tall
green-clad figure in their midst.

Rollo turned on the blinding flash that stabbed through the night. He
held it high above his head, and at that level moved it three times from
left to right. Then he swung the light in full circles, till it became a
pinwheel of flame. Four miles away by the sea to the north, a white
light shot up into the sky, rose twice like a fountain, and was followed
by a starlight that fed out a green radiance.

"The attack is postponed," he said.

THE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN

The German lay on a stretcher in the straw of the first
dressing-station. His legs had been torn by shot. He was in
pain. He looked into the faces of the men about him, the
French doctors and dressers, the Belgian infantry. The
lantern light was white and yellow on their faces. He drew
out from the inner pocket of his mouse-colored coat a packet
of letters, and from the packet the picture of a stout
woman, who, like himself, was of middle-age. He handed it to
the French doctor. "Meine Frau," he said.

At the outer rim of the group, a Belgian drew a knife, ran
it lightly across his own throat, and pointed mockingly to
the German on the stretcher.

IV

THE PIANO OF PERVYSE

The Commandant stepped down from his watch tower by the railway tracks.
This watch tower was a house that had been struck but not tumbled by the
bombardment. It was black and gashed, and looked deserted. That was the
merit of it, for every minute of the day and night, some watcher of the
Belgians sat in the window, one flight up, by the two machine guns,
gazing out over the flooded fields, and the thin white strip of road
that led eastward to the enemy trenches. Once, fifteen mouse-colored
uniforms had made a sortie down the road and toward the house, but the
eye at the window had sighted them, and let them draw close till the aim
was very sure. Since then, there had been no one coming down the road.
But a watcher, turn by turn, was always waiting. The Commandant liked
the post, for it was the key to the safety of Pervyse. He felt he was
guarding the three women, when he sat there on the rear supports of a
battered chair, and smoked and peered out into the east.

He came slowly down the road,--old wounds were throbbing in his
members--and, as always, turned into the half-shattered dwelling where
the nurses were making their home and tending their wounded.

"How is the sentry-