lf had been the son of a poor little lawyer in a
distant and half-savage island, not even French in blood, but an Italian
and an alien.

Crash! Another shell burst near, and told him to quit thinking of old
times and attend to the business before him. The past had nothing more
mighty than the present. The speed of the Strangers was increased a
little, and the French regiments on either side kept pace with them.
More shells fell. They came, shrieking through the air like hideous
birds of remote ages. Some passed entirely over the advancing troops,
but one fell among the French on John's right, and the column opening
out, passed shudderingly around the spot where death had struck.

Two or three of the Strangers were blown away presently. It seemed to
John's horrified eyes that one of them entirely vanished in minute
fragments. He knew now what annihilation meant.

The heavy French field guns behind them were firing over their heads,
but there was still nothing in front, merely the low green hills and not
even a flash of flame nor a puff of smoke. The whistling death came out
of space.

The French went on, a wide shallow valley opened out before them, and
they descended by the easy slope into it. Here the German shells and
shrapnel ceased to fall among them, but, as the heavy thunder
continued, John knew the guns had merely turned aside their fire for
other points on the French line. Carstairs by his side gave an immense
sigh of relief.

"I can never get used to the horrible roaring and groaning of those
shells," he said. "If I get killed I'd like it to be done without the
thing that does it shrieking and gloating over me."

They were well in the valley now, and John noticed that along its right
ran a dense wood, fresh and green despite the lateness of the season.
But as he looked he heard the shrill snarling of many trumpets, and, for
a moment or two, his heart stood still, as a vast body of German cavalry
burst from the screen of the wood and rushed down upon them.

It was not often in this war that cavalry had a great chance, but here
it had come. The ambush was complete. The German signals, either from
the sky or the hills, had told when the French were in the valley, and
then the German guns had turned aside their fire for the very good
reason that they did not wish to send shells among their own men.

John's feeling was one of horrified surprise. The German cavalry
extending across a mile of front seemed cou