the forest of sword 20

the forest of sword 20

"I see something to the eastward," said John, "or is it merely a shadow

in the sky?"

 

"I don't think it's a shadow. It must be one of those terrible machines,

and perhaps it's that of our brave Monsieur Philip."

 

"You're right, Picard, it's no shadow, nor is it a bit of black cloud.

It's an aeroplane, flying very fast. The skies over Europe hold many

aeroplanes these days, but I know all the tricks of the _Arrow_, all its

pretty little ways, its manner of curving, looping and dropping, and I

should say that the _Arrow_, Philip Lannes aboard, is coming."

 

"I pray, sir, that you are right. I always hold my breath until he is on

the ground again."

 

"Then you'll have to make a record in holding breath, my brave Picard.

He is still far, very far, from us, and it will be a good ten minutes

before he arrives."

 

But John knew beyond a doubt, after a little more watching, that it was

really the _Arrow_, and with eager eyes he watched the gallant little

machine as it descended in many a graceful loop and spiral to the earth.

They hurried forward to meet it, and Lannes, bright-eyed and trim,

sprang out, greeting John with a welcome cry.

 

"Up again," he exclaimed, "and, as I see with these two eyes of mine,

as well as ever! And you too, my brave Picard, here to meet me!"

 

He hastened away with a report, but came back to them in a few minutes.

 

"Now," he said, "We'll go and see my sister."

 

John was not at all unwilling.

 

They found her in one of the new houses of pine boards, and the faithful

and stalwart Suzanne was with her. It was the plainest of plain places,

inhabited by at least twenty other Red Cross nurses, and John stood on

one side until the first greeting of brother and sister was over. Then

Lannes, by a word and a gesture, included him in what was practically a

family group, although he was conscious that the stalwart Suzanne was

watching him with a wary eye.

 

"Julie and Suzanne," said Lannes, "are going tomorrow with other nurses

to the little town of Ménouville, where also many wounded lie. They are

less well supplied with doctors and nurses than we are here. Dr. Delorme

goes also with a small detachment as escort. I have asked that you,

Monsieur Jean the Scott, be sent with them. Our brave Picard goes too.

Ménouville is about eight miles from here, and it's not much out of the

way to the front. So you will not be kept long from your Strangers,

John."

 

"I go willingly," said John, "and I'm glad, Philip, that you've seen fit

to consider me worth while as a part of the escort."

 

He spoke quietly, but his glance wandered to Julie Lannes. It may have

been a chance, but hers turned toward him at the same time, and the

eyes, the blue and the gray, met. Again the girl's brilliant color

deepened a little, and she looked quickly away. Only the watchful and

grim Suzanne saw.

 

"Do you have to go away at once, Philip?" asked Julie.

 

"In one hour, my sister. There is not much rest for the _Arrow_ and me

these days, but they are such days as happen perhaps only once in a

thousand years, and one must do his best to be worthy. I'm not

preaching, little sister, don't think that, but I must answer to every

call."

 

The twilight had spread from east to west. The heavy shadows in the east

promised a dark night, but out of the shadows, as always, came that

sullen mutter of the ruthless guns. Julie shivered a little, and glanced

at the dim sky.

 

"Must you go up there in the cold dark?" she said. "It's like leaving

the world. It's dangerous enough in the day, but you have a bright sky

then. In the night it's terrible!"

 

"Don't you fear for me, little sister," said Lannes. "Why, I like the

night for some reasons. You can slip by your enemies in the dark, and if

you're flying low the cannon don't have half the chance at you. Besides,

I've the air over these regions all mapped and graded now. I know all

the roads and paths, the meeting places of the clouds, points suitable

for ambush, aerial fields, meadows and forests. Oh, it's home up there!

Don't you worry, and do you write, too, to Madame, my mother, in Paris,

that I'm perfectly safe."

 

Lannes kissed her and went away abruptly. John was sure that an attempt

to hide emotion caused his brusque departure.

 

"Believe everything he tells you, Mademoiselle Julie," he said. "I've

come to the conclusion that nothing can ever trap your brother. Besides

courage and skill he has luck. The stars always shine for him."

 

"They're not shining tonight," said Picard, looking up at the dusky sky.

 

"But I believe, Mr. Scott, that you are right," said Julie.

 

"He'll certainly come to us at Ménouville tomorrow night," said John,

speaking in English--all the conversation hitherto had been in French,

"and I think we'll have a pleasant ride through the forest in the

morning, Miss Lannes. You'll let me call you Miss Lannes, once or twice,

in my language, won't you? I like to hear the sound of it."

 

"I've no objection, Mr. Scott," she replied also in English. She did not

blush, but looked directly at him with bright eyes. John was conscious

of something cool and strong. She was very young, she was French, and

she had lived a sheltered life, but he realized once more that human

beings are the same everywhere and that war, the leveler, had broken

down all barriers.

 

"I've not heard who is to be our commander, Miss Lannes," he continued

in English, "but I'll be here early in the morning. May I wish you happy

dreams and a pleasant awakening, as they say at home?"

 

"But you have two homes now, France and America."

 

"That's so, and I'm beginning to love one as much as the other. Any

way, to the re-seeing, Miss Lannes, which I believe is equivalent to _au

revoir_."

 

He made a very fine bow, one that would have done credit to a trained

old courtier, and withdrew. The fierce and watchful eyes of Suzanne

followed him.

 

John was up at dawn, as strong and well as he had ever been in his life.

As he was putting on his uniform an orderly arrived with a note from

Lieutenant Hector Legaré, telling him to report at once for duty with a

party that was going to Ménouville.

 

The start was made quickly. John found that the women with surgical

supplies were traveling in carts. The soldiers, about twenty in number,

walked. John and the doctor walked with them. All the automobiles were

in use carrying troops to the front, but the carts were strong and

comfortable and John did not mind. It ought to be a pleasant trip.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIII

 

THE MIDDLE AGES

 

 

The little party moved away without attracting notice. In a time of such

prodigious movement the going or coming of a few individuals was a

matter of no concern. The hood that Julie Lannes had drawn over her hair

and face, and her plain brown dress might have been those of a nun. She

too passed before unseeing eyes.

 

Lieutenant Legaré was a neutral person, arousing no interest in John who

walked by the side of the gigantic Picard, the stalwart Suzanne being in

one of the carts beside Julie. The faint throbbing of the guns, now a

distinct part of nature, came to them from a line many miles away, but

John took no notice of it. He had returned to the world among pleasant

people, and this was one of the finest mornings in early autumn that he

had ever seen.

 

The country was much more heavily forested than usual. At points, the

woods turned into what John would almost have called a real forest. Then

they could not see very far ahead or to either side, but the road was

good and the carts moved forward, though not at a pace too great for the

walkers.

 

Picard carried a rifle over his shoulders, and John had secured an

automatic. All the soldiers were well armed. John felt a singular

lightness of heart, and, despite the forbidding glare of Suzanne, who

was in the last cart, he spoke to Julie.

 

"It's too fine a morning for battle," he said in English. "Let's pretend

that we're a company of troubadours, minnesingers, jongleurs, acrobats

and what not, going from one great castle to another."

 

"I suppose Antoine there is the chief acrobat?"

 

"He might do a flip-flap, but if he did the earth would shake."

 

"Then you are the chief troubadour. Where is your harp or viol, Sir

Knight of the Tuneful Road?"

 

"I'm merely imagining character, not action. I haven't a harp or a viol,

and if I had them I couldn't play on either."

 

"Do you think it right to talk In English to the strange young American,

Mademoiselle? Would Madame your mother approve?" said Suzanne in a

fierce whisper.

 

"It is sometimes necessary in war, Suzanne, to talk where one would not

do so in peace," replied Julie gravely, and then she said to John again

in English:

 

"We cannot carry out the pretense, Mr. Scott. The tuneful or merry folk

of the Middle Ages did not travel with arms. They had no enemies, and

they were welcome everywhere. Nor did they travel as we do to the

accompaniment of war. The sound of the guns grows louder."

 

"So it does," said John, bending an ear--he had forgotten that a battle

was raging somewhere, "but we're behind the French lines and it cannot

touch us."

 

"It was a wonderful victory. Our soldiers are the bravest in the world

are they not, Mr. Scott?"