John was overjoyed, but he would part from Bougainville with regret.

“Philip,” he said, “here is Pierre Louis Bougainville, whom I met that day on Montmartre.  All the officers of this regiment have been killed and by grace of courage and intuition he now leads it better than it was ever led before.”

Lannes extended his hand.  Bougainville’s met it, and the two closed in the clasp of those who knew, each, that the other was a man.  Then a drum began to beat, and Bougainville, waving his sword aloft, led his regiment forward again with a rush.  But the Arrow, with a hard push from the last of the soldiers, was already rising, Lannes at the steering rudder and John in his old place.

“You can find your cap and coat in the locker,” said Lannes without looking back, and John put them on quickly.  His joy and eagerness were not due to flight from the field of battle, because the heavens themselves were not safe, but because he could look down upon this field on which the nations struggled and, to some extent, behold and measure it with his own eyes.

The Arrow rose slowly, and John leaned back luxuriously in his seat.  He had a singular feeling that he had come back home again.  The sharp, acrid odor that assailed eye and nostril departed and the atmosphere grew rapidly purer.  The rolling waves of air from the concussion of the guns became much less violent, and soon ceased entirely.  All the smoke floated below him, while above the heavens were a shining blue, unsullied by the dust and flame of the conflict.

“Do you go far, Philip?” John asked.

“Forty miles.  I could cover the distance quickly in the Arrow, but on such a day as this I can’t be sure of finding at once the man for whom I’m looking.  Besides, we may meet German planes.  You’ve your automatic with you?”

“I’m never without it.  I’m ready to help if they come at us.  I’ve been through so much today that I’ve become blunted to fear.”

“I don’t think we’ll meet an enemy, but we must be armed and watchful.”

John had not yet looked down, but he knew that the Arrow was rising high.  The thunder of the battle died so fast that it became a mere murmur, and the air was thin, pure and cold.  When he felt that the Arrow had reached its zenith he put the glasses to his eyes and looked over.

He saw a world spouting fire.  Along a tremendous line curved and broken, thousands of cannon great and small were flashing, and for miles and miles a continuous coil of whitish smoke marked where the riflemen were at work.  Near the center of the line he saw a vast mass of men advancing and he spoke of it to Lannes.

“I’ve seen it already,” said the Frenchman.  “That’s where a great force of ours is cutting in between the German armies.  It’s the movement that has saved France, and the mind that planned it was worth a million men to us today.”