tood the sign I made him,
and, holding his carbine high, he went slowly towards the wood and got
into it quickly by the road.

My heart beat for a moment when I saw my scout getting near the thick
border-line of trees; but now I breathed again. We went in after him,
each one by a different opening, and we passed through it as quickly
as the horses' legs and the difficulties of the ground would allow. On
arriving at the further side I was glad to see my four companions
emerging, almost at the same moment, from the thick woody tangle. I
could see their grave and confident faces turned towards me. On the
ridge in front of us, near a solitary tree, stood Vercherin, clear
against the sky and motionless.

We had soon rejoined him, and from this height we saw on the next hill
the second wood which hid the village of Courgivault from our view,
about a kilometre further off. I feared very much that this second
barrier might be used by the enemy as a formidable line of defence,
and on that account I ordered the approach to be made with still
greater precautions than before. But, as in the first case, we found
it empty, and passed through without let or hindrance.

I expected to see Courgivault at once, but a rise in the ground hid it
still. I took advantage of this natural cover for getting my men
forward without risking a shot. Then, still preceded by Vercherin, we
debouched on the plateau on which the village stood.

Those who have found themselves in a similar situation know by
experience the sudden emotion that is felt when one sees a few
hundred yards off the objective of one's mission, the decisive point
one has to reach, cost what it may; the point where one is almost sure
to find the enemy in hiding, where one has a suspicion that he sees
one, is watching one, silently following all one's movements, and only
waiting for the opportunity of picking one off by an unerring shot.

I stopped my men for a moment. Surrounded by green meadows and
stubble-fields dotted with apple-trees, lay the grey outskirts of the
village It was a very ordinary collection of houses, some of them big
farms, others humble cottages. The tiled roofs formed a reddish mass,
and above them rose the squat church tower. With my glasses I could
distinguish the clock-dial, and could see the time--a quarter past
six.

But this clock seemed to be the only thing in the village with any
life in it. I looked in vain into the gardens and orchards, which
f