.

The roaring also grew on their right and left. That must be the French
cannon, and soon they would be beyond the French lines. His bitterness
increased. Nothing could be more galling than to be carried in this
manner through one's own forces and into the camp of the enemy. And
there was Julie, sitting quiet and pale, apparently without fear.

He reckoned that they rode at least three miles in the gorge. Then they
came into a shallow stream about twenty feet wide that would have been
called a creek at home. Its banks were fairly high, lined on one side by
a hedge and on the other by willows. Instead of following the path any
further the Germans turned into the bed of the stream and drove down it
two or three miles. The roar of the artillery from both armies was now
very great, and the earth shook. Once John caught the shadow of a huge
shell passing high over their heads.

All the prisoners knew that they were well beyond hope of rescue for the
present. The French line was far behind them and they were within the
German zone. It was better to be resigned, until they saw cause for
hope.

When they came to a low point in the eastern bank of the stream the
carts turned out, reached a narrow road between lines of poplars and
continued their journey eastward. In the fields on either side John saw
detachments of German infantry, skirmishers probably, as they had not
yet reached the line of cannon.

"Officer," said John to the German leader, "couldn't you unbind the arms
of my friend in the cart here? Ropes around one's wrists for a long time
are painful, and since we're within your lines he has no chance of
escape now."

The officer looked at Picard and shrugged his shoulders.

"Giants are strong," he said.

"But a little bullet can lay low the greatest of them."

"That is so."

He leaned from his horse, inserted the point of his sword between
Picard's wrists and deftly cut the rope without breaking the skin.
Picard clenched and unclenched his hands and drew several mighty breaths
of relief. But he was a peasant of fine manners and he did not forget
them. Turning to the officer, he said:

"I did not think I'd ever thank a German for anything, but I owe you
gratitude. It's unnatural and painful to remain trussed up like a fowl
going to market."

The officer gave Picard a glance of pity and rode to the head of the
column, which turned off at a sharp angle toward the north. The great
roar and crash now came from