The plane was of another shape than the
_Arrow_, and, when it descended to the ground, a man older than Lannes
stepped out upon the grass. He glanced around as if he were looking for
some general of division for whom he had an order, and John, unable to
restrain himself, rushed to him and exclaimed:
"News! News! For Heaven's sake, give us news! Surely you've seen from
above!"
The man smiled and John knew that a bearer of bad news would not smile.
"I'm the friend and comrade of Philip Lannes," continued John, feeling
that all the flying men of France knew the name of Lannes, and that it
would be a password to this man's good graces.
"I know him well," said the air scout. "Who of our craft does not? My
own name is Caumartin, and I have flown with Lannes more than once in
the great meets at Rheims. In answer to your question I'm able to tell
you that on the wings the soldiers of France are advancing. A wedge has
been thrust between the German armies and the one nearest Paris is
retreating, lest it be cut off."
Bougainville heard the words, and he ran among the men, telling them. A
fierce shout arose and John himself quivered with feeling. It was
better, far better than he had hoped. He realized now that his courage
before had been the courage of despair. Lannes and he, as a last resort,
had put faith in signs and omens, because there was nothing else to bear
them up.
"Is it true? Is it true beyond doubt! You've really seen it with your
own eyes?" he exclaimed.
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