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Page 19
"Good-by, Mr. Scott. Don't forget my promise. If you should ever fall
into our hands please try to communicate with me."
John returned to his trench. He had been very thoughtful that day, and
he had evolved a plan. A considerable body of wounded soldiers were to
be sent to Chastel, and as they must have a guard he had asked Captain
Colton to use his influence with General Vaugirard and have him
appointed a member of the guard.
Now he found Captain Colton sitting in his little alcove smoking one of
his eternal cigarettes and looking very contented. He took an especially
long puff when he saw John and looked at him quizzically.
"Well, Scott!" he said.
"Well, sir!" said John.
"General Vaugirard thinks your desire to guard wounded, see to their
welfare, great credit to you."
"I thank him, sir, through you."
"Approve of such zeal myself."
"I thank you in person."
"Did not tell him--French girl, Mademoiselle Julie Lannes, also going to
Chastel to attend to wounded. Handsome girl, wonderfully handsome girl,
don't you think so, Scott?"
"I do, sir," said John, reddening.
"You and she--going to Chastel about same time. Remarkable coincidence,
but nothing in it, of course, just coincidence."
"It's not a coincidence, sir. You've always been a friend to me. Captain
Colton, and I'm willing to tell you that I've sought this mission to
Chastel because Mademoiselle Julie Lannes is there, or is going there,
and for no other reason whatever. I'm afraid she's in danger, and anyway
I long for a sight of her face as we long for the sun after a storm."
Captain Colton, with his cigarette poised between his thumb and
forefinger, looked John up and down.
"Good!" he said. "Frank statement of truth--I knew already. Nothing for
you to be ashamed of. If girl beautiful and noble as Mademoiselle Julie
Lannes looked at me as she has looked at you I'd break down walls and
run gantlets to reach her. Go, John, boy. Luck to you in all the things
in which you wish luck."
He held out his hand and John wrung it. And so, the terse captain
himself had a soft heart which he seldom showed!
The convoy started the next morning, John with five soldiers in an
armored automobile bringing up the rear. There were other men on the
flank and in front, and a captain commanded. The day was wintry and
gloomy. Heavy clouds obscured the sky, and the slush was deep in the
roads. A desolate wind moaned through the leafless trees, and afar the
cannon grumbled and groaned.
But neither the somber day nor the melancholy convoy affected John's
spirits. Chastel, a village of light--light for him--would be at the end
of his journey.
Despite mud, slush and snow, traveling was pleasant. The automobile had
made wonderful changes. One could go almost anywhere in it, and its
daring drivers whisked it gaily over fields, through forests and up
hills, which in reality could be called mountains. War had merely
increased their enterprise, and they took all kinds of risks, usually
with success.
John was very comfortable now, as he leaned back in the armored car,
driven by a young Frenchman. He wore a heavy blue overcoat over his
uniform, and his only weapon was a powerful automatic revolver in his
belt, but it was enough. The ambulances, filled with wounded, stretched
a half-mile in front of him, but he had grown so used to such sights
that they did not move him long. Moreover in this war a man was not dead
until he _was_ dead. The small bullets of the high-powered rifle either
killed or harmed but little. It was the shrapnel that tore.
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