Chapter 6

IN HOSTILE HANDS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lannes looked down, and, pronouncing the place suitable, began to drop in a series of spirals until they rested in a small field that had