were already at work to
defeat his plan. The invisible powers which war could now use were ready
when the storm died. Far away the wireless stations sputtered and
crackled, and words carried on nothing, were passing directly over him.
They made no mention of John Scott, but he was vitally involved in what
they were planning. Down under the horizon little black dots that were
aeroplanes had begun to rise and to look cautiously over a field, where
wireless had already told them that something was done. Further away
telephone and telegraph wires were humming with words, and all the hosts
of the air were concentrating their energies upon Chastel.

John, having left the shelter of the wall, stepped into the road, where
the snow had been trodden deep by the young Germans. From that point he
could not see into Chastel, but a deep solemn note came from a far point
to the east. It was the voice of a great gun carrying an immense
distance in the night, and it struck like a hammer upon his heart. It
seemed to him a warning that the path that way, the way Auersperg had
undoubtedly gone with Julie, was barred.

He walked up the newly trodden road into Chastel, and then he darted
back again to cover. He saw the gleam of many gray uniforms and he heard
a clank which he knew could be made only by the wheels of cannon. The
new forces of the enemy were coming and evidently they were now in
great strength in Chastel and beyond it. John's heart leaped in alarm.
It was a powerful flank movement, a daring and successful attempt under
cover of the storm, and he recognized at once all his dangers.

Keeping as well under cover as he could, he turned and raced toward the
bridge. He saw the misty smoke hovering over the hospital camp, and he
did not believe that any adequate force to meet the Germans could be
found there, but alarms could be sent in every direction.

He expected that more than one shot would be sent after his flying
figure, but none came and his swift flight took him far toward the
river. Then he saw a long line of dark forms before him and the flashing
tips of bayonets. Holding his arms high above his head he shouted in
French over and over again that he was a friend, and then ran almost
directly into the arms of a short muscular man in the uniform of a
French colonel.

"Bougainville!" he cried.

"Aye, Mr. Scott, it is I! My regiment is here and many others."

"Then look out. Chastel is full of Germans."

"It is for th