At sight of the young
American he raised up to a sitting position, disclosing his right arm
and wrist still in splints and bandages. Moreover the pains of moving
himself made him groan and ejaculate after the mercurial manner or the
Frenchman unused to lying still and eager always to be up and doing.
"Ah, it ees mon comrade Blaine! Ver welcome -- mooch so! Wish mooch
you speak ze language, ze French."
Monsieur Cheval, really a noted aviator, had chummed much with the
American contingent and had been in the States once, though only for a
short time. But he had learned "ze language" -- after a fashion. When
Blaine briefly explained what he wanted and what the squadron commander
had said, Cheval lay back with a deep sigh, saying:
"Merci, comrade!" Here he chuckled. "I like to go: I want to go! But
I no use to you now. Not at all! I no use to myself. Voila! I got
well queek; better so here; not over yon in No-Man's-Land. But you be
sure bring my enfant back safe, my Bleriot -- Ah! A great baby is my
Bleriot!"
Blaine promised to do his best. His pal and comrade, Orris Erwin, was
also good, safe -- in short, reliable.
"Never fear, Monsieur Cheval! Unless they get us up yonder," pointing
vaguely upward into the sky, "we will fetch her back all right. Good
luck! Try to be out as soon as you can. We miss you on these little
trips after Fritzy.
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