A gloom had been cast over us all. We despaired of seeing Huxford again—except perhaps to find his mangled body somewhere at the foot of that long hill. When we reached the bottom he wasn’t there, and we went on despondently for a mile or more, knowing the hopelessness of trying to find him; when suddenly, as we turned a corner, he appeared, still on horseback and leading the runaway. A cheer from the boys greeted him. "Well done, Huxford!" cried the senior major. "We never expected to see you again!" "I couldn’t let him go, sir, ’cause th’ colonel giv’ th’ horses into my charge, an’ he _had_ to be caught." May we all fulfil our duty as faithfully as this lad! The queer little French train, with its cars marked eight _chevaux_—forty _hommes_ (8 horses—40 men) was waiting at the station when we arrived. The transport officer had told the senior major not to leave until he had received his papers, but to get the men and horses aboard. Shortly before midnight all were entrained. The equipment and horses were loaded, but there was no sign of either engine or conductor. We unrolled our sleeping-bags, placed them upon the seats in the compartment coach and fell asleep. At four a.m. we were awakened by an angry discussion taking place on the train platform. One voice was French, evidently that of the train conductor; the other was unmistakably that of the senior major. He was talking very loudly: "I tell you, you can’t move this train one inch until I get my papers." The reply was in French: "_Comprend pas, monsieur!_" Evidently he was about to signal the engineer to start. "Stop! I command you to stop!" shouted the major again. The Frenchman understood the action, if he failed to understand the words. "_Il faut partir tout de suite, monsieur_," he replied with respectful firmness, and then, placing the bugle to his lips, he blew a signal to the engineer and the train started. The major sprang from the platform just in time to catch his coach. He had not received the papers, and had had an unintelligible wordy duel in which he had been vanquished. He was boiling with rage. "If I had my way," he stormed, "there would be only _one_ language in the world!" We were off once more. We had but a faint idea of where we were going, but we were on our way. *CHAPTER VI* When we awoke the sun was high in the heavens, and through the train windows we could see the steep banks of the Seine as we wound along that picturesque river toward Rouen. From time to time we passed small villages, the red tile of their roofs contrasting prettily with the snow-white of the walls. Some houses were decorated with bright blue or green, and as they swept by the window in kaleidoscopic array, the scene was one of manifold variety.