otion, which can make huge drains upon the system. Now
he was in the keeping of nature which was restoring all his powers of
both mind and body, and keeping him there until he should again have all
his strength and all the keenness of his faculties, needful for the
great work that lay before him.

It was halfway toward noon when he awakened, remembered dimly in the
first instant, and then comprehending everything in the second. He
unrolled the blankets, slipped out of his lair and knew by the height of
the sun that he had slept far beyond the time appointed for himself. But
he did not worry over it. Barring a little stiffness, which he removed
by flexing and tensing his muscles, he felt very strong and capable. The
fresh air pouring into his lungs was so different from the corruption of
the trenches that he seemed to be raised upon wings.

He resumed his walk toward the hills, and ate breakfast from his
knapsack as he went along. Presently he noticed a large aeroplane
circling over his head, and he felt sure that it was observing him. It
was bound to be French or other French machines would attack it, and,
after one glance, he walked slowly on. The machine followed him. He did
not look up again, but he saw a great shadow on the snow that moved with
his.

The knowledge that he was being watched and followed even by one of his
own army was uncomfortable, and he felt a sensation of relief when he
heard a swish and a swoop and the aeroplane alighted on the snow beside
him. The man in the machine stepped out and asked:

"Who are you and where are you going?"

John did not altogether like his manner, which in his own idiom he
styled "fresh."

"I've a name," he replied, "but it's none of your business, and I'm
going somewhere, but that's none of your business either."

"They're both my business," said the man, drawing a revolver.

"Read that," said John, producing his passport.

The document stated simply that Jean Castel was engaged upon an
important mission for France, and all were commanded to give him what
help they could. It was signed by the fat and famous general of brigade,
Vaugirard, and therefore it was a significant document.

"I apologize for brusqueness," said the aviator handsomely, "but the
times are such that we forget our politeness. What can I do for you,
Monsieur Jean Castel, who I am sure has another and more rightful name
at other times."

"Just now Castel is my right name, and all friends of