dressed--were not paying
the slightest attention to the danger.

And as the other projectiles soared over his head to lose themselves
in the woods with the explosions of a volcano, he remained by his son's
side, with no other sign of tension than a slight trembling of
the knees. It seemed to him now that it was only the French
missiles--because they were on his side--that were hitting the bull's
eye. The others must be going up in the air and losing themselves in
useless noise. Of just such illusions is valor often compounded! . . .
"And is that all?" his eyes seemed to be asking.

He now recalled rather shamefacedly his retreat to the shelter; he was
beginning to feel that he could live in the open, the same as Rene.

The German missiles were getting considerably more frequent. They were
no longer lost in the wood, and their detonations were sounding nearer
and nearer. The two officials exchanged glances. They were responsible
for the safety of their distinguished charge.

"Now they are warming up," said one of them.

Rene, as though reading their thoughts, prepared to go. "Good-bye,
father!" They were needing him in his battery. The senator tried to
resist; he wished to prolong the interview, but found that he was
hitting against something hard and inflexible that repelled all his
influence. A senator amounted to very little with people accustomed to
discipline. "Farewell, my boy! . . . All success to you! . . . Remember
who you are!"

The father wept as he embraced his son, lamenting the brevity of the
interview, and thinking of the dangers awaiting him.

When Rene had disappeared, the captains again recommended their
departure. It was getting late; they ought to reach a certain cantonment
before nightfall. So they went down the hill in the shelter of a cut in
the mountain, seeing the enemy's shells flying high above them.

In a hollow, they came upon several groups of the famed seventy-fives
spread about through the woods, hidden by piles of underbrush, like
snapping dogs, howling and sticking up their gray muzzles. The great
cannon were roaring only at intervals, while the steel pack of hounds
were yelping incessantly without the slightest break in their noisy
wrath--like the endless tearing of a piece of cloth. The pieces were
many, the volleys dizzying, and the shots uniting in one prolonged
shriek, as a series of dots unite to form a single line.

The chiefs, stimulated by the din, were giving their or