On the 9th of November they were still there. The division had continued its drive, but slowly, and no orders had come for the mobile unit to go forward. And then came one of those lulls and flush-backs which for the moment made one almost believe that the tide of battle had turned again--and for the enemy. With the coming of the first wounded that day came orders to evacuate the town at once. At first the townsfolk would not believe, but as the muddy columns of the first company could be seen on the outskirts, doubt gave place to certainty, and without moan they gathered up what few belongings they could and set their faces toward what they prayed would hold French soil. Before the refugees had cleared the town, the shelling began, giving the last impelling haste to their exodus. The hospital unit stayed in the church. They got the wounded ready to be moved and waited for further orders. They came in another ten minutes; everybody was to clear out. Three ambulances from the east and a half-dozen from the west gathered up the stretcher cases, while the others piled into the supply-trucks--that is, all but the chief and Sheila. They stood in the church door with minds for anything but going. It came to them both that, as the battalions fell back, each would be bringing its wounded as far as it could. If there was a place to drop them--and care waiting until a few more ambulances could push through--many lives might be saved, and much suffering. The chief looked down at the girl and saw what was in her mind. Linking his arm in hers, he muttered under his breath, "Still game, bless you!" And then aloud: "Miss O'Leary and I have a liking for this place. We'll stay until the next orders." Griggs had climbed to the footboard of an ambulance, and he faced them with contempt. "We didn't volunteer to sit 'round and be blown to bits. Don't be fools, you two. Come on while you've got a chance." And then, when he saw how futile were his words: "If you haven't had enough slaughter for one while, I have. Good-by." As they waved them off, the muddy column of the first company swung down the street. It was even as they had thought--wounded were with them, and the nurse and surgeon hurried inside to make ready. The day wound itself out in an almost ludicrous repetition of events. Straggling companies fell back, dropped their wounded, and went on; a few ambulances made the town, gathered up the worst cases, and went back. Desultory shells picked off their belfry, smashed a group of monuments in the cemetery, and wiped out a street of houses not far away. And every half-hour or so came the orders to evacuate at once. Regiment after regiment fell back through the city; the rest of the division must have passed to north and south of it. By nightfall nearly all had passed and the town was left like a delta between two dividing currents.