"What can I do?..." she said to them aloud, in distress.

But they understood nothing, and seemed to echo in their strange bird
language, "What can _we_ do ... what can _we_ do?..." ("And I..." she
thought in consternation, "am responsible for this!")

But the last lorry had drawn alongside, and a French sergeant descended
from it and joined the Annamites. He walked to the edge of the road, saw
the radiator below upon a rock, and shrugged his shoulders. Catching
sight of Fanny's face of horror he laughed.

"_Ne vous en faites pas, mademoiselle_! These poor devils sleep as they
drive. Yes, even with their eyes open. We started nine this morning. We
were four when we met you--and now we are three!"

On the third morning the rain stopped for an hour or two. Fanny had no
run till the afternoon, and going into the garage in the morning she set
to work on her car.

"Where can I get water?" she asked a man.

"The pump is broken," he replied. "I backed my car against it last
night. But there is a tap by that broken wall on the piece of
waste ground."

She crossed to the wall with her bucket.

Standing upon the waste ground was an old, closed limousine whose engine
had long been injured past repair. One of the glass windows was broken,
but it was as roomy and comfortable as a first-class railway carriage,