John was awakened by the measured thud of heavy boots. It resembled the goosestep of the German army, and he turned over in order to stop the unpleasant dream. But it did not stop, and he sat up. Then it was louder, and it also had an echo.

His heart thumped wildly for a moment or two. The tread was inside the house, and it was made by many men. He slipped to the window, and his heart thumped more wildly than ever. The lawn was covered with German troops, most of them on horseback, the helmets of the Uhlans glittering in the moonlight. Officers stood on the steps at the main door, and at the edge of the vineyard were cannon.

John thought at first that they were lost. Then he remembered their precaution in securing an obscure and isolated room. The Germans might not trouble themselves about ransacking an abandoned house. At least there was hope.

He awoke his comrades in turn, first clasping his hands over their mouths lest they speak aloud.

"We have fellow guests," he said. "The Germans are sharing the house with us."

"Yes, I hear their boots on the steps," said Wharton. "What are we to do?"

John again resumed the leadership.

"Do nothing," he replied. "Do nothing as hard and continuously as we can. Our door is locked. It's natural that it should be so, only we must slip out the key, so it will appear that the owners having locked the door, took the key away with them. Then we'll lie quiet, and see what happens."

"It's the thing to do," said Carstairs, "because we can do nothing else. But I don't believe I can go to sleep, not to the chorus of German boots on the steps."

John slipped the big key from the lock and put it in a corner. Then he lay down again beside the other two. They could hear better with their ears to the floor. It was a solid and heavily built house in the European fashion. Nevertheless they heard the tread from many parts of it, and the sound of voices also.

"It's an invasion," whispered Carstairs. "They're all over the shop."

"Looks like it," said John, "but I've a notion that we're safe here unless they conclude to burn the house. The German advance is so rapid it doesn't seem likely to me they'll stay longer than tonight."

"Still I can't sleep."

John laughed to himself. He was becoming so thoroughly hardened to danger that the complaint of Carstairs amused him.

"They've got an affection for the top of the house," said Wharton, "You can hear them pounding through the upper rooms, and even on the roof."

"But nobody has tried our door yet," said Carstairs, "and it's a consoling thought."

They lay a long time, and heard the continual thump of feet about the place. It suggested at first the thought of plunder, but when John peeped out he did not see anybody bearing things from the house. He beheld instead a sight that caused him to summon the others. A young man had ridden up, and, as he dismounted, all the officers, several of whom were in the uniform of generals, paid him marked deference.

"It's a prince," whispered Carstairs. "It may be the Crown Prince himself, but I can't say, the light isn't good enough."

"And there are other princes behind him," said Wharton. "See the officers still kotowing. I didn't suspect that we had taken a room in a royal residence."

"I'd give a lot to know what they're about," said Carstairs. "Something big must be afoot."

"They're still moving about the house," said John. "We've got to wait. That's all."

They went back to their places on the floor, and waited as best they could, but they heard the sounds for a long time. After an interminable period they went back to the window and saw the prince and the cavalry riding away. The cannon too departed. A dozen Uhlans however remained posted on horseback about the house. The noises inside ceased.

"I can't make it out," whispered Carstairs. "Why should they go away and leave those Uhlans there guarding the house?"

"There must be something inside very precious to them," replied John.

"But what is it? Apparently the house itself is abandoned by all save ourselves."

"I don't know the answer, but my watch tells me it's far in the night. We've had our sleep and rest, and we must try to slip by the Uhlans and get away. Now's the time too."

"Right you are, John," said Wharton, as he felt once more of his precious pocket. "We can't linger, and risk being caught in a trap here."

"But I hear somebody still moving about the chÂteau," said Carstairs. "Wait a minute, boys."

He looked through the empty keyhole, and announced that he saw a faint light or the reflection of a light in the hall.

"Something's on foot," he said. "If their officers are sleeping here I should think they'd take the lower rooms, but it seems to me that they're fond of the top of the house, overfond of it."

John who was peeping out at the window once more announced that the Uhlans were still keeping a vigilant watch. They were riding slowly back and forth, and he had no doubt there were others in the rear of the chÂteau.

"But I repeat we mustn't linger," said Wharton. "Suppose we hold our automatics ready and slip out."

"Suits me," said John, and he cautiously unlocked the door. The three with their hands on their weapons stepped into the hall, where they noticed the faint glimmer of light, of which Carstairs had spoken. They stood there silently for a moment or two, pressing themselves against the wall, where they would be in the shadow.

"I think the light comes from above," said Carstairs. "You'll notice that the little stairway leads upward, apparently to the roof."

Wharton held up his hand, and the three were so still they scarcely breathed.

"Don't you hear it?" whispered Wharton. "That sound from the roof, the sputtering and crackling."

"I do hear it," said John, listening with all ears. "It's a faint sound, almost like the light crackling of fire. What does it mean Wharton?"

"The wireless."

"The wireless?"

"Yes, while we were sleeping the Germans were installing a wireless outfit on the roof, and it's talking. I tell you, boys, it's talking at a great rate, and it's saying something. You mayn't have noticed it, but the chÂteau stands on a hill, with a clear sweep, and our wireless here is having a big talk with distant stations. We've been sleeping, but the Germans never sleep."

"I suppose you know what you're talking about, Wharton, and you're sure it's a wireless outfit," said John.

"It's impossible for me to be wrong. I could never mistake the sound of the wireless for anything else."

"And it's there on the roof of this chÂteau, which belongs to us by right of occupancy, chattering away to German forces elsewhere!" said Carstairs in an indignant whisper.

"It's doing a lot more than chattering," said Wharton. "They wouldn't install a wireless on the roof of a house at this time of the night, merely for a little idle summer conversation. You saw that a prince and generals came here, and undoubtedly they ordered it done."

"Whatever they're talking about," said Carstairs, "it's not likely they're talking about us, so now is our chance to slip away."

"I'm not going to leave the chÂteau just now," said Wharton.

"Then what are you going to do?"

"I'd like to see the wireless on the roof and the man who is working it."

John glanced at Wharton. The light was very dim, but he noticed a spark in Wharton's eye, and he knew that something unusual was working in the back of his head.

"I think I'd like to have a look at the roof myself," he whispered.

"If you chaps are bent on going up there," said Carstairs, "I'm bound to go with you. But we'd better keep our automatics in our hands."

They emerged from the shadow of the wall, and reached the foot of the stairway that led to the roof. The door at the top was open, as the moonlight was shining down, and Wharton boldly led the way, walking on tiptoe, his automatic in his hand. At the open door John and Carstairs crowded up by his side, and three pairs of eyes peeped out at once.

They saw two men on the roof both with their backs turned to them. One was the operator of the wireless, sitting on a camp stool, working the instrument. The other, in an officer's uniform, was dictating messages. John surmised that they were talking with a station to the eastward, where some lofty ranges of hills ran.

But Wharton was the most deeply stirred of the three. The spark in his eye was enlarging and glowing more brilliant, and a great resolve had formed in his mind.

"There's nothing that we can do here," said Carstairs. "We'd better go at once."

"We're not going," said Wharton in a fierce whisper. "I can use the wireless, and that's just the instrument on which I wish to exercise my skill. I've heard enough to know they're not talking in code."

"Wharton, you are mad!" said John.

"If so, I'm mad in a good cause. Inside of ten minutes some German general will be hearing remarkable news from this station."

"I tell you again you're mad."

"And I tell you again I'm not. I'm a crack wireless operator and this is my chance to prove it. I'm going up there. All who are afraid can turn back."

"You know that if you're resolved to go mad we'll go mad with you. What do you want us to do?"

"John, club your automatic, and hit that officer on the back of the head with it. Hit hard. Don't kill him, but you must knock him unconscious at the first blow. Carstairs and I will choke all but a spark of life out of the operator."

The three emerged from the stairway upon the flat portion of the roof where the wireless plant had been installed not more than four or five feet away. They made not the slightest sound as they stole forward, but even had they made it the two Germans were so deeply absorbed in their talk through the air that they would not have heard it.

John felt compunctions at striking an unsuspecting enemy from behind, but their desperate need put strength in his blow. The officer fell without a cry and lay motionless. At the same instant Wharton and Carstairs seized the operator by the throat, and dragged him down. He was a small spectacled man and he was only a child in the hands of two powerful youths. In a minute or two and almost without noise they bound him with strips of his own coat, and gagged him with a handkerchief. Then they stretched him out on the roof and turned to John's victim.

The man lay on his face. His helmet had fallen off and rolled some distance away, a ray of moonlight tipping the steel spike with silver. A dark red stain appeared in his hair where the pistol butt had descended.

The figure was that of a powerful man, and the set of the shoulders seemed familiar to John. He rolled him over, and disclosed the face of von Boehlen. Again he felt compunction for that blow, not because he liked the captain, but because he knew him.

"It's von Boehlen," he said, "and I hope I haven't killed him."

Carstairs inserted his hand under his head and felt of the wound.

"You haven't killed him," he said, "but you struck hard enough to make him a bitter enemy. The skull isn't fractured at all, and he'll be reviving in a few minutes. He's a powerful fellow, and we'd better truss him up as we have his friend here."

While Carstairs and Wharton were binding and gagging von Boehlen, John went to the railing about five feet in height that surrounded the central or flat part of the roof, the rest sloping away. The railing would hide what was passing there from the Uhlans below, but he wanted to take a look of precaution.

The men were riding up and down with their usual regularity and precision, watching every approach to the house, and making the ring of steel about it complete. This little wheel of the German machine was Working perfectly, guarding with invincible thoroughness against the expected, but taking no account of the unexpected. He came back to his comrades.

"All well below," he said.

Von Boehlen and the operator, the big man and the little man, were lying side by side. Von Boehlen's face was very pale, but his chest was beginning to rise and fall with some regularity. He would become conscious in three or four minutes. The operator was conscious already and he was staring at the three apparitions.

But Wharton was paying no attention to the captives. His soul fairly leaped within him as he took his seat at the instrument which was sputtering and flashing with unanswered questions.

"Is that the ChÂteau de Friant?" came the words flashing through the air.

"Yes this is the ChÂteau de Friant," replied Wharton, learning for the first time the name of the house, in which they had made themselves at home.

"Then why don't you answer? You broke off suddenly five minutes ago and we couldn't get another word from you."

"Something went wrong with the instrument, but it's all right now. Go ahead."

"Is Captain von Boehlen still there?"

"At my elbow."

"Take from his dictation the answers to the questions I ask you."

"At once, sir. He is ready to dictate."

"Have you seen anything of British troops, Captain von Boehlen?"

"I have sir. I saw them marching northward this afternoon."

"In what direction?"

"Toward Mons."

"What seemed to be their purpose?"

"To effect a junction with the main French army."

Wharton improvised rapidly. His whole soul was still alight. It had seldom been granted to one man, especially one so young as he to have two such opportunities, that of the papers, and that of the wireless, and he felt himself ready and equal to his task.

"Were they in large force?" came the question out of the dark.

"Larger than any of us expected."

"How many do you think?"

"About one hundred and fifty thousand men."

For two or three minutes no other question came, and Wharton laughed silently. "I've created a hostile force of a hundred and fifty thousand men," were his unuttered words, "and they don't like it."

"Is it possible for our advance column to get in between them and the French?" finally came the next question.

"It's too late," went back the winged answer. "The column would be destroyed."

"This is not in accordance with our earlier reports."

"No sir. But both the English and French have shown amazing activity. A French force of more than one hundred thousand men, of which we have had no report before, faces our right. It is prepared to strike our line just where it is thinnest."

Another silence, and Wharton's heart beat hard and fast. John standing near him, did not know what was being said through the dark, but he knew by the look on Wharton's strained face that it must be momentous. The wireless was silent, and now he heard the measured tread of horses' hoofs, as the Uhlans rode back and forth, guarding the wireless station against the coming of any foe.

Wharton listened intently at the receiver. Were they accepting all that he said? Why shouldn't they? He had given them no answer which they could know to be wrong.

"You are entirely sure of what you say?" came the question.

"Entirely sir. My Uhlans and I were able to ride under cover of a forest to a point within a few hundred yards of the enemy. We saw them in great masses."

"And their field artillery?"

"We were not able to count the guns, but they were very numerous."

"Then it seems that we can't drive a wedge between the English and the French."

"I fear that we can't sir."

"Send out a portion of the Uhlans under your best officers and report to me again at daylight."

"They shall go at once sir."

"Then good night. Captain von Boehlen. I congratulate you upon your energy and the great service that you have done."

"Thank you sir."

"We may call you again in the night."

"I shall be here sir."

"But I won't," said Wharton, as he stepped back and smashed the receiver with the butt of his automatic.

Then as he turned away he said:

"Boys, I've been talking with the Emperor himself maybe, and if not with some one very high in command. I'll tell you about it later, as we must waste no time in escaping from this chÂteau."

"I hope you told the Emperor that we are here, ready to defeat him," said John.

"I didn't tell him that exactly, but I told him or whoever it was something which may help us. Now, fellows, we must be off."

They crippled the instrument beyond hope of repair and started. As John turned toward the stairway, he glanced at von Boehlen. The Prussian had returned to consciousness and his eyes were wide open. They bent upon John such a look of anger and hatred that the young American shuddered. And yet, John felt von Boehlen had full cause for such feelings. Despite himself he believed that they owed him an apology, and stooping a little he said:

"It's been a cruel necessity, Captain von Boehlen. War is violence."

The Prussian's eyes glared back. A handkerchief in his mouth kept him from speaking, but his eyes said enough.

"I hope that you and your comrade will not suffer," said John. "Your friends will find you here in the morning."

Then he followed his comrades down the narrow stairway.

"What were you saying to him?" asked Carstairs. "I was apologizing for the blow I gave him from behind."

"The decent thing to do."

As they descended into the lower part of the house Wharton told them more fully what he had said over the wireless, and Carstairs patted him on the back.

"Good old chap," he said. "You Yankees do have bright ideas sometimes."

"The next bright idea is open to any one who can furnish it," said Wharton. "It's to tell us how we're to get out of the chÂteau."

"I think there's a vineyard just behind the house," said John, "and if we can reach it we're safe. And we should be able to get there as the Uhlans are watching for people who may come to the chÂteau, and not for anybody going away."

They explored the rear of the house and found a door opening upon a narrow flagged walk, lined on either side with pines, and leading straight to the vineyard about thirty yards away. They could make a dash for it, and a Uhlan might or might not see them.

"And if they should see us," said Carstairs, "we could probably get away in the garden and the darkness."

"But we don't want 'em to discover what's happened on the roof," said Wharton. "Then they might send a new wireless. If we can slip away without being seen maybe they won't know what's happened to the wireless, until morning."

"I think," said John, "that we'd better resort to the tactics, used long ago by the borderers in the American wilderness, and creep along the walk until we reach the vineyard."

"Go ahead," said Carstairs, "I'm as good a creeper as you are. But, since it's one of your Yankee tricks, you lead."

They stepped outside and instantly dropped to their hands and knees. The grass beside the walk was rather high and John led the way through it, instead of on the walk, whispering to Carstairs who was just behind him to do as he did, Carstairs in turn passing the word to Wharton.

They advanced about ten yards, and then, John lay flat. The others did the same. One of the Uhlans riding on his beat was passing near the vineyard. He was a man of good eyes and he was watchful as became his service, but it was impossible for him to see the three dark figures of his enemies lying in the grass and he rode on. Then John rose to his hands and knees again, and resumed his creeping advance with the others close behind him. He could hear Carstairs muttering against this painful mode of travel, but he would not alter it, and he knew that the Englishman would be true to his word.

Near the vineyard he flattened down a second time in the grass. The Uhlan was riding back again on his beat, and the most critical moment had come. He would certainly pass very near, and although the odds were against it, his eye might catch a glimpse of the three figures in the grass. Even then they might escape through the vineyard and across the wire fence which would impede the horses, but John recognized as fully as Wharton did the importance of the Uhlans believing until morning that all was well on the roof of the chÂteau.

The beat of the horse's hoofs came near. The Uhlan was young and blond, a handsome fellow with a kindly face. John hoped that he would never have to shoot at him. But he did not see the three prone figures. It was likely that they blended with the shadows more thoroughly than John had supposed. He passed on and the danger passed on with him.

"Let's get up now and run," whispered Carstairs.

"Not a step until we reach the bushes," replied John. "Not a step, even if your knees and elbows are worn quite away."

But it took only two or three minutes more to reach the vineyard, and they rose to a stooping position, Carstairs expelling his breath in a long sigh of relief.

"I shall never stand up straight again," he whispered.

They ran between the vines and gained the forest, where in spite of the complaint Carstairs had made all three straightened up and began to exchange rejoicings after the manner of youth. The house showed clearly in its grounds, and they saw the dusky figures of two or three of the Uhlans, but they were outside the ring and they knew they were safe from that danger at least. But the creeping had been so painful they were compelled to rest several minutes. Probably the most exultant of the three was Wharton, although he said the least. He had sent the wireless messages which would mislead at least a portion of the German army, enabling the English and French to close up the gap between them, and he carried the papers of the German prince, telling how other German armies were advancing. His hand flew once more to his coat, and when it felt of the priceless packet the blood seemed to tingle in his arm, and shoot back in a stronger flood toward his heart.

"And now Carstairs," said John, "you know this country better than we do. Lead us toward the British army. And as we've lost our horses and our automobile I suppose it's to be on foot now."

"It shouldn't be much farther," said Carstairs, "and as we're all good walkers we can make it yet."

Under his guidance they left the wood and entered a road which led north and west. Their sleep had refreshed them wonderfully, but above all they had the buoyancy that comes from success and hope. They had triumphed over every danger. Their hearts grew bolder and their muscles stronger, as they sped on their journey.

"I never knew before how good walking could be," said John.

"It's a jolly sight better than creeping and crawling," said Carstairs. "John, I don't think you'll ever get me to do that again, even to save my life."

"No, but the Germans may make you do a lot of it, if you don't get some sense through your thick British head," said Wharton.

"Is that you, Wharton, and are you still alive?" said Carstairs.

"I'm here, all right."

"Wasn't it your great president, Lincoln, who said you couldn't cross a river until you got to it?"

"He said something like that."

"Well, that's what we British are doing. But we're bound to admit that you've done great work for us tonight, old chap."

Their hands met in the darkness in a strong and friendly grasp.

"At least there's one advantage about walking," said John. "If we hear or see Uhlans it's much easier to dodge on our own feet into the woods or fields than it would be with horses or an armored car."

"I'm thinking we've seen the last of the Uhlans for the time," said Carstairs. "Another hour or two ought to take us well inside our own lines. Now, what is that?"

He was looking eastward where he saw a succession of white flashes on the horizon. The three stopped and watched. The white flashes reappeared at intervals for about ten minutes and they wondered. Then the solution came suddenly to John.

"Powerful searchlights," he said. "The Germans have everything and of course they have them too. If necessary they'll advance in the night and fight under them."

"Of course," said Carstairs. "Why didn't we think of it sooner?"

A certain awe seized the three. The reputation of the German military machine had been immense throughout the world for years, and now real war was proving it to be all that was claimed for it and more. A great and numerous nation for nearly half a century had poured its best energies into the making of an invincible army. Was it possible to stop it? The three were asking themselves that question again as they watched the searchlights flashing on the horizon.

"It must be up and away with us," said Carstairs. "We're the champion walkers of Northern France, and if we're to retain our titles we can't linger here. In another hour the day will come."

Daylight found them at a small river. The bridge was not broken down, and they inferred that it was within the lines of defense. An hour later they learned from a peasant that a British force was camped about fifteen miles north and west, and they induced him with good gold to drive them nearly the whole way in his cart. About a mile from the roadside he insisted on their getting out and drove back rapidly.

"He's afraid his cart and horse would be seized," said Carstairs. "We could have forced him to go on, but we'll not set a bad example."

The road now led over a hill and at its crest Carstairs took off his hat and waved it proudly.

"Don't you see?" he exclaimed. "Look! Look! The British flag!"

"What British flag?" said Wharton. "You've a lot of your rags."

"Never mind they're all glorious. See it, waving there by the tents!"

"Yes, I see it, but why are you English so excitable? Any way it's probably waving over valiant Scotchmen and Irishmen."

"Wharton, you grumpy old Yankee, descendant of sour Puritan ancestors, we've won our way through in face of everything!"

He seized Wharton about the waist, and the two waltzed up and down the road, while John laughed from sheer joy.

"Bill come an' look at the crazy Frenchmen dancin' in the road," said a voice that reeked of the Strand.

Bill who was from London himself came out of some bushes by the side of the road, and gazed with wonder at the whirling figures. John knew that they belonged on the first line of the British outposts and he said politely:

"You're partly wrong. My friends are crazy right enough, but they're not Frenchmen. One is an Englishman like yourselves, and the other is an American, but regularly enlisted in the Franco-British service, as I am too."

Carstairs and Wharton stopped dancing. Carstairs took off his hat, and made a deep bow to the astonished pickets.

"I'm not bowing to you, though God knows you deserve it," he said. "I'm bowing instead to the British nation which is here incarnate in your khaki clad persons."

"Touched a bit 'ere, Bill," said one of the men, putting his finger to his forehead.

"A bit off says I too, 'Arry. We used to get 'em sometimes on our 'bus in the Strand. Speak 'em gentle, and they'll stop carrying on."

Carstairs exuded joy and he extended a welcoming hand.

"I take it that you were the driver and conductor of a 'bus in the Strand."

"Right you are sir," they replied together, and then one added:

"If you'll go down to the foot of the hill you'll see the good old 'bus itself with all the signs still on it. But I'll 'ave to ask you first, sir, who you are and what do you want?"

John had never thought before that the cockney accent would be so grateful to his ear, but his pleasure at seeing the men was scarcely less than that of Carstairs. They did not come from his own land, but they came from the land of his ancestors, and that was next best.

Carstairs and Wharton quickly showed their dispatches. Bill promptly took them to a sergeant, and in a half hour they stood beside the general's tent in the center of ten thousand men, the vanguard of the British army. Dispatches have never been read more eagerly and when Wharton, in addition, told the story of the chÂteau roof and the wireless the general felt a great thrill of excitement.

"I'm bound to believe all that you say," he said looking into the three honest young faces. "Darrell, see that they have refreshment at once, because we move in an hour."

Darrell, a young aide procured them food and horses. Soon the whole detachment was marching toward the main force, and the three true to the promise of their Cockney friends saw London 'buses, still covered with their hideous signs lumbering along as transports. At noon they joined the chief British army, and the next day they were in touch with the French.

The preceding night the three received places in wagons and slept heavily. By morning their strength was fully restored and pending the arrival of the Strangers, with whom they intended to remain they served as aides.

Several days passed, but not in idleness. Incessant skirmishing went on in front, and the Uhlans were nearly always in sight. John felt the presence of vast numbers. He surmised that the British army did not number more than a hundred thousand men, but multitudes of French were on their right and still greater multitudes of Germans were in front. It was a wonderful favor of fortune or skill that the British had not been cut off and as the German hosts, fierce and determined, poured forward, there was no certainty that it would not yet happen.

John soon became at home among the English, Scotch and Irish. He found many of his own countrymen in their ranks and he continually heard his own language in more or less varied form.

The thrilling nature of the tremendous spectacle soon made him forget to some extent the awfulness of war. Riding with his comrades at night along the front he saw again the flashing of the German searchlights, and now and then came the mighty boom of the great guns.

Belgian refugees told them that the advance of the Germans was like the rolling in of the sea. Their gray hosts poured forward on every road. They would be going through a village, for hours and hours, for a day, a night and then the next day, an endless gray tide, every man perfectly equipped, every man in his place, hot food always ready for them at the appointed time, cavalry in vast masses, and cannon past counting.

The knowledge lay upon John like a weight, tremendous and appalling, and yet he would not have been elsewhere. He was glad to be on the battle front when the fate of half a billion people was being decided.

Many of the spectacular features afforded by earlier battles disappeared, but others took their place. In the clear air they sometimes saw the flashes of the giant cannon, miles away, and flying machines and captive balloons sprinkled the air. An army could no longer hide itself. Forests and hollows were of no avail. The scouts of the blue, looking down saw every move, and they brought word that the menace was growing heavier every hour.

"We'll fight on the morrow," said John as he stood with Carstairs and Wharton before a camp fire. "I feel that the Germans will surely attack in the morning."