“I am, and I’m mighty happy over it.  I’ll admit that I was rather glad to see you, you blooming Britisher.”

About one-third of the Strangers were gone forever, and the rest, except the higher officers, were prostrate in the glade.  White, worn and motionless they lay in the same stupor that John had seen overtake the German troops.  Some were flat upon their backs, with arms outstretched, looking like crosses, others lay on their faces, and others were curled up on their sides.  Few were over twenty-five.  Nearly all had mothers in America or Great Britain.

While they slept the guns yet grumbled at many points.  The sound on the horizon had gone on so long now that it seemed normal to John.  He knew that it would continue so throughout the night, and maybe for many more days and nights.  Unless it came near and made him a direct personal menace he would pay no attention to it.

It was growing late.  Night was spreading once more over the vast battle field, stretching over thirty leagues maybe.  The common soldier knew nothing, majors and colonels knew little more, but the silent man whose invisible hand had swept the gigantic German army back from Paris knew much.  While the fire of the artillery continued under the searchlights the exhausted infantry sank down.  Then the telephones began to talk over a vast stretch of space, dazzling white lights made signals, the sputtering wireless sent messages in the air, and the flying machines shot through the heavens.  Commanders talked to one another in many ways now, and they would talk all through the night.

John and his comrades ate supper, while most of the Strangers slept around them.  Those who were awake recognized them, shook hands and said a few words.  They were a taciturn lot.  After supper Carstairs and Wharton dropped upon the grass and were soon sound asleep.  Scott was inclined to be wakeful and he walked along the edge of the glade, looking anxiously at the sleeping forms.

He saw the loom of a fire just beyond the ridge and going to the crest to look at it he beheld outlined before it a gigantic figure that he recognized at once.  It was General Vaugirard, and John would have been glad to speak to him, but he hesitated to approach a general.  While he stood doubting a hand fell upon his shoulder and a glad voice said in his ear: 

“And our young American has come back!  Ah, my friend, let me shake your hand!”

It was Captain de Rougemont, trim, erect and without a wound.  John gladly let him shake.  Then in reply to de Rougemont’s eager questions he told briefly of all that had happened since they parted.

“The general has asked twice if we had any news of you,” said de Rougemont.  “He does not forget.  A great mind in a vast body.”

“Could I speak to him?”

“Of a certainty, my friend; come.”

They advanced toward the fire.  General Vaugirard was walking up and down, his hands clasped behind his back, and whistling softly.  His huge figure looked yet more huge outlined against the flames.  He heard the tread of the two young men and looking up recognized John instantly.