ort docked at a certain port
in France, and Ned, Bob and Jerry were able, with their water-weary
comrades, to go ashore.

"Here at last!" murmured Jerry, as he and his chums sought their own
company.

"And where are the Huns we're going to fight?" asked Bob, looking
around at the strange scenes.

"Oh, we won't see them right away," returned Ned. "It'll be more
training camp for ours for a while. But we'll see real fighting soon
enough. Don't worry."

"It can't come any too soon for me, Buddy!" exclaimed a tall, Southern
lad, with whom the Motor Boys had become chummy at Camp Dixton. "Lead
me to it!"

But there was much to be done before this would occur. After the boys
had disembarked they were inspected, roll was called, and then they
were told to march to a designated depot, there to eat and be fitted
out for a march to the French village where they were to be billeted
until sent to a training camp.

Professor Snodgrass could not, of course, stay with the army boys, but
he announced that he would follow them as closely as possible, and
keep in communication with them. As soon as might be he would arrange
to begin the search for the two missing girls.

Not all that Ned, Bob and Jerry had read of the gigantic work
undertaken to fit out and maintain the American armies in France
prepared them for what they saw. The port where the transport docked
had been transformed. Great storehouses and warehouses were erected.
Whole railway systems had been built, with the American locomotives
replacing the diminutive French ones. And the French population and
army representatives were as much surprised at the initiative and
wonderful progress of the American forces as were the new recruits
themselves.

"Say, we're going into this war with both feet!" exclaimed Jerry
admiringly.

"That's the only way to do it," said Ned. "The harder we go at it the
sooner it will be over."

They had their "chow," and even Bob admitted that it was "mighty
good," and, as you know, he was a connoisseur.

Then, with their comrades, the three Motor Boys marched to the place
where they were to spend the night before going to the training camp.
This was a small French village, and its quaint beauty, unspoiled by
the Germans, was very attractive to the sea-weary soldiers.

Ned, Bob and Jerry were billeted with five others at a French
farmhouse, where they were given beds in the attic. The "beds" were
only piles of clean straw, but the lads