and no one whom he met seemed to think that his experiences
had been remarkable. For in a world where all are having extraordinary
experiences, those of one particular person are hardly matter for
comment.

At Breteuil Tom had another look at "Major Piff," who bent his terrible,
scornful gaze upon him, making poor Tom feel like an insignificant worm.
But the imperious Prussian's stare netted him not half so much in the
matter of valuable data as Tom derived from his rather timid scrutiny.
Yet he would almost have preferred to face the muzzle of a field-piece
rather than wither beneath that arrogant, contemptuous glare.

It was close on to midnight when he reached Hardivillers, passing beyond
the point of the Huns' farthest advance, and sped along the straight
road for Marseille-en-Froissy, where he was to leave a relay packet for
Paris. From there he intended to run down to Gournay and then northwest
along the highway to the coast. He thought he had plenty of time.

At Gournay they told him that some American engineers were repairing the
bridge at Saumont, which had been damaged by floods, but that he might
gain the north road to the coast by going back as far as Songeons and
following the path along the upper Therain River, which would take him
to Aumale, and bring him into the Neufchatel road.

He lost perhaps two hours in doing this, partly by reason of the extra
distance and partly by reason of the muddy, and in some places
submerged, path along the Therain. The stream, ordinarily hardly more
than a creek, was so swollen that he had to run his machine through a
veritable swamp in places, and anything approaching speed was out of the
question. So difficult was his progress, what with running off the
flooded road and into the stream bed, and also from his wheels sticking
in the mud, that he began to fear that he was losing too much time in
this discouraging business.

But there was nothing to do but go forward, and he struggled on,
sometimes wheeling his machine, sometimes riding it, until at last it
sank almost wheel deep in muddy water and he had to lose another half
hour in cleaning out his carbureter. He feared that it might give
trouble even then, but the machine labored along when the mud was not
too deep, and at last, after almost superhuman effort, he and _Uncle
Sam_ emerged, dirty and dripping, out of a region where he could almost
have made as good progress with a boat, into Aumale, where he stopped
lon