That final effort sent the boy in a heap. But he was happy—extraordinarily happy—filled, indeed, with a gratitude to providence so great that he could have found no words with which to give it expression. He was safe. Dunstan and Chase were safe—wonderful!—almost unbelievable! It took the three some moments to recover their breath sufficiently to speak, then Dunstan, with a very faint smile, addressed the poilu, or, rather, the poilus, for quite an interested crowd had gathered about them. "Kindly pardon our haste in dropping over to see you," he exclaimed. "But the Germans were urging us to hurry." "You should have kept to the road, mes Americaines," declared an artillery lieutenant who stood by the sentry's side. "Had you done so this would never have happened." "Ah?" "Yes; there is a notice posted at the top of the hill which reads: 'Danger! Keep to the left!' In future beware of all short cuts. They are apt to be short cuts to death!" "Very true," acquiesced Don, grimly. "The experience has been hard on your friend." Chase Manning was clearly suffering from shock; a pallor had overspread his face; his mouth and eyes were twitching; his strength seemed to have deserted his trembling form. He leaned heavily against a tree trunk for support. "Not here very long, I suppose?" continued the lieutenant, in a lower tone. "Otherwise——" He made an expressive gesture. "But he'll become habituated in time; one always does." In a few moments Don and Dunstan were kept busy answering various questions, then the sentry spoke up, saying: "The time was when the Boches didn't bother to fire at any one crossing that field, but lately they have become quite mechant."[8] "The truth of the old saying 'All's well that ends well' has been demonstrated to our satisfaction," declared Don, his features relaxing into a faint smile. "Feeling all right now, Chase?" "No! Who could?" counter-questioned the other, in a tremulous voice. "It was frightful." And after voicing this opinion young Manning became silent again.
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