"And yet you've met me several times, and under exciting conditions. It
seems to me that we're always pursuing similar things, or we wouldn't be
together on the same road so often. You're acute enough. Don't you know
me now?"
"I think I do. You're Fernand Weber, the Alsatian."
"And so I am. I knew your memory would not fail you. It's a great
movement that we've begun, Mr. Scott. France will be saved or destroyed
within the next few days."
"I think so."
"You've deserted your friend, Philip Lannes, the finest of our airmen."
"Oh, no, I haven't. He's deserted me. I couldn't afford to be a burden
on his aeroplane at such a time as this."
"I suppose not. I saw an aeroplane come down to earth a little while
ago, and then rise again. I'm sure it was his machine, the _Arrow_."
"So am I."
"Here's where he naturally would be. Good-bye, Mr. Scott, and good luck
to you. I must go on with my company."
"Good-bye and good luck," repeated John, as the Alsatian shot forward.
He liked Weber, who had a most pleasing manner, and he was glad to have
seen him once more.
"Who was that?" asked de Rougemont, waking from his sleep and catching
the last words of farewell.
"An Alsatian, named Fernand Weber, who has risked his life more than
once for France. He belongs to the motor-cycle corps that's just
passing."
"May he and his comrades soon find the enemy, because here is the day."
The leaves and grass rippled before the breeze and over the eastern
hills the dawn broke.
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