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

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

He
saw some distance away soldiers walking up and down and beyond them the
vague outline of an earthwork.
"What place is this, anyway, Picard?" he asked.
"It has no name, sir. It's a hospital. It was built in the forest in a
day. More than five thousand wounded lie here. The army itself is
further on. You were found and brought in by some young officers of that
most singular company composed of Americans and English who are always
quarreling among one another, but who unite and fight like demons
against anybody else."
"A dollar to a cent it was Wharton and Carstairs who brought me here,"
said John, smiling to himself.
"What does Monsieur say?"
"Merely commenting on some absent friends of mine. But this isn't a bad
place, Picard."
The shed was of immense length and breadth and just beyond it were some
small buildings, evidently of hasty construction. John inferred that
they were for the nurses and doctors, and he wondered which one
sheltered Julie Lannes. The forest seemed to be largely of young pines,
and the breeze that blew through it was fresh and wholesome. As he
breathed it young Scott felt that he was inhaling new life and strength.
But the wind also brought upon its edge that far faint murmur which he
knew was the throbbing of the great guns, miles and miles away.
"Perhaps, Monsieur had better lie down again now and sleep awhile," said
Picard insinuatingly.
"Sleep! I need sleep! Why, Picard, by your own account I've just
awakened from a sleep four days and four nights long.


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