From indications Tom fancied that would be their
last night in the old dugout. The Huns were still falling back, and word
had been going around that by another day the Yankees would undoubtedly
occupy the village that lay just beyond the hills where the bursting
shrapnel had ascended on the occasion of the passage of the air squadron.
It was about four o'clock when Tom sighted his chum. Jack's face was
gloomy, and he lacked his customary sprightliness of walk.
As he came up he tried to smile, but it was a rank failure.
"Well," he said disconsolately, "the very worst has happened, Tom.
I've managed to get word after trying for hours, and have learned that
my cousin sailed yesterday from Havre. He's beat me to it, and I've
lost out!"
CHAPTER IX
CONVINCING PROOF
"Are you sure about that?" asked Tom, though at the same time realizing
that Jack was not the one to give in easily, and must have used every
avenue for gaining information before reaching this condition of
certainty.
"There's not the slightest reason to doubt it, I tell you, Tom," Jack
replied slowly, shaking his head at the same time to emphasize his
sorrowful feelings in the matter. "I asked particularly, and the word
came that a passenger named Randolph Carringford had sailed yesterday on
the _La Bretagne_ for New York."
"Then that point seems settled," admitted Tom, though disliking to
acknowledge the fact. "Still, something might happen to prevent his
reaching New York City, or Virginia.
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