acting brigadier, a French colonel, who
informed us that it was not safe for us to continue more than a block
farther in the direction in which we were going, as the far end of the
village was "between the lines" and we would there come under the
observation of the German sharpshooters. This officer said that the
best way to follow the battle-line would be to turn back through the
village and take the first road to the right.

We stayed in the village for half an hour longer, and then, faithfully
following directions, went back and took the "first turn to the
right," which proved to be a narrow road whose existence the officer
had forgotten and which was not at all the one he meant to recommend.
We, ignorant of any mistake, went blindly on, down a little hill,
across a small brook, and up a knoll opposite. In doing so we had
actually passed out through the French lines and reached an elevation
squarely between the two armies. The French positions were, as usual,
concealed, and for the moment they were not firing, so that we
remained blissfully unconscious of our dangerous position. Fortunately
for us, the German lines were at this point half a mile away from the
French, and owing to the mist and distance we were apparently
unobserved, since we received no especial attention. As we reached the
top of the knoll it began to rain, making us still less conspicuous
and forcing us to stop and put up the top. We pulled up behind an
isolated barn in order to be somewhat sheltered from stray shrapnel.

As we stood behind the barn, the bombarded village which we had just
left lay below and behind us, and in front featureless fields sloped
away toward some low wooded hills half a mile distant. Suddenly the
constant rumbling of guns was interrupted by four quick, sharp
explosions, and we perceived little wisps of smoke bluer than the
mist trailing up through the tree tops of these hills. These
explosions were French shells bursting over the German trenches, but
we, naturally supposing ourselves to be within the French lines, at
the moment thought it was a French battery firing a salvo.

While we were putting up the top, two French soldiers on picket duty
came by and, lured by the unfailing bait of cigarettes, stopped to
talk to us. Taking it for granted that we knew where we were, they did
not mention our being between the lines, but told us of a great fight
which had last Sunday taken place about two miles to the right of
where