attered in, by the merest chance.

So it was with Monsieur Satan; and when Sheila and the chief found him he
was rubbing his eyes as children will who wake and find themselves in
strange places. He saw only the chief at first and tried to pull himself
together.

"Ah, monsieur, I think some things have happened--but I cannot as yet make
the full report. I am Bertrand Fauchet, Chasseur Alpin," and he tried to
click his bandaged heel against his shoe. Then he looked beyond and saw
Sheila. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time since they had
separated at the French quay. "Bon Dieu! It is Ma'am'selle O'Leary." He
held out a shaking hand. "We meet in the thick of war--is it not so?"

His eyes left Sheila and traveled apprehensively to the children. They
were wriggling themselves free of one another; frightened and bruised,
but not hurt, barring one. The smallest of them all lay on the outskirts
of the heap, quite motionless.

"If you will permit," Monsieur Satan stumbled on and gently picked up
Madeline. He looked all compassion and bewilderment. "I do not altogether
understand, ma'am'selle. But this little girl, I should like to carry her
to some hospital and see that all is well with her. I seem to remember
that she belongs to me." He smiled apologetically at the two watching him,
then stumbled ahead with his burden.

At the base hospital they gave Sheila O'Leary full credit for the curing
of Bertrand Fauchet, which, of course, she flatly denied. She laid it
entirely to the interference of Fate and a child. But the important thing
is that Bertrand Fauchet left the hospital a sound man--and that Madeline
went with him, each holding fast to the hand of the other.

"She is mine now," he said, as he took leave of Sheila. "Le bon Dieu saw
fit to send me in the place of that other papa. Eh, p'tite?" He stroked
the hair back from the little face that looked worshipfully up at him.
"It is for us who remember to make these little ones forget. N'est-ce pas,
ma'am'selle? And we are going back to the world together, to find
somewhere the happiness and the great love for Madeline. Adieu."

Chapter VII

THE LAD WHO OUTSANG THE STARS

In the American Military Hospital No. 10 one could always count on Ward
7-A beginning the day with a genuine fanfare of good spirits--that is to
say, ever since that ward had acquired a distinction and personality of
its own. On this particular morning the doors of the wards were