"I am, and I'm mighty happy over it. I'll admit that I was rather glad
to see you, you blooming Britisher."
About one-third of the Strangers were gone forever, and the rest, except
the higher officers, were prostrate in the glade. White, worn and
motionless they lay in the same stupor that John had seen overtake the
German troops. Some were flat upon their backs, with arms outstretched,
looking like crosses, others lay on their faces, and others were curled
up on their sides. Few were over twenty-five. Nearly all had mothers in
America or Great Britain.
While they slept the guns yet grumbled at many points. The sound on the
horizon had gone on so long now that it seemed normal to John. He knew
that it would continue so throughout the night, and maybe for many more
days and nights. Unless it came near and made him a direct personal
menace he would pay no attention to it.
It was growing late. Night was spreading once more over the vast battle
field, stretching over thirty leagues maybe. The common soldier knew
nothing, majors and colonels knew little more, but the silent man whose
invisible hand had swept the gigantic German army back from Paris knew
much. While the fire of the artillery continued under the searchlights
the exhausted infantry sank down. Then the telephones began to talk over
a vast stretch of space, dazzling white lights made signals, the
sputtering wireless sent messages in the air, and the flying machines
shot through the heavens.
Pages:
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235