a great pyramid of flame leaped up from a point where the Hôtel de
l'Europe stood. The cathedral alone, as if by some singular chance,
seemed to be untouched. The lofty Gothic spire shot up in the silver
moonlight, and towered white and peaceful over fighting Gaul and Teuton.
John looked up at it more than once, as he fired a rifle, that he had
picked up, down the street at the fleeting shadows.

He was filled with an unreasoning rage. He did not hate any one of the
Germans who were fighting on the other side of Chastel, but the anger
that seized him when he found Julie missing was still heavy upon him.
Before, whenever he had fired at an enemy he had usually felt a secret
hope that the bullet would miss, but now he prayed that every one would
hit. Bougainville pulled him down. "Not too fast! Not too fast!" he
said. "You're worth more alive than dead. We'll soon drive them from
Chastel anyhow. The seventy-fives are doing the work."

Bougainville had read the story of the battle aright. The great
seventy-five-millimeter guns were too much for the German force. As the
houses of Chastel were swept away the enemy on the other side was left
exposed, and the Germans, despite their courage and energy, were cut
down fast. Aid for the French was coming continually. New regiments
rushed up the snowy slopes. John heard a shout behind him, and Captain
Colton and the Strangers coming from afar rushed into the battle. As
they were about to swing past John joined Wharton and Carstairs.

"We thought you were gone forever this time," shouted Carstairs. "There
seems to be a special Providence for you Yankees!"

"It's skill, not luck, that counts!" exclaimed Wharton.