I halted, and climbing up by the spokes reached the top, and steadying
myself with my left hand, took the proffered glass with my right.

From one extremity to the other of the wide plains, from which we were
separated by the valley of the Grand Morin, those same long columns of
dense black smoke rose lazily in the brilliant sunlight. Into some
determined spot the enemy was pouring a perfect rain of shot and shell,
and the dust rising after each explosion formed a curtain that blotted
out the rest of the landscape. Below, the _Senegalais_ had disappeared
in ambush, but now and again the distant clattering of the
_mitrailleuse_ told us they were at their deadly work. And to think,
all this was happening on ground we had traveled over only a few hours
since! And I had been fool enough to go back to Rebais--alone to
recover my dog!

I shuddered as I got down. What was the use of trying to hurry? We
couldn't go any faster than the horses, and if we overworked them now we
would have to rest longer later on. So, urging our poor old nags, we
trudged along the sun-baked roads between the high grown wheat fields of
the Brie country.

Still another couple of hours and we had reached Choisy-en-Brie, found a
stable for our animals, and we ourselves stretched out on our blankets
beneath the friendly shadow of the big stone church.

I had finished luncheon and was just dozing off when a motor horn roused
me from my lethargy. A second later I recognized Maitre Baudoin and his
wife, the latter holding their four-year-old daughter on her knees, her
grandmother sitting alone in the back seat which was piled high with