The Hosts of the Air | Page 7

yet he would not have been back there. The wish did not occur to him. Through the dark and the snow he saw the golden hair and the deep blue eyes of Julie Lannes float before him, and it pleased him too to think that he was a minute part in the huge event now shaking the world.
A sudden white light blazed through the snow, and then was gone, like a flash of lightning.
"German searchlight seeking us out," said Colton.
"I wonder what they want," said John. "They can't be thinking of a rush on such a night as this."
"Don't know, but must be on guard. Better return to your station and warn everybody as you go along. You can use your torch, but hold it low."
As John walked back he saw by the light of his little electric torch men sound asleep on the narrow shelves they had dug in the side of the trench, their feet and often a shoulder covered with the drifting snow. Strange homes were these fitted up with the warriors' arms and clothes, and now and then with some pathetic little gift from home.
He met other men on guard like himself walking up and down the trench and also carrying similar torches. He found Carstairs and Wharton still awake, and occupied as they were when he had left them.
"What was it, Scott?" asked Carstairs. "Has the British army taken Berlin?"
"No, nor has the German army taken London."
"Good old London! I'd like to drop down on it for a while just now."
"They say that at night it's as black as this trench. Zeppelins!"
"I could find my way around it in the dark. I'd go to the Ritz or the Carlton and order the finest dinner for three that the most experienced chef ever heard of. You don't know how good a dinner I can give--if I only have the money. I invite you both to become my guests in London as soon as this war is over and share my gustatory triumph."
"I accept," said John.
"And I too," said Wharton, "though we may have to send to Berlin for our captive host."
"Never fear," said Carstairs. "I wasn't born to be taken. What did Captain Colton want with you, Scott, if it's no great military or state secret?"
"To see Fernand Weber, the Alsatian, whom you must remember."
"Of course we recall him! Didn't we take that dive in the river together? But he's an elusive chap, regular will-o'-the-wisp, messenger and spy of ours, and other things too, I suppose."
"He's done me some good turns," said John. "Been pretty handy several times when I needed a handy man most. He brought news that Mademoiselle Julie Lannes and her servants, the Picards, father and daughter, are on their way to or are at Chastel, a little village not far from here, where the French have established a huge hospital for the wounded. She left Paris in obedience to a letter from her brother, and we are to tell Philip if we should happen to see him."
"Pretty girl! Deucedly pretty!" said Carstairs.
"I don't think the somewhat petty adjective 'pretty' is at all adequate," said John with dignity.
"Maybe not," said Carstairs, noticing the earnest tone in his comrade's voice. "She's bound to become a splendid woman. Is Weber still with the captain?"
"No, he's gone on his mission, whatever it is."
"A fine night for travel," said Wharton sardonically. "A raw wind, driving snow, pitchy darkness, slush and everything objectionable underfoot. Yet I'd like to be in Weber's place. A curse upon the man who invented life in the trenches! Of all the dirty, foul, squalid monotony it is this!"
"You'll have to curse war first," said John. "War made the trench."
"Here comes a man with an electric torch," said Carstairs. "Something is going to happen in our happy lives."
They saw the faint glimmer of the torch held low, and an orderly arrived with a message from Captain Colton, commanding them to wake everybody and to stand to their arms. Then the orderly passed quickly on with similar orders for others.
"Old Never Sleep," said Carstairs, referring to Colton, "thinks we get too much rest. Why couldn't he let us tuck ourselves away in our mud on a night like this?"
"I fancy it's not restlessness," said John. "The order doubtless comes from a further and higher source. Good old Papa Vaugirard is not more than a quarter of a mile away."
"I hear they had to enlarge the trench for him," grumbled Carstairs. "He's always bound to keep us stirring."
"But he watches over us like a father. They say his troops are in the best condition of all."
The three young men traveled about the vast burrow along the main trenches, the side trenches and those connecting. The order to be on guard was given everywhere, and the men