ly.

Jack smiled and laid his hand on Rickerl's arm.

"She ought to see you now, bareheaded, dusty, in your
shirt-sleeves! You're not much like the attache at the
Diplomatic ball--eh, Ricky? If you marry Dorothy I'll punch your
head. Come on, we've got to find out where we are."

"That's my road," observed Rickerl, quietly, pointing across the
fields.

"Where? Why?"

"Don't you see?"

Jack searched the distant landscape in vain.

"No, are the Germans there? Oh, now I see. Why, it's a squadron
of your cursed Uhlans!"

"Yes," said Rickerl, mildly.

"Then they've been chased out of the Chateau de Nesville!"

"Probably. They may come back. Jack, can't you get out of this
country?"

"Perhaps," replied Jack, soberly. He thought of Lorraine, of the
marquis lying mangled and dead in the forest beside the fragments
of his balloon.

"Your Lieutenant von Steyr is a dirty butcher," he said. "I hope
you'll finish him when you find him."

"He fired explosive bullets, which your franc-tireurs use on us,"
retorted Rickerl, growing red.

"Oh," cried Jack in disgust, "the whole business makes me sick!
Ricky, give me your hand--there! Don't let this war end our
friendship. Go to your Uhlans now. As for me, I must get back to
Morteyn. What Lorraine will do, where she can go, how she will
stand this ghastly news, I don't know; and I wish there was
somebody else to tell her. My uncle and aunt have already gone to
Paris, they said they would not wait for me. Lorraine is at
Morteyn, alone except for her maid, and she is probably
frightened at my not returning as I promised. Do you think you
can get to your Uhlans safely? They passed into the grove beyond
the hills. What the mischief are those cannon shelling, anyway?
Well, good-by! Better not come up the hill with me, or you'll
have to part with your sabre for good. We did lose our franc-tireur
friends beautifully. I'll write Dorothy; I'll tell her that I
captured you, sabre and all. Good-by! Good-by, old fellow! If
you'll promise not to get a bullet in your blond hide I'll promise
to be a brother-in-law to you!"

Rickerl looked very manly as he stood there, booted, bareheaded,
his thin shirt, soaked with sweat, outlining his muscular figure.

They lingered a moment, hands closely clasped, looking gravely
into each other's faces. Then, with a gesture, half sad, half
friendly, Rickerl started across the stubble towards the distant
grove where his Uhlans had taken cover.