IN THE FRENCH CAMP
John rushed forward and grasped his comrade. The sympathetic hands of
others seized him also, and they raised him to his feet, while an
officer gave him stimulant out of a flask, John meanwhile telling who
his comrade was. Lannes' eyes opened and he flushed through the tan of
his face.
"Pardon," he said, "it was a momentary weakness. I am ashamed of myself,
but I shall not faint again."
"You've been shot," said the officer, looking at his sanguinary cap and
face.
"So I have, but I ask your pardon for it. I won't let it occur again."
Lannes was now standing stiffly erect, and his eyes shone with pride, as
the general, a tall, elderly man, rapidly read the letter that Philip
had delivered with his own hand. The officer who had spoken of his wound
looked at him with approval.
"I've heard of you, Philip Lannes," he said, "you're the greatest flying
man in the world."
Lannes' eyes flashed now.
"You do me too much honor," he said, "but it was not I who brought our
aeroplane here. It was my American friend, John Scott, now standing
beside me, who beat off an attack upon us and who then, although he had
had no practical experience in flying, guided the machine to this spot.
Born an American, he is one of us and France already owes him much."
John raised his hand in protest, but he saw that Lannes was enjoying
himself. His dramatic instinct was finding full expression. He had not
only achieved a great triumph, but his best friend had an important
share in it. There was honor for both, and his generous soul rejoiced.
Both John and Lannes stood at attention until the general had read the
letter not once but twice and thrice. Then he took off his glasses,
rubbed them thoughtfully a moment or two, replaced them and looked
keenly at the two. He was a quiet man and he made no gestures, but John
met his gaze serenely, read his eyes and saw the tremendous weight of
responsibility back of them.
"You have done well, you two, perhaps far better than you know," said
the general, "and now, since you are wounded, Philip Lannes, you must
have attention. De Rougemont, take care of them."
De Rougemont, a captain, was the man to whom they had been talking, and
he gladly received the charge. He was a fine, well built officer, under
thirty, and it was obvious that he already took a deep interest in the
two young aviators. Noticing Lannes' anxious glances toward his precious
machine, he promptly detailed two men to take care of the _Arrow_ and
then he led John and Lannes toward the group of tents.
"First I'll get a surgeon for you," he said to the Frenchman, "and after
that there's food for you both."
"I hope you'll tell the surgeon to be careful how he takes off my cap,"
said Lannes, "because it's fastened to my head now by my own dried
blood."
"Trust me for that," said de Rougemont. "I'll bring one of our best
men."
Then, unable to suppress his curiosity any longer, he added:
"I suppose the message you brought was one of life or death for France."
"I think so," said Lannes, "but I know little of its nature, myself."
"I would not ask you to say any more. I know that you cannot speak of
it. But you can tell me this. Are the Germans before Paris?"
"As nearly as I could tell, their vanguard was within fifteen miles of
the capital."
"Then if we strike at all we must strike quickly. I think we're going to
strike."
Lannes was silent, and they entered the tent, where blankets were spread
for him. A surgeon, young and skillful, came promptly, carefully removed
the cap and bound up his head. John stood by and handed the surgeon the
bandages.
"You're not much hurt," he said to Lannes as he finished. "Your chief
injury was shock, and that has passed. I can keep down the fever and
you'll be ready for work very soon. The high powered bullet makes a
small and clean wound. It tears scarcely at all. Nor will your beauty be
spoiled in the slightest, young sir. Both orifices are under the full
thickness of your hair."
"I'm grateful for all your assurances," said Lannes, his old indomitable
smile appearing in his eyes, "but you'll have to cure me fast, faster
than you ever cured anybody before, because I'm a flying man, and I fly
again tomorrow."
"Not tomorrow. In two or three days, perhaps--"
"Yes, tomorrow, I tell you! Nothing can keep me from it! This army will
march tonight! I know it! and do you think such a wound as this can keep
me here, when the fate of Europe is being decided? I'd rise from these
blankets and go with the army even if I knew that it would make me fall
dead the next day!"
He spoke with such fierce energy that the surgeon who at first sternly
forbade, looked doubtful and then acquiescent.
"Go, then," he said, "if you can. The fact that we have so many heroes
may save us."
He left John alone in the tent with Lannes. The Frenchman regarded his
comrade with a cool, assured gaze.
"John," he said, "I shall be up in the _Arrow_ tomorrow. I'm not nervous
and excited now, and I'll not cause any fever in my wound. Somebody will
come in five minutes with food. I shall eat a good supper, fall quietly
to sleep, sleep soundly until night, then rise, refreshed and strong,
and go about the work for which I'm best fitted. My mind shall rule over
my body."
"I see you're what we would call at home a Christian Scientist, and in
your case when a mind like yours is brought to bear there's something in
it."
The food appeared within the prescribed time, and both ate heartily.
John watched Lannes. He knew that he would suffer agonies of
mortification if he were not able to share in the great movement which
so obviously was about to take place, and, as he looked, he felt a
growing admiration for Philip's immense power of self-control.
Mind had truly taken command of body. Lannes ate slowly and with evident
relish. From without came many noises of a great army, but he refused to
be disturbed or excited by them. He spoke lightly of his life before the
war, and of a little country home that the Lannes family had in
Normandy.
"We own the two places, that and the home in the city," he said. "The
house in Normandy is small, but it's beautiful, hidden by flower gardens
and orchards, with a tiny river just back of the last orchard. Julie has
spent most of her life there. She and my mother would go there now, but
it's safer at Lyons or in the Midi. A wonderful girl, Julie! I hope,
John, that you'll come for a long stay with us after the war, among the
Normandy orchards and roses."
"I hope so," said John. He was dreaming a little then, and he saw young
Julie sitting at the table with them back in Paris. Truly, her golden
hair was the purest gold he had ever seen, and there was no other blue
like the blue of her blue eyes.
"Now, John," said Lannes, "I'll resume my place on the blankets and in
ten minutes I'll be asleep."
He lay down, closed his eyes and three minutes short of the appointed
time slept soundly. John gazed at him for a moment in wonder and
admiration. The triumph of will over body had been complete. He touched
Lannes' head. It was normally cool. Either the surgeon's skill had been
great or the very strength of his resolve had been so immense that he
had kept nerves and blood too quiet for fever to rise.
John left the tent, feeling for the time a personal detachment from
everything. He had no position in this army, and no orders had been
given to him by anybody. But he knew that he was among friends, and
while he stood looking about in uncertainty Captain de Rougemont
appeared.
"How is young Lannes?" he asked.
"Sleeping and free from fever. He will move with the army, or rather he
will be hovering over it in his aeroplane. I never before saw such
extraordinary power of will."
"He's a wonderful fellow. Of course, most of us have heard of him
through his marvelous flying exploits, but it's the first time that I've
ever seen him. What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I seem to be left high and dry for the present, at least.
My company is with one of the armies, but where that army is now is more
than I can tell."
"Nor do I know either. We're all in the dark here, but any young strong
man can certainly get a chance to fight in this war. I'm on the staff of
General Vaugirard, a brigade commander, and he needs active young
officers. You speak good French, and the fact that you came with Lannes
will be a great recommendation, I'll provide you with a horse and all
else necessary."
John thanked him with great sincerity. The offer was in truth most
welcome. He knew that Lannes would willingly take him in the _Arrow_,
but he felt that he would be in the way there and, as he had said to his
friend, the rolling earth rather than the air around it was his true
field of action. His first enrollment in the French army had been
hurried and without due forms, but war had made it good.
"I'll not come back for you until afternoon," said de Rougemont,
"because we're already making preparations to advance, and I shall have
much to do meanwhile. You can watch over Lannes and see that he's not
interrupted in his sleep. He'll need it."
"Yes, I have reason to know that he did not sleep at all last night, and
he must be in a state of complete exhaustion. But, just as he predicted,
he'll rise, his old self again."
Captain de Rougemont hurried away, and John was left alone in the midst
of a great army. He stood before Lannes' tent, which was in the midst of
a grassy and rather elevated opening, and he heard once more the
infinite sounds made by two hundred thousand armed men, blending into
one vast, fused note.
The army, too, was moving, or getting ready to move. Batteries of the
splendid French artillery passed before him, squadrons of horsemen
galloped by, and regiments of infantry followed. It all seemed confused,
aimless to the eye, but John knew that nevertheless it was proceeding
with order and method, directed by a master mind.
Often trumpets sounded and the motion of the troops seemed to quicken.
Now he beheld men from the lands of the sun, the short, dark, fierce
soldiers of the Midi, youths of Marseilles and youths of the first Roman
province, whose native language was Provencal and not French. He
remembered the men of the famous battalion who had marched from
Marseilles to Paris singing Rouget de Lisle's famous song, and giving it
their name, while they tore down an ancient kingdom. Doubtless, spirits
no less ardent and fearless than theirs were here now.
He saw the Arabs in turbans and flowing robes, and black soldiers from
Senegal, and seeing these men from far African deserts he knew that
France was rallying her strength for a supreme effort. The German
Empire, with the flush of unbroken victory in war after war, could
command the complete devotion of its sons, but the French Republic,
without such triumphs as yet, could do as well. John felt an immense
pride because he, too, was republican to the core, and often there was a
lot in a name.
It was about noon now, and the sun was shining with dazzling brilliancy.
The tall hill and the low hill were clothed in deep green, and the
waters of the little river that ran between, sparkled in the light. The
air was crisp with a cool wind that blew from the west, and John felt
that the omens were good for the great mysterious movement which he
believed to be at hand.
He looked into the tent and saw that Lannes was sleeping soundly, with a
good color in his face. A powerful constitution aided by a strong will
had done its work and he was sure that on the morrow Lannes would again
be the most daring French scout of the air.
John found the waiting hard work. There was so much movement and action
that he wanted to be a part of it. He had thrown in his lot with this
army and he wanted to share its work at once. Yet much time passed, and
de Rougemont did not return. The evidences that the great French army
was marching to the point designated in the note brought by Lannes
multiplied. From the crest of the hill he already saw large bodies of
troops marching forward steadily, their long blue coats flapping
awkwardly about their legs. He wondered once more why they wore such an
inharmonious and conspicuous uniform as blue frock coats and baggy red
trousers.
He heard presently the martial sounds of the Marseillaise, and the
regiment singing it passed very close to him. The men were nearly all
short, dark, and very young. But the spring and fire with which they
marched were magnificent. As they thundered out the grand old tune their
feet seemed scarcely to touch the earth, and fierce eyes glowed in dark
faces.
John, with a start, recognized one, a petty officer, a sergeant it
seemed, who marched beside the line. He was the most eager of them all,
and his face was tense and wrapt. It was Geronimo, the little Apache, in
whom the spark of patriotism had lit the fire of genius. His call had
come and it had drawn him from a half savage life into one of glorious
deeds for his country.
"He'll be a general if he isn't killed first," murmured John, with
absolute conviction.
Geronimo, at that moment, looked his way and recognized him. His hand
flew to his head in a military salute, which John returned in kind, and
his eyes plainly showed pleasure at sight of this new friend whom he had
made in a few minutes on the Butte Montmartre.
"We meet again," he said, "and before the week is out it will be victory
or death."
"I think so, too," said John.
"I know it," said Geronimo, and, saluting once more, he marched on with
his regiment. John saw them pass across the valley and join the great
mass of troops that filled the whole northern horizon. About an hour
later a cheerful voice called to him, and he beheld Lannes standing in
the door of the tent, his head well bandaged, but his eyes clear and
strong and the natural color in his face.
"What has happened, John?" he asked.
"You've slept six or seven hours."
"And while I slept, the army, as I can see, has begun its march
according to the order we brought. I'm sorry I had to miss any of it,
but I was bound to sleep."
"You're a marvel."
"No marvel at all. I'm merely one of a million Frenchmen molded on the
same model. An army can't move fast and tonight the _Arrow_ and I will
be hovering over its front. There's your old place for you in the
plane."
"I'd only be in your way, Philip. But can't you wait until tomorrow?
Don't rush yourself while you've got a new wound."
"The wound is nothing. I'm bound to go tonight with the _Arrow_. But
what are you going to do if you don't go with me?"
"A new friend whom I've made while you slept has found a place for me
with him, on the staff of General Vaugirard, a brigade commander. I
shall serve there until I'm able to rejoin the Strangers."
"General Vaugirard! I've seen him. An able man, and a most noticeable
figure. You've fared well."
"I hope so. Here comes Captain de Rougemont."
The captain showed much pleasure at seeing Lannes up and apparently
well.
"What! Has our king of the air revived so soon!" he exclaimed.
"The dead themselves would rise when we're about to strike for the life
of France," said Lannes, his dramatic quality again coming to the front.
"Well spoken," said de Rougemont, the color flushing into his face.
"I return to my aeroplane within two hours," said Lannes. "I hold a
commission from our government which allows me to operate somewhat as a
free lance, but, of course, I shall conform for the present to the
wishes of the man who commands the flying corps of this army. Meanwhile,
I leave with you my young Yankee friend here, John Scott. For some
strange reason I've conceived for him a strong brotherly affection.
Kindly see that he doesn't get killed unless it's necessary for our
country, and this, I think, is a long enough speech for me to make now."
"I'll do my best for him," said de Rougemont earnestly. "I've come for
you, Scott."
"Good-bye, Philip," said John, extending his hand.
"Good-bye, John," said Lannes, "and do as I tell you. Don't get yourself
killed unless it's absolutely necessary."
Usually so stoical, his voice showed emotion, and he turned away after
the strong pressure of the two hands. John and de Rougemont walked down
the valley, where they joined General Vaugirard and the rest of his
staff.
As soon as John saw the general he knew what Lannes meant by his phrase
"a noticeable figure." General Vaugirard was a man of about sixty, so
enormously fat that he must have weighed three hundred pounds. His face
was covered with thick white beard, out of which looked small, sharp red
eyes. He reminded John of a great white bear. The little red eyes bored
him through for an instant, and then their owner said briefly:
"De Rougemont has vouched for you. Stay with him. An orderly has your
horse."
A French soldier held for him a horse bearing all the proper equipment,
and John, saluting the general, sprang into the saddle. He was a good
horseman, and now he felt thoroughly sure of himself. If it came to the
worst, and he was unseated, the earth was not far away, but if he were
thrown out of the _Arrow_ he would have a long and terrible time in
falling.
General Vaugirard had not yet mounted, but stood beside a huge black
horse, fit to carry such a weight. He was listening and looking with the
deepest attention and his staff was silent around him. John saw from
their manner that these men liked and respected their immense general.
More trumpets sounded, much nearer now, and a messenger galloped up,
handing a note to General Vaugirard, who glanced at it hastily, uttered
a deep Ah! of relief and joy and thrust it into his pocket.
Then saying to his staff, "Gentlemen, we march at once," he put one hand
on his horse's shoulder, and, to John's immense surprise, leaped as
lightly into the saddle as if he had been a riding master. He settled
himself easily into his seat, spoke a word to his staff, and then he
rode with his regiments toward that great mass of men on the horizon who
were steadily marching forward.
John kept by the side of de Rougemont. There were brief introductions to
some of the young officers nearest him, and he felt an air of
friendliness about him. As de Rougemont told them he had already given
ample proof of his devotion to the cause, and he was accepted promptly
as one of them.
John was now conscious how strongly he had projected himself into the
life of the French. He was an American for generations back and his
blood by descent was British. He had been among the Germans and he liked
them personally, he had served already with the English, and their point
of view was more nearly like the American than any other. But he was
here with the French and he felt for them the deepest sympathy of all.
He was conscious of a tie like that of blood brotherhood.
He knew it was due to the old and yet unpaid help France had given to
his own country, and above all to the conviction that France, minding
her own business, had been set upon by a greater power, with intent to
crush and destroy. France was attacked by a dragon, and the old similes
of mythology floated through his mind, but, oftenest, that of Andromeda
chained to the rock. And the figure that typified France always had the
golden hair and dark blue eyes of slim, young Julie Lannes.
They advanced several hours almost in silence, as far as talk was
concerned, but two hundred thousand men marching made a deep and steady
murmur. General Vaugirard kept well in front of his staff, riding,
despite his immense bulk, like a Comanche, and occasionally putting his
glasses to those fiery little red eyes. At length he turned and beckoned
to John, who promptly drew up to his side.
"You speak good French?" he said in his native tongue.
"Yes, sir," replied John promptly.
"I understand that you came with the flying man, Lannes, who brought the
message responsible for this march, and that it is not the only time
you've done good service in our cause?"
John bowed modestly.
"Did you see any German troops on the way?"
"Only a band of Uhlans."
"A mere scouting party. It occurred to me that you might have seen
masses of troops belonging to the foe, indicating perhaps what is
awaiting us at the end of our march."
"I know nothing, sir. The Uhlans were all the foes we saw from the air,
save the man who shot Lannes."
"I believe you. You belong to the youngest of the great nations. Your
people have not yet learned to say with the accents of truth the thing
that is not. I am sixty years old, and yet I have the curiosity to know
where I am going and what I am expected to do when I get there. Behold
how I, an old man, speak so frankly to you, so young."
"When I saw your excellency leap into the saddle you did not seem to me
to be more than twenty."
John called him "your excellency" because he thought that in the absence
of precise knowledge of what was fitting the term was as good as
another.
A smile twinkled in the eyes of General Vaugirard. Evidently he was
pleased.
"That is flattery, flattery, young man," he said, "but it pleases me.
Since I've drawn from you all you know, which is but little, you may
fall back with your comrades. But keep near; I fancy I shall have much
for you to do before long. Meanwhile, we march on, in ignorance of what
is awaiting us. Ah, well, such is life!"
He seemed to John a strange compound of age and youth, a mixture of the
philosopher and the soldier. That he was a real leader John could no
longer doubt. He saw the little red eyes watching everything, and he
noticed that the regiments of Vaugirard had no superiors in trimness and
spirit.
They marched until sundown and stopped in some woods clear of
undergrowth, like most of those in Europe. The camp kitchens went to
work at once, and they received good food and coffee. As far as John
could see men were at rest, but he could not tell whether the whole army
was doing likewise. It spread out much further to both right and left
than his eyes could reach.
The members of the staff tethered their horses in the grove, and after
supper stood together and talked, while the fat general paced back and
forth, his brow wrinkled in deep thought.
"Good old Papa Vaugirard is studying how to make the best of us," said
de Rougemont. "We're all his children. They say that he knows nearly ten
thousand men under his command by face if not by name, and we trust him
as no other brigade commander in the army is trusted by his troops. He's
thinking hard now, and General Vaugirard does not think for nothing. As
soon as he arrives at what seems to him a solution of his problem he
will begin to whistle. Then he will interrupt his whistling by saying:
'Ah, well, such is life.'"
"I hope he'll begin to whistle soon," said John, "because his brow is
wrinkling terribly."
He watched the huge general with a sort of fascinated gaze. Seen now in
the twilight, Vaugirard's very bulk was impressive. He was immense,
strong, primeval. He walked back and forth over a line about thirty feet
long, and the deep wrinkles remained on his brow. Every member of his
staff was asking how long it would last.
A sound, mellow and soft, but penetrating, suddenly arose. General
Vaugirard was whistling, and John's heart gave a jump of joy. He did not
in the least doubt de Rougemont's assertion that an answer to the
problem had been found.
General Vaugirard whistled to himself softly and happily. Then he said
twice, and in very clear tones: "Ah, well, such is life!" He began to
whistle again, stopped in a moment or two and called to de Rougemont,
with whom he talked a while.
"We're to march once more in a half-hour," said de Rougemont, when he
returned to John and his comrades. "It must be a great converging
movement in which time is worth everything. At least, General Vaugirard
thinks so, and he has a plan to get us into the very front of the
action."
"I hope so," said John. "I'm not anxious to get killed, but I'd rather
be in the battle than wait. I wonder if I'll meet anywhere on the front
that company to which I belong, the Strangers."
"I think I've heard of them," said de Rougemont, "a body of Americans
and Englishmen, volunteers in the French service, commanded by Captain
Daniel Colton."
"Right you are, and I've two particular friends in that company--I
suppose they've rejoined it--Wharton, an American, and Carstairs, an
Englishman. We went through a lot of dangers together before we reached
the British army near Mons, and I'd like to see them again."
"Maybe you will, but here comes an extraordinary procession."
They heard many puffing sounds, uniting in one grand puffing chorus, and
saw advancing down a white road toward them a long, ghostly train, as if
a vast troop of extinct monsters had returned to earth and were marching
this way. But John knew very well that it was a train of automobiles and
raising the glasses that he now always carried he saw that they were
empty except for the chauffeurs.
General Vaugirard began to whistle his mellowest and most musical tune,
stopping only at times to mutter a few words under his breath. John
surmised that he was expressing deep satisfaction, and that he had been
waiting for the motor train. War was now fought under new conditions.
The Germans had thousands and scores of thousands of motors, and perhaps
the French were provided almost as well.
"I fancy," said de Rougemont, who was also watching the arrival of the
machines, "that we'll leave our horses now and travel by motor."
De Rougemont's supposition was correct. The line of automobiles began to
mass in front, many rows deep, and all the chauffeurs, their great
goggles shining through the darkness, were bent over their wheels ready
to be off at once with their armed freight. It filled John with elation,
and he saw the same spirit shining in the eyes of the young French
officers.
General Vaugirard began to puff like one of the machines. He threw out
his great chest, pursed up his mouth and emitted his breath in little
gusts between his lips, "Very good! Very good, my children!" he said,
"Oil and electricity will carry us now, and we go forward, not
backward!"
True to de Rougemont's prediction, the horses were given to orderlies,
and the staff and a great portion of the troops were taken into the
cars. General Vaugirard and several of the older officers occupied a
huge machine, and just behind him came de Rougemont, John and a
half-dozen young lieutenants and captains in another. Before them
stretched a great white road. Far overhead hovered many aeroplanes. John
had no doubt that the _Arrow_ was among them, or rather was the farthest
one forward. Lannes' eager soul, wound or no wound, would keep him in
front.
They now moved rapidly, and John's spirits continued to rise. There was
something wonderful in this swift march on wheels in the moonlight. As
far back as he could see the machines came in a stream, and to the left
and right he saw them proceeding on other roads also. All the country
was strange to John. He could not remember having seen it from the
aeroplane, and he was sure that the army, instead of going to Paris, was
bound for some point where it would come in instant contact with the
German forces.
"Do you know the road?" he asked of de Rougemont.
"Not at all. I'm from the Gironde country. I've been in Paris, but I
know little of the region about it. A good way to reach the front, is it
not, Mr. Scott?"
"Fine. I fancy that we're hurried forward to make a link in a chain, or
at least to stop a gap."
"And those large birds overhead are scouting for us."
"Look! One of them is dropping down. I dare say it's making a report to
some general higher in rank than ours."
He pointed with a long forefinger, and John watched the aeroplane come
down in its slanting course like a falling star. It was a beautiful
night, a light blue sky, with a fine moon and hosts of clear stars. One
could see far, and soon after the plane descended John saw it rise again
from the same spot, ascend high in air, and shoot off toward the east.
"That may have been Lannes," he said.
"Likely as not," said de Rougemont.
John now observed General Vaugirard, who sat erect in the front of his
automobile, with a pair of glasses, relatively as huge as himself, to
his eyes. Occasionally he would purse his lips, and John knew that his
favorite expression was coming forth. To the young American's
imaginative mind his broad back expressed rigidity and strength.
The great murmuring sound, the blended advance of so many men, made John
sleepy by-and-by. In spite of himself his heavy eyelids drooped, and
although he strove manfully against it, sleep took him. When he awoke he
heard the same deep murmur, like the roll of the sea, and saw the army
still advancing. It was yet night, though fine and clear, and there
before him was the broad, powerful back of the general. Vaugirard was
still using the glasses and John judged that he had not slept at all.
But in his own machine everybody was asleep except the man at the wheel.
The country had grown somewhat hillier, but its characteristics were the
same, fertile, cultivated fields, a small wood here and there, clear
brooks, and church spires shining in the dusk. Both horse and foot
advanced across the fields, but the roads were occupied by the motors,
which John judged were carrying at least twenty thousand men and maybe
forty thousand.
He was not sleepy now, and he watched the vast panorama wheel past. He
knew without looking at his watch that the night was nearly over,
because he could already smell the dawn. The wind was freshening a bit,
and he heard its rustle in the leaves of a wood as they pushed through
it.
Then came a hum and a whir, and a long line of men on motor cycles at
the edge of the road crept up and then passed them. One checked his
speed enough to run by the side of John's car, and the rider, raising
his head a little, gazed intently at the young American. His cap closed
over his face like a hood, but the man knew him.
"Fortune puts us on the same road again, Mr. Scott," he said.
"I don't believe I know you," said John, although there was a familiar
note in the voice.
"And yet you've met me several times, and under exciting conditions. It
seems to me that we're always pursuing similar things, or we wouldn't be
together on the same road so often. You're acute enough. Don't you know
me now?"
"I think I do. You're Fernand Weber, the Alsatian."
"And so I am. I knew your memory would not fail you. It's a great
movement that we've begun, Mr. Scott. France will be saved or destroyed
within the next few days."
"I think so."
"You've deserted your friend, Philip Lannes, the finest of our airmen."
"Oh, no, I haven't. He's deserted me. I couldn't afford to be a burden
on his aeroplane at such a time as this."
"I suppose not. I saw an aeroplane come down to earth a little while
ago, and then rise again. I'm sure it was his machine, the _Arrow_."
"So am I."
"Here's where he naturally would be. Good-bye, Mr. Scott, and good luck
to you. I must go on with my company."
"Good-bye and good luck," repeated John, as the Alsatian shot forward.
He liked Weber, who had a most pleasing manner, and he was glad to have
seen him once more.
"Who was that?" asked de Rougemont, waking from his sleep and catching
the last words of farewell.
"An Alsatian, named Fernand Weber, who has risked his life more than
once for France. He belongs to the motor-cycle corps that's just
passing."
"May he and his comrades soon find the enemy, because here is the day."
The leaves and grass rippled before the breeze and over the eastern
hills the dawn broke.