A flotilla of boats of every shape and size, commandeered, no doubt, all up and down the river, plied busily back and forth, augmenting the troops on the other side as rapidly as possible; and again Stewart marveled at the absolute order and system preserved in this operation, which might so easily have become confused. There was no crowding, no overloading, no hurrying, but everywhere a calm and efficient celerity. A certain number of men entered each of the boats,--leading their horses by the bridle, if they were cavalry,--and the boats pushed off. Reluctant horses were touched with a whip, but most of them stepped down into the water quietly and without hesitation, showing that they had been drilled no less than their masters, and swam strongly along beside the boat. On the other shore, the disembarkation was conducted in the same unhurried fashion, and the boat swung back into the stream again for another load. But a great army cannot be conveyed across a river in small boats, and it was not until mid-afternoon, when the repairs on the bridge were finished, that the real forward movement began. From that moment it swept forward like a flood--first the remainder of the cavalry, then the long batteries of quick-firers, then regiment after regiment of infantry, each regiment accompanied by its transport. Looking down at the tangle of wagons and guns and motors, Stewart saw that it was not really a tangle, but an ordered arrangement, which unrolled itself smoothly and without friction. The advance was slow, but it was unceasing, and by nightfall at least fifteen thousand men had crossed the river. Still the host encamped along it seemed as great as ever. As one detachment crossed, another came up from somewhere in the rear to take its place. Stewart's brain reeled as he gazed down at them and tried to estimate their number; and this was only one small corner of the Kaiser's army. For leagues and leagues to north and south it was pressing forward; no doubt along the whole frontier similar hosts were massed for the invasion. It was gigantic, incredible--that word was in his thoughts more frequently than any other. He could not believe his own eyes; his brain refused to credit the evidence of his senses. Each unit of this great array, each company, each squad, seemed to live its own life and to be sufficient unto itself. Stewart could see the company cooks preparing the evening meal; the heavy, wheeled camp-stoves were fired up, great kettles of soup were set bubbling, broad loaves of dark bread were cut into thick slices; and finally, at a bugle call, the men fell into line, white-enameled cups in hand, and received their rations. It seemed to Stewart that he could smell the appetizing odor of that thick soup--an odor of onions and potatoes and turnips. "Doesn't it make you ravenous?" he asked. "Wouldn't you like to have some real solid food to set your teeth into? Raw eggs and apples--ugh!"