f he lives!"

The Germans had by no means given up, even when they realized that after
all the French had won the passage of the ford. They had been given the
task of defending the crossing with their lives, and showed the
customary German disregard for death in staying after all was lost.

But more and more French were getting over now. They came from every
quarter, all filled with ardor and a desire to get in the fight over
there. The guns too were being brought closer to the river, so that the
retreating Germans might be shelled warmly as they left the scene of
their stubborn combat.

How they splashed across that shallow place in the stream Rod would
never forget. Some, getting off the main ford, found themselves in water
breast-high; others actually had to swim for it, holding their guns
above their heads so that they might not get wet and refuse to continue
the good work of chasing off the Germans.

It was an inspiring sight--of course only to those who favored the
French, for to the enemy it must have proven a most discouraging one--to
see those men wild to cross to where the engagement was being fought to
a finish. Each one, as soon as he could set foot on solid ground, lost
no time in starting up the bank and adding his quota to the force of the
assailants.

And not one single shot had come from that important battery which, more
than any other contributing cause, had brought about the first disaster
to the French. There could be no question but what that one unknown
private soldier, perhaps now dead, had saved the day for his side.

Luckily none of the Germans seemed to have paid any attention to the
little assemblage of three figures in faded khaki on that slight rise of
ground. At least no annoying shell had fallen near them, nor did the
boys at any time catch the irritating whine of a whimpering leaden
missile hastening past close to their ears. All of which pleased Rod
very much, for he certainly felt no desire to mingle in such terrible
scenes as had been spread before them of late.

Well, the end was in sight, for when the French field batteries began to
let go it could be easily guessed that they were sending their
compliments after that remnant of the enemy now sullenly retreating, and
always with faces toward the foe.

Then came the shrill blast of bugles. This undoubtedly told the French
soldiers that victory had fallen to their portion, and that the winning
of the Marne ford was an accompli