But most of the time now the spirit of the herd mastered Jimmie; he wanted what all the men about him wanted--to hold back the Beast from these fair French fields and quaint old villages, and these American hospitals and rest-camps and Y.M.C.A. huts--to say nothing of motor-cycle repair-sheds with Jimmie Higgins in them! And the trouble was that the Beast was not being held back; he was coming nearer and nearer--one bull rush after another! Jimmie's village was near the valley of the Marne, and that was the road to Paris; the Beast wanted to get to Paris, he really expected to get to Paris! The sound of guns grew louder and louder, and rumour flew wild-eyed and wild-tongued about the country. The traffic in the roads grew denser, but moving more slowly now, for the Germans were shelling the road ahead, and blockades were frequent; one huge missile had fallen into a French artillery-train only a couple of miles away. “They'll be moving us back, if this keeps up,” said Jimmie's sergeant; and Jimmie wondered: suppose they didn't move them! Suppose they forgot all about it? Was there any person whose particular duty it was to remember to see that motor-cycle units got moved in the precise nick of time? And what if the Germans were to break through and sweep over all calculations? This was a little more than Jimmie Higgins had bargained for when he entered the recruiting-office in Leesville, U.S.A.! They gave out gas-masks to everyone in Jimmie's unit, and put an alarm bell in the shed, and made everybody practise putting on the masks in a hurry. Jimmie was so scared that he thought seriously of running away; but--such is the perversity of human nature--what he did was to run in the opposite direction! His officer in command came into the shed and demanded, “Can any of you men ride?” And imagine any fellow who worked at repairing motor-cycles admitting that he couldn't ride! “I can!” said Jimmie. “I can!” said every other workman in the place. “What is it!” asked Jimmie--always of the forward and pushing sort. “The French ask for half a dozen men in a rush. They've had several motor-cycle units wiped out or captured.” “Gee!” said Jimmie. “I'll go!” “And me!” said another. “And me!” “And me!” “All right,” said the officer, and told them off: “You and you and you. And you, Cullen, take command. Report to French headquarters at Chatty Terry. You know where it is!”