"I'll go and talk to them," said Jo; and unrolled herself, struggled and
fumbled with her boots and floundered into the blackness, where a
mounted officer was delivering orders. Shouts could be heard, lights
waved, horses whinnied, splashing their feet in the puddles as they were
being violently pulled here and there, and our poor little carts were
moving ahead into obscurity. Jo told him they were a Red Cross
party--that the carts were small, and couldn't they stay where they
were? The officer inspected the poor little carts, made his best bow,
and said, "Yes, they can stay."
But the corporal did not listen to Jo's orders. He belonged to a country
which rates women and cattle together, and the carts moved relentlessly
on. With difficulty Jo found the ledge again on which Jan was sitting
with the rugs, talking to the scenery in a manner which was not pretty.
Blease came up, and the three of us shouldered the things and stumbled
off to find the vanished carriages, which were half a mile down the
road.
Pages:
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317