I ran out of petrol. I walked to the station and waited for the others.
They did not come. I searched the station, but found nothing except a
cavalry brigade entraining. I rushed about feverishly. There was no one
I knew, no one who had heard anything of my company. Then I grew
horribly frightened that I should be left behind. I pelted back to the
old warehouses, but found everybody had left two hours ago. I thought
the company must surely have gone by now, and started in my desperation
asking everybody I knew if they had seen anything of the company.
Luckily I came across an entraining officer, who told me that the
company were entraining at "Point Six-Hangar de Laine,"--three miles
away. I simply ran there, asking my way of surly, sleepy sentries,
tripping over ropes, nearly falling into docks.

I found the Signal Company. There was not a sign of our train. So
Johnson took me on his carrier back to the station I had searched in
such fear. We found the motor-cycle, Johnson gave me some petrol, and we
returned to Point Six. It was dawn when the old train at last rumbled
and squeaked into the siding.

I do not know how long we took to entrain, I was so sleepy. But the sun
was just rising when the little trumpet shrilled, the long train creaked
over the points, and we woke for a moment to murmur--By Jove, we're off
now,--and I whispered thankfully to myself--Thank heaven I found them at
last.

We were lucky enough to be only six in our compartment, but, as you
know, in a French IIIme there is very little room, while the seats are
fiercely hard. And we had not yet been served out with blankets. Still,
we had to stick it for twenty-four hours. Luckily the train stopped at
every station of any importance, so, taking the law into our own hands,