At daybreak of the morning following Lucy’s departure from ChÂteau-Plessis Colonel Gordon awoke to the boom of cannon. He raised his head, listening intently. In a moment he was aware that the fighting had recommenced along the whole front. He guessed that the bombardment extended from Argenton as far south as Cantigny, though as yet the lines in front of ChÂteau-Plessis were quiet enough. He rose and dressed and went out into the garden.

The sentry glanced at him with a look of surprise and annoyance, for he was not the only one who had been roused by the guns. Several of the convalescents were strolling about the garden, though in the faint light of a foggy dawn Colonel Gordon could distinguish them but vaguely. Neither could he see the sky beyond the town, but the fog could not prevent his hearing, and his ears told him much. The bombardment was steadily increasing. The German artillery in front of ChÂteau-Plessis had gone into action now, and the vibrations of the powerful explosions began to shake the air. From the distant boom of the guns before Argenton to the crash of those but a mile away, the mighty volume of sound rolled ever increasingly on the listeners’ ears.

As Colonel Gordon stood motionless by the garden wall, the figure of a French officer advanced out of the fog and came to his side.

“Good-morning, Colonel,” said his fellow prisoner, and in the Frenchman’s voice Colonel Gordon detected something of the longing hope that was stirring his own heart. “What do you think of it? It sounds as if they were in earnest.”

He spoke very low, and Colonel Gordon answered him as softly, “It is evident that the Allies began the attack. I’m sure the firing commenced from our own lines. The German batteries in front of the town have but just come in.”

“The attack appears to be developing on our flanks—ChÂteau-Plessis is not directly menaced yet. I fear it could not be held, even if taken, while the enemy holds Argenton.” The Frenchman’s eager voice had grown more anxious than hopeful as the situation grew clearer to his mind.

“That is probable enough,” Colonel Gordon muttered thoughtfully, “but, Captain Remy, I think the Americans are opposite us, and they are not likely to attempt an advance over this unknown terrain without good hope of success.”

Colonel Gordon was not at heart quite as confident as he appeared, as the Frenchman easily recognized, but both men knew the value of a little optimism, and Captain Remy allowed himself to be somewhat encouraged. In fact, notwithstanding the obstacle of Argenton’s formidable defenses, the thought of that American army about to strike with all the ardor of its growing strength and determination was cause for hope and even for confidence.

An hour passed while the two officers stood there, listening in silence, and occasionally exchanging a few words. When a German orderly came to call them back to the hospital they left reluctantly. The crash of the guns was the only sound they cared to hear just then, and the only sight their eyes looked for the dark puffs of bursting shells in the sky beyond the town, from which the fog had begun to clear away.

Inside the hospital Colonel Gordon caught sight of Elizabeth and stopped the German woman on her hurried way across the ward. “Where is Lucy, Elizabeth?” he asked. “She is usually here before this time.”

Elizabeth’s face was flushed and troubled, and her hands began clasping each other nervously. Colonel Gordon thought he guessed the reason for her uneasiness. Convinced as he was of his old servant’s loyalty to the Allies’ cause he could not but suppose that her feelings would undergo some conflict on the eve of another fight.

Elizabeth stammered a little as she answered, “Miss Lucy not yet is here, Colonel. She told me I should say to you that she will before very long see you.”

This vague reply satisfied Colonel Gordon for the moment, and he went in to breakfast, still deeply thoughtful over the commencing battle. It was easy to see that every one in the hospital shared his preoccupation. The Americans and their allies listened to the roaring cannon with eager, intent faces. Between patients and nurses many a hopeful word or meaning glance was exchanged, in spite of German doctors and orderlies near by. These seemed not to share in the keen interest the others showed. They looked sullen, anxious and ill-tempered. Many a poor French or American soldier was roughly handled that morning by a German orderly who saw a chance to vent his smouldering resentment. By no stretch of imagination could any German in ChÂteau-Plessis see a cheerful prospect ahead. When the French and British had exacted from them such a fearful toll during the progress of Germany’s victorious spring offensive, what would the price be now that America had joined the ranks of the Allies?

The bombardment had grown heavy and continuous all along the line. Colonel Gordon presently started back to the garden, but was prevented by the sentry on the path outside, who shook his head scowlingly, with upraised rifle. Surprised at this sudden change of front, Colonel Gordon went back to his room and looked out of the main window toward the west. The sky was filled with darting airplanes, and bursting shrapnel formed countless dark spots among the white clouds beyond the town. As he looked, the scream of a shell drowned for a moment every other sound. The next instant, with a terrific explosion, a jet of earth and stone rose into the air not five hundred yards distant, leaving a gaping hole in the street leading westward from the hospital.

Colonel Gordon turned to the door of the room, and catching sight of Miss Pearse, motioned quickly to her. The big ward had suddenly taken on a look of excitement and confusion. A German doctor was loudly issuing orders right and left. Miss Pearse ran to Colonel Gordon’s side, her face reflecting the emotions that filled her heart almost to bursting at that moment. Colonel Gordon gave her no time to speak before he asked sharply:

“Where is Lucy? Why isn’t she here?”

Miss Pearse gave a quick sigh, as though she had nearly reached the limit of endurance. She drew Colonel Gordon back into the room, and said with what calmness she could muster:

“I will have to tell you, Colonel, and I can’t take long to do it. I hope and believe that Lucy is safely inside the Allies’ lines.”

“Where? What?” gasped Colonel Gordon, stupefied.

Miss Pearse took Lucy’s note from her apron pocket and put it in his hands. “That will tell you all I know,” she said.

With trembling fingers Colonel Gordon held the slip of paper to the light and read the following, in a hurried, blotted likeness of Lucy’s writing:

“Dear Miss Pearse: I am going to try to cross the German lines to-night, to take Captain Beattie’s plan to the Allies. I cannot stay here and see Father sent to Germany. I know a way—by the chÂteau hill—where perhaps I can get through. If I succeed I will beg the American commander to attack at once. Pray that he can. I wrote Elizabeth not to let Father know sooner than can be helped. You, too, please, don’t tell him before to-morrow. Lucy.”

Colonel Gordon could not find breath to speak. As he stood staring at Miss Pearse in horror and amazement, the young nurse cried in an agony of longing:

“Oh, Colonel Gordon, if only the Allies could take the town to-day! The Germans have given orders to evacuate the hospitals. They are taking out the German patients now, and in another hour the rest must follow.” Her voice shook and her eyes filled with tears as they met his with a look of almost hopeless misery, but in the same moment she wiped the tears away and turned back to the ward to resume her share of the tremendous task.

Colonel Gordon stood motionless where she had left him. Then, his thoughts a little collected, he glanced sharply out into the hurry and movement of the ward, where the work of evacuation had begun. He sprang toward the window once more, trying to learn something of the battle’s progress amidst the roar of the artillery. A German regiment was running along the street toward the west, making its utmost speed among the impeding stones and rubbish. The shells no longer fell near by. He could hear them screaming over the town, but they fell short of the centre, avoiding the hospitals and searching out the German main headquarters and supply depot, behind the trenches. He thought the two airplanes circling far overhead were accountable for this change. The sentry had deserted the garden to help in the interior of the hospital. Motor-lorries and ambulances were drawn up outside the doors, and the German wounded had begun to be carried out.

Colonel Gordon entered the ward, and finding himself unobserved in the general confusion, went out into the garden, and from there to the street beyond. The regiment had passed, and the street was deserted. He glanced back and saw that the angle of the hospital wall hid him from the group about the ambulances. He drew a long breath and began to run in the direction of the firing.

Not far from the street which Lucy had followed to the chÂteau hill the night before he stopped, breathing a little hard after his enforced idleness of the past weeks. The chief reason for his pause, however, was the change in the noise of the attack which became distinguishable to his ears as he drew nearer. The rat-tat-tat of machine guns and rifle fire was plainly audible in the midst of the bombardment. It came from his left, the direction of the hill. He ran forward again until between the houses he could obtain a distant view of the hillside.

The fog had now lifted from all but the lowlands, and at the sight which met his eyes he gave a shout of amazement and exultation. All over the hill-tops behind the chÂteau khaki-clad men were advancing in skirmish line. Now they ran on a few steps, now dropped to earth or fell back before a sudden onset from the enemy concealed in the woods in front of them, while the bursting flame from machine guns, the volleys of musketry fire, and the gaps opening in the thinning ranks announced a bitter and desperate struggle. It could mean but one thing. The German line still held before ChÂteau-Plessis, but at this, the extreme southern point of the town, it had been broken by a bold surprise. Colonel Gordon stood staring toward the hill, convincing himself of the truth of what he saw. While his heart throbbed with triumph, every nerve in his body rebelled at remaining an idle spectator to that thrilling and unequal conflict. Barely two companies of Americans had breasted the hill from the swampy land below, and they had all they could do to hold their own. At that moment he heard the thud of footsteps behind him and glanced quickly back. A German infantry column, making double-time toward the front, was debouching from a street on his right.

The foremost officer gave one look at the uniformed American and sent a shot from his pistol at Colonel Gordon’s breast. The bullet whizzed by his shoulder, and a second kicked up the dust behind him. For he did not wait to furnish a target to the German captain. Those shots more than anything else added to the strength and ardor of his purpose. The German thought him a combatant, and a combatant he was from that instant.

He had slipped around the corner of the church at the head of the street leading to the hill. Once out of sight of his enemy, who was leading his men on too desperate an errand to turn aside in pursuit, he ran on until the road sloped upward. The American shells had penetrated this far before the infantry had advanced to climb the hillside under cover of the fog. Right before him gaped a huge shell-hole, whose flying earth had partly concealed a shattered German machine gun, with the crew lying dead beside it. Colonel Gordon bent over one of the dead soldiers, seized the pistol from his holster and unbuckled his cartridge-belt. In another second he stood up, no longer unarmed and defenseless. With every pulse on fire, though his brain remained keen and watchful, he ran on toward the hill.

To skirt its northern side would be to run full into the German trenches. Any way was perilous enough, but he was thoroughly familiar with the ground. It was the same over which he had advanced six weeks before to victory. He could not linger at the base of the hill either, where bodies of troops might be met with at any moment. Just now he saw only a straggling group of women and children fleeing from a near-by cottage toward the town. He plunged into the wood and began mounting the hill among the thick growth of pines, while above him increased the hammer of machine-gun fire, the rattle of musketry and the shouts of furious men. The hillside up which he climbed was deserted. The Germans had gone to the defense of the position by way of the trenches, and, though already driven back to seek cover in the woods, they had not yet retreated down the slope.

As he neared the crest, Colonel Gordon crept cautiously up behind a rock which overhung the hillside, and, breathing fast, crouched low to peer out from its concealing shelter. Directly in front of him, about twenty yards away, gray-clad soldiers were falling back in disorder, though firing as they retired. In a moment they were almost at the rock’s level, and now the Americans burst out from the lingering fog wreaths among the pines, pursuing the demoralized foe at the point of the bayonet. Colonel Gordon started up from the ground, victory the one thought in his exultant heart. At that instant a sharp command rang out from the trees on his right. Before it died away a heavy rifle-fire was discharged on the flank of the advancing Americans, a dozen of whom fell forward in the midst of their triumphant charge. He knew in a second what had happened. German reinforcements had crept up by the road which wound about the hillside. The swift retreat of the Germans defending the hill was playing into the very hands of these newcomers, who had the surprised Americans for the moment at their mercy.

An American soldier, pitching forward as he fell, rolled down to the rock close by Colonel Gordon’s side. He was already dead. Colonel Gordon saw the gaping wound in his temple, and in the same glance he read the number on his insignia. These men were from his own regiment! In that breath of time that he had remained inactive his mind had been desperately planning how to make the most of the help he could offer. Now he hesitated no longer.

A captain, frantically trying to rally his men to withstand the flank attack of twice their own number, fell dead in the act of urging on his company. Their leader shot down, a murderous fire cutting their ranks to pieces, for an instant the men wavered. At that moment there appeared in front of them the tall figure of an officer, bareheaded, a pistol in his upraised hand. There was no time to express any of the emotions which seized the soldiers’ bewildered minds at sight of their lost commander. A bullet struck Colonel Gordon in the arm, but he did not feel it. His voice, ringing out clear, strong and confident, in the midst of death and confusion, cried:

“Forward, men of the 39th! Follow me!”

It was all they needed. What were overwhelming odds with that familiar figure leading them to victory? A cheer that shook the enemy’s sense of easy triumph burst from their panting throats. Colonel Gordon was no longer alone, for the whole company had sprung to his side. A solid volley met the German attack, and then in the face of a rain of bullets, the Americans charged.

The Germans saw that hedge of bayonets rushing down upon them, and commenced to give way a little. Trained fighters as they were they could not stand before that onslaught. Leaping down the slope, between the trees and over rocks and brushwood, the Americans came irresistibly on. The Germans, retiring faster now, scowled in sullen rage at this enemy who advanced shouting, against such withering fire, their eyes aflame with the eager light of victory.

As they neared the foot of the hill the German fire had almost ceased. Hand to hand the men of the 39th and their enemy continued the bitter struggle. Now more Americans had reached the hill-crest from the chÂteau and, while some remained to lend aid to those men of the 39th who had fought as rear-guard, others came bounding down the hill. Their help was welcome, but the fight was already won. A hundred survivors of the two hundred men who had followed Colonel Gordon down the hill faced the shattered remnant of the German reinforcing column. Those of the enemy who managed to escape alive or uncaptured fled into the town, through which, at news of the broken line, the German troops from the trenches in front of ChÂteau-Plessis could be seen retreating in disorder. Two officers, reaching Colonel Gordon’s side, seized hold of him and cried inaudible words of astonishment and joy through the rattle of musketry and the shouts around them. But their faces spoke plainly enough. One thing Colonel Gordon knew in that glorious moment, even before the silencing of the artillery fire confirmed it. ChÂteau-Plessis was in the hands of the Allies.

The American regiments now poured unimpeded down the hillside road, hoping to take the fleeing Germans on the flank or rear. A thought struck Colonel Gordon in the midst of his joy. To a signal officer pausing beside him, the vanguard of the new communication lines, he asked hurriedly:

“Can we hold the town, Major? It’s a regular pocket. How far does our advance extend?”

“Can we hold it?” repeated the officer with triumph in his voice. “Colonel, we entered Argenton an hour ago!”

Before passing on he pointed to Colonel Gordon’s left sleeve. It was stained with blood, and the elder officer, noticing for the first time his wounded arm, found that it hung powerless by his side.

Lucy and her mother were in the little hospital at Cantigny when the news reached them. Lucy had been sent there by General Clinton to rest after her fatigue of the night before, and it was Captain Harding who had instantly sent word to Mrs. Gordon. At half-past nine the morning of the advance Mrs. Gordon reached Cantigny, and ten minutes later Lucy’s arms were around her mother’s neck, and all the suffering and anxiety of the past two months seemed to slip like a heavy burden from her shoulders. She was free and her mother was with her—no longer to be tormented with fears for her safety. After the first happy moments all their thoughts turned to Bob and Colonel Gordon and to the battle now raging, which would decide ChÂteau-Plessis’ fate.

They had not long to spend in uncertainty, for that morning events moved quickly. Mrs. Gordon saw from the window a soldier running up the hospital steps.

“I wonder what news he has, Lucy,” she said, her voice shaking with mingled hope and fear.

The next moment the door of the little room opened and a nurse, whose shining eyes and radiant face spoke plainer than words, ran in and handed Mrs. Gordon a folded paper. “A soldier brought it,” she explained, darting out again. “I haven’t time to stop.”

Mrs. Gordon unfolded the paper and together she and Lucy devoured the few pencil-scribbled lines:

“We have won! Argenton has fallen. ChÂteau-Plessis follows. R. H.”

The guns were still thundering a few miles away, and at that distance neither Lucy nor her mother distinguished the slackening of the fire. They could not sit quietly any longer, and, going into the wards, they joined in the general rejoicing.

“Oh, Lucy, it’s too good to be true!” Mrs. Gordon exclaimed a dozen times over. “Now if only I can see Bob and Father safe.”

They went out into the streets of Cantigny, and it was in front of the brick house which was the Staff Headquarters in the town that Lucy caught sight of General Clinton. He was standing by a big military automobile, the door of which his aide, Lieutenant Wheeler, was holding open. At thought of what the General had done for her in trusting to Captain Beattie’s plan and ordering the advance Lucy’s eyes, as they were raised to his, filled up with quick, grateful tears. At that moment he turned and saw the young girl watching him. He gave her one sharp glance and leaving the car came forward to her side. With a bow to Mrs. Gordon he held out his hand.

“Shake hands, Lucy Gordon,” he said, his grave face lighting with keen satisfaction. “We’ve won, and your brave act made victory possible. Our troops occupy Argenton and ChÂteau-Plessis.”

As Lucy, too overcome to speak, put her hand in his with burning cheeks and wildly beating heart, he turned quickly to his aide.

“Any empty seats in that other car, Wheeler? I know this girl and her mother are anxious to get to ChÂteau-Plessis.”

“Yes, sir, there is plenty of room,” responded the young officer with alacrity. He led the way to a second machine while the General stepped into his own before Lucy could find words to thank him.

It was almost noon when Lucy and her mother entered ChÂteau-Plessis. The automobiles of General Clinton’s staff made a slow way among the soldiers and civilians crowding the once desolate streets in cheering throngs. The poor townspeople had robbed their little gardens to shower the victorious troops with lilacs and roses. Cries of friendly greeting filled the air on every side, and General Clinton advanced to joyful shouts of “Vive l’AmÉrique! Vive nos libÉrateurs!”

A shower of rose petals fell in Lucy’s lap, and, gazing about her with wide, unbelieving eyes, she caught her breath in a quick sob. Too many feelings struggled in her heart for any connected thought. Most of all she longed to see her father and know that he was safe.

They neared the old town hall, no longer a hospital since the German evacuation, and bearing signs of their rage for destruction in the heaps of torn mattresses and broken furniture flung outside the doors into the street. American soldiers were hurriedly restoring things to order, for the Allies’ wounded had been removed to the French hospital and here were to be General Clinton’s headquarters for the time being.

Even before they drew up in front of the old building Lucy recognized some familiar faces among the group of officers gathered in the doorway. They had preceded the General from Cantigny to establish his headquarters, and now came forward to receive him. A few doctors and nurses, too, were among them. Lucy scanned each face with eager eyes, for Bob had flown into ChÂteau-Plessis immediately after the German retreat, in search of his father, and she and her mother waited to hear from him of Colonel Gordon’s safety. Major Arthur Leslie was standing in the road, talking with a young British officer. Lucy’s throbbing heart gave a bound as she saw Captain Beattie’s face. The look of cold defiance with which he had faced his captors—the bitter melancholy of his days in prison, had utterly vanished, and he looked like a happy boy as Arthur Leslie clapped him on the shoulder and shook his hands in joyful greeting. At that instant Lucy caught sight of Bob from behind a little group of men. The next, she sprang from the automobile and ran across the street. For Colonel Gordon, his left arm closely bandaged, was standing at Bob’s side.

Five minutes later, when the Gordons had begun to realize the wonderful and happy truth that they were reunited, General Clinton made his way from among his aides to Colonel Gordon’s side. He held out his hand to the wounded officer, glancing from one to the other of the faces before him with real sympathy in his shrewd, understanding eyes.

“I congratulate you on your gallant service,” he said with simple directness. “It shall not be forgotten, Colonel—or rather General Gordon,” he corrected. “Your son has no doubt told you that you were awarded that rank a month ago.” In the same breath he turned to Bob with hand out-stretched again. “You, too, deserve congratulation—more than I can offer you.”

“What does he mean, Bob?” Lucy whispered, when General Clinton had turned to speak to Mrs. Gordon.

Bob had lost for a moment his dignity, and was looking flushed and boyish with so many eyes fixed upon him. “My promotion, I suppose,” he explained, a little huskily. “I’m a captain—or will be to-morrow.”

“But that’s not all,” interrupted Arthur Leslie, smiling at Bob’s confusion. “He hasn’t told you that he is recommended for decoration by both French and American commanders.”

Lucy thought her heart was too full for any more emotion, but the next minute she heard General Clinton saying:

“We expected your devoted service, General Gordon, and your son’s as well. But we had no claim on your daughter’s, yet she has given all she had of resourcefulness and bravery to the common cause. She deserves a reward as much as any soldier!”

Lucy could not have spoken a word in the midst of her happiness without bursting into childish tears. She wanted to explain Captain Beattie’s part in her success. More than anything she hoped the General understood how complete her reward was in seeing honors heaped upon those she loved so dearly.

“He’s right. It’s you who deserve it all,” Bob whispered in her ear.

Unable to stay quietly where she was, with such hot cheeks and pounding heart, she edged her way toward the door, when an officer had drawn General Clinton to one side.

Out in the street the cool air touched her face gratefully. At that moment she thought of Elizabeth, longing to see her again in this triumphant hour. To-day was Lucy’s fifteenth birthday, and Elizabeth, in the midst of their fears of the past weeks, had promised Lucy a present, in one of her kind efforts to cheer the anxious girl from her growing depression. Lucy eagerly questioned the people around her, but without avail.

“There’s not a German left in ChÂteau-Plessis,” Captain Harding told her, when she explained to him the object of her search. “Elizabeth must have gone on with the German wounded from the hospital. We advanced before they could force our own people to go.”

For a moment a cloud dimmed Lucy’s happiness. Was she not to see that faithful friend again after those dreadful weeks of captivity? Did Elizabeth mean to vanish from ChÂteau-Plessis, now that her work there was ended? Before she could answer her own doubts she caught sight of old Clemence, standing with Michelle at the edge of the little crowd.

Michelle’s eyes were raised to meet her own, and Lucy saw that the French girl’s lovely face was transfigured, as Captain Beattie’s had been, with the glad light of freedom. The look of scornful rebellion had left her eyes and the sad curve of her lips had changed to a serene smile of happiness. Lucy seized both her hands in a clasp that said more than the few halting words in which she tried to express their rejoicing.

Michelle had not managed to respond much, either, except with her shining eyes, when a wild cheer, rising on every side, caused the two girls to look quickly around. Caps were snatched off and flung in the air; the remaining flowers were pelted at the officers in the doorway by children shouting themselves hoarse in jubilation.

All eyes were turned toward the roof of the old town hall of ChÂteau-Plessis. Willing hands had raised two poles between the pointed towers, and now, from the roof, side by side with the heroic Tricolor, there floated the Star-Spangled Banner.