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.



CHAPTER IV

THE INVISIBLE HAND

It was a brilliant morning sun, deepening the green of the pleasant land, lighting up villages and glinting off church steeples. In a field a little distance to their right John saw two peasants at work already, bent over, their eyes upon the ground, apparently as indifferent to the troops as the troops were to them.

It was very early, but the sun was rising fast, unfolding a splendid panorama. The French army with its blues and reds was more spectacular than the German, and hence afforded a more conspicuous target. John was sure that if the war went on the French would discard these vivid uniforms and betake themselves to gray or khaki. He saw clearly that the day of gorgeous raiment for the soldier had passed.

The great puffing sound of primeval monsters which had blended into one rather harmonious note ceased, as if by signal, and the innumerable motors stopped. As far as John could see the army stretched to left and right over roads, hills and fields, but in the fields behind them the silent peasants went on with their work—in fields which the Republic had made their own.

"I think we take breakfast here," said Rougemont. "War is what one of your famous American generals said it was, but for the present, at least, we are marching de luxe. Here comes one of those glorious camp-kitchens."

An enormous motor vehicle, equipped with all the paraphernalia of a kitchen, stopped near them, and men, trim and neatly dressed, served hot food and steaming coffee. General Vaugirard had alighted also, and John noticed that his step was much more springy and alert than that of some officers half his age. His breath came in great gusts, and the small portion of his face not covered by thick beard was ruddy and glowing with health. He drank several cups of coffee with startling rapidity, draining each at a breath, and between times he whistled softly a pleasing little refrain.

The march must be going well. Undoubtedly General Vaugirard had received satisfactory messages in the night, while his young American aide, and other Frenchmen as young, slept.

"Well, my children," he said, rubbing his hands after his last cup of coffee had gone to its fate, "the day dawns and behold the sun of France is rising. It's not the sun of Austerlitz, but a modest republican sun that can grow and grow. Behold we are at the appointed place, set forth in the message that came to us from the commander-in-chief through Paris, and then by way of the air! And, look, my children, the bird from the blue descends once more among us!"

There were flying machines of many kinds in the air, but John promptly picked out one which seemed to be coming with the flight of an eagle out of its uppermost heights. He seemed to know its slim, lithe shape, and the rapidity and decision of its approach. His heart thrilled, as it had thrilled when he saw the Arrow coming for the first time on that spur of the Alps near Salzburg.

"It's for me," said General Vaugirard, as he looked upward. "This flying demon, this man without fear, was told to report directly to me, and he conies at the appointed hour."

Something of the mystery that belongs to the gulf of the infinite was reflected in the general's eyes. He, too, felt that man's flight in the heavens yet had in it a touch of the supernatural. Lannes' plane had seemed to shoot from white clouds, out of unknown spaces, and the general ceased to whistle or breathe gustily. His chest rose and fell more violently than usual, but the breath came softly.

The plane descended rapidly and settled down on the grass very near them. Lannes saluted and presented a note to General Vaugirard, who started and then expelled the breath from his lungs in two or three prodigious puffs.

"Good, my son, good!" he exclaimed, patting Lannes repeatedly on the shoulder; "and now a cup of coffee for you at once! Hurry with it, some of you idle children! Can't you see that he needs it!"

John was first with the coffee, which Lannes drank eagerly, although it was steaming hot. John saw that he needed it very much indeed, as he was white and shaky. He noticed, too, that there were spots of blood on Lannes' left sleeve.

"What is it, Philip?" he whispered. "You've been attacked again?"

"Aye, truly. My movements seem to be observed by some mysterious eye. A shot was fired at me, and again it came from a French plane. That was all I could see. We were in a bank of mist at the time, and I just caught a glimpse of the plane itself. The man was a mere shapeless figure to me. I had no time to fight him, because I was due here with another message which made vengeance upon him at that time a matter of little moment."

He flecked the red drops off his sleeve, and added:

"It was but a scratch. My weary look comes from a long and hard flight and not from the mysterious bullet. I'm to rest here an hour, which will be sufficient to restore me, and then I'm off again."

"Is there any rule against your telling me what you've seen, Philip?"

De Rougemont and several other officers had approached, drawn by their curiosity, and interest in Lannes.

"None at all," he replied in a tone all could hear, "but I'm able to speak in general terms only. I can't give details, because I don't know 'em. The Germans are not many miles ahead. They're in hundreds of thousands, and I hear that this is only one of a half-dozen armies."

"And our own force?" said de Rougemont eagerly.

Lannes' chest expanded. The dramatic impulse was strong upon him again.

"There is another army on our right, and another on our left," he replied, "and although I don't know surely, I think there are others still further on the line. The English are somewhere with us, too."

John felt his face tingle as the blood rose in it. He had left a Paris apparently lost. Within a day almost a tremendous transformation had occurred. A mighty but invisible intellect, to which he was yet scarcely able to attach a name, had been at work. The French armies, the beaten and the unbeaten, had become bound together like huge links in a chain, and the same invisible and all but nameless mind was drawing the chain forward with gigantic force.

"A million Frenchmen must be advancing," he heard Lannes saying, and then he came out of his vision. General Vaugirard bustled up and gave orders to de Rougemont, who said presently to John:

"Can you ride a motor cycle?"

"I've had some experience, and I'm willing to make it more."

"Good. In this army, staff officers will no longer have horses shot under them. We're to take orders on motor cycles. They've been sent ahead for us, and here's yours waiting for you."

The cycles were leaning against trees, and the members of the staff took their places beside them. General Vaugirard walked a little distance up the road, climbed into an automobile and, standing up, looked a long time through his glasses. Lannes, who had been resting on the grass, approached the general and John saw him take a note from him. Then Lannes went away to the Arrow and sailed off into the heavens. Many other planes were flying over the French army and far off in front John saw through his own glasses a fleet of them which he knew must be German.

Then he heard a sound, faint but deep, which came rolling like an echo, and he recognized it as the distant note of a big gun. He quivered a little, as he leaned against his motor cycle, but quickly stiffened again to attention. The faint rolling sound came again from their right and then many times. John, using his glasses, saw nothing there, and the giant general, still standing up in the car and also using his glasses, saw nothing there either.

Yet the same quiver that affected John had gone through this whole army of two hundred thousand men, one of the huge links in the French chain. There was none among them who did not know that the far note was the herald of battle, not a mere battle of armies, but of nations face to face.

General Vaugirard did not show any excitement. He leaped lightly from the car, and then began to pace up and down slowly, as if he were awaiting orders. The men moved restlessly on the meadows, looking like a vast sea of varied colors, as the sun glimmered on the red and blue of their uniforms.

But no order came for them to advance. John thought that perhaps they were saved to be driven as a wedge into the German center and whispered his belief to de Rougemont, who agreed with him.

"They are opening on the left, too," said the Frenchman. "Can't you hear the growling of the guns there?"

John listened and soon he separated the note from other sounds. Beyond a doubt the battle had now begun on both flanks, though at distant points. He wondered where the English force was, though he had an idea that it was on the left then. Yet he was already thoroughly at home with the staff of General Vaugirard.

The growling on either side of them seemed soon to come a little closer, but John knew nevertheless that it was many miles away.

"Not an enemy in sight, not even a trace of smoke," said de Rougemont to him. "We seem to be a great army here, merely resting in the fields, and yet we know that a huge battle is going on."

"And that's about all we do know," said John. "What has impressed me in this war is the fact that high officers even know so little. When cannon throw shells ten or twelve miles, eyesight doesn't get much chance."

A wait for a full half-hour followed, a period of intense anxiety for all in the group, and for the whole army too. John used his glasses freely, and often he saw the French soldiers moving about in a restless manner, until they were checked by their officers. But most of them were lying down, their blue coats and red trousers making a vast and vivid blur against the green of the grass.

All the while the sound of the cannon grew, but, despite the power of his glasses, John could not see a sign of war. Only that roaring sound came to tell him that battle, vast, gigantic, on a scale the world had never seen before, was joined, and the volume of the cannon fire, beyond a doubt, was growing. It pulsed heavily, and either he or his fancy noticed a steady jarring motion. A faint acrid taint crept into the air and he felt it in his nose and throat. He coughed now and then, and he observed that men around him coughed also. But, on the whole, the army was singularly still, the soldiers straining eye or ear to see something or hear more of the titanic struggle that was raging on either side of them.

John again searched the horizon eagerly with his glasses, but it showed only green hills and bits of wood, bare of human activity. The French aeroplanes still hovered, but not in front of General Vaugirard. They were off to right and left, where the wings of the nations had closed in combat. He was ceasing to think of the foes as armies, but as nations in battle line. Here stood not a French army, but France, and there stood not a German army, but Germany.

As he looked toward the left he picked out a narrow road, running between hedges, and showing but a strip of white even through the glasses. He saw something coming along this road. It was far away when he first noticed it, but it was coming with great speed, and he was soon able to tell that it was a man on a motor cycle. His pulse leaped again. He felt instinctively that the rider was for them and that he bore something of great import. The figure, man and cycle, molded into one, sped along the narrow road which led to the base of the hill on which General Vaugirard and his staff stood.

The huge general saw the approaching figure too, and he began to whistle melodiously like the note of a piccolo, with the vast thunder of the guns accompanying him as an orchestra. John knew that the cyclist was a messenger, and that he was eagerly expected. An order of some kind was at hand! All the members of the staff had the same conviction.

The cyclist stopped at the bottom of the hill, leaped from the machine and ran to General Vaugirard, to whom he handed a note. The general read it, expelled his breath in a mighty gust, and turning to his staff, said:

"My children, our time has come. The whole central army of which we are a part will advance. It will perhaps be known before night whether France is to remain a great nation or become the vassal of Germany. My children, if France ever had need for you to fight with all your hearts and souls, that need is here today."

His manner was simple and majestic, and his words touched the mind and feeling of every one who heard them. John was moved as much as if he had been a Frenchman too. He felt a profound sympathy for this devoted France, which had suffered so much, to which his own country still owed that great debt, and which had a right to her own soil, fertilized with so many centuries of labor.

General Vaugirard, resting a pad on his knee, wrote rapid notes which he gave to the members of his staff in turn to be delivered. John's was to a Parisian regiment lying in a field, and expanding body and mind into instant action, he leaped upon the cycle and sped away. It was often hard for him now to separate fact from fancy. His imagination, vivid at all times, painted new pictures while such a tremendous drama passed before him.

Yet he knew afterward that the sound of the battle did increase in volume as he flew over the short distance to the regiment. Both east and west were shaking with the tremendous concussion. One crash he heard distinctly above the others and he believed it was that of a forty-two centimeter.

He reached the field, his cycle spun between the eager soldiers, and as he leaped off in the presence of the colonel he fairly thrust the note into his hand, exclaiming at the same time in his zeal, "It's an order to advance! The whole Army of the Center is about to attack."

He called it the Army of the Center at a guess, but names did not matter now. The colonel glanced at the note, waved his sword above his head and cried in a loud voice:

"My lads, up and forward!"

The regiment arose with a roar of cheering and began to advance across the fields. John caught a glimpse of a petty officer, short and small, but as compact and fierce as a panther, driving on men who needed no driving. "Geronimo is going to make good," he said to himself. "He'll do or die today."

As he raced back for new orders, if need be, he knew now that fact not fancy told him the battle was growing. The earth shook not only on right and left but in front also. A hasty look through the glasses showed little tongues of fire licking up on the horizon before them and he knew that they came from the monster cannon of the Germans who were surely advancing, while the French were advancing also to meet them.

General Vaugirard sprang into his automobile, taking only two of his senior officers with him, while the rest followed on their motor cycles. As far as John could see on either side the vast rows of French swept across hills and fields. There was little shouting now and no sound of bands, but presently a shout arose behind them: "Way for the artillery!"

Then he heard cries, the rumble of wheels and the rapid beat of hoofs. With an instinctive shudder, lest he be ground to pieces, he pulled from the road, and saw the motor of General Vaugirard turn out also. Then the great French batteries thundered past to seek positions soon in the fields behind low hills. He saw them a little later unlimbering and making ready.

The French advance changed from a walk to a trot. John saw the Parisian regiment, not far away, but at the very front and he knew that among all those ardent souls there was none more ardent than that of the little Apache, Bougainville. Meanwhile, Vaugirard in his motor kept to the road and the staff on their motor cycles followed closely.

On both flanks the thunder of massed cannon was deepening, and now John, who used his glasses occasionally, was able to see wisps and tendrils of smoke on the eastern and northern horizons. The tremor in the air was strong and continuous. It played incessantly upon the drums of his ears, and he found that he could not hear the words of the other aides so well as before. But there was no succession of crashes. The sound was more like the roaring of a distant storm.

They advanced another mile, two hundred thousand men, afire with zeal, a whole vast army moved forward as the other French armies were by the hidden hand which they could not see, of which they knew nothing, but the touch of which they could feel.

John heard a whizzing sound, he caught a glimpse of a dark object, rushing forward at frightful velocity, and then he and his wheel reeled beneath the force of a tremendous explosion. The shell coming from an invisible point, miles away, had burst some distance on his right, scattering death and wounds over a wide radius. But Vaugirard's brigades did not stop for one instant. They cheered loudly, closed up the gap in their line, and went on steadily as before. Some one began to sing the Marseillaise, and in an instant the song, like fire in dry grass, spread along a vast front. John had often wished that he could have heard the armies of the French Revolution singing their tremendous battle hymn as they marched to victory, and now he heard it on a scale far more gigantic than in the days of the First French Republic.

The vast chorus rolled for miles and for all he knew other armies, far to right and left, might be singing it, too. The immense volume of the song drowned out everything, even that tremor in the air, caused by the big guns. John's heart beat so hard that it caused actual physical pain in his side, and presently, although he was unconscious of it, he was thundering out the verses with the others.

He was riding by the side of de Rougemont, and he stopped singing long enough to shout, at the top of his voice:

"No enemy in sight yet?"

"No," de Rougemont shouted back, "but he doesn't need to be. The German guns have our range."

From a line on the distant horizon, from positions behind hills, the German shells were falling fast, cutting down men by hundreds, tearing great holes in the earth, and filling the air with an awful shrieking and hissing. It was all the more terrible because the deadly missiles seemed to come from nowhere. It was like a mortal hail rained out of heaven. John had not yet seen a German, nothing but those tongues of fire licking up on the horizon, and some little whitish clouds of smoke, lifting themselves slowly above the trees, yet the thunder was no longer a rumble. It had a deep and angry note, whose burden was death.

They must maintain their steady march directly toward the mouths of those guns. John comprehended in those awful moments that the task of the French was terrible, almost superhuman. If their nation was to live they must hurl back a victorious foe, practically numberless, armed and equipped with everything that a great race in a half-century of supreme thought and effort could prepare for war. It was spirit and patriotism against the monstrous machine of fire and steel, and he trembled lest the machine could overcome anything in the world.

He was about to shout again to de Rougemont, but his words were lost in the rending crash of the French artillery. Their batteries were posted on both sides of him, and they, too, had found the range. All along the front hundreds of guns were opening and John hastily thrust portions that he tore from his handkerchief into his ear, lest he be deafened forever.

The sight, at first magnificent, now became appalling. The shells came in showers and the French ranks were torn and mangled. Companies existed and then they were not. The explosions were like the crash of thunderbolts, but through it all the French continued to advance. Those whose knees grew weak beneath them were upborne and carried forward by the press of their comrades. The French gunners, too, were making prodigious efforts but with cannon of such long range neither side could see what its batteries were accomplishing. John was sure, though, that the great French artillery must be giving as good as it received.

He was conscious that General Vaugirard was still going forward along the long white road, sweeping his glasses from left to right and from right to left in a continuous semi-circle, apparently undisturbed, apparently now without human emotion. He was no figure of romance, but he was a man, cool and powerful, ready to die with all his men, if death for them was needed.

Still the invisible hand swept them on, the hand that a million men in action could not see, but which every one of the million, in his own way, felt. The crash of the guns on both sides had become fused together into one roar, so steady and continued so long that the sound seemed almost normal. Voices could now be heard under it and John spoke to de Rougemont.

"Can you make anything of it?" he asked. "Do we win or do we lose?"

"It's too early yet to tell anything. The cannon only are speaking, but you'll note that our army is advancing."

"Yes, I see it. Before I've only beheld it in retreat before overwhelming numbers. This is different."

General Vaugirard beckoned to his aides, and again sent them out with messages. John's note was to the commander of a battery of field guns telling him to move further forward. He started at once through the fields on his motor cycle, but he could not go fast now. The ground had been cut deep by artillery and cavalry and torn by shells and he had to pick his way, while the shower of steel, sent by men who were firing by mathematics, swept over and about him.

Shivers seized him more than once, as shrapnel and pieces of shell flew by. Now and then he covered his eyes with one hand to shut out the horror of dead and torn men lying on either side of his path, but in spite of the shells, in spite of the deadly nausea that assailed him at times, he went on. The rush of air from a shell threw him once from his motor cycle, but as he fell on soft clodded earth he was not hurt, and, springing quickly back on his wheel, he reached the battery.

The order was welcome to the commander of the guns, who was anxious to go closer, and, limbering up, he advanced as rapidly as weapons of such great weight could be dragged across the fields. John followed, that he might report the result. They were now facing toward the east and the whole horizon there was a blaze of fire. The shells were coming thicker and thicker, and the air was filled with the screaming of the shrapnel.

The commander of the battery, a short, powerful Frenchman, was as cool as ice, and John drew coolness from him. One can get used to almost anything, and his nervous tremors were passing. Despite the terrible fire of the German artillery the French army was still advancing. Many thousands had fallen already before the shells and shrapnel of the invisible foe, but there had been no check.

The cannon crossed a brook, and, unlimbering, again opened a tremendous fire. To one side and on a hill here, a man whom the commander watched closely was signaling. John knew that he was directing the aim of the battery and the French, like the Germans, were killing by mathematics.

He rode his cycle to the crest of a little elevation behind the battery and with his newfound coolness began to use his glasses again. Despite the thin, whitish smoke, he saw men on the horizon, mere manikins moving back and forth, apparently without meaning, but men nevertheless. He caught, too, the outline of giant tubes, the huge guns that were sending the ceaseless rain of death upon the French.

He also saw signs of hurry and confusion among those manikins, and he knew that the French shells were striking them. He rode down to the commander and told him. The swart Frenchman grinned.

"My children are biting," he said, glancing affectionately at his guns. "They're brave lads, and their teeth are long and sharp."

He looked at his signal man, and the guns let loose again with a force that sent the air rushing away in violent waves. Batteries farther on were firing also with great rapidity. In most of these the gunners were directed by field telephones strung hastily, but the one near John still depended upon signal men. It was composed of eight five-inch guns, and John believed that its fire was most accurate and deadly.

Using his glasses again, he saw that the disturbance among those manikins was increasing. They were running here and there, and many seemed to vanish suddenly—he knew that they were blown away by the shells. To the right of the great French battery some lighter field guns were advancing. One drawn by eight horses had not yet unlimbered, and he saw a shell strike squarely upon it. In the following explosion pieces of steel whizzed by him and when the smoke cleared away the gun, the gunners and the horses were all gone. The monster shell had blown everything to pieces. The other guns hurried on, took up their positions and began to fire. John shuddered violently, but in a moment or two, he, too, forgot the little tragedy in the far more gigantic one that was being played before him.

He rode back to General Vaugirard and told him that his order had been obeyed. The general nodded, but did not take his glasses from the horizon, where a long gray line was beginning to appear against the green of the earth. "It goes well so far," John heard him say in the under note which was audible beneath the thunder of the battle.

In a quarter of an hour the great batteries limbered up again, and once more the French army went forward, the troops to lie down and wait again, while the artillery worked with ferocious energy. It was yet a battle of big guns, at least in the center. The armies were not near enough to each other for rifles; in truth not near enough yet to be seen. John, even with his glasses, could only discern the gray line advancing, he could make little of its form or order or of what it was trying to do.

But a light wind was now bringing smoke from one flank where the battle was far heavier than in the center, and the concussion of the artillery at that point became so frightful that the air seemed to come in waves of the utmost violence and to beat upon the drum of the ear with the force of a hammer. Owing to the wind John could not hear the battle on the other flank so well, but he believed that it was being fought there with equal fury and determination.

He was watching with such intentness that he did not hear the sweep of an aeroplane behind him, but he did see Lannes run to General Vaugirard's car and give him a note.

While the general read and pondered, Lannes turned toward the wheel on which John sat. Although he tried to preserve calm, John knew that he was tremendously excited. He had taken off his heavy glasses and his wonderful gray eyes were flashing. It was obvious to his friend, who now knew him so well, that he was moved by some tremendous emotion.

John rode up by the side of Lannes and said:

"What have you seen, Philip? You can tell a little at least, can't you?"

"More than a little! A lot! The Arrow and I have looked over a great area, John! Miles and miles and yet more miles! and wherever we went we gazed down upon armies locked in battle, and beyond that were other armies locked in battle, too! The nations meet in wrath! You can't see it here, nor from anywhere on the earth! It's only in the air high overhead that one can get even a partial view of its immensity! The English army is off there on the flank, a full thirty miles away, and you're not likely to see it today!"

He would have said more, but General Vaugirard beckoned to him, gave him a note which he had written hastily, and in a few more minutes Lannes was flitting like a swallow through the heavens. Then General Vaugirard's car moved forward and brigade after brigade of the French army resumed its advance also.

John felt that the great German machine had been met by a French machine as great. Perhaps the master mind that thrills through an organism of steel no less than one of human flesh was on the French side. He did not know. The invisible hand thrusting forward the French armies was still invisible to him. Yet he felt with the certainty of conviction that the eye and the brain of one man were achieving a marvel. In some mysterious manner the French defense had become an offense. The Republican troops were now attacking and the Imperial troops were seeking to hold fast.

He seemed to comprehend it all in an instant, and a mighty joy surged over him. De Rougemont saw his glistening eye and he asked curiously:

"What is it that you are feeling so strongly, Mr. Scott?"

"The thrill of the advance! The unknown plan, whatever it is, is working! Your nation is about to be saved! I feel it! I know it!"

De Rougemont gazed at him, and then the light leaped into his own eyes.

"A prophet! A prophet!" he cried. "Inspired youth speaks!"

A great crisis may call into being a great impulse, and de Rougemont's words were at once accepted as truth by all the young aides. Words of fire, words vital with life had gone forth, predicting their triumph, and as they rode among the troops carrying orders they communicated their burning zeal to the men who were already eager for closer battle.

The storm of missiles from the cannon was increasing rapidly. John now distinctly saw the huge German masses, not advancing but standing firm to receive the French attack, their front a vast line of belching guns. He knew that they would soon be within the area of rifle fire and he knew with equal truth that it would take the valor of immense numbers, wielded by the supreme skill of leaders to drive back the Germans.

The guns, some drawn by horses and others by motors, were moving forward with them. When the horses were swept away by a shell, men seized the guns and dragged them. Then they stopped again, took new positions and renewed the rain of death on the German army.

They began to hear a whistle and hiss that they knew. It was that of the bullets, and along the vast front they were coming in millions. But the French were using their rifles, too, and at intervals the deep thundering chant of the Marseillaise swept through their ranks. In spite of shell, shrapnel and bullets, in spite of everything, the French army in the center was advancing and John believed that the armies on the other parts of the line were advancing, too.

The bullets struck around them, and then among them. One aide fell from his cycle, and lay dead in the road, two more were wounded, but two hundred thousand men, their artillery blazing death over their heads, went on straight at the mouths of a thousand cannon.

Companies and regiments were swept away, but there was no check. Nor did the other French armies, the huge links in the chain, stop. A feeling of victory had swept along the whole gigantic battle front. They were fighting for Paris, for their country, for the soil which they tended, alive, and in which they slept, dead, and just at the moment when everything seemed to have been lost they were saving all. The heroic age of France had come again, and the Third Republic was justifying the First.

The battle deepened and thickened to an extraordinary degree, as the space between the two fronts narrowed. John for the first time saw the German troops without the aid of glasses. They were mere outlines against a fiery horizon, reddened by the mouths of so many belching cannon, but they seemed to him to stand there like a wall.

Another giant shell burst near them, and two more members of the staff fell from their cycles, dead before they touched the ground. That convulsive shudder seized John again, but the crash of tremendous events was so rapid that fear and horror alike passed in an instant. A piece of the same shell struck General Vaugirard's car and put it out of action at once. But the general leaped lightly to the ground, then swung his immense bulk across one of the riderless motor cycles and advanced with the surviving members of his staff. Imperturbable, he still swept the field with his glasses. Two aides were now sent to the right with messages, and a third, John himself, was despatched to the left on a similar errand.

It was John's duty to tell a regiment to bear in further to the left and close up a vacant spot in the line. He wheeled his cycle into a field, and then passed between rows of grapevines. The regiment, its ranks much thinned, was now about a hundred yards away, but shell and bullets alike were sweeping the distance between.

Nevertheless, he rode on, his wheel bumping over the rough ground, until he heard a rushing sound, and then blank darkness enveloped him. He fell one way, and the motor cycle fell another.



CHAPTER V

SEEN FROM ABOVE

John's period of unconsciousness was brief. The sweep of air from a gigantic shell, passing close, had taken his senses for a minute or two, but he leaped to his feet to find his motor cycle broken and puffing out its last breath, and himself among the dead and wounded in the wake of the army which was advancing rapidly. The turmoil was so vast, and so much dust and burned gunpowder was floating about that he was not able to tell where the valiant Vaugirard with the remainder of his staff marched. In front of him a regiment, cut up terribly, was advancing at a swift pace, and acting under the impulse of the moment he ran forward to join them.

When he overtook the regiment he saw that it had neither colonel, nor captains nor any other officers of high degree. A little man, scarcely more than a youth, his head bare, his eyes snapping fire, one hand holding aloft a red cap on the point of a sword, had taken command and was urging the soldiers on with every fierce shout that he knew. The men were responding. Command seemed natural to him. Here was a born leader in battle. John knew him, and he knew that his own prophecy had been fulfilled.

"Geronimo!" he gasped.

But young Bougainville did not see him. He was still shouting to the men whom he now led so well. The point of the sword, doubtless taken from the hand of some fallen officer, had pierced the red cap which was slowly sinking down the blade, but he did not notice it.

John looked again for his commander, but not seeing him, and knowing how futile it was now to seek him in all the fiery crush, he resolved to stay with the young Apache.

"Geronimo," he cried, and it was the last time he called him by that name, "I go with you!"

In all the excitement of the moment young Bougainville recognized him and something droll flashed in his eyes.

"Did I boast too much?" he shouted.

"You didn't!" John shouted back.

"Come on then! A big crowd of Germans is just over this hill, and we must smash 'em!"

John kept by his side, but Bougainville, still waving his sword, while the red cap sank lower and lower on the blade, addressed his men in terms of encouragement and affection.

"Forward, my children!" he shouted. "Men, without fear, let us be the first to make the enemy feel our bayonets! Look, a regiment on the right is ahead of you, and another also on the left leads you! Faster! Faster, my children!"

An angle of the German line was thrust forward at this point where a hill afforded a strong position. Bullets were coming from it in showers, but the Bougainville regiment broke into a run, passed ahead of the others and rushed straight at the hill.

It was the first time that men had come face to face in the battle and now John saw the French fury, the enthusiasm and fire that Napoleon had capitalized and cultivated so sedulously. Shouting fiercely, they flung themselves upon the Germans and by sheer impact drove them back. They cleared the hill in a few moments, triumphantly seized four cannon and then, still shouting, swept on.

John found himself shouting with the others. This was victory, the first real taste of it, and it was sweet to the lips. But the regiment was halted presently, lest it get too far forward and be cut off, and a general striding over to Bougainville uttered words of approval that John could not hear amid the terrific din of so many men in battle—a million, a million and a half or more, he never knew.

They stood there panting, while the French line along a front of maybe fifty miles crept on and on. The French machine with the British wheels and springs cooeperating, was working beautifully now. It was a match and more for their enemy. The Germans, witnessing the fire and dash of the French and feeling their tremendous impact, began to take alarm. It had not seemed possible to them in those last triumphant days that they could fail, but now Paris was receding farther and farther from their grasp.

John recovered a certain degree of coolness. The fire of the foe was turned away from them for the present, and, finding that the glasses thrown over his shoulder, had not been injured by his fall, he examined the battle front as he stood by the side of Bougainville. The country was fairly open here and along a range of miles the cannon in hundreds and hundreds were pouring forth destruction. Yet the line, save where the angle had been crushed by the rush of Bougainville's regiment, stood fast, and John shuddered at thought of the frightful slaughter, needed to drive it back, if it could be driven back at all.

Then he glanced at the fields across which they had come. For two or three miles they were sprinkled with the fallen, the red and blue of the French uniform showing vividly against the green grass. But there was little time for looking that way and again he turned his glasses in front. The regiment had taken cover behind a low ridge, and six rapid firers were sending a fierce hail on the German lines. But the men under orders from Bougainville, withheld the fire of their rifles for the present.

Bougainville himself stood up as became a leader of men, and lowered his sword for the first time. The cap had sunk all the way down the blade and picking it off he put it back on his head. He had obtained glasses also, probably from some fallen officer, and he walked back and forth seeking a weak spot in the enemy's line, into which he could charge with his men.

John admired him. His was no frenzied rage, but a courage, measured and stern. The springs of power hidden in him had been touched and he stood forth, a born leader.

"How does it happen," said John, "that you're in command?"

"Our officers were all in front," replied Bougainville, "when our regiment was swept by many shells. When they ceased bursting upon us and among us the officers were no longer there. The regiment was about to break. I could not bear to see that, and seizing the sword, I hoisted my cap upon it. The rest, perhaps, you saw. The men seem to trust me."

"They do," said John, with emphasis.

Bougainville, for the time at least, was certainly the leader of the regiment. It was an incident that John believed possible only in his own country, or France, and he remembered once more the famous old saying of Napoleon that every French peasant carried a marshal's baton in his knapsack.

Now he recalled, too, that Napoleon had fought some of his greatest defensive battles in the region they faced. Doubtless the mighty emperor and his marshals had trod the very soil on which Bougainville and he now stood. Surely the French must know it, and surely it would give them superhuman courage for battle.

"I belong to the command of General Vaugirard," he said to Bougainville. "I'm serving on his staff, but I was knocked off my motor cycle by the rush of air from a shell. The cycle was ruined and I was unconscious for a moment or two. When I revived, my general and his command were gone."

"You'd better stay with me a while," said Bougainville. "We're going to advance again soon. When night comes, if you're still alive, then you can look for General Vaugirard. The fire of the artillery is increasing. How the earth shakes!"

"So it does. I wish I knew what was happening."

"There comes one of those men in the air. He is going to drop down by us. Maybe you can learn something from him."

John felt a sudden wild hope that it was Lannes, but his luck did not hold good enough for it. The plane was of another shape than the Arrow, and, when it descended to the ground, a man older than Lannes stepped out upon the grass. He glanced around as if he were looking for some general of division for whom he had an order, and John, unable to restrain himself, rushed to him and exclaimed:

"News! News! For Heaven's sake, give us news! Surely you've seen from above!"

The man smiled and John knew that a bearer of bad news would not smile.

"I'm the friend and comrade of Philip Lannes," continued John, feeling that all the flying men of France knew the name of Lannes, and that it would be a password to this man's good graces.

"I know him well," said the air scout. "Who of our craft does not? My own name is Caumartin, and I have flown with Lannes more than once in the great meets at Rheims. In answer to your question I'm able to tell you that on the wings the soldiers of France are advancing. A wedge has been thrust between the German armies and the one nearest Paris is retreating, lest it be cut off."

Bougainville heard the words, and he ran among the men, telling them. A fierce shout arose and John himself quivered with feeling. It was better, far better than he had hoped. He realized now that his courage before had been the courage of despair. Lannes and he, as a last resort, had put faith in signs and omens, because there was nothing else to bear them up.

"Is it true? Is it true beyond doubt! You've really seen it with your own eyes?" he exclaimed.

Caumartin smiled again. His were deep eyes, and the smile that came from them was reassuring.

"I saw it myself," he replied. "At the point nearest Paris the gray masses are withdrawing. I looked directly down upon them. And now, can you tell me where I can find General Vaugirard?"

"I wish I could. I'm on his staff, but I've lost him. He's somewhere to the northward."

"Then I'll find him."

Caumartin resumed his place in his machine. John looked longingly at the aeroplane. He would gladly have gone with Caumartin, but feeling that he would be only a burden at such a time, he would not suggest it. Nevertheless he called to the aviator:

"If you see Philip Lannes in the heavens tell him that his friend John Scott is here behind a low ridge crested with trees!"

Caumartin nodded, and as some of the soldiers gave his plane a push he soared swiftly away in search of General Vaugirard. John watched him a moment or two and then turned his attention back to the German army in front of them.

The thudding of the heavy guns to their left had become so violent that it affected his nerves. The waves of air beat upon his ears like storm-driven rollers, and he was glad when Bougainville's regiment moved forward again. The Germans seemed to have withdrawn some of their force in the center, and, for a little while, the regiment with which John now marched was not under fire.

They heard reserves now coming up behind them, more trains of motor cars, bearing fresh troops, and batteries of field guns advancing as fast as they could. Men were busy also stringing telephone wires, and, presently, they passed a battery of guns of the largest caliber, the fire of which was directed entirely by telephone. Some distance beyond it the regiment stopped again. The huge shells were passing over their heads toward the German lines, and John believed that he could hear and count every one of them.

The remains of the regiment now lay down in a dip, as they did not know anything to do, except to wait for the remainder of the French line to advance.

Something struck near them presently and exploded with a crash. Steel splinters flew, but as they were prone only one man was injured.

"They're reaching us again with their shell fire," said John.

"Not at all," said Bougainville. "Look up."

John saw high in the heavens several black specks, which he knew at once were aeroplanes. Since the bomb had been dropped from one of them it was obvious that they were German flyers, and missiles of a like nature might be expected from the same source. Involuntarily he crouched close to the ground, and tried to press himself into it. He knew that such an effort would afford him no protection, but the body sought it nevertheless. All around him the young French soldiers too were clinging to Mother Earth. Only Bougainville stood erect.

John had felt less apprehension under the artillery fire and in the charge than he did now. He was helpless here when death fell like hail from the skies, and he quivered in every muscle as he waited. A crash came again, but the bomb had struck farther away, then a third, and a fourth, each farther and farther in its turn, and Bougainville suddenly uttered a shout that was full of vengeance and exultation.

John looked up. The group of black specks was still in the sky, but another group was hovering near, and clapping his glasses to his eyes he saw flashes of light passing between them.

"You're right, Bougainville! you're right!" he cried, although Bougainville had not said a word. "The French flyers have come and there's a fight in the air!"

He forgot all about the battle on earth, while he watched the combat in the heavens. Yet it was an affair of only a few moments. The Germans evidently feeling that they were too far away from their base, soon retreated. One of their machines turned over on its side and fell like a shot through space.

John shuddered, took the glasses down, and, by impulse, closed his eyes. He heard a shock near him, and, opening his eyes again, saw a huddled mass of wreckage, from which a foot encased in a broad German shoe protruded. The ribs of the plane were driven deep into the earth and he looked away. But a hum and swish suddenly came once more, and a sleek and graceful aeroplane, which he knew to be the Arrow, sank to the earth close to him. Lannes, smiling and triumphant, stepped forth and John hailed him eagerly.

"I met Caumartin in an aerial road," said Lannes, in his best dramatic manner, "and he described this place, at which you were waiting. As it was directly on my way I concluded to come by for you. I was delayed by a skirmish overhead which you may have seen."

"Yes, I saw it, or at least part of it."

"I came in at the end only. The Taubes were too presuming. They came over into our air, but we repelled the attack, and one, as I can see here, will never come again. I found General Vaugirard, although he is now two or three miles to your right, and when I deliver a message that he has given me I return. But I take you with me now."

John was overjoyed, but he would part from Bougainville with regret.

"Philip," he said, "here is Pierre Louis Bougainville, whom I met that day on Montmartre. All the officers of this regiment have been killed and by grace of courage and intuition he now leads it better than it was ever led before."

Lannes extended his hand. Bougainville's met it, and the two closed in the clasp of those who knew, each, that the other was a man. Then a drum began to beat, and Bougainville, waving his sword aloft, led his regiment forward again with a rush. But the Arrow, with a hard push from the last of the soldiers, was already rising, Lannes at the steering rudder and John in his old place.

"You can find your cap and coat in the locker," said Lannes without looking back, and John put them on quickly. His joy and eagerness were not due to flight from the field of battle, because the heavens themselves were not safe, but because he could look down upon this field on which the nations struggled and, to some extent, behold and measure it with his own eyes.

The Arrow rose slowly, and John leaned back luxuriously in his seat. He had a singular feeling that he had come back home again. The sharp, acrid odor that assailed eye and nostril departed and the atmosphere grew rapidly purer. The rolling waves of air from the concussion of the guns became much less violent, and soon ceased entirely. All the smoke floated below him, while above the heavens were a shining blue, unsullied by the dust and flame of the conflict.

"Do you go far, Philip?" John asked.

"Forty miles. I could cover the distance quickly in the Arrow, but on such a day as this I can't be sure of finding at once the man for whom I'm looking. Besides, we may meet German planes. You've your automatic with you?"

"I'm never without it. I'm ready to help if they come at us. I've been through so much today that I've become blunted to fear."

"I don't think we'll meet an enemy, but we must be armed and watchful."

John had not yet looked down, but he knew that the Arrow was rising high. The thunder of the battle died so fast that it became a mere murmur, and the air was thin, pure and cold. When he felt that the Arrow had reached its zenith he put the glasses to his eyes and looked over.

He saw a world spouting fire. Along a tremendous line curved and broken, thousands of cannon great and small were flashing, and for miles and miles a continuous coil of whitish smoke marked where the riflemen were at work. Near the center of the line he saw a vast mass of men advancing and he spoke of it to Lannes.

"I've seen it already," said the Frenchman. "That's where a great force of ours is cutting in between the German armies. It's the movement that has saved France, and the mind that planned it was worth a million men to us today."

"I can well believe it. Now I see running between the hills a shining ribbon which I take to be a river."

"That's the Marne. If we can, we'll drive the Germans back across it. Search the skies that way and see if you can find any of the Taubes."

"I see some black specks which I take to be the German planes, but they don't grow."

"Which indicates that they're not coming any nearer. They've had enough of us for the present and it's to their interest too to keep over their own army now. What do you see beneath us?"

"A great multitude of troops, French, as I can discern the uniform, and by Jove, Lannes, I can trace far beyond the towers and spires of Paris!"

"I knew you could. It marks how near the Germans have come to the capital, but they'll come no nearer. The great days of the French have returned, and we'll surely drive them upon the Marne."

"Suppose we fly a little lower, Lannes. Then we can get a better view of the field as we go along."

"I'll do as you say, John. I rose so high, because I thought attack here was less possible, but as no enemy is in sight we'll drop down."

The Arrow sank gradually, and now both could get a splendid view of a spectacle, such as no man had ever beheld until that day. The sounds of battle were still unheard, but they clearly saw the fire of the cannon, the rapid-firers, and the rifles. It was like a red streak running in curves and zigzags across fifty or maybe a hundred miles of country.

"We continue to cut in," said Lannes. "You can see how our armies off there are marching into that great open space between the Germans. Unless the extreme German army hastens it will be separated entirely from the rest. Oh, what a day! What a glorious, magnificent day! A day unlike any other in the world's story! Our heads in the dust in the morning and high in the air by night!"

"But we haven't won yet?"

"No, but we are winning enough to know that we will win."

"How many men do you think are engaged in that battle below?"

"Along all its windings two millions, maybe, or at least a million and a half anyhow. Perhaps nobody will ever know."

Then they relapsed into silence for a little while. The Arrow flew fast and the motor drummed steadily in their ears. Lannes let the aeroplane sink a little lower, and John became conscious of a new sound, akin nevertheless to the throb of the motor. It was the concussion of the battle. The topmost and weakest waves of air hurled off in circles by countless cannon and rifles were reaching them. But they had been softened so much by distance that the sound was not unpleasant, and the Arrow rocked gently as if touched by a light wind.

John never ceased to watch with his glasses, and in a few minutes he announced that men in gray were below.

"I expected that," said Lannes. "This battle line, as you know, is far from straight, and, in order to reach our destination in the quickest time possible, we must pass over a portion of the German army, an extended corner or angle as it were. What are they doing there, John?"

"Firing about fifty cannon as fast as they can. Back of the cannon is a great huddle of motors and of large automobile trucks, loaded, I should say, with ammunition."

"You're quite sure of what you say?" asked Lannes, after a silence of a moment or two.

"Absolutely sure. I fancy that it's an ammunition depot."

"Then, John, you and I must take a risk. We are to deliver a message, but we can't let go an opportunity like this. You recall how you threw the bombs on the forty-two centimeter. I have more bombs here in the Arrow—I never fly now without 'em—little fellows, but tremendously powerful. I shall dip and when we're directly over the ammunition depot drop the bombs squarely into the middle of it."

"I'm ready," said John, feeling alternate thrills of eagerness and horror, "but Philip, don't you go so near that if the depot blows up it will blow us up too."

"Never fear," said Lannes, laughing, not with amusement but with excitement, "I've no more wish to be scattered through the firmament than you have. Besides, we've that message to deliver. Do you think the Germans have noticed us?"

"No, a lot of smoke from their cannon fire has gathered above them and perhaps it veils us. Besides, their whole attention must be absorbed by the French army, and I don't think it likely that they're looking up."

"But they're bound to see us soon. We have one great advantage, however. The target is much larger than the forty-two centimeter was, and there are no Taubes or dirigibles here to drive us off. Ready now, John, and when I touch the bottom of my loop you throw the bombs. Here they are!"

Four bombs were pushed to John's side and they lay ready to his grasp. Then as the Arrow began its downward curve, he laid his glasses aside and watched. The most advanced German batteries were placed in a pit, into which a telephone wire ran. Evidently these guns, like the French, were fired by order from some distant point. John longed to hurl a bomb at the pit, but the chances were ten to one that he would miss it, and he held to the ammunition depot, spread over a full acre, as his target.

Now the Germans saw them. He knew it, as many of them looked up, and some began to fire at the Arrow, but the aeroplane was too high and swift for their bullets.

"Now!" said Lannes in sudden, sharp tones.

The aeroplane dipped with sickening velocity, but John steadied himself, and watching his chance he threw four bombs so fast that the fourth had left his hands before the first touched the ground. An awful, rending explosion followed, and for a minute the Arrow rocked violently, as if in a hurricane. Then, as the waves of air decreased in violence, it darted upward on an even keel.

John saw far below a vast scene of wreckage, amid which lay many dead or wounded men. Motors were blown to pieces and cannon dismounted.

"Score heavily for us," said Lannes. "I scarcely hoped for such a goodly blow as this while we were on our way!"

John would not look down again. Despite the value of the deed, he shuddered and he was glad when the Arrow in its swift flight had left the area of devastation far behind.

"We're flying over the French now," he said. "So I expected," said Lannes. "Can you see a hill crested with a low farm house?"

"Yes," replied John, after looking a little while. "It's straight ahead. The house is partly hidden by trees."

"Then that's the place. You wouldn't think we'd come nearly fifty miles, would you, John?"

"Fifty miles! It feels more like a thousand!"

Lannes laughed, this time with satisfaction, not excitement.

"You'll find there the general to whom we reported first," he said, "and he'll be glad to see us! I can't tell you how glad he will be. His joy will be far beyond our personal deserts. It will have little to do with the fact that you, John Scott, and I, Philip Lannes, have come back to him."

The circling Arrow came down in a meadow just behind the house, and officers rushed forward to meet it. Lannes and John, stepping out, left it in charge of two of the younger men. Then, proudly waving the others aside, they walked to the low stone farmhouse, in front of which the elderly, spectacled general was standing. He looked at Lannes inquiringly, but the young Frenchman, without a word, handed him a note.

John watched the general read, and he saw the transformation of the man's face. Doubting, anxious, worn, it was illumined suddenly. In a voice that trembled he said to the senior officers who clustered about him:

"We're advancing in the center, and on the other flank. Already we've driven a huge wedge between the German armies, and Paris, nay, France herself, is saved!"

The officers, mostly old men, did not cheer, but John had never before witnessed such relief expressed on human faces. It seemed to him that they had choked up, and could not speak. The commander held the note in a shaking hand and presently he turned to Lannes.

"Your fortune has been great. It's not often that one has a chance to bear such a message as this."

"My pride is so high I can't describe it," said Lannes in a dramatic but sincere tone.

"Go in the house and an orderly will give food and wine to you and your comrade. In a half hour, perhaps, I may have another message for you."

Both John and Lannes needed rest and food, and they obeyed gladly. The strain upon the two was far greater than they had realized at the time, and for a few moments they were threatened with collapse which very strong efforts of the will prevented. They were conscious, too, as they stood upon the ground, of a quivering, shaking motion. They were assailed once more by the violent waves of air coming from the concussion of cannon and rifles past counting. The thin, whitish film which was a compound of dust and burned gunpowder assailed them again and lay, bitter, in their mouths and nostrils.

"The earth shakes too much," said Lannes in a droll tone. "I think we'd better go back into the unchanging ether, where a man can be sure of himself."

"I'm seasick," said John; "who wouldn't be, with ten thousand cannon, more or less, and a million or two of rifles shaking the planet? I'm going into the house as fast as I can."

It was a building, centuries old, of gray crumbling stone, with large, low rooms, and, to John's amazement, the peasant who inhabited it and his family were present. The farmer and his wife, both strong and dark, were about forty, and there were four children, the oldest a girl of about thirteen. What fear they may have felt in the morning was gone now, and, as they knew that the French army was advancing, a joy, reserved but none the less deep, had taken its place.

John and Lannes sat down at a small table covered with a neat white cloth, and Madame, walking quickly and lightly, served them with bread, cold meat and light red wine. The smaller children hovered in the background and looked curiously at the young foreigner who wore the French uniform.

"May I ask your name, Madame?" John asked politely.

"Poiret," she said. "My man is Jules Poiret, and this farm has been in his family since the great revolution. You and your comrade came from the air, as I saw, and you can tell us, can you not, whether the Poiret farm is to become German or remain French? The enemy has been pushed back today, but will he come so near to Paris again? Tell me truly, on your soul, Monsieur!"

"I don't believe the Germans will ever again be so near to Paris," replied John with sincerity. "My friend, who is the great Philip Lannes, the flying man, and I, have looked down upon a battle line fifty, maybe a hundred miles long, and nearly everywhere the Germans are retreating."

She bent her head a little as she poured the coffee for them, but not enough to hide the glitter in her eye. "Perhaps the good God intervened at the last moment, as Father Hansard promised he would," she said calmly. "At any rate, the Germans are gone. I gathered as much from chance words of the generals—never before have so many generals gathered under the Poiret roof, and it will never happen again—but I wished to hear it from one who had seen with his own eyes."

"We saw them withdrawing, Madame, with these two pairs of eyes of ours," said Lannes.

"And then Poiret can go back to his work with the vines. Whether it is war or peace, men must eat and drink, Monsieur."

"But certainly, Madame, and women too." "It is so. I trust that soon the Germans will be driven back much faster. The house quivers all the time. It is old and already several pieces of plaster have fallen."

Her anxiety was obvious. With the Germans driven back she thought now of the Poiret homestead. John, in the new strength that had come to him from food and drink, had forgotten for the moment that ceaseless quiver of the earth. He held the little bottle aloft and poured a thin stream of wine into his glass. The red thread swayed gently from side to side.

"You speak truly, Madame," he said. "The rocking goes on, but I'm sure that the concussion of the guns will be too far away tonight for you to feel it."

They offered her gold for the food and wine, but after one longing glance she steadfastly refused it.

"Since you have come across the sea to fight for us," she said to John, "how could I take your money?"

Lannes and John returned to the bit of grass in front of the house, where the elderly general and other generals were still standing and using their glasses.

"You are refreshed?" said the general to Lannes.

"Refreshed and ready to take your orders wherever you wish them to go."

John stepped aside, while the general talked briefly and in a low tone to his comrade. He looked upon himself merely as a passenger, or a sort of help to Lannes, and he would not pry into military secrets. But when the two rose again in the Arrow, the general and all his suite waved their caps to them. Beyond a doubt, Lannes had done magnificent work that day, and John was glad for his friend's sake.

The Arrow ascended at a sharp angle, and then hovered for a little while in curves and spirals. John saw the generals below, but they were no longer watching the aeroplane. Their glasses were turned once more to the battle front.

"Ultimately we're to reach the commander of the central army, if we can," said Lannes, "but meanwhile we're to bend in toward the German lines, in search of your immediate chief, General Vaugirard, who is one of the staunchest and most daring fighters in the whole French Army. If we find him at all it's likely that we'll find him farther forward than any other general."

"But not any farther than my friend of Montmartre, Bougainville. There's a remarkable fellow. I saw his military talent the first time I met him. Or I should better say I felt it rather than saw it. And he was making good in a wonderful manner today."

"I believe with you, John, that he's a genius. But if we find General Vaugirard and then finish our errand we must hasten. It will be night in two hours."

He increased the speed of the aeroplane and they flew eastward, searching all the hills and woods for the command of General Vaugirard.



CHAPTER VI

IN HOSTILE HANDS

The task that lay before the two young men was one of great difficulty. The battle line was shifting continually, although the Germans were being pressed steadily back toward the east and north, but among so many generals it would be hard to find the particular one to whom they were bearing orders. The commander of the central army was of high importance, but the fact did not bring him at once before the eye.

They were to see General Vaugirard, too, but it was possible that he had fallen. John, though, could not look upon it as a probability. The general was so big, so vital, that he must be living, and he felt the same way about Bougainville. It was incredible that fate itself should snuff out in a day that spark of fire.

Lannes, uncertain of his course, bore in again toward the German lines, and dropped as low as he could, compatible with safety from any kind of shot. John meanwhile scanned every hill and valley wood and field with his powerful glasses, and he was unable to see any diminution in the fury of the struggle. The cannon thundered, with all their might, along a line of scores of miles; rapid firers sent a deadly hail upon the opposing lines; rifles flashed by the hundred thousand, and here and there masses of troops closed with the bayonet.

Seen from a height the battle was stripped of some of its horrors, but all its magnitude remained to awe those who looked down upon it. From the high, cold air John could not see pain and wounds, only the swaying back and forth of the battle lines. All the time he searched attentively for men who did not wear the red and blue of France, and at last he said:

"I've failed to find any sign of the British army."

"They're farther to the left," replied Lannes. "I caught a glimpse of their khaki lines this morning. Their regular troops are great fighters, as our Napoleon himself admitted more than once, and they've never done better than they're doing today. When I saw them they were advancing."

"I'm glad of that. It's curious how I feel about the English, Philip. They've got such a conceit that they irritate me terribly at times, yet I don't want to see them beaten by any other Europeans. That's our American privilege."

"A family feeling, perhaps," said Lannes, laughing, "but we French and English have been compelled to be allies, and after fighting each other for a thousand years we're now the best of friends. I think, John, we'll have to go down and procure information from somebody about our general. Otherwise we'll never find him."

"We must be near the center of our army, and that's where he's likely to be. Suppose we descend in the field a little to the east of us."

Lannes looked down, and, pronouncing the place suitable, began to drop in a series of spirals until they rested in a small field that had been devoted to the growth of vegetables. Here John at once felt the shaking of the earth, and tasted the bitter odor again. But woods on either side of them hid the sight of troops, although the sound of the battle was as great and violent as ever.

"We seem to have landed on a desert island," said Lannes.

"So we do," said John. "Evidently there is nobody here to tell us where we can find our dear and long lost general. I'll go down to the edge of the nearest wood and see if any of our skirmishers are there."

"All right, John, but hurry back. I'll hold the Arrow ready for instant flight, as we can't afford to linger here."

John ran toward the wood, but before he reached the first trees he turned back with a shout of alarm. He had caught a glimpse of horses, helmets and the glittering heads of lances. Moreover, the Uhlans were coming directly toward him.

In that moment of danger the young American showed the best that was in him. Forgetful of self and remembering the importance of Lannes' mission, he shouted:

"The Uhlans are upon us, Philip! I can't escape, but you must! Go! Go at once!"

Lannes gave one startled glance, and he understood in a flash. He too knew the vital nature of his errand, but his instant decision gave a wrench to his whole being. He saw the Uhlans breaking through the woods and John before them. He was standing beside the Arrow, and giving the machine a sharp push he sprang in and rose at a sharp angle.

"Up! Up, Philip!" John continued to cry, until the cold edge of a lance lay against his throat and a brusque voice bade him to surrender.

"All right, I yield," said John, "but kindly take your lance away. It's so sharp and cold it makes me feel uncomfortable."

As he spoke he continued to look upward. The Arrow was soaring higher and higher, and the Uhlans were firing at it, but they were not able to hit such a fleeting target. In another minute it was out of range.

John felt the cold steel come away from his throat, and satisfied that Lannes with his precious message was safe, he looked at his captors. They were about thirty in number, Prussian Uhlans.

"Well," said John to the one who seemed to be their leader, "what do you want with me?"

"To hold you prisoner," replied the man, in excellent English—John was always surprised at the number of people on the continent who spoke English—"and to ask you why we find an American here in French uniform."

The man who spoke was young, blond, ruddy, and his tone was rather humorous. John had been too much in Germany to hate Germans. He liked most of them personally, but for many of their ideas, ideas which he considered deadly to the world, he had an intense dislike.

"You find me here because I didn't have time to get away," he replied, "and I'm in a French uniform because it's my fighting suit."

The young officer smiled. John rather liked him, and he saw, too, that he was no older than himself.

"It's lucky for you that you're in some kind of a uniform," the German said, "or I should have you shot immediately. But I'm sorry we didn't take the man in the aeroplane instead of you."

John looked up again. The Arrow had become small in the distant blue. A whimsical impulse seized him.

"You've a right to be sorry," he said. "That was the greatest flying man in the world, and all day he has carried messages, heavy with the fate of nations. If you had taken him a few moments ago you might have saved the German army from defeat today. But your chance has gone. If you were to see him again you would not know him and his plane from others of their kind."

The officer's eyes dilated at first. Then he smiled again and stroked his young mustache.

"It may be true, as you say," he replied, "but meanwhile I'll have to take you to my chief, Captain von Boehlen."

John's heart sank a little when he heard the name von Boehlen. Fortune, he thought, had played him a hard trick by bringing him face to face with the man who had least cause to like him. But he would not show it.

"Very well," he said; "which way?"

"Straight before you," said the officer. "I'd give you a mount, but it isn't far. Remember as you walk that we're just behind you, and don't try to run away. You'd have no chance on earth. My own name is Arnheim, Wilhelm von Arnheim."

"And mine's John Scott," said John, as he walked straight ahead.

They passed through a wood and into another field, where a large body of Prussian cavalry was waiting. A tall man, built heavily, stood beside a horse, watching a distant corner of the battle through glasses. John knew that uncompromising figure at once. It was von Boehlen.

"A prisoner, Captain," said von Arnheim, saluting respectfully.

Von Boehlen turned slowly, and a malicious light leaped in his eyes when he saw John on foot before him, and wholly in his power.

"And so," he said, "it's young Scott of the hotel in Dresden and of the wireless station, and you've come straight into my hands!"

The whimsical humor which sometimes seized John when he was in the most dangerous situation took hold of him again. It was not humor exactly, but it was the innate desire to make the best of a bad situation.

"I'm in your hands," he replied, "but I didn't walk willingly into 'em. Your lieutenant, von Arnheim here, and his men brought me on the points of their lances. I'm quite willing to go away again."

Von Boehlen recognized the spirit in the reply and the malice departed from his own eyes. Yet he asked sternly:

"Why do you put on a French uniform and meddle in a quarrel not your own?"

"I've made it my own. I take the chances of war."

"To the rear with him, and put him with the other prisoners," said von Boehlen to von Arnheim, and the young Prussian and two Uhlans escorted him to the edge of the field where twenty or thirty French prisoners sat on the ground.

"I take it," said von Arnheim, "that you and our captain have met before."

"Yes, and the last time it was under circumstances that did not endear me to him."

"If it was in war it will not be to your harm. Captain von Boehlen is a stern but just man, and his conduct is strictly according to our military code. You will stay here with the other prisoners under guard. I hope to see you again."

With these polite words the young officer rode back to his chief, and John's heart warmed to him because of his kindness. Then he sat down on the grass and looked at those who were prisoners with him. Most of them were wounded, but none seemed despondent. All were lying down, some propped on their elbows, and they were watching and listening with the closest attention. A half-dozen Germans, rifle in hand, stood near by.

John took his place on the grass by the side of a fair, slim young man who carried his left arm in a bandage.

"Englishman?" said the young man.

"No, American."

"But you have been fighting for us, as your uniform shows. What command?"

"General Vaugirard's, but I became separated from it earlier in the day."

"I've heard of him. Great, fat man, as cool as ice and as brave as a lion. A good general to serve under. My own name is Fleury, Albert Fleury. I was wounded and taken early this morning, and the others and I have been herded here ever since by the Germans. They will not tell us a word, but I notice they have not advanced."

"The German army is retreating everywhere. For this day, at least, we're victorious. Somebody has made a great plan and has carried it through. The cavalry of the invader came within sight of Paris this morning, but they won't be able to see it tomorrow morning. Whisper it to the others. We'll take the good news quietly. We won't let the guards see that we know."

The news was circulated in low tones and every one of the wounded forgot his wound. They spoke among themselves, but all the while the thunder of the hundred-mile battle went on with unremitting ferocity. John put his ear to the ground now, and the earth quivered incessantly like a ship shaken at sea by its machinery.

The day was now waning fast and he looked at the mass of Uhlans who stood arrayed in the open space, as if they were awaiting an order. Lieutenant von Arnheim rode back and ordered the guards to march on with them.

There was none too severely wounded to walk and they proceeded in a file through the fields, Uhlans on all sides, but the great mass behind them, where their commander, von Boehlen, himself rode.

The night was almost at hand. Twilight was already coming over the eastern hills, and one of the most momentous days in the story of man was drawing to a close. People often do not know the magnitude of an event until it has passed long since and shows in perspective, but John felt to the full the result of the event, just as the old Greeks must have known at once what Salamis or Plataea meant to them. The hosts of the world's greatest military empire were turned back, and he had all the certainty of conviction that they would be driven farther on the next day.

The little band of prisoners who walked while their Prussian captors rode, were animated by feelings like those of John. It was the captured who exulted and the captors who were depressed, though neither expressed it in words, and the twilight was too deep now for faces to show either joy or sorrow.

John and Fleury walked side by side. They were near the same age. Fleury was an Alpinist from the high mountain region of Savoy and he had arrived so recently in the main theater of conflict that he knew little of what had been passing. He and John talked in whispers and they spoke encouraging words to each other. Fleury listened in wonder to John's account of his flights with Lannes.

"It is marvelous to have looked down upon a battle a hundred miles long," he said. "Have you any idea where these Uhlans intend to take us?"

"I haven't. Doubtless they don't know themselves. The night is here now, and I imagine they'll stop somewhere soon."

The twilight died in the west as well as the east, and darkness came over the field of gigantic strife. But the earth continued to quiver with the thunder of artillery, and John felt the waves of air pulsing in his ears. Now and then searchlights burned in a white blaze across the hills. Fields, trees and houses would stand out for a moment, and then be gone absolutely.

John's vivid imagination turned the whole into a storm at night. The artillery was the thunder and the flare of the searchlights was the lightning. His mind created, for a little while, the illusion that the combat had passed out of the hands of man and that nature was at work. He and Fleury ceased to talk and he walked on, thinking little of his destination. He had no sense of weariness, nor of any physical need at all.

Von Arnheim rode up by his side and said:

"You'll not have to walk much further, Mr. Scott. A camp of ours is just beyond a brook, not more than a few hundred yards away, and the prisoners will stay there for the night. I'm sorry to find you among the French fighting against us. We Germans expected American sympathy. There is so much German blood in the United States."

"But, as I told Captain von Boehlen, we're a republic, and we're democrats. In many of the big ideas there's a gulf between us and Germany so wide that it can never be bridged. This war has made clear the enormous difference."

Von Arnheim sighed.

"And yet, as a people, we like each other personally," he said.

"That's so, but as nations we diverge absolutely."

"Perhaps, I can't dispute it. But here is our camp. You'll be treated well. We Germans are not barbarians, as our enemies allege."

John saw fires burning in an ancient wood, through which a clear brook ran. The ground was carpeted with bodies, which at first he thought were those of dead men. But they were merely sleepers. German troops in thousands had dropped in their tracks. It was scarcely sleep, but something deeper, a stupor of exhaustion so utter, both mental and physical, that it was like the effect of anesthesia. They lay in every imaginable position, and they stretched away through the forest in scores of thousands.