and deadly stream of
death, that modern arms make possible, no cavalry can live before them.
Yet the Germans charged again and again into the hurricane of fire and
steel. The tumult of the battle face to face became terrific.

John could no longer hear the words of his comrades. He saw dimly
through the whitish smoke in front, but he continued to fire. Once he
leaped aside to let a wounded and riderless horse gallop past, and
thrice he sprang over the bodies of the dead.

The infantry were advancing now, driving the cavalry before them, and
the French were able to bring their lighter field guns into action. John
heard the rapid crashes, and he saw the line of cavalry drawing back.
He, too, was shouting with triumph, although nobody heard him. But all
the Strangers were filled with fiery zeal. Without orders they rushed
forward, driving the horsemen yet further. John saw through the whitish
mist a fierce face and a powerful arm swinging aloft a saber.

He recognized von Boehlen and von Boehlen recognized him. Shouting, the
Prussian urged his horse at him and struck him with the saber. John,
under impulse, dropped to his knees, and the heavy blade whistled above
him. But something else struck him on the head and he fell senseless to
the earth.

CHAPTER XII

JULIE LANNES

John Scott came slowly out of the darkness and hovered for a while
between dusk and light. It was not an unpleasant world in which he
lingered. It seemed full of rest and peace. His mind and body were
relaxed, and there was no urgent call for him to march and to fight. The
insistent drumming of the great guns which could play upon the nervous
system until it was wholly out of tune was gone. The only sound he heard
was that of a voice, a fresh young voice, singing a French song in a
tone low and soft. He had always liked these little love songs of the
kind that were sung in a subdued way. They were pathetic and pure as a
rose leaf.

He might have opened his eyes and looked for the singer, but he did not.
The twilight region between sleep and consciousness was too pleasant. He
had no responsibilities, nothing to do. He had a dim memory that he had
belonged to an army, that it was his business to try to kill some one,
and to try to keep from getting killed, but all that was gone now. He
could lie there, without pain of body or anxiety of mind, and let vague
but bright visions pass through his soul.

His eyes still closed, he listened to th