There was a violent jar; the steering wheel was torn from Jacques' grasp; the big ambulance rocked crazily and then pitched forward. The three boys were thrown headlong from their seats.
Earl looked about him. He was in a long room with high ceilings and his surroundings seemed very unfamiliar to him. He was lying flat on his back and he tried to rise; a heavy weight seemed to hold him down and he felt a dull pain in his leg. He discovered that he was lying in a bed.
He turned his head to one side and spied another bed; in fact the room was filled with them. He was in a hospital, but how had he been wounded? He had no recollection of it. Every bed had an occupant; Earl looked the other way and the same sight met his eye. In the bed to his left, much to his amazement, he discovered Jacques. So he too was wounded. How had it all happened? Suddenly he remembered the ambulance and the violent jar they had received; that must have been it.
"Are you comfortable?" she inquired gently.
"Yes," said Earl, "but how did I get here? What happened?"
"You and your brother and your friend were in an ambulance and ran into a shell hole. You were all thrown out and your leg was broken."
"Is my brother here?" demanded Earl eagerly. "Where is he?"
Leon looked to his right. "That fellow with the bandages all around his head?" he exclaimed in alarm. "What is the matter with him?"
"He has concussion of the brain; his head is also cut."
"Thank goodness!" said Earl fervently. "How about Jacques?"
"He is only badly bruised," smiled the nurse. "He is asleep now."
"What do you think of us?" demanded Earl disgustedly. "We fight in the first line trenches for months, in the biggest war in the history of the world, and we go up in monoplanes and fight battles in the air. In fact we do about everything dangerous there is to do and no harm comes to us at all. Then we go out in an automobile and get all smashed up; that's a fine way to be wounded in war. It makes me sick!"