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Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919

"The Forest of Swords A Story of Paris and the Marne"

"
"Nor I either. But whatever comes we'll wait for Lannes, always for
Lannes. The heavens here, Mr. Scott, are peopled with strange birds, but
of all the lot there is one particular bird for which we are looking."
"Right again. My eyes have grown a little weary of watching the skies.
For a long stare, blue isn't as soft and easy a sight as green, and I
think I'll look at the grass and leaves for a little while."
"Then while you rest I'll keep an outlook and when I'm tired you can
relieve me."
"Good enough."
John lay down in the grass and rested his body while he eased his worn
eyes. Weber commented now and then on the new birds in the heavens,
aeroplanes of all kinds, but they kept their distance.
"The air over us is not held now by either French or Germans," said
Weber, "and I imagine that only the more daring make incursions into it.
Perhaps, too, they are kept busy elsewhere, because, as my ears
distinctly tell me, the battle is increasing in volume."
"I noticed the swelling fire when I lay down here," said John. "It seems
a strange thing, but for a while I had forgotten all about the battle."
Presently Weber took his eyes from the heavens, moved about and looked
uneasy.
"If I'm not mistaken," he said, "I caught a glimpse of steel down the
river. I think it was a lance head glittering in the sun, and Uhlans may
be near."
"How far away do you think it was."
"A half-mile or more. I must take a look in that direction.


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