Hour after hour they rode along, passing regiment after regiment of infantry as it moved toward the front.  Uncle John was greatly impressed by the military carriage and bearing of the troops, but in spite of their impressiveness Hal could not help thinking that they did not have the businesslike appearance of the British troops.

Now, in the distance, they made out what they could see was a great camp, stretching out as far as the eye could see on both sides.

“This,” said Hal, pointing, “will be the end of our tour of inspection.  Beyond those lines they will not let us go.”

“We’ll go as far as we can,” declared Uncle John.

Suddenly from directly ahead came the heavy thunder of a single gun, followed almost immediately by another giant voice.  Other big guns began to speak, and soon the roaring of thousands filled the air.

“A battle!” exclaimed Hal.

Other voices now, more faint but sharper of note, took up the fighting—­rapid firers and the rifles of the infantry coming into play.  From their present position Hal and Uncle John could not tell just where the fighting was in progress, the numbers engaged, or whether the Italians had taken the offensive, or the Austrians, or how the battle was progressing.  All they could hear was the terrible din and roar.  They could see nothing.  They were at present far from the battle line.

Still they advanced.

Now they were suddenly in the center of the Italian troops, still stationary, awaiting the word to move forward in support of the second line or the first line as the case might be.

An officer rode up to them.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“Nothing particularly,” replied Hal.  “I am a British officer and, being in this neighborhood, thought I would look around a bit.”

“Your papers?” was the next command.

“Unfortunately, I have none with me,” returned the lad.

The officer hesitated.

“I’ll tell you,” he said finally, “there is a British officer commanding a regiment here.  Perhaps he will know you.  I shall conduct you to him.  He has arrived from France only recently.”

“I don’t know all the British officers in France,” said Hal, “but there is always the possibility I may know this one.”

“Follow me,” commanded the Italian.

The two did so.  To the far left wing their guide led the way, and finally stopped before a tent somewhat larger than the rest.

An orderly came forth.

“Tell the colonel I have a man here who claims to be a British officer,” said the Italian.

A moment later there stepped from the tent a long, tall Englishman, attired in British uniform, youngish of face, and at sight of him Hal started forward with a glad cry.

“Major Anderson!” he exclaimed.

The officer gazed at him in surprise, then came forward with extended hand.