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Page 27
He seemed to John a strange compound of age and youth, a mixture of the
philosopher and the soldier. That he was a real leader John could no
longer doubt. He saw the little red eyes watching everything, and he
noticed that the regiments of Vaugirard had no superiors in trimness and
spirit.
They marched until sundown and stopped in some woods clear of
undergrowth, like most of those in Europe. The camp kitchens went to
work at once, and they received good food and coffee. As far as John
could see men were at rest, but he could not tell whether the whole army
was doing likewise. It spread out much further to both right and left
than his eyes could reach.
The members of the staff tethered their horses in the grove, and after
supper stood together and talked, while the fat general paced back and
forth, his brow wrinkled in deep thought.
"Good old Papa Vaugirard is studying how to make the best of us," said
de Rougemont. "We're all his children. They say that he knows nearly ten
thousand men under his command by face if not by name, and we trust him
as no other brigade commander in the army is trusted by his troops. He's
thinking hard now, and General Vaugirard does not think for nothing. As
soon as he arrives at what seems to him a solution of his problem he
will begin to whistle. Then he will interrupt his whistling by saying:
'Ah, well, such is life.'"
"I hope he'll begin to whistle soon," said John, "because his brow is
wrinkling terribly."
He watched the huge general with a sort of fascinated gaze. Seen now in
the twilight, Vaugirard's very bulk was impressive. He was immense,
strong, primeval. He walked back and forth over a line about thirty feet
long, and the deep wrinkles remained on his brow. Every member of his
staff was asking how long it would last.
A sound, mellow and soft, but penetrating, suddenly arose. General
Vaugirard was whistling, and John's heart gave a jump of joy. He did not
in the least doubt de Rougemont's assertion that an answer to the
problem had been found.
General Vaugirard whistled to himself softly and happily. Then he said
twice, and in very clear tones: "Ah, well, such is life!" He began to
whistle again, stopped in a moment or two and called to de Rougemont,
with whom he talked a while.
"We're to march once more in a half-hour," said de Rougemont, when he
returned to John and his comrades. "It must be a great converging
movement in which time is worth everything. At least, General Vaugirard
thinks so, and he has a plan to get us into the very front of the
action."
"I hope so," said John. "I'm not anxious to get killed, but I'd rather
be in the battle than wait. I wonder if I'll meet anywhere on the front
that company to which I belong, the Strangers."
"I think I've heard of them," said de Rougemont, "a body of Americans
and Englishmen, volunteers in the French service, commanded by Captain
Daniel Colton."
"Right you are, and I've two particular friends in that company--I
suppose they've rejoined it--Wharton, an American, and Carstairs, an
Englishman. We went through a lot of dangers together before we reached
the British army near Mons, and I'd like to see them again."
"Maybe you will, but here comes an extraordinary procession."
They heard many puffing sounds, uniting in one grand puffing chorus, and
saw advancing down a white road toward them a long, ghostly train, as if
a vast troop of extinct monsters had returned to earth and were marching
this way. But John knew very well that it was a train of automobiles and
raising the glasses that he now always carried he saw that they were
empty except for the chauffeurs.
General Vaugirard began to whistle his mellowest and most musical tune,
stopping only at times to mutter a few words under his breath. John
surmised that he was expressing deep satisfaction, and that he had been
waiting for the motor train. War was now fought under new conditions.
The Germans had thousands and scores of thousands of motors, and perhaps
the French were provided almost as well.
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