He had his watch, but his immersion in the fish pond had caused it to
stop. Still, the feel of the air made him believe that he was in the
morning hours. Shells continued to pass over his head, and now they
came from many points. He had seen or heard so much firing in the last
eight or ten days that the world, he felt, must be turned into a huge
ammunition factory to feed all the guns. He laughed to himself at his
own grim joke. He was overstrained and he began to see everything
through a red mist.
His clothing was drying fast, but his throat was very hot from
excitement and exertion. He came to a little brook, and kneeling down,
drank greedily. Then he bathed his face and felt stronger and better.
His nerves also grew steadier. There was not so much luminous mist in
the atmosphere. Ahead of him the crash of the guns was much louder, and
he knew that he had already come a long distance. It seemed that the
passing of the storm had renewed the activity of the gunners. The mutter
had become rolling thunder, and both to north and south the searchlights
flared repeatedly.
He heard the beat of hoofs, and he hoped that they were French cavalry
on patrol, but they proved to be German Hussars, Bavarians he judged by
the light blue uniforms, and they were coming from the direction of the
French lines. They had been scouting there, he had no doubt, but they
passed in a few moments, and, leaving his hedge, he resumed his own
rapid flight, continually hoping that he would meet some French force,
scouting also.
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