voice: