“They shot him at Krasnoyek. We got there in the rainy dark. We were on our way back toward Ekaterinburg. Something was the matter with his papers—a ‘t’ wasn’t crossed or an ‘i’ dotted somewhere. He was standing within three feet of me—without a word they asked him to step aside—an official pumped four bullets from an automatic into his chest and stomach before he knew what it was all about—he looked at me in surprise—sort of sickly—he just sank down to a sitting posture on the ground, holding himself up on a stiffened arm, his other hand at his stomach—then he laid his forehead down on his wrist—he never spoke a word—just died. God damn this bloody country and all the low-browed fiends in it! It’s getting just what it deserves—my papers happened to be all right—thank the Lord for tobacco—how long you fellows been here, anyhow—and for the love of Mike, tell me what’s happening in France?” III The Americans were “doing things” in France. The German steam-roller had smashed head-on into another steam-roller and the second steam-roller had not been the one reduced to pig iron. “We’re givin’ ’em hell!” informed the Stevens man. “Consulate here got a long wire this morning. We’re hangin’ our dirty shirts on the Hindenburg line and pepperin’ Chinless Willy’s pants with buckshot so he looks like a country signboard.” “Down where we were, not a word’s come through since the fuss at Château-Thierry. Won that, didn’t we?” “Won it? Won it? Think the Yanks come across to hold a tea party, maybe? God! They’re only stoppin’ the slaughter o’ Huns when their rifles get hot and plug. This war’s goin’ to be over by Christmas, I’d almost be willin’ to bet by Thanksgiving. I hear there was one time they ordered the Yanks to retire but the order to retire couldn’t catch up with ’em fast enough so they used it to wipe German blood off their pants. And went out and killed a few thousand more before supper just to call it a day! You been out here since it first started, ain’t you?” “Wiley and I came up a year ago last July. A year ago last July! Fellows, it seems like—it seems like—eighteen years!” They were very sober. They understood. “And what do you hear from America—home?” They told him all they had heard from America and—home. At eleven o’clock that night, Nathan was still talking.