CHAPTER VIII

THE FRENCH DEFENSE

They flew on in the darkness, and both remained silent. John at first had felt resentment against Lannes, but he reflected that this was war, and it was no worse to kill with a bomb in the air than with a shell on land. It was hard, however, to convince oneself that destruction and death were sovereigns in Europe.

After a long time Lannes pointed to the east, where a thin gray was showing.

"The sun will soon be up," he said, "and it will drive the last cloud before it. We're going to have a fine day. Look down at this, our France, Monsieur Jean the Scott, and see what a beautiful land it is! Can you wonder that we don't want the armed feet of the Germans to tread it down?"

The darkness was shredding away so fast that John got a clear view. He was surprised, too, to find how low they were flying. They were not more than a hundred yards above the tops of the trees, and the glorious country was all that Lannes had claimed for it.

He saw woods heavy in foliage, fields checkered in green and brown, white roads, neat villages and farm houses, and the spires of churches. It seemed impossible that war should come upon such a land. This word "impossible" was often recurring to John. It was impossible that all Europe should go to war and yet the impossible was happening. The world would not allow twenty million men to spring at one another's throats, and yet they were doing it.

Lannes suddenly uttered a deep "Ah!" and pointed with a long forefinger.

"Our camp," he said. "On the hill about five miles to the left. The planes have seen us. Three are coming to meet us."

John saw the camp distinctly through the glasses, a long intrenched position on a low, broad hill, many guns in front and many horses in the rear, with the banners of France floating over the works.

"We'll be there soon," said Lannes joyfully. "Here, John, wave this!"

He took a small French flag from the locker and John waved it with vigor. The fastest of the planes was soon beside them and Lannes called out gayly:

"The Arrow, Philip Lannes at the rudder, and John Scott, an American, who is going to fight with us, as passenger and comrade!"

Thus they flew into the republican camp, and a great crowd came forward to meet them. Lannes stepped out of the Arrow, saluted an officer in the uniform of a captain, and asked:

"What corps is this?"

"That of General Avillon."

"Then, sir, would you be so good as to conduct me to his headquarters? I have been in both Berlin and Vienna in disguise, and on service for our government. I have information and minute maps."

"Come with me at once," said the officer eagerly.

"I ask you to make my comrade comfortable while I am gone. He is an American, John Scott, whom an accident threw with me. He is the bravest of the brave and he's going to serve with us."

Lannes was dramatic and impressive. Again he was the center of a scene that he loved, and, as always, he made the most of it. John reddened at his high praise, and would have withdrawn farther into the crowd, but enthusiastic young officers about him would not let him. "Vive l'Americain!" they shouted and patted him on the shoulders.

Lannes went at once with the captain, and John was left with his new friends. Friends, in truth they were, and their enthusiasm grew as he told of their extraordinary flight, their battle with the Taubes, and the destruction of the Zeppelin by Lannes. Then their applause became thunder, and, seeing it in the distance and the perspective, John became more reconciled to the throwing of the bomb. War was killing and one could not change it.

While they heard his story and cheered him the French did not neglect his comfort. Young officers, many of whom were mere boys, insisted upon entertaining this guest from the air. It was so early that they had not yet had their own breakfasts, and while different groups fought for him he finally sat down beside a fire with a dozen lieutenants of about his own age.

The food was abundant and good, and, as he ate and drank, he was compelled to tell their story over again.

"I'm glad Lannes got that monster, the Zeppelin," said one of the young lieutenants. "God knows we've had little enough success so far. They say we were ready for war, and had planned to strike. But it was the Germans who struck. That proves who had done the planning. They say that our officers were in Belgium, making ready for the French army to march through that country, and yet when the Germans pushed into Belgium they found no French. The accusation refutes itself."

"Are the Germans in Belgium?" asked John, astonished.

"With a great army, and England has declared herself. She is sending a force to our help. You will not lack for comrades who speak your own tongue."

"We thought we heard last night the sounds of a battle."

"You thought right. It was we who were fighting it, and we were defeated. We were driven back many miles, but we were not beaten, man to man. With even numbers we could have held them, but they were three or four to one, and they have monster cannon which far outrange ours."

"It was one of those giant guns I heard, because we heard nothing else. Are the Germans coming forward for another attack?"

"We don't know. Our aeroplanes report no movement in their camp, but the sun has scarcely risen yet. Still we all think they'll come. We know it's their plan to make a gigantic rush on Paris. Our spies report that their most frequent boast is: 'Ten days to France and twenty days to Paris.' Well, the first part of it is more than fulfilled."

Silence and sadness fell over the group of brave young men. John's heart was filled with sympathy for them. His nature was one that invariably took the part of invaded against invaders, and the invaders had already struck a mighty blow. But it was he, as yet a stranger among them, who restored cheerfulness.

"I've been with one Frenchman through adventures and dangers, of which I never dreamed," he said. "Never once did his hand or eye waver. I know that there are hundreds of thousands of Frenchmen like him, and such men can't fail."

"Thank you," one of them said simply. "We Frenchmen of the Third Republic shall try to fight as well as the Frenchmen of the First Republic, and we'll pray that our allies, the English, may come soon."

John was silent. He knew even better than they how necessary was the arrival of the English. He had been in Germany and he had seen something of the mobilization. He knew that the planet had never before borne anything comparable to the German war machine which was already rolling forward upon France and Belgium. Would the invaded, even with the help of England, be able to stop it?

The breakfast finished, he lay down in one of the tents on a blanket, and, despite the noises of the camp, soon slept. But he was awakened by Lannes two or three hours later.

"I've found a way for you to send telegrams through Switzerland, and then to Munich, telling your people where you are and what you are going to do," he said, "and now I'm going to leave you for a while. I'm going on another scout in the Arrow, but I go alone. You, I take it, will do your fighting now on land. But, John Scott, I've been proud to know you and to have had such a flight with you. I don't suppose that any other beginner has ever had such a lively start as yours, but you've gone through it like a veteran. I want to shake your hand."

He pulled off his aviator's glove, and the two hands met in a powerful clasp. Then his dramatic instinct keenly alive he turned and sprang into the waiting Arrow. The young officers gave it a long push, and, rising lightly and gracefully, it soared over the army, far up into the blazing sunlight. Its strange navigator waved one hand to those below, and then the Arrow, true to its name, shot away toward the north.

"There goes the bravest man I ever saw," said John. "Give him air to float in, and I believe he'd try for the sun."

"All those flying men are brave," said a young officer, "but Lannes is the bravest of them all, as he is also the most skillful. As a scout he is worth ten thousand men to us."

"I must look for those English of whom he spoke," said John, "I have trespassed upon your courtesy here long enough. I wish to join them and serve with you."

"They're not all English by any means. Fully half of them are your own countrymen, Americans. The English and Americans quarrel much among themselves, but they unite against any foe. My own name is Creville, Louis Creville, and I'll take you to this company, The Strangers, as with pride they call themselves."

Creville led the way, and John followed toward another wing of the French force. The young American observed the French soldiers closely. They did not look either so stalwart or so trim as the Germans. Their long blue coats, and baggy red trousers had a curious effect. The color scheme seemed to John more fitted to a circus than to an army, but they were lively, active men, their faces gay and their eyes full of intelligence. He knew from his history that they had looked just the same way and had acted just the same way when they followed the victorious banners of Napoleon into nearly every capital of Europe.

"We're almost at the camp of the Strangers," said Captain Creville. "None could ever mistake it, because their debate this morning upon their respective merits is uncommonly spirited. Listen!"

"I tell you, Wharton, you Yankees have no discipline. By Gad, sir, your lack of it is startling."

"We don't need it, Carstairs, because we were always able to lick you English without it."

"Lick us, you boasters! Where did you ever lick us?"

"Wherever we were able to find you."

"My histories tell me that you never looked for us much."

"But those histories were written by Englishmen. I'll lay you a good five-dollar bill against one of your shilling-short pounds that I beat you into Berlin."

"As a prisoner, yes. I've no doubt of it."

"Gentlemen," said Creville, as he took a step forward, and looked into a little dip, "I bring you a new comrade."

Within the dip lay at least two hundred youths and young men. Nearly all were fair, and they were unmistakably Americans and English. The two who had been carrying on the violent controversy were stretched flat on the grass almost at the feet of Creville. But they sat up, when they heard him, and John saw that they were uncommonly handsome and athletic, their age about his own. They stepped forward at once, and extended to John the hand of fellowship. Captain Creville made the introductions.

"He wishes to enlist with you," he said.

"He'll be welcome, I know," said the Englishman, Carstairs. "Our commander, Captain Colton, is not here at this moment, but we expect him in a half hour. How did you arrive, Mr. Scott?"

"He dropped down," replied Creville for John. "Dropped down. I don't understand you, Captain?"

Creville pointed straight up into the heavens.

"He came like the bird," he said. "He sailed through the air, seeking his nest. As soon as he saw us he said: 'Here is the perfect place; here I can dwell with the kindest and best people in the world; and down he swooped at once.'"

"I suppose you mean that he's an airman and that he came in a flying machine," said the American, Wharton. "Carstairs will arrive at that conclusion, too, if you give him time, but being an Englishman, time he must have."

"But when I arrive at the conclusion it will be right," said Carstairs.

"It's true that Mr. Scott came by machine," said Captain Creville, who was now speaking in excellent English. "He arrived with our great young aviator, Philip Lannes, and he has had many and thrilling adventures, of which he will tell you later. I suppose you will take your part in these English and American controversies, Mr. Scott, but your new captain will have nothing to do with them."

"Is he an Englishman or an American?"

"You can decide that for yourself. He was born in England. His mother was American and his father English. He was taken to America when he was three years old, and was educated there, but, after finishing at Harvard, he spent a year at Oxford. It seemed to all of us that his appointment as captain of this troop was most happy. The English are sure that he's English, the American know that he's American, he himself says nothing, and so all are happy. Ah, here he comes now, ahead of time!"

Daniel Coulton, a tall fair young man with a fine, open face, entered the dip, and Captain Creville at once turned John over to him.

"We're glad to have you, Mr. Scott," said Colton, "but the service will be hard and full of danger."

"I expect it, sir."

"These young men are serving France for love, and nearly all of them are privates. Carstairs and Wharton are in the ranks and you'll have to take a place with them."

"I accept gladly, sir."

"The right spirit. Wharton, you and Carstairs get him a uniform and arms, and he'll stay with you until further orders."

Then Captain Coulton hurried away. Captain Creville bowed and also withdrew.

"Come on, Scott," said Carstairs. "We've an extra uniform, and it'll just about fit you. A rifle, cartridges and all your other arms are ready, too."

John was equipped promptly, and then many introductions followed. It was a little Anglo-American island in the midst of a French sea, and they gave a joyous welcome to a new face. John noticed that many of them bore slight wounds, and he soon learned that several others, hurt badly, lay in an improvised hospital at the rear.

"The Germans are pressing us hard," said Wharton. "They whipped us yesterday afternoon, and they're sure to come for us again today. There's Captain Colton now standing on the earthwork, watching through his glasses. In my opinion something's doing."

Nearly all the Strangers went forward. From a hillock, John with his two new friends looked toward the forest, miles in their front. The forest itself was merely a blind mass of green, but overhead swung aeroplanes and captive balloons.

"Look up!" said Carstairs.

John saw a half dozen aeroplanes hovering some distance in front of their own lines.

"I think they're signaling," said Carstairs. "One of those monster guns must be getting ready to disgorge itself."

"The forty-two centimeter?" said John.

"Yes, and I'm right, too. I saw a flash in the forest, and here comes the little messenger!"

There was a roar and a crash so tremendous that John was almost shaken from his feet. An enormous shell burst near the earthworks, sending forth a perfect cloud of shrapnel and steel fragments. It resembled the explosion of a volcano, and as his ears recovered their power after the shock John heard the cries of many wounded.

"I think this force carries only one such gun with it," said Carstairs, "and it will be some time before they can fire it again. We have nothing to equal it, but the French seventy-five millimeter is an awful weapon. The gunners can time them so the shells burst only fifteen or twenty feet from the ground, and then they rain death. I think it likely that we have out now a flanking force that will get within range."

"There's cover to the right," said Warton, "if the French batteries advance at all, it will be that way."

They were ordered to stand to their arms, but it did not keep them from watching, as at present there was nothing for them to do. A second shot came presently from the forty-two centimeter, but the shell burst too far away to do any harm. John and his comrades turned their attention back to the right, where a line of woods ran.

Ten minutes more of waiting and they saw a succession of flashes among the trees. The French field guns far in advance of the main force were at work.

"Well done," said Carstairs. "The French artillery is fine, Scott. I believe their medium guns can beat any others of the same class in the world. Look how those woods flame with their fire! It scares me to go up in the air, but I'd like to be in one of those aeroplanes, where I could see the effect of the cannonade."

"There goes 'Busy Bertha' again," said Wharton.

"What's 'Busy Bertha'?" asked John.

"Oh, it's merely a nickname we've given to the Krupp monster. The French started it, I believe, but it's spread to the Strangers. It's aimed at our field guns this time! There the shell has burst in the forest! I wish I knew what it had done!"

"Not much, I judge," said Carstairs, "because the French guns are replying with as much fervor as ever. The woods are fairly blazing with their fire!"