The battle, including the fighting retreat, had lasted a long time and it had proved even to inexperienced John that the French force could not stand before the superior numbers of the Germans, and their tremendous equipment. And yet the French officers had shown much skill. They had inflicted great losses, they had drawn off all their artillery, and they had defeated every effort of their enemy to surround and destroy them.

John felt that not everything was lost as they sat down on the hills and began to fortify anew. There was no time for him to rest. He was only a private soldier, and, armed with a spade, he worked at a trench with all the strength and energy he could command. But his immediate friends of the Strangers were of no higher rank than himself and they were beside him engaged in the same task. "I'm only a new soldier," he said, "but it seems to me we did pretty well to get off with our army and our guns."

"So we did," said Carstairs. "I fancy the chief part of our occupation will be retreating until the British come up."

"There it goes," said Wharton. "Every Englishman has a fatal disease. You can never cure him of being an Englishman. If a million French and a hundred thousand English were to win a battle Carstairs would give all the credit of it to the hundred thousand English."

"I'd give it to 'em, because it belonged to 'em. Keep your fool Yankee head down, Wharton. Didn't you hear that shell whistle?"

"I heard it, and I heard a dozen others too," said John, who could not keep from shivering a little. "Why do they keep on bothering us, when we're now in too strong a position to be attacked, and the night too is at hand?"

"Oh, you'll get used to it," said Wharton. "They won't attack tonight, but they want to keep us disturbed, to create terror among us, and then we'll be easier, when they do come again."

"I don't hear the giant any more."

"You mean the forty-two centimeter. I fancy it's far in the rear. They have to have roads on which to drag it, and then, so they say, it has to be placed in a concrete bed before they can fire it."

"At any rate their fire is dying," said Carstairs, "and I'm jolly glad of it. I didn't get any sleep last night, and I want some tonight. I need it, after this back-breaking work."

Fortunately the trench was soon finished, and the long range firing ceased entirely. The night came on, hiding the two armies from each other, and fires sprang up in the French camp. Their light was ruddy and cheerful. Then came the glorious aroma of food, and, the Strangers called from their labors to the banquet, sat down and ate.

John had heard all his life what cooks the French were, but nothing that he had ever tasted before was like the food he ate and the coffee he drank that night. Incessant marching and fighting gave a savor that nothing else could impart.

While they still sat around the cooking fires they saw dim shapes in the heavens, and John, out of the depths of his experience, knew that they were the flying machines. Carstairs and Wharton saw him looking up.

"You may want to be there," said Wharton, "but I don't. I'd grow so giddy I'd jump right out of the machine. This sound and rolling earth suits me. I like its green grass, its rivers, its lakes and its mountains, and I don't want to go off, prospecting for other planets."

"It's lucky," said John, "that this army has flying machines of its own. If it didn't the Germans would be raining bombs upon us."

Carstairs shuddered.

"There's something heathenish and uncanny about it," he said. "Soldiers, by Jove, have to watch nowadays. If you're on the ship looking for an enemy of your size the little submarine down under the water may blow you to pieces, and if you're on the land holding your own against another army a little aeroplane away up in the sky may drop a bomb that will shatter you into seven million pieces."

"It's a hard world, Carstairs," said Wharton, "but I think discomfort rather than danger will come out of the sky tonight. The clouds are piling up and there'll be heavy rain. John, you little old flying man, won't that stop the Taubes?"

"They wouldn't venture much in a heavy rain, and I think we're safe from them, but you know that what their fliers can do ours can do too."

"That being the case I'll settle myself for rest and sleep. The French show us a lot of consideration as we've volunteered to fight for them, and there are tents for the Strangers. You're to have a place in ours."

John was grateful and said so. The strain of the last few days would have overpowered him, but luckily he was exceedingly strong and tenacious. Yet he was so tired that he could scarcely walk, and he was very very glad to go into the tent with Carstairs and Wharton. He received two blankets, and, putting one under him and the other over him, he lay near the open flap, where he could get a good view of much that was going on outside.

He soon saw that it was to be no storm of thunder and lightning, but a heavy soaking rain. The air too had turned colder, and he was grateful for the blankets. He was becoming inured to hardship so fast that they and the tent were as luxurious to him as a modern hotel would have seemed two weeks before.

Carstairs and Wharton, after a short combat in words, fell sound asleep, but John lingered a little. He saw the fires burning smokily, and French soldiers passing before the blaze. From where he lay he could also see far out upon the plain that lay before them. But everything there was veiled in heavy mists and low clouds. Although an army of perhaps a hundred thousand men was only a short distance away the night disclosed no trace of it.

The rain began to fall soon, coming down as John had foreseen in a strong, steady pour. The sound on the heavy canvas was so soothing that his nerves relaxed and he slept. He was awakened at an unearthly hour by the strong hand of Captain Colton pulling at his shoulder.

As soon as John realized that it was his commanding officer he sprang to his feet and saluted, although his eyes were yet heavy with sleep. It was still raining and the water poured from a heavy cape coat that Captain Colton wore over his uniform. Carstairs and Wharton were already on their feet.

"You three are chosen for a mission," said Captain Colton, "and I'll tell it to you as briefly as I can. We've received news tonight that another German force is coming from the northeast. If it gets upon our flank we're lost, but there is a French army, and perhaps an English force with it or near it to the west. If they can be brought up in time they will protect our flank and save us—and also themselves. But we must have trusty messengers. The flying machines can do little in the storm. So we fall back on the ancient agencies. Can you ride, Mr. Scott?"

"Yes sir."

"Then you three are to go at once. Other messengers will ride forth, but I should feel very proud, if it were the Strangers who brought help."

The little appeal was not lost on the three. He rapidly gave them instructions about the point, at which the second French force was supposed to be, and told them to ride for it as hard as they could, giving to them sealed despatches also. Their own army would be falling back meanwhile.

"Both Carstairs and Wharton know this region and the roads," he said to John, "and you keep with them. Are you ready?"

"Yes sir," answered the three together.

They stepped out into the rain, but forgetful of it. An orderly was holding three horses. In an instant, they were in the saddle and away. They passed through the lines and came out upon one of the splendid French roads, the three abreast. The rain was beating in their faces, but the orderly had tied cloaks to their saddles, and now they wrapped them about their bodies.

But John minded neither darkness, cold nor rain. Sensitive and quiet there was some quality in him that always responded to the call of high adventure. His mind was never keener, never more alert, and all his strength of body had returned. Wharton and Carstairs rode on either side of him, and he felt already as if they had been friends of years, knitted to him by a thousand dangers shared.

He looked back once at the intrenched camp, but the descent and curve of the road already hid it in the darkness. He saw nothing but the black outline of the hills, and low clouds floating across the whole horizon. Ahead was a blank. He was in one of the most thickly populated regions of the world, crowded with cities, but in the darkness and storm it looked like a wilderness.

Neither of his comrades spoke for a long time. He stole a look at his watch, and saw that it was three o'clock in the morning. They crossed two small rivers, foaming like torrents, and at the bridges reined into a walk, lest the hoof-beats be heard too far. But they did not meet any human being. Save for the road and the bridges the aspect of a wilderness was complete. John knew that numerous villages lay near, but in such a world war the people would put out their lights and keep close in their houses.

They turned after a while into a smaller road, leading more toward the north.

"The Uhlans may be in our rear," said Carstairs. "They seem to be everywhere, and we don't want to be cut off just at the beginning of our ride."

"Rein in," said Wharton. "I hear cavalry passing on the road we've just left."

"Speak of Uhlans, and they appear," whispered John.

They were Uhlans, no doubt. John recognized the helmets, but the men were riding back toward the armies. He and his two comrades kept their horses in the shadow of the bushes, and were in dread lest some movement of their animals betray them, but the droning of the rain was the only sound made. The Uhlans, about forty in number, rode on and the darkness swallowed them up.

"Since they've gone about their business we'd better go about ours," said Wharton.

"Those are the first wise words I've heard you speak in a half hour," said Carstairs.

"It's the first time I've spoken at all in a half hour," said Wharton.

"Which way do we go now?" asked John.

"Over a hill and far away," replied Carstairs. "To be more explicit we're coming to the hill now, and about daylight we'll reach a little village, where I think we'd better get food and news. You'll like the country, John, when it stops raining and the sunlight comes. Oh, it's a fair land, this land of France."

"I've seen enough of it to know that," said John. "Lead on, and I'll be glad to reach the next village. A wind has set up, and this rain cuts cruelly."

Carstairs rode in front, and for more than an hour they breasted the storm almost in silence. They climbed the hill, passed down the other side, crossed numerous brooks, and then saw reluctant daylight appearing through the rain.

John with the new caution that he had learned looked up. But the clouds were so heavy that he saw nothing there, not a dirigible, not a Taube, nor any form of aeroplane. Traveling, even on the business of an army, was still better on land.

"There's our village," said Wharton, pointing to a pleasant valley in which tiled roofs and the spire of a church showed.

"And there we'll be in fifteen minutes," said Carstairs. "I'm full of enthusiasm for the mission on which we ride as you two are also of course, but it will fairly overflow after I have a good warm breakfast."

Despite the earliness of the hour peasants were up and they watched with curiosity the three horsemen who approached. But enough of the uniform of the strangers showed, despite their cloaks, to indicate that they belonged to the French army, and they were welcome. An old man with a scythe, pointed toward an inn, and the three, increasing their speed, rode straight for it.

"I hope they'll have good coffee," said John.

"And fine bread," said Carstairs.

"And choice bacon," said Wharton.

"And plenty of eggs to go with the bacon," said John.

It was but a little village, forty or fifty houses, set among the hills, but in times of peace many people must have gone that way, because it had one of the best road inns that John had ever entered. They were early but the landlord soon had the flames going in a wide fire-place, before which the three stood, warming themselves and drying their clothes. And the heavy aromas arising promised that the coffee, bacon and all the rest would be everything they wished.

A boy held their horses near the main door which stood open that they might see. The three were a unit on this precaution. If by any possible chance their horses were lost their mission in all likelihood would be lost too. John, new recruit, nevertheless felt the full importance of watching. He stood with his back to the fire, where he could see the sturdy French boy, the reins of the three horses in his hands.

But he did not forget how good that fire felt. The great cape had not been able to protect him wholly from the rain, and, despite the excitement of their ride, he had become conscious that he was cold and wet. Now the grateful warmth penetrated to his bones, and vitality returned.

As he remained there, turning about a little before the fire but always keeping his eyes on the door, he saw the villagers come down in the rain and look in, some at the open door and some at the windows. None of them spoke, but all gazed intently at the three in French uniform who stood before the fire.

John knew why they had come and he was singularly moved by their silent, pathetic stare. They were hoping to hear good news, at least one little bit of it—these good French villagers whose soil was trodden again by an enemy who seemed invincible. Just as the breakfast was being laid upon the table the landlord said to them:

"Have you nothing for these brave people of ours, who, as you see, wait at the windows? They are the old men, the very young and the women. All the others are gone to the war. Yesterday we heard the sound of guns for a long time. Have you no success to report for France?"

The three shook their heads sadly and Wharton replied for them.

"Not yet," he said. "We belong to the French army engaged in the battle that you heard yesterday. But it was driven back again. The Germans come in overwhelming force, and we cannot withstand their numbers, but we were able to draw off with all our guns and leave them no prisoners."

The landlord said nothing in reply, but presently all those wistful and waiting faces disappeared. Then the breakfast was ready, and a fourth traveler, wet and cold as they had been, arrived. John saw him give the reins of his horse to the waiting boy before he came to the door, where he stood a moment, awaiting the landlord's welcome.

The stranger was in a French uniform, faded and dripping so much water that he must have been in the rain a long time. He was about thirty, medium in height, his face covered with much black beard, and John saw that he was staggering from weakness. But Monsieur Gaussin, the landlord, a man of kindly heart, had perceived that fact also, and he stepped forward quickly.

"Thank you for your arm, good host," said the stranger. "I am weak, but if I am so it is because I've ridden all night in the rain for France."

"A French soldier," said Monsieur Gaussin, opening wide his heart, "and you ride for France! Then you are not alone on such errands. Behold the three young men who are about to honor me by eating a breakfast, for which I shall take no pay."

Gaussin too was not without a touch of the dramatic instinct, and he proudly waved his arm, across which the white napkin lay, toward John, Carstairs and Wharton.

"When you have warmed and dried yourself a little and have drank a glass of this fine old liquor of mine," he said benignantly, "you shall join them."

"And we shall welcome you as a comrade," said Wharton. "We are not French—two Americans and one English—but we fight with the French and their cause is ours. My friends are Carstairs and Scott, and my own name is Wharton."

"And mine is Weber," said the man, "Fernand Weber, an Alsatian, hoping and praying that Alsace and all Alsatians may now be restored to France."

The good Monsieur Gaussin murmured sympathetically.

"But we must suffer and do much before we regain our lost provinces," Weber said.

"Will you not join us at the table?" asked Carstairs politely.

"Gladly, as soon as I have removed this wet coat," replied Weber.

As soon as he took off the outer garment they saw a stain of red across his left sleeve, and the good Monsieur Gaussin again murmured sympathetically.

"It's nothing," laughed Weber. "The Uhlans are abroad, as you may have discovered for yourself. They ride over the whole country, and in the night I was chased by them. The bullet creased my arm, but I carry the emergency bandage. One, two, three, I made it fast, and here we are."

There was something attractive in his manner, his frankness, and the light way in which he dismissed his adventure. The hearts of the three warmed toward one who rode perilously for France as they were doing.

"Come," said John, "you must be starving to death. We certainly are, and if I'm kept any longer from this heavenly coffee there'll be a rebellion."

Annette, the neat maid who was serving them smiled, and Monsieur Gaussin smiled also. But Weber did not keep them waiting. He slid into the fourth chair that had been placed, and, for a little space, gastronomy of the most harmonious kind prevailed.

"From which direction do you come?" asked Carstairs.

"North," replied Weber flashing a smile from gray eyes.

John thought his eyes good, but all the lower part of his face was concealed by the beard.

"I hope you're doing better there than we are on the east," said Carstairs.

"Have you, then, had bad luck?" asked Weber.

"I'd scarcely blame any part of it on luck. Jove, but it's just a plain case of the other side being ready, while we are not."

"And you ride then for help?"

"Something of that kind, although of course we couldn't tell anybody where we are going."

"And I shall not dream of asking you. I know a soldier's duty too well. I ride on an errand myself, but I shall not refuse to tell you anything because you are not going to ask me."

All four laughed. John liked Weber better and better. He saw that he was a cheerful man, with a touch of humor, and he heartened the other three mightily.

Weber told that the French were now well ahead with their preparations, the English were beginning to stir and presently the Germans would find the armies before them much more powerful.

"On what road did you receive your wound?" asked John. "You won't mind telling us this, I hope, because that will be a good road for us to avoid."

"The Uhlans may have passed on," replied Weber, shrugging his shoulders, "but it was the road from the north. I encountered them about fifteen miles from here. It was so dark that I couldn't see very well, but I don't think they numbered more than half a dozen."

"We were going on that road," said Carstairs rising, "but perhaps we'd better take the western one for the present. We have to hurry. Good-by, Mr. Weber, we're glad we met you, and we hope that transfer of the title deeds of Alsace real estate will take place."

Weber's gray eyes beamed.

"It's good of another race to help us," he said. All three shook hands with him, said friendly farewells to the benignant Monsieur Gaussin and the neat Annette, and hurried to their horses.

"A good fellow that Weber," said Carstairs as they swung into their saddles. "I hope we'll swing Alsace and Lorraine too, back into France for him."

"If it's done," said Wharton, "England will claim that she did it."

"A perfectly justifiable claim."

Wharton turned upon John a look of despair.

"Can you ever change a single idea of theirs?" he asked. "They're quite sure they've done everything."

"There's one race," said John, "to whom they yield."

"I never heard of it."

"Oh yes, you have. When Sandy of the long red locks comes down from the high hills London capitulates at once. Don't you know, Wharton, that Great Britain and all her colonies are ruled by the Scotch?"

Carstairs broke into a hearty laugh.

"You have me there, Wharton," he said. "Certainly we're ruled by the Scotch. We have to let them do it or they'd make the country so disagreeable there'd be no living in it. Jove, but I wish I could hear the bagpipes now and see a hundred thousand of their red heads coming over the hills. It's such fine country around here that they'd never let the Germans have it."

"I like them too," said John. "They're brave men and they speak a sort of English."

Carstairs laughed.

"Don't criticize their English unless you want a fight," he said. "A man is often proudest of what he lacks."

"Just so, Carstairs, and I've often wondered too why so few of the English can speak their own language."

"Shut up, Scott! You've joined Wharton and two against one is not fair. Confound this rain! I wish it would stop! I'm getting wet and cold again. Here the road forks, and Weber said he came down from the north."

"And since he got a bullet in the arm the northern road is bad for us," said Wharton. "If you two agree we'll turn to the west."

"The west for us," said John and Carstairs together.

The country was hillier and more wooded than usual, but they saw little of it, as it was enveloped in a cloud of rain and mist. Nor did they meet any other travelers on the road, a fact which did not surprise them, as the whole region was now almost deserted by everybody save soldiers.

The high spirits they had accumulated at the inn were soon dissipated. It was impossible to remain gay, when one was sodden through and through. The rain came down, as if it meant to do so forever, and all the valleys were filled with mists and vapors. But the road clean and well paved led straight on, and Wharton and Carstairs seemed to know it well.

"Another inn would suit me," said John who was the first to speak in more than an hour. "I shouldn't want to stop because I know we haven't time for it, but I'd like to look in at the window, as I rode by, and see the fire blazing."

"You'll see nothing of that kind before one o'clock in the afternoon," said Carstairs. "Then we come to another neat little village, and another good inn. We'll have to stop there for our horses to feed, as we gave them nothing this morning. So you can do more than look at the window and see the blazing fire."

The road led now between high hedges, and they heard a report some distance to their right. Wharton who was in front suddenly pulled back his horse.

"What's the matter?" the other two exclaimed together.

"A bee stung me," replied Wharton grimly.

He held up his left hand. The blood was flowing from a thin red line across the back of it.

"A bullet did that!" exclaimed Carstairs.

A second report came, and John felt a rush of air past his face.

"Gallop, boys, gallop!" exclaimed Wharton. "Somebody has ambushed us, Uhlans, I suppose, and we've got to run!"

"They must be in the fields!" said Carstairs, as the three urged their horses at once to their utmost speed. Luckily, they had been coming at a slow pace and their mounts were strong.

John thought rapidly. The modern high-powered rifle carried far, and he judged by the faintness of the reports that the bullets had been fired from a point several hundred yards away. They had done under impulse the very thing they ought to do, and their present speed would soon leave the raiders behind.

The three rode neck and neck and as they galloped on two more bullets whistled near them.

"An ambush," said Carstairs coolly, "but we've rushed through it."

"Anyway, our luck is better than Weber's," said Wharton. "He was pinked in the arm and we're unhurt. At least I think so. How are you, Scott?"

"Well but scared."

"I believe the first statement, but not the second And you Carstairs."

"Well but annoyed."

"I believe both your statements."

"Is it your recollection that these hedges continue far, Carstairs?" asked Wharton.

"Five or six miles at least."

"That's mine too, but I hoped I was wrong. It gives those bushwackers an advantage. With the hedges right beside us we can't see well over them, but they on the hills at a distance can look down on us."

"You Yankees are sometimes right, Wharton, and this is one of the times. Those fellows, whoever they are, will probably get a few more shots at us. I'll lay you two to one they don't hit us."

"I never bet against my sympathies. Ping! didn't you hear it! There was a bullet, five seconds after you offered to bet."

"Yes, I know it. Here's the lock of hair it cut from my head."

He took the hair from his coat, where it had fallen, and let it flutter away. He did not show any alarm. Already it had become the pride of the three never to betray apprehension. John's face was like a mask, although his heart was beating hard. A whistle over his head showed that a bullet had passed there and he heard its plunk as it buried itself in a tree on the other side of the road.

He remembered with some consolation that the modern, small, high-powered rifle bullet, unless it killed, did not do so very much harm. It went through one so fast that it did not tear flesh or break bones, and the wounds it made were quick to heal.

Ping! Ping! and once more ping! They reached the crest of the hill and went swiftly down the other slope.

"I think we'll leave them behind here," said Carstairs. "We gain, as we've the open road, while they're obstructed in fields."

"I hope you're a true prophet, Carstairs," said Wharton. "I'm growing reconciled to an army shooting at me, but I would hate to be picked off by an ambushed sharpshooter."

Carstairs was a true prophet in this case. No more shots came and as they entered flat country with open fields, in which they could see everything they slowed to a walk, and not too soon, for the horses were breathing heavily, their mouths covered with foam. Then in order to spare their tired animals the three dismounted and walked a mile, leading them by the bridles.

"I'd never have thought the Uhlans were in the rear of our army," said Carstairs.

"I'm not at all surprised," said John.

"Why not?"

"Because I shall never be surprised at anything the Germans do. You English have fallen into the bad habit of thinking that what you haven't done nobody else does."

"I see," said Carstairs with a laugh. "Hit the poor old Britisher. You Yankees are so used to it that you can't get out of the habit, even here and now, when you and I are allies."

"But it's the truth, the real vital truth," said John earnestly. "The Germans are ahead of you. They're like a medieval knight clad in steel and armed from head to foot, going out to fight a peasant in homespun. And you're the peasant in homespun, Carstairs."

"England is slow, I admit, but when she once takes hold she never lets go."

"Unless she takes hold, when there's something to take hold of it's no use."

"Stop quarreling with him, Scott," said Wharton. "That's my job, and you can't take it from me. I've set two tasks for myself, one to defeat the German army and one to change Carstairs, and I tell you confidentially, John, that I think the defeat of the German army will prove the easier of the two."

"Look how those banks of fog are rolling up," said Carstairs. "The rain is decreasing, but in a quarter of an hour we won't be able to see a thing twenty yards away."

"We shall welcome the fog," said John, who was beginning to feel now that he was on equal terms with the other two.

"So, we should," said Carstairs, "but does fog conduct sound well?"

"I don't know," replied John. "Why?"

"Because I think I hear a noise a long distance to the right. It has a rolling, grinding quality, but that doesn't help me to tell what makes it."

The three stopped, and with all their senses alert listened. Both John and Wharton heard the sound, but they were unable to tell its nature. The fog meanwhile was closing in, heavy and almost impenetrable.

"I think," said John, "we ought to see what it is. The thing is projecting itself squarely across our path. We've got a mission, but the more news we take the better."

Wharton and Carstairs agreed with him, and finding a low place in the hedge that ran beside the road they forced their way through it. They were remounted now, and the rest had made the horses fit for either a fight or a race.

They rode across the field and then through a belt of open forest, but the fog was so dense they were compelled to keep close together lest they lose one another. The rolling sound increased and now other notes came with it. A little farther and they saw dim lights in the fog.

"An army," whispered Carstairs, "and the torch-bearers are showing the way through the fog. Now what kind of an army is it?"

"German of course," said Wharton. "We know well enough that no French force is near here. It's a part of the flood that's bearing down on France and Belgium."

"There are more trees here to the right," said John. "Let's enter them and get a better view. Even if we were seen we could escape anybody in this fog."

"Good idea," said Carstairs. "I'm as anxious as you to know more. This fair land of France is bearing strange fruit now."

Keeping a wary eye for Uhlans who must be somewhere near they rode with all the courage of youth into a clump of trees that grew upon a hillock close to the road. There, in the shelter of the foliage, they looked down upon what was passing.

"Busy Bertha!" said Wharton.

John beheld a giant cannon, one of the mighty howitzers which he had treated as a fable, a soldier's idle dream, until he had heard it booming in the night. But here was another drawn by a powerful motor. Its monster mouth was turned up at an angle toward the sky, and in the fog lighted only by the torches the thing became alive to John, huge and misshapen, dragging itself over the ground, devouring human beings as it went, like the storied dragons of old.

He glanced at his comrades and saw that the monster had taken hold of them in the same way. They were regarding it with a kind of awe, and yet it was not alone. Its sinister shape merely predominated over everything else. It was preceded and followed by many other cannon, giants themselves, but overshadowed by the mammoth.

Motors drew most of the great guns, and there were thousands more carrying soldiers, arms and various kinds of equipment. Behind them came vast masses of gray infantry, marching with the steady German tread. The heavy fog, which the torches lighted but dimly, magnified and distorted everything, and the sight was uncanny and terrifying.

John had the deepest respect for German arms. He knew the strong and tenacious German nature, and he had had some insight into the mighty preparations of the empire. Now he saw them rolling down every road upon France, and, for a little while he did not see how they could be beaten, not though all the world combined against them. The mammoth cannon moving slowly on through the fog typified their irresistible advance.

"I think we've seen enough," said Wharton. "We'd better be up and away."

"Too much for me," said Carstairs. "My eye what a gun!"

"It looks more like a dragon to me," said John.

They wheeled and rode away over the wet ground, which gave back but little sound of hoofs, and soon they were again on their own road, bearing to the west. They were very thoughtful, but their own risks of the morning from the hidden bullets were forgotten. The mind of every one of the three turned forward.