He surmised
that it had been held for a while by the Germans on their retreat from
the Marne, and that the lighting there had been desperate.
In the lower ground on the near side of the stream were many small board
houses arranged in a square, and these he knew were the hospital. He
would remain there until the last of the wounded were discharged, and
then he would enter Chastel. Mallet informed him that his surmises were
correct and he saw for himself that the head of the train had already
turned into the square around which the little board houses were built.
The transferring of the hurt, took nearly all the morning, and John
faithfully performed his part. There was Chastel only a few hundred
yards away, now clearly visible despite the massive clouds that floated
persistently across the sky. Yet he made no attempt to reach it until
his work was done, nor did he speak of it, not even to the chauffeur,
Mallet, of whom he had made a good friend.
Near noon, the task finished, he ate luncheon and started toward
Chastel. His orders from Captain Colton allowed him much liberty, and he
was not compelled to account to anyone, when he chose to enter the town.
He crossed the stream, muddy from the melting snow, on a small stone
bridge, which he believed from its steep arch must date almost back to
the time of the Romans, and pausing on the other side looked up once
more at Chastel.
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