"Nothing much.... He said, 'They've got me!' and he lay down clutching his stomach with both hands. He rolled from side to side and said: 'Ah-a-a-ah! They've got me!' His horse, Balthazar, was sniffing at him. He hadn't let go of the reins ... still held 'em just like I'm holding these, over his arm. I heard him say, 'Poor old boy!' He was all doubled up, and groaned and panted 'ouf-ouf!' and then all of a sudden he stretched himself right out at full length.... One more Chasseur less! His face wasn't a pretty sight, and I shut his eyes for him. Then I broke off a branch from a tree and covered his face with it, as I should like some one to do to me if I went under.... Must cover up the dead somehow.... After that I came back with Balthazar." When we had climbed back up the hill and regained our clearing many of the foot-soldiers had already left, while others were strapping on their packs and unpiling arms. We were informed that only one battalion was to stay there and support us. I wondered what awful attack the next day might hold in store. A Captain of infantry accosted Astruc, who was astride Lieutenant Hély d'Oissel's big horse. "Hallo there, gunner!" "Sir?" "Well I'm shot if it isn't Tortue!" "Tortue, sir? Who's Tortue?" "Why, the horse I lost. That's him! There can't be any mistake. Dismount now, quick, and hand him over!" Astruc protested: "But, sir, this horse belongs to our Lieutenant! I must take him back to him. What would he say to me!" "Well, I tell you to dismount. I suppose I know my own saddle, don't I? And Tortue ... why, she knows me.... There! You see there's no doubt about it. It's Tortue all right, my mare which I lost at Ethe." "But, sir, this is a horse, not a mare." The officer examined the animal more closely. "Oh! ah! Why yes, it's true! Now that's odd ... most extraordinary! I could have sworn it was Tortue...." * * * * * Night fell, the mist enveloping the trees round the clearing. Under the black clouds passed yet another aeroplane, blacker even than they. Could the pilot see us at that hour? If so we might expect a shower of shells at daybreak. The machine pitched and tossed in the sky above the clearing, for the wind had risen and was blowing in gusts from the west. We had strewn some cut oats round the guns, as the night was chilly, and it looked like rain. The wind, freshening into a gale, wrapped our cloaks tightly round us and almost seemed to move the men themselves. No light of any kind was to be seen on the plain over which our guns were pointing, and which soon became shrouded in the impenetrable darkness ahead. In one corner the clearing cut into the forest, and here, where the thick brushwood rose like a black wall on either side, we were allowed to light a fire. The wind blew in gusts on the flames, which it first nearly extinguished and then rekindled, making the shadows of the men flicker fantastically on the ground.