ng the edge of the palisades, concealing
themselves among the rocks, and as they thus worked to the southward the
precipitous heights and the river converged until they were almost
directly above the water. At last, looking down, they saw upon the
narrow strip of shore directly below them the old castle of which
Melotte had told them. There was no other in sight. From their dizzy
perch among the concealing rocks they could see almost the whole width
of southern Alsace in panorama, as one sees New York from the Palisades
of the Hudson, and in the distance the dim outlines of the Vosges
mountains, beyond which lay France.

Not far from the river on the Alsatian side and (as old Melotte had
said) directly opposite the castle, was a small town which Tom studied
carefully with the glass.

"That's it," he said, relieved, for both of them had harbored a
lingering fear that these places existed only in the childish mind of
the blue-eyed old weaver. "Melotte was right," he added. "Wait a
minute--I'll let you look. You can see the new road and people working
on it and--wait a minute--I can see a little flag on one house."

There was no doubt about it. There was the town of Norne, and just west
of it a road with tiny figures distributed along it.

Archer was all a-quiver as he took the glass. "I can see the house," he
said; "it's right near the road, it's got a flag on it. When the light
strikes it you can see the black spot. Oh, look, look!"

"I can't look when you've got the glass," said Tom in his dull way.

"I can see the battleline!" cried Archer.

Tom took the glass with unusual excitement. Far across the Alsatian
country, north and south, ran a dim, gray line, seeming to have no more
substance than a rainbow or the dust in a sun-ray. Far to the north it
bent westward and he knew its course lay through the mountains. But
short of those blue heights it seemed to peter out in a sort of gray
mist. And that was all that could be seen of that seething, bloody line
where the destinies of mankind were being contended for.

It was easy for the boys to imagine that the specks they could see were
soldiers, American soldiers perhaps, and that low-hung clouds were the
smoke of thundering artillery....

"I wonder if we'll ever get over there," said Archer.

"Over there," Tom repeated abstractedly.

* * * * *

Their program now must be one of stealth, not boldness, and they did not
wish to be s