oted the queer looks on the faces of the French inhabitants, that
he realized his mistake.

As it happened, the big American attack was in progress, and every
available soldier was being rushed to the front, the few remaining in
this village being among the number. They were preparing to leave.

So that, in their haste to obey orders and get to their firing line,
or perhaps because they were too busy to notice one lone little
American scientist, no attention was paid to Professor Snodgrass.

When he saw that he was in an unfamiliar village and began to ask
questions, he was met with astonished looks, perhaps as much at his
peculiar way of speaking French as anything else. But one Frenchman
said:

"How did you, an American, manage to get through?"

"I don't know," answered the professor. "But now I want to get back."

"Impossible, Monsieur. But come, I will hide you, if I can. I have
some fellow countrymen of yours at my house, or rather, some fellow
countrywomen."

"Americans?"

"Yes, two young ladies. They were left behind by a certain German, by
name of Louder or Chowder--name of a name--and I looked after them.
They will be glad to see you."

"Oh, dear!" said the professor. "Ladies--American ladies--here in this
terrible place! I must do what I can for them. Take me to them,
please."

And the Frenchman did so, with all the caution he could use. But it
was not needed. Events were transpiring that made the Germans think of
beginning a retreat instead of capturing one lone United States
college professor.

"Here!" exclaimed the Frenchman, as he ushered his new friend into his
humble home. "Here are the ladies. I have brought you a fellow
countryman," he added, nodding to his guests.

Two girls, whose pretty faces bore worried looks, arose to confront
Professor Snodgrass. He bowed, rather flustered as he always was in
the presence of women, and then, as he looked intently at the girls, a
strange look came over his face.

"Excuse me," he murmured, as he reached for something in his pocket.
He took a card from an envelope and, looking at one of his companions,
asked:

"Are you Gladys Petersen?"

"I am!" was the surprised answer. "But how----"

"And are you Dorothy Gibbs?" went on the little scientist, turning to
the other.

"That is my name, but----"

"Then I have found you," said the little man quietly. "My name is
Snodgrass, and I have a letter to you from your uncle, Professor Emil
Petersen. He