“There is much in our travel facilities that I shall have to beg you to excuse,” said Captain Ribaut rather wistfully.  “France is not what it was, not even in the matter of its railways.”

“France is not what she was,” retorted Major Wells quickly, “because, glorious as she, was, she has gone up infinitely higher in the human scale.  Could any other country in the world have stood the ravages of war so long and still live and contain so brave and resolute a people?  Never mind your railways, Captain.  It is the people, not the railways, who make a country.  Your French people compel our constant and most willing admiration.”

At another railway station, as the train halted, and the guard opened the door briefly, a low, sullen rumbling could be heard.

“Do you have thunderstorms at this time of the year, Captain?” asked Lieutenant Terry.

“Ah, but yes,” replied the Frenchman.  “It is a German thunderstorm that you hear in the distance—–­artillery.”

“I feel like a fool!” exclaimed Noll Terry flushing.  “Of course I should have recognized the sound of distant cannon-fire.”

“Don’t feel badly about it, Mr. Terry,” said Major Wells.  “In all your career in the American Army you have never heard as much cannon-fire as you can hear in a single hour on the battle-front in France.”

At the next station the rumbling was much louder.  French soldiers were becoming more numerous.  At times an entire French regiment could be seen marching along a road.

“At the next station,” announced Captain Ribaut, “we shall find ourselves at the end of our rail journey.  We are nearing the front.  If you are interested, gentlemen, there goes one of our French airplane squadrons on its way to the front.”

Instantly all four Americans were craning their necks at the windows.  High in the air, the French aircraft in flight looked as graceful as swallows on the wing.

“They are battleplanes,” explained Captain Ribaut further.  “Some of the Hun flyers are almost sure of a tumble this afternoon.”

When the American party alighted at the last station on the line, and looked back, they beheld long trains of freight cars coming slowly along.  The train from which they had descended was hauled out and quickly shunted out of the way on a siding.  The freight trains pulled in, going to various sidings before huge warehouses in which the food and fighting supplies were stored until wanted closer to the front.  It was a scene of deafening noise and what looked like indescribable confusion.  Yet everything moved according to a plan.

“Let us come where we can hear our own voices!” shouted Captain Ribaut in the major’s ear, and led the way.  Behind the station they found a limousine car awaiting them.  As there were seats for five inside, the travelers soon found themselves vastly more comfortable than they had been on the train.