impenetrably dark. When I came to the cross-roads I stopped the
machine and climbed down. I wanted to make sure of the directions, and
they were printed in French on the sign-board that was near the
crucifix about which he had told me.

I got my directions all right, and then, moved by curiosity, flashed my
pocket-light on the figure of the bronze Christ on the crucifix there
at the crossroads guide-post. There was an inscription. Laboriously
finding each small letter with my flash in the darkness, my engine
panting off to the side of the road, I spelled it all out:

"Traveller, hast thou ever seen so great a grief as mine?"

Off in the near distance the star-shells were lighting up No Man's
Land. "Traveller, hast thou ever seen so great a grief as mine?" they
seemed to say to me.

I climbed into the machine and started on.

Suddenly I heard the purring of Boche planes overhead. One gets so
that he can distinguish the difference between French planes and Boche
planes. These were Boche planes, and they were bent on mischief. Then
the search-lights began to play in the sky over me. But they were too
late, for hardly had I started on my way when "Boom! boom! boom! boom!"
one after another, ten bombs were dropped, and as each dropped it
lighted up the surrounding country like a great city in flames.

As I saw this awful desecration of the land the phrase of the cross
seemed to sing in unison with the beating of the engine of my truck: