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

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

It might be
possible to beat the army of a nation, but not a nation in arms.
"No, Picard," said John, "France will not fall."
"And that being settled, sir," said Picard, with grim humor, "I think
you'd better lie down again. You've talked a lot for a man who has been
unconscious four days."
"You're right, my good Picard, as I've no doubt you usually are. Was I
troublesome, much, when I was out in the dark?"
"But little, sir. I've lifted much heavier men, and that Dr. Delorme is
strong himself, not afraid, either, to use the knife. Ah, sir, you
should have seen how beautifully he worked right under the fire of the
German guns! Psst! if need be he'd have taken a leg off you in five
minutes, as neatly as if he had been in a hospital in Paris!"
John felt apprehensively for his legs. Both were there, and in good
condition.
"If that man ever comes near me with the intention of cutting off one of
my legs I'll shoot him, good fellow and good doctor though he may be,"
he said. "Help me up a little higher, will you, Picard? I want to see
what kind of a place we're in."
Picard built up a little pyramid of saddles and knapsacks behind him and
John drew himself up with his back against them. The rows and rows of
wounded stretched as far as he could see, and there was a powerful odor
of drugs. Around him was a forest, of the kind with which he had become
familiar in Europe, that is, of small trees, free from underbrush.


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