“He’s done me some good turns,” said John.  “Been pretty handy several times when I needed a handy man most.  He brought news that Mademoiselle Julie Lannes and her servants, the Picards, father and daughter, are on their way to or are at Chastel, a little village not far from here, where the French have established a huge hospital for the wounded.  She left Paris in obedience to a letter from her brother, and we are to tell Philip if we should happen to see him.”

“Pretty girl!  Deucedly pretty!” said Carstairs.

“I don’t think the somewhat petty adjective ‘pretty’ is at all adequate,” said John with dignity.

“Maybe not,” said Carstairs, noticing the earnest tone in his comrade’s voice.  “She’s bound to become a splendid woman.  Is Weber still with the captain?”

“No, he’s gone on his mission, whatever it is.”

“A fine night for travel,” said Wharton sardonically.  “A raw wind, driving snow, pitchy darkness, slush and everything objectionable underfoot.  Yet I’d like to be in Weber’s place.  A curse upon the man who invented life in the trenches!  Of all the dirty, foul, squalid monotony it is this!”

“You’ll have to curse war first,” said John.  “War made the trench.”

“Here comes a man with an electric torch,” said Carstairs.  “Something is going to happen in our happy lives.”

They saw the faint glimmer of the torch held low, and an orderly arrived with a message from Captain Colton, commanding them to wake everybody and to stand to their arms.  Then the orderly passed quickly on with similar orders for others.

“Old Never Sleep,” said Carstairs, referring to Colton, “thinks we get too much rest.  Why couldn’t he let us tuck ourselves away in our mud on a night like this?”

“I fancy it’s not restlessness,” said John.  “The order doubtless comes from a further and higher source.  Good old Papa Vaugirard is not more than a quarter of a mile away.”

“I hear they had to enlarge the trench for him,” grumbled Carstairs.  “He’s always bound to keep us stirring.”

“But he watches over us like a father.  They say his troops are in the best condition of all.”

The three young men traveled about the vast burrow along the main trenches, the side trenches and those connecting.  The order to be on guard was given everywhere, and the men dragged themselves from their sodden beds.  Then they took their rifles and were ready.  But it was dark save for the glimmer of the little pocket electrics.

The task finished, the three returned to their usual position.  John did not know what to expect.  It might be a device of Papa Vaugirard to drag them out of a dangerous lethargy, but he did not think so.  A kind heart dwelled in the body of the huge general, and he would not try them needlessly on a wild and sullen night.  But whatever the emergency might be the men were ready and on the right of the Strangers was that Paris regiment under Bougainville.  What a wonderful man Bougainville had proved himself to be!  Fiery and yet discreet, able to read the mind of the enemy, liked by his men whom nevertheless he led where the danger was greatest.  John was glad that the Paris regiment lay so close.