But he had a keen and active mind and it never worked quicker than it did now.  He had thought his chance for escape might come in the confusion of a hurried crossing, and here it was.  He dived and swam down the stream toward the willows that lined the bank.  When he could hold his breath no longer he came up in one of the thickest clumps.  The water reached to his waist there, and standing on the bottom in all the density of willows and bushes he was hidden thoroughly from all except watchful searchers.  And who would miss him at such a time, and who, if missing, would take the trouble to look for him while the French cannon were thundering upon them and a perilous crossing was to be made?

It was all so ridiculously easy.  He knew that he had nothing to do but stand close while the men pulled themselves out of the river and the remaining boats made their passage.  For further protection he moved into water deep enough to reach to his neck, while he still retained the cover of the willows and bushes.  Here he watched the German troops pass over, and listened to the heavy cannonade.  He soon noted that the Germans, after crossing, were taking up strong positions on the other side.  He could tell it from the tremendous artillery fire that came from their side of the Marne.

John now found that his position, while safe from observation, was far from comfortable.  The chill of the water began to creep into his bones and more shells struck unpleasantly near.  Another fell into the river and he was blinded for a moment by the violent showers of foam and spray.  He began to feel uneasy.  If the German and French armies were going to fight each other from the opposing sides of the Marne he would be held there indefinitely, either to be killed by a shell or bullet or to drown from cramp.

But time passed and he saw no chance of leaving his watery lair.  The chill went further into his bones.  He was lonesome too.  He longed for the companionship of Fleury, and he wondered what had become of him.  He sincerely hoped that he too had reached a covert and that they should meet again.

No rumbling came from the bridge below, and, glancing down the stream, John saw that it was empty.  There must be many other bridges over the Marne, but he believed that the German armies had now crossed it, and would devote their energy to a new attack.  He was squarely between the lines and he did not see any chance to escape until darkness.

He looked up and saw a bright sun and blue skies.  Night was distant, and so far as he was concerned it might be a year away.  If two armies were firing shells directly at a man they must hit him in an hour or two, and if not, a polar stream such as the Marne had now become would certainly freeze him to death.  He had no idea French rivers could be so cold.  The Marne must be fed by a whole flock of glaciers.

His teeth began to chatter violently, and then he took stern hold of himself.  He felt that he was allowing his imagination to run away with him, and he rebuked John Scott sternly and often for such foolishness.  He tried to get some warmth into his veins by jumping up and down in the water, but it was of little avail.  Yet he stood it another hour.  Then he made one more long and critical examination of the ground.