e said. "It will appeal to Frenchmen when
they hear of it, and yet more to Frenchwomen. I should like to shake the
hand of this American, John Scott, and since he is not here, I will, if
you will let me, shake the hand of his nearest French relative, Jean
Castel."

He opened his gloved palm and John's met it in a strong grasp.

"I'm glad," said Delaunois, "that I saw you, and that I am able to give
you this lift. We're over the edge of the mountains now, and presently
we'll cross the French lines. I think I'd better go up a considerable
distance, as they won't know we're French, and they might give us a few
shots."

The machine rose fast and it grew intensely cold. John looked down now
upon a country, containing much forest for Europe, and sparsely
inhabited. But he saw far beneath them trenches and other earthworks
manned with French soldiers. Several officers were examining them
through glasses, but Delaunois sailed gracefully over the line, circled
around a slender peak where he was hidden completely from their view,
and then dropped down in a forest of larch and pine. "So far as I know,"
he said, when the plane rested on the snow, "nobody has seen our
descent. We're well beyond the French lines here, but you'll find
German forts four or five miles ahead. As you see, this is exceedingly
rough ground, not easy for men to occupy, and so the French stay on one
side of this little cluster of mountains while the Germans keep to the
other. And now, Monsieur Jean Castel, I leave you here, wishing you
success in your quest, success in every respect."

Again the two strong hands met. A minute later the aeroplane rose in the
air, carrying but one of the men, while Jean Castel, peasant of
Lorraine, was left behind, standing in the snow, and feeling very
grateful to Delaunois.

John watched the aeroplane disappear over the peak on its return
journey, and then he walked boldly eastward toward the German lines.
Modesty kept him from accepting Delaunois' tribute in full, but it had
warmed his heart and strengthened his courage anew. Delaunois had
considered it not a reckless quest, but high adventure with a noble
impulse, and John's heart and spirit had responded quickly. Great deeds
come from exaltation, and that mood was his.

He followed what seemed to be a little path under the snow, leading
along the side of the mountain toward the eastward, the way he would go.
Here portions of the earth were exposed, where the snow ha