It was the eve of the battle of Verdun.

The occupants of the automobile as it sped northward numbered three. In
the front seat, alone at the driver's wheel, a young man bent low. He was
garbed in the uniform of a British lieutenant of cavalry. Close
inspection would have revealed the fact that the young man was a youth of
some eighteen years, fair and good to look upon. As the machine sped
along he kept his eyes glued to the road ahead and did not once turn to
join in the conversation of the two occupants on the rear seat. Whether
he knew that there was a conversation in progress it is impossible to
say, but the rush of wind would have made the conversation
unintelligible, to say the least.

This youth on the front seat was Hal Paine, an American.

The two figures in the rear seat were apparently having a hard time
to maintain their places, as they bounced from side to side as the
car swerved first one way and then the other, or as it took a flying
leap over some object in the road, which even the keen eye of the
driver had failed to detect. But in spite of this, even as they
bounced, they talked.

One of the two figures was tall and slender and there was about him an
air of youthfulness. He was in fact a second American boy. His name
was Chester Crawford, friend and bosom companion of Hal Paine. Like
the latter he, too, was attired in the uniform of a British lieutenant
of cavalry.

The second figure in the rear seat was built along different lines. He