Much too quickly, the engine-noise came back. But then, to his relief, no one dared to break the silence which the child had created around both of them, protecting them both, until dummy4
at last the engine-noise itself changed, as the lorry slowed to a snail's pace.
Someone in the cab up front hammered on a door-panel.
'Kar-pee! Kar-pee!'
The poker-faced soldier, no longer in the least poker-faced, was foremost in helping to unload them, winking encouragingly at Bastable and totally ignoring the officious NCO who tried to hurry them up.
They were at another crossroads, amidst a scatter of mean houses and a decrepit garage boasting one antique petrol pump. It was almost full daylight at last, but the sky still had its grey early-morning look, and apart from the Germans, there wasn't a soul in sight, and the only sound was of lorry engines idling.
Bastable and the soldier between them assisted Wimpy to the cart, and while Bastable held the handles (the familiar aches protested, and then surrendered) the soldier fussed Wimpy into his throne of bundles. It was almost too easy to bear.
'Merci—danker,' said Wimpy.
The officious NCO looked down at him belligerently, obviously about to speak.
'D'low, seevooplay,' said Wimpy. 'Wasser?'
The NCO snapped his fingers at the soldier. 'Wasser!'
dummy4
The soldier handed Wimpy his water-bottle, watched him drink, and brought it to Bastable in turn. Bastable looked at him helplessly, unable to let go of the handles of the cart.
' Ach-sso!' The soldier held the water-bottle to his lips and he glugged thirstily, the water running down his chin. He hadn't realized how thirsty he had been, and that seemed very strange to him, And, at the same time, he felt guilty at drinking all the soldier's water; drinking another man's water wasn't right.
But the soldier grinned at him. 'Goot? Goot?'
It tasted rather odd, with a chemical tang to it, and it was stale and luke-warm. But it was good.
'G—' Bastable started to say as much, but cut off the word just in time, turning it into a guttural sound. 'G-g-g!' he nodded at the soldier, who nodded back at him as though delighted.
'Schown!' snapped the NCO, pointing to the queer French signpost at the crossroads.' Rraymee-der-soo— Dayzay vrez—
huh?'
Bastable squinted at the signpost.
REMY-DEUX-SOUS 5.5—to the left.
'Desevres—oui!' said Wimpy, nodding.
'Les Moolinz—' The NCO pointed to the right'—verboaten—
verboaten! Nicht Les Moolinz—ja?'
LES MOULINS 6.5—to the right!
dummy4
'Desevres—Colembert!' Wimpy pointed to the left. 'Ja!' The NCO nodded vigorously, and started to turn away.
'Mo-mong!' exclaimed Wimpy, stopping him. 'Mine hair—jay bezwa'n dern pistolay—rayvolvur . ..
The German NCO frowned at him, and then shook his head.
What the devil—? thought Bastable, swivelling the cart handles in already-sweating palms.
'Nine! Nicht pistole!' The NCO shook his head again.
The meaning came to Bastable with a rush of blood to his brain: Wimpy was mad again—he was spoiling everything, just as they had achieved the impossible!
Things happened simultaneously. Wimpy was mad, and the NCO was shaking his head, and the no-longer- poker-faced soldier, who had been watching events with interest while reattaching his water-bottle to his equipment, was banging on the tailboard of the lorry and shouting into it.
Wimpy had produced his piece of paper again, and was gabbling a mixture of French-and-German at the NCO with the same pedantic, schoolmasterish obstinacy as he so often used on Bastable himself.
The soldier returned to them, and promptly presented a revolver to his NCO—an odd-shaped thing—with a nod of his own towards Wimpy.
The NCO stared at the revolver in his hand as though it was a snake about to bite him; and then fumbled with it—and dummy4
swore at it, and finally changed hands before succeeding in breaking it open and swore again.
Somebody shouted from up ahead, and banged his hand on the side of the lorry insistently—it was the driver leaning out of his cab, eager as all drivers were to get moving again.
The NCO snapped the revolver again, and shook his head, but with resignation this time, and slapped the weapon into Wimpy's hands—while the soldiers in the lorry cheered and stamped their feet—and swung away
