“Ah, my young Yankee!” he said.  “They cannot hold you!”

“No, my general,” replied John, “I’ve come back again to fight for France.”

General Vaugirard looked at him keenly.

“You’re exhausted,” he said.  “You’ve been under tremendous pressure.”

“But I can guide you.  I want neither sleep nor rest.”

“You need both, as I can see with these two old eyes of mine.  Sleep you can’t have now, but rest is yours.  You go with me in my automobile, which this war has trained to climb mountains, jump rivers, and crash through forests.  The motor has become a wonderful weapon of battle.”

“May I ask one question, General?” said John.

“A dozen.”

“Do you know where the aviator, Philip Lannes, is?  His sister is held a prisoner by a German general in a chateau toward which we will march, and doubtless he would wish to go at once to her rescue.”

“He is not here, but his friend, Caumartin, is only a half-mile away.  I’ll send a man at once with a message to him to find Lannes, who will surely follow us, if he can be found.  And now, my brave young Yankee, here is my machine.  Into it, and we’ll lead the way.”

John sprang into the automobile, and sank down upon the cushions.  He had a vast sense of ease and luxury.  He had not known until then, the extent of his mental and physical overstrain, but de Rougemont, who was also in the machine, observed it and gave him a drink from a flask, which revived him greatly.

Then the automobile turned into the road and moved forward at a slow gait, puffing gently like a monster trying to hold in his breath.  From the wood and the fields came the tread of many thousand men, marching to the night attack.  Behind their own automobile rose the hum of motors, bearing troops also, and dragging cannon.

John felt that he was going back in state, riding by the side of a general and at the head of an army.  He found both pride and exultation in it.  Sleep was far from his eyes.  How could one think of sleep at such a moment?  But youth, the restorer, was bringing fresh strength to his tired muscles and he was never more alert.

At one point they stopped while the general examined the dusky horizon through his glasses, and a company of men with faces not French marched past them.  They were John’s own Strangers, and despite the presence of General Vaugirard both Wharton and Carstairs reached up and shook his hand as they went by.

“Welcome home,” said Wharton.

“See you again in the morning,” said Carstairs.

“God bless you both,” said John with some emotion.

Captain Daniel Colton nodded to him.  They were not effusive, these men of the Strangers, but their feelings were strong.  When the automobile in its turn passed them again and resumed its place at the head of the column, they seemed to take no notice.