a while
lest friend or enemy should come.

It had grown somewhat darker and the clouds were driving across the sky.
The wind was rising and the threatened flurries of rain came, beating
against the cottage. John was devoutly glad that he had found the little
house. Having spent many hours immersed to his neck in a river he felt
that he had had enough water for one day. Moreover, his escape, his snug
shelter and the abundance of food at hand, gave him an extraordinary
sense of ease and rest. He noticed that in the darkness and rain one
might pass within fifty feet of the cottage without seeing it.

The wind increased and moaned among the oaks that grew around the house,
but above the moaning the sounds of battle, the distant thunder of the
artillery yet came. The sport of kings was going merrily on. Neither
night nor storm stopped it and men were still being ground by thousands
into cannon food. But John had now a feeling of detachment. Three days
of continuous battle had dulled his senses. They might fight on as they
pleased. It did not concern him, for tonight at least. He was going to
look out for himself.

He fastened the door securely, but, as he left the window open,
currents of fresh cool air poured into the room. He was now fully
revived in both mind and body, and he took present ease and comfort,
thinking but little of the future. The flurries of rain melted into a
steady pour. The cold deepened, and as he wrapped the two blankets
around him his sense of comfort increased. Lightning flared at
infrequent intervals and now and then real thunder mingled with that of
the artillery.

He felt that he might have been back at home. It was like some snug
little place in the high hills of Pennsylvania or New York. Like many
other Americans, he often felt surprise that Europe should be so much
like America. The trees and the grass and the rivers were just the same.
Nothing was different but the ancient buildings. He knew now that
history and a long literature merely created the illusion of difference.

He wondered why the artillery fire did not die, with the wind sweeping
such gusts of rain before it. Then he remembered that the sound of so
many great cannon could travel a long distance, and there might be no
rain at the points from which the firing came. The cottage might stand
in a long narrow valley up which the clouds would travel.

Not feeling sleepy yet he decided to have another look about the house.
A searc