sh aviator could not understand the words the
gestures were clear to him, and he waved a hand in friendly fashion.
Then, wheeling in a fine circle, he came back by their side as an
escort.

The _Arrow_, like a bird, folding its wings, sank gracefully into the
meadow, and Lannes, hastily jumping out, asked John to look after the
aeroplane. Then he rushed toward a group of officers, among whom he
recognized the chief of the army.

John himself disembarked stiffly, and stretched his limbs, while several
young Englishmen looked at him curiously. He had learned long since how
to deal with Englishmen, that is to take no notice of them until they
made their presence known, and then to acquiesce slowly and reluctantly
in their existence. So, he took short steps back and forth on the grass,
flexing and tensing his muscles, as abstractedly as if he were alone on
a desert island.

"I say," said a handsome fair young man at last, "would you mind telling
us, old chap, where you come from?"

John continued to stretch his muscles and took several long and deep
breaths. After the delay he turned to the fair young man and said:

"Beg pardon, but did you speak to me?"

The Englishman flushed a little and pulled at his yellow mustache. An
older man said:

"Don't press His Highness, Lord James. Don't you see that he's an
American and therefore privileged?"

"I'm privileged," said John, "because I was with you fellows from
Belgium to Paris, and since then I've been away saving you from the
Germans."

Lord James laughed. He had a fine face and all embarrassment disappeared
from it.

"We want to be friends," he said. "Shake hands."

John shook. He also shook the hand of the older man and several others.
Then he explained who he was, and told who had come with him, none less
than the famous young French aviator, Philip Lannes.

"Lannes," said Mr. Yellow Mustache, who, John soon learned, was Lord
James Ivor. "Why, we've all heard of him. He's come to the chief with
messages a half-dozen times since this battle began, and I judge from
the way he rushed to him just now that he has another, that can't be
delayed."

"I think so, too," said John, "although I don't know anything about it
myself. He's a close-mouthed fellow. But do any of you happen to have
heard of an Englishman, Carstairs, and an American, Wharton, who belong
to a company called the Strangers in the French army, but who must be at
present with you--that is, if they