It was halfway toward noon when he awakened, remembered dimly in the first instant, and then comprehending everything in the second.  He unrolled the blankets, slipped out of his lair and knew by the height of the sun that he had slept far beyond the time appointed for himself.  But he did not worry over it.  Barring a little stiffness, which he removed by flexing and tensing his muscles, he felt very strong and capable.  The fresh air pouring into his lungs was so different from the corruption of the trenches that he seemed to be raised upon wings.

He resumed his walk toward the hills, and ate breakfast from his knapsack as he went along.  Presently he noticed a large aeroplane circling over his head, and he felt sure that it was observing him.  It was bound to be French or other French machines would attack it, and, after one glance, he walked slowly on.  The machine followed him.  He did not look up again, but he saw a great shadow on the snow that moved with his.

The knowledge that he was being watched and followed even by one of his own army was uncomfortable, and he felt a sensation of relief when he heard a swish and a swoop and the aeroplane alighted on the snow beside him.  The man in the machine stepped out and asked: 

“Who are you and where are you going?”

John did not altogether like his manner, which in his own idiom he styled “fresh.”

“I’ve a name,” he replied, “but it’s none of your business, and I’m going somewhere, but that’s none of your business either.”

“They’re both my business,” said the man, drawing a revolver.

“Read that,” said John, producing his passport.

The document stated simply that Jean Castel was engaged upon an important mission for France, and all were commanded to give him what help they could.  It was signed by the fat and famous general of brigade, Vaugirard, and therefore it was a significant document.

“I apologize for brusqueness,” said the aviator handsomely, “but the times are such that we forget our politeness.  What can I do for you, Monsieur Jean Castel, who I am sure has another and more rightful name at other times.”

“Just now Castel is my right name, and all friends of mine will call me by it.  Thank you for your offer, but you can do nothing—­”

John stopped suddenly as he glanced at the aeroplane poised like a huge bird in the snow.

“Yes, you can do something,” he said.  “I notice that your plane is big enough for two.  I want to reach the mountains to the eastward without all this tremendous toiling through the snow.  You can carry me there in an hour or two, and besides this passport I give you a password.”

“What’s the password?”

“Lannes!”

“Lannes!  Philip Lannes, do you know him?”

“I have been up with him in the Arrow many times.  I’ve fought the Taubes with him.  I helped him destroy both a Zeppelin and a forty-two-centimeter gun.”