t know the magnitude of an
event until it has passed long since and shows in perspective, but John
felt to the full the result of the event, just as the old Greeks must
have known at once what Salamis or Plataea meant to them. The hosts of
the world's greatest military empire were turned back, and he had all
the certainty of conviction that they would be driven farther on the
next day.

The little band of prisoners who walked while their Prussian captors
rode, were animated by feelings like those of John. It was the captured
who exulted and the captors who were depressed, though neither expressed
it in words, and the twilight was too deep now for faces to show either
joy or sorrow.

John and Fleury walked side by side. They were near the same age. Fleury
was an Alpinist from the high mountain region of Savoy and he had
arrived so recently in the main theater of conflict that he knew little
of what had been passing. He and John talked in whispers and they spoke
encouraging words to each other. Fleury listened in wonder to John's
account of his flights with Lannes.

"It is marvelous to have looked down upon a battle a hundred miles
long," he said. "Have you any idea where these Uhlans intend to take
us?"

"I haven't. Doubtless they don't know themselves. The night is here now,
and I imagine they'll stop somewhere soon."

The twilight died in the west as well as the east, and darkness came
over the field of gigantic strife. But the earth continued to quiver
with the thunder of artillery, and John felt the waves of air pulsing in
his ears. Now and then searchlights burned in a white blaze across the
hills. Fields, trees and houses would stand out for a moment, and then
be gone absolutely.

John's vivid imagination turned the whole into a storm at night. The
artillery was the thunder and the flare of the searchlights was the
lightning. His mind created, for a little while, the illusion that the
combat had passed out of the hands of man and that nature was at work.
He and Fleury ceased to talk and he walked on, thinking little of his
destination. He had no sense of weariness, nor of any physical need at
all.

Von Arnheim rode up by his side and said:

"You'll not have to walk much further, Mr. Scott. A camp of ours is just
beyond a brook, not more than a few hundred yards away, and the
prisoners will stay there for the night. I'm sorry to find you among
the French fighting against us. We Germans expected American s