xt747d2q5g46 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt747d2q5g46/data/mets.xml Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919. 19281915  books b92-172-30119813 English D. Appleton, : New York ; London : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. World War, 1914-1918 Fiction. Forest of swords  : a story of Paris and the Marne / by Joseph A. Altsheler. text Forest of swords  : a story of Paris and the Marne / by Joseph A. Altsheler. 1928 2002 true xt747d2q5g46 section xt747d2q5g46 

 


















BOOKS BY JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER



   THE FRENCH AND
The Hunters ot the Hills
The Rulers of the Lakes
The Lords of the Wild
        THE YOUNG '
The Young Trailers
The Forest Runners
The Keepers of the Trail
The Eyes of the Woods



INDIAN WAR SERIES
The Shadow of the North
The Masters of the Peaks
The Sun of Quebec
TRAILERS SERIES
  The Free Rangers
  The Riflemen of the Ohio
  The Scouts of the Valley
  The Border Watch



             THE TEXAN SERIES
                The Texan Star
The Texan Scouts       The Texan Triumph



           THE CIVIL
The Guns of Bull Run
The Guns of Shiloh
The Scouts of Stonewall
The Sword of Antietam



WAR SERIES
The Star of Gettysburg
The Rock of Chickamauga
The Shades of the Wilderness
The Tree of Appomattox



          THE GREAT WEST SERIES
The Lost Hunters       The Great Sioux Trail
          THE WORLD WAR SERIES
              The Guns of Europe
The Forest of Swords       The Hosts of the Air
            BOOKS: NOT IN SERIES
Apache Gold            A Soldier of Manhattan
The Quest of the Four      The Sun of Saratoga
The Last of the Chiefs     A Herald of the West
In Circling Camps      The Wilderness Road
The Last Rebel         My Captive
                 The Candidate



     D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
New York                              London

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" Ile heard a shock near him and, . . . saw a huddled mass
                    of wreckage."
                                                 [P B.].: roly

 

W A R S E R I E S



THE FOREST

O F S W O R D S

      A STORY OF PARIS
      AND THE MARNE

             BY
   JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER
       AlTJHOR OF "THE GUNS OF EUROPE.
       THE STAR OF GET8BT`RG,` ETC.



D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK AND LONDON
         1928



W 0 R L D

 






























       COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY






















Printed in the United States of America

 











                  FOREWORD

  "The Forest of Swords," while an independent story,
based upon the World War, continues the fortunes of
John Scott, Philip Lannes, and their friends who have
appeared already in "The Guns of Europe." As was
stated in the first volume, the author was in Austria and
Germany for a month after the war began, and then went
to England. He saw the arrival of the Emperor, Francis
Joseph, in Vienna, the first striking event in the gigantic
struggle, and witnessed the mobilization of their armies
by three great nations.

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                  CONTENTS

CHAPTER                                         PAGZ
   I. IN PARIS.   .  .   .  .   .  .   .  .   .  I
   II. THE MESSAGE.   .  .   .   .  .   .  .   .  30
 III. IN THE FRENCH CAMP.  .   .   .  .   .  .  53
 IV. THE INVISIBLE HAND .   .  .   .  .   .  .  76
 V. SEEN FROM ABOVE.   .  .   .  .   .         99
 VI. IN HOSTILE HANDS   .   .  .   .  .   .  . I21
 VII. THE Two PRINCES.                          I46
 VIII. THE SPORT OF KNGS .   .   .  .   .  .   . i67
 IX. THE PUZZLLNG SIGNAL    .  .   .  .   .  . I86
 X. OLD FRIENDS .   .  .   .   .  .   .  .  . 209
 XI. THE CONTINUING BATTLE .   .   .  .   .  . 23I
 XII. JULIE LANNFS   .   .   .  .   .  .   .  . 247
XIII. THE MmDDLE AGES .268
XIV. A PROMISE KEPT .    .  .  .   .   .  .   . 291
XV. THE RESCUE .           .   .  .   ,      . 311

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                    THE

   FOREST OF SWORDS


                  CHAPTER I

                    IN PARIS

 J OHN SCOTT and Philip Lannes walked together
     down a great boulevard of Paris. The young
     American's heart was filled with grief and anger.
The Frenchman felt the same grief, but mingled with
it was a fierce, burning passion, so deep and bitter that
it took a much stronger word than anger to describe it.
  Both had heard that morning the mutter of cannon
on the horizon, and they knew the German conquerors
were advancing. They were always advancing. Noth-
ing had stopped them. The metal and masonry of the
defenses at Liege had crumbled before their huge guns
like china breaking under stone. The giant shells had
scooped out the forts at Maubeuge, MNaubetige the un-
takable, as if they had been mere eggshells, and the
mighty Teutonic host came on, almost without a check.
  John had read of the German march on Paris,
nearly a half-century before, how everything had been
made complete by the genius of Bismarck and von
Moltke, how the ready had sprung upon and crushed
the unready, but the present swoop of the imperial
                       I

 


THE FOREST OF SWORDS



eagle seemed far more vast and terrible than the earlier
rush could have been.
  A month and the legions were already before the
City of Light. Men with glasses could see from the
top of the Eiffel Tower the.gray ranks that were to
hem in devoted Paris once more, and the government
had fled already to Bordeaux. It seemed that every-
thing was lost before the war was fairly begun. The
coming of the English army, far too small in numbers,
had availed nothing. It had been swept up with the
others, escaping from capture or destruction only by a
hair, and was now driven back with the French on the
capital.
  John had witnessed two battles, and in neither had
the Germans stopped long. Disregarding their own
losses they drove forward, immense, overwhelming,
triumphant. He felt yet their very physical weight,
pressing upon him, crushing him, giving him no time
to breathe. The German war machine was magnifi-
cent, invincible, and for the fourth time in a century
the Germans, the exulting Kaiser at their head, might
enter Paris.
  The Emperor himself might be nothing, mere sound
and glitter, but back of him was the greatest army that
ever trod the planet, taught for half a century to believe
in the divine right of kings, and assured now that
might and right were the same.
  Every instinct in him revolted at the thought that
Paris should be trodden under foot once more by the
conqueror. The great capital had truly deserved its
claim to be the city of light and leading, and if Paris
                        2

 


IN PARIS



and France were lost the whole world would lose. He
could never forget the unpaid debt that his own Amer-
ica owed to France, and he felt how closely interwoven
the two republics were in their beliefs and aspirations.
  "Why are you so silent " asked Lannes, half
angrily, although John knew that the anger was not
for him.
  "I've said as much as you have," he replied with an
attempt at humor.
  "You notice the sunlight falling on it " said Lannes,
pointing to the Arc de Triomphe, rising before them.
  "Yes, and I believe I know what you are thinking."
  "You are right. I wish he was here now."
  John gazed at the great arch which the sun was
gilding with glory and he shared with Lannes his wish
that the mighty man who had built it to commemorate
his triumphs was back with France-for a while at
least. He was never able to make utp his mind whether
Napoleon was good or evil. Perhaps he was a mix-
ture of both, highly magnified, but now of all times,
with the German millions at the gates, he was needed
most.
  "I think France could afford to take him back," he
said, "and risk any demands he might make or
enforce."
  "John," said Lannes, "you've fought with us and
suffered with us, and so you're one of us. You under-
stand what I felt this morning when on the edge of
Paris I heard the German guns. They say that we
can fight on, after our foes have taken the capital, and
that the English will come in greater force to help us.
                        3

 



THE FOREST OF SWORDS



But if victorious Germans march once through the
Arc de Triomphe I shall feel that we can never again
win back all that we have lost."
  A note, low but deep and menacing, came from the
far horizon. It might be a German gun or it might
be a French gun, but the effect was the same. The
threat was there. A shudder shook the frame of
Lannes, but John saw a sudden flame of sunlight shoot
like a glittering lance from the Arc de Triomphe.
  "A sign! a sign !" he exclaimed, his imaginative
mind on fire in an instant. "I saw a flash from the
arch! It was the soul of the Great Captain speaking!
I tell you, Philip, the Republic is not yet lost! I've
read somewhere, and so have you, that the Romans
sold at auction at a high price the land on which Han-
nibal's victorious army was camped, when it lay before
Rome !"
  "It's so! And France has her glorious traditions,
too! We won't give up until we're beaten-and not
then !"
  The gray eyes of Lannes flamed, and his figure
seemed to swell. All the wonderful French vitality
was personified in him. He put his hand affectionately
upon the shoulder of his comrade.
  "It's odd, John," he said, "but you, a foreigner,
have lighted the spark anew in me."
  "Maybe it's because I ain a foreigner, though, in
reality, I'm now no foreigner at all, as you've just said.
I've become one of you."
  "It's true, John, and I won't forget it. I'm never
going to give up hope again. Maybe somebody will
                        4

 


IN PARIS



arrive to save us at the last. Whatever the great
one, whose greatest monument stands there, may have
been, he loved France, and his spirit may descend
upon Frenchmen."
  "I believe it. He had the strength and courage
created by a republic, and you have them again, the
product of another republic. Look at the flying men,
Lannes !"
  Lannes glanced up where the aeroplanes hovered
thick over Paris, and toward the horizon where the
invisible German host with its huge guns was advanc-
ing. The look of despair came into his eyes again,
but it rested there only a moment. He remembered
his new courage and banished it.
  "Perhaps I ought to be in the sky myself with the
others," he said, "but I'd only see what I don't like to
see. The Arrow and I can't be of any help now."
  "You brought me here in the Arrow, Lannes," said
John, seeking to assume a light tone. "Now what
do you intend to do with me As everybody is leav-
ing Paris you ought to get me out of it."
  "I hardly know what to do. There are no orders.
I've lost touch with the commander of our flying
corps, but you're right in concluding that we shouldn't
remain in Paris. Now where are we to go"
  "We'll make no mistake if we seek the battle front.
You know I'm bound to rejoin my company, the
Strangers, if I can. I must report as soon as possible
to Captain Colton."
  "That's true, John, but I can't leave Paris until to-
morrow. I may have orders to carry, I must obtain
                        5

 



THE FOREST OF SWORDS



supplies for the Arrow, and I wish to visit once more
my people on the other side of the Seine."
  "Suppose you go now, and I'll meet you this after-
noon in the Place de l'Opera."
  "Good. Say three o'clock. The first to arrive will
await the other before the steps of the Opera House "
  John nodded assent and Lannes hurried away.
Young Scott followed his figure with his eyes until it
disappeared in the crowd. A back may be an index to
a man's strength of mind, and he saw that Lannes,
head erect and shoulders thrown back, was walking
with a rapid and springy step. Courage was obvi-
ously there.
  But John, despite his own strong heart, could not
keep from feeling an infinite sadness and pity, not for
Lannes, but for all the three million people who in-
habited the Citv of Lighlt, most of whom were fleeing
now before the advance of the victorious invader. He
could put himself in their place. France held his
deepest sympathy. He felt that a great nation, sedu-
lously minding its own business, trampled upon and
robbed once before, was now about to be trampled
upon and robbed again. He could not subscribe to
the doctrine, that might was right.
  He watched the fugitives a long time. They were
crowding the railway stations, and they were depart-
ing by motor, by cart and on foot. Mlany of the
poorer people, both men and women, carried packs
on their backs. The boulevards and the streets were
filled with the retreating masses.
  It was an amazing and stupefying sight, the aban-
                        6

 



IN PARIS



(tIorment by its inhabitants of a great city, a city in
many ways the first in the world, and it gave John a
mighty shock. He had been there with his uncle
and Mr. Anson in the spring, and he had seen nothing
but peace and brightness. The sun had glittered then,
as it glittered now over the Arc de Triomphe, the
gleaming dome of the Invalides and the golden waters
of the Seine. It was Paris, soft, beautiful and bright,
the Paris that wished no harm to anybody.
   But the people were going. He could see them
going everywhere. The cruel, ancient times when
cities were destroyed or enslaved by the conqueror had
come back, and the great Paris that the world had
known so long might become lost forever.
  The stream of fugitives, rich and poor, mingled,
poured on without ceasing. He did not know where
they were going. Most of them did not know them-
selves. He saw a great motor, filled high with people
and goods, break down in the streets, and he watched
them while they worked desperately to restore the
mechanism. And yet there was no panic. The sound
of voices was not high. The Republic was justifying
itself once more. Silent and somberly defiant, the
inhabitants were leaving Paris before the giant Ger-
man guns could rain shells upon the unarmed.
  It was three or four hours until the time to meet
Lannes, and drawn by an overwhelming curiosity and
anxiety he began the climb of the Butte Montmartre.
If observers on the Eiffel Tower could see the German
forces approaching, then with the powerful glasses
-he carried over his shoulder he might discern them
                         7

 



THE FOREST OF SWORDS



from the dome of the Basilica of the Sacred Heart.
  As he made his way up the ascent through the
crooked and narrow little streets he saw many eyes,
mostly black and quick, watching him. This by night
was old Paris, dark and dangerous, where the Apache
dwelled, and by day in a fleeing city, with none to
restrain, he might be no less ruthless.
  But John felt only friendliness for them all. He
believed that common danger would knit all French-
men together, and he nodded and smiled at the
watchers. More than one pretty Parisian, not of the
upper classes, smiled back at the American with the
frank and open face.
  Before he reached the Basilica a little rat of a
young man stepped before him and asked:
  "Which way, Monsieur "
  He was three or four years older than John, wear-
ing uncommonly tight fitting clothes of blue, a red
cap with a tassel, and he was about five feet four
inches tall. But small as he was he seemed to be
made of steel, and he stood, poised on his little feet,
ready to spring like a leopard when he chose.
  The blue eyes of the tall American looked steadily
into the black eyes of the short Frenchman, and the
black eyes looked back as steadily. John was fast
learning to read the hearts and minds of men through
their eyes, and what he saw in the dark depths pleased
him. Here were cunning and yet courage; impudence
and yet truth; caprice and yet honor. Apache or not,
he decided to like him.
  "I'm going up into the lantern of the Basilica," he
                         8

 


IN PARIS



said, "to see if I can see the Germans, who are my
enemies as wvell as yours."
  "And will not Monsieur take me, too, and let me
have look for look with him through those glasses at
the Germans, some of whom I'm going to shoot"
  John smiled.
  "If you're going out potting Germans," he said,
"you'd better get yourself into a uniform as soon as
you can. They have no mercy on franc tireurs."
  "I'll chance that. But you'll take me with you into
the dome"
  "What's your name"
  "Pierre Louis Bougainville."
  "Bougainville! Bougainville! It sounds noble and
also historical. I've read of it, but I don't recall where."
  The little Frenchman drew himself up, and his black
eyes glittered.
  "There is a legend among us that it was noble once,"
he said, "but we don't know when. I feel within me
the spirit to make it great again. There was a time
when the mighty Napoleon said that every soldier car-
ried a marshal's baton in his knapsack. Perhaps that
time has come again. And the great emperor was
a little man like me."
  John began to laugh and then he stopped suddenly.
Pierre Louis Bougainville, so small and so insignificant,
was not looking at him. He was looking over and
beyond him, dreaming perhaps of a glittering future.
The funny little red cap with the tassel might shelter
a great brain. Respect took the place of the wrish
to laugh.
                         9

 



THE FOREST OF SWORDS



  "Monsieur Bougainville," he said in his excellent
French, "my name is John Scott. I am from America,
but I am serving in the allied Franco-British army.
My heart like yours beats for France."
  "Then, Monsieur Jean, you and I are brothers,"
said the little man, his eyes still gleaming. "It may
be that we shall fight side by side in the hour of vic-
tory. But you will take me into the lantern will you
not Father Pelletier does not, know, as you do, that
I'm going to be a great man, and he will not admit me."
  "If I secure entrance you will, too. Come."
  They reached side by side the Basilique de Sacr6-
Coeur, which crowns the summit of the Butte Mont-
martre, and bought tickets from the porter, whose
calm the proximity of untold Germans did not disturb.
John saw the little Apache make the sign of the cross
and bear himself with dignity. In some curious way
Bougainville impressed him once more with a sense
of power. Perhaps there was a spark of genius under
the red cap. He knew from his reading that there
was no rule about genius. It passed kings by, and
chose the child of a peasant in a hovel.
  "You're what they call an Apache, are you not"
he asked.
  "Yes, Monsieur."
  "Well, for the present, that is until you win a greater
name, I'm going to call you Geronimo."
  "And why Zhay-ro-nee-mo, Monsieur"
  "Because that was the name of a great Apache chief.
According to our white standards he was not all that a
man should be. He had perhaps a certain insensibility
                        I0

 


IN PARIS



to the sufferings of others, but in the Apache view
that was not a fault. He was wholly great to them."
  "Very well then, Monsieur Scott, I shall be flattered
to be called Zhay-ro-nee-mo, until I win a name yet
greater."
  "Where is the Father Pelletier, the priest, who
you said would bar your way unless I came with
you "
  "He is on the second platform where you look out
over Paris before going into the lantern. It may be
that he has against me what you would call the
prejudice. I am young. Youth must have its day,
and I have done some small deeds in the quarter which
perhaps do not please Father Pelletier, a strict, a very
strict man. But our country is in danger, and I am
willing to forgive and forget."
  He spoke with so much magnanimity that John
was compelled to laugh. Geronimo laughed. too, show-
ing splendid white teeth. The understanding between
them was now perfect.
  "I must talk with Father Pelletier," said John.
"Until you're a great man, as you're going to be,
Geronimo, I suppose I can be spokesman. After that
it will be your part to befriend me."
  On the second platform they found Father Pelle-
tier, a tall young priest with a fine but severe face,
who looked with curiosity at John, and with disap-
proval at the Apache.
  "You are Father Pelletier, I believe," said John with
his disarming smile. "These are unusual times, but
I wish to go up into the lantern. I am an American,
                        II

 


THE FOREST OF SWORDS



though, as you can see by my uniform, I am a soldier
of France."
  "But your companion, sir He has a bad reputa-
tion in the quarter. When he should come to the
church he does not, and now when he should not he
does."
  "That reputation of which you speak, Father Pelle-
tier, will soon pass. Another, better and greater will
take its place. Our friend here, and perhaps both of
us will be proud to call him so some day, leaves soon
to fight for France."
  The priest looked again at Bougainville, and his
face softened. The little Apache met his glance with
a firm and open gaze, and his figure seemed to swell
again, and to radiate strength. Perhaps the priest
saw in his eyes the same spark that John had noticed
there.
  "It is a time when France needs all of her sons," he
said, "and even those who have not deserved well of
her before may do great deeds for her now. You can
pass."  
  Bougainville walked close to Father Pelletier, and
John heard him say in low tones:
  "I feel within me the power to achieve, and when
you see me again you will recognize it."
  The priest nodded and his friendly hand lay for a
moment on the other's shoulder.
  "Come on, Geronimo," said John cheerfully. "As
I remember it's nearly a hundred steps into the lantern,
and that's quite a climb."
  "Not for youth like ours," exclaimed Bougainville,
                        12

 


IN PARIS



and he ran upward so lightly that the American had
some difficulty in following him. John was impressed
once more by his extraordinary strength and agility,
despite his smallness. He seemed to be a mass of
highly wrought steel spring. But unwilling to be
beaten by anybody, John raced with him and the two
stood at the same time upon the utmost crest of the
Basilique du Sacr6-Coeur.
  They paused a few moments for fresh breath and
then John put the glasses to his eye, sweeping them in
a slow curve. Through the powerful lenses he saw
the vast circle of Paris, and all the long story of the
past that it called up. Two thousand years of history
rolled beneath his feet, and the spectacle was wholly
magnificent.
  He beheld the great green valley with its hills, green,
too, the line of the Seine cutting the city apart like
the flash of a sword blade, the golden dome of the
Hotel des Invalides, the grinning gargoyles of Notre
Dame, the arches and statues and fountains and the
long green ribbons that marked the boulevards.
  Although the city stood wholly in the sunlight a
light haze formed on the rim of the circling horizon.
He now moved the glasses slowly over a segment
there and sought diligently for something. From
so high a point and with such strong aid one could
see many miles. He was sure that he would find
what he sought and yet did not wish to see. Presently
he picked out intermittent flashes which he believed
were made by sunlight falling on steel. Then he drew
a long and deep breath that was almost like a sigh.
                         I3

 


THE FOREST OF SWORDS



  "What is it" asked Bougainville who had stood
patiently by his side.
  "I fear it is the glitter of lances, my friend, lances
carried by German Uhlans. Will you look"
  Bougainville held out his hands eagerly for the
glasses, and then drew them back a little. In his new
dignity he would not show sudden emotion.
  "It wi4l give me gladness to see," he said. "I do
not fear the Prussian lances."
  John handed him the glasses and he looked long
and intently, at times sweeping them slowly back and
forth, but gazing chiefly at the point under the hori-
zon that had drawn his companion's attention.
  John meanwhile looked down at the city glittering
in the sun, but from which its people were fleeing, as
if its last day had come. It still seemed impossible
that Europe should be wrapped in so great a war and
that the German host should be at the gates of Paris.
  His eyes turned back toward the point where he
had seen the gleam of the lances and he fancied now
that he heard the far throb of the German guns. The
huge howitzers like the one Lannes and he had blown
up might soon be throwing shells a ton or more in
weight from a range of a dozen miles into the very
heart of the French capital. An acute depression
seized him. He had strengthened the heart of Lannes,
and now his own heart needed strengthening. How
was it possible to stop the German army which had
come so far and so fast that its Uhlans could already
see Paris The unprepared French had been de-
feated already, and the slow English, arriving to find
                        14

 

IN PARIS



France under the iron heel, must go back and defend
their own island.
  "The Germans are there. I have not a doubt of it,
and I thank you, Monsieur Scott, for the use of these,"
said Bougainville, handing the glasses back to him.
  "Well, Geronimo," he said, "having seen, what do
you say"
  "The sight is unpleasant, but it is not hopeless.
They call us decadent. I read, Monsieur Scott, more
than you think! Ah, it has been the bitterness of
death for Frenchmen to hear all the world say we are
a dying race, and it has been said so often that some
of us ourselves had begun to believe it! But it is not
so! I tell you it is not so, and we'll soon prove to
the Germans who come that it isn't! I have looked
for a sign. I sought for it in all the skies through
your glasses, but I did not find it there. Yet I have
found it."
  "Where "
  "In mv heart. Every beat tells me that this Paris
of ours is not for the Germans. We will yet turn
them back!"
  He reminded John of Lannes in his dramatic in-
tensity, real and not affected, a true part of his nature.
Its effect, too, upon the American was powerful. He
had given courage to Lannes, and now Bougainville,
that little Apache of the Butte Montmartre, was giv-
ing new strength to his own weakening heart. Fresh
life flowed back into his veins and he remembered that
he, too, had beheld a sign, the flash of light on the
Arc de Triomphe.
                        Is

 


THE FOREST OF SWORDS



  "I think we have seen enough here, Geronimo," he
said lightly, "and we'll descend. I've a friend to meet
later. Which way do you go from the church"
  "To the army. I shall be in a uniform tonight, and
tomorrow maybe I shall meet the Germans."
  John held out his hand and the Apache seized it in
a firm clasp.
  ".I believe in you, as I, hope you believe in me," said
young Scott. "I belong to a company called the
Strangers, made up chiefly of Americans and English,
and commanded by Captain Daniel Colton. If you're
on the battle line and hear of the Strangers there too
I should like for you to hunt me up if you can. I'd
do the same for you, but I don't yet know to what
force you will belong."
  Bougainville promised and they walked down to the
second platform, where Father Pelletier was still
standing.
  "What did you see" he asked of John, unable to
hide the eagerness in his eyes.
  "Uhlans, Father Pelletier, and I fancied that I
heard the echo of a German forty-two centimeter.
Would you care to use the glasses The view from
this floor is almost as good as it is from the lantern."
  John distinctly saw the priest shudder.
  "No," he replied. "I could not bear it. I shall
pray today that our enemies may be confounded; to-
morrow I shall throw off the gown of a priest and put
on the coat of a soldier."
  "Another sign," said John to himself, as they con-
tinued the descent. "Even the priests will fight."
                        I6

 

IN PARIS



  When they were once more in the narrow streets
of Montmartre, John said farewell to Bougainville.
  "Geronimo," he said, "I expect to see you leading
a victorious charge directly into the heart of the Ger-
man army."
  "If I can meet your hopes I will, Monsieur Scott,"
said the young Frenchman gayly, "and now, au revoir,
I depart for my uniform and arms, which must be of
the best."
  John smiled as he walked down the hill. His heart
had warmed toward the little Apache who might not
be any Apache at all. Nevertheless the name Geron-
imo seemed to suit him, and he meant to think of him
by it until his valor won him a better.
  He saw from the slopes the same endless stream of
people leaving Paris. They knew that the Germans
were near, and report brought them yet nearer. The
tale of the monster guns had traveled fast, and the
shells might be falling among them at any moment.
Aeroplanes dotted the skies, but they paid little atten-
tion to them. They still thought of war under the old
conditions, and to the great mass of the people flying
machines were mere toys.
  But John knew better. Those journeys of his with
Lannes through the heavens and their battles in the
air for their lives were unforgettable. Stopping on
the last slope of Montmartre he studied space with
his glasses. He was sure that he saw captive balloons
on the horizon where the German army lay, and one
shape larger than the rest looked like a Zeppelin, but
he did not believe those monsters had come so far to
                        17

 


THE FOREST OF SWORDS



the south and west. They must have an available
base.
  His heart suddenly increased its beat. He saw a
darting figure and he recognized the shape of the
German Taube. Then something black shot down-
ward from it, and there was a crash in the streets of
Paris, followed by terrible cries.
  He knew what had happened. He caught another
glimpse of the Taube rushing away like a huge car-
nivorous bird that had already seized its prey, and
then he ran swiftly down the street. The bomb had
burst in a swarm of fugitives and a woman was
killed. Several people were wounded, and a panic
had threatened, but the soldiers had restored order
already and ambulances soon took the wounded to
hospitals.
  John went on, shocked to the core. It was a new
kind of war. The flying men might rain death from
the air upofi a helpless city, but their victims were
more likely to be women and children than armed
men. For the first time the clean blue sky became a
sinister blanket from which dropped destruction.
  The confusion created by the bomb soon disap-
peared., The multitude of Parisians still poured
from the city, and long lines of soldiers took their
place. John wondered what the French commanders
would do. Surely theirs was a desperate problem.
Would they try to defend Paris, or would they let it
go rather than risk its destruction by bombardment
Yet its fall was bound to be a terrible blow.
  Lannes was on the steps of the Opera House at the
                        i8

 


IN PARIS



appointed time, coming with a brisk manner and a
cheerful face.
  "I want you to go with me to our house beyond the
Seine," he said. "It is a quaint old place hidden away,
as so many happy homes are in this city. You will
find nobody there but my mother, my sister Julie, and
a faithful old servant, Antoine Picard, and his daugh-
ter, Suzanne."
  "But I will be a trespasser"
  "Not at all. There will be a warm welcome for
you. I have told them of you, how you were my com-
rade in the air, and how you fought."
  "Pshaw, Lannes, it was you who did most of the
fighting. You've given me a reputation that I can't
carry."
  "Never mind about the reputation. What have you
been doing since I left you this morning"
  "I spent a part of the time in the lantern of the
Basilica on Montmartre, and I had with me a most
interesting friend."
  Lannes looked at him curiously.
  "You did not speak-of any friend in Paris at this
time," he said.
  "I didn't because I never heard of him until a few
hours ago. I made his acquaintance while I was going
up Montmartre, but I already consider him, next to
you, the best friend I have in France."
  "Acquaintanceship seems to grow rapidly with you,
Monsieur Jean the Scott."
  "It has, but you must remember that our own
friendship was pretty sudden. It developed in a few
                        I 

 



THE FOREST OF SWORDS



minutes of flight from soldiers at the German
border."
  "That is so, but it was soon sealed by great common
dangers. Who is your new friend, John"
  "A little Apache named Pierre Louis Bougainville,
whom I have nicknamed Geronimo, after a famous
Indian chief of my country. He has already gone to
fight for France, and, Philip, he made an extraordi-
nary impression upon me, although I don't know just
why. He is short like Napoleon, he has the same
large and beautifully shaped head, and the same pene-
trati