The major stooped down and the wounded man guttered out a few sentences, while feebly trying to reach the paper he bore. Life was ebbing fast, but though the man's sufferings must have been intense, he said no word of himself. Only he cried out again. "I have dispatches!" Then the major, in order that the gallant soldier should not die in the despair of an unaccomplished trust, answered, in a firm tone, "They shall be delivered. I promise it." The dispatch-rider smiled through all his pain. "My France!" he whispered proudly, and tried to salute the officer. The major laid his hand lightly on the terribly torn body. "It is not you, who salute me," he said, "but I, who salute you!" With those words in his ears, the dispatch-rider joined the immortal host of the dead heroes of France. FOOTNOTES: [14] In strict accuracy, this particular type of gun was not in use until the following spring. CHAPTER VI RETREAT! RETREAT! There were tears in the major's eyes as he rose, and he unaffectedly wiped them away. "Major Fouraud, sir," said Horace eagerly, "let me take the dispatches. The machine isn't injured a bit." "You ride a motor-cycle also?" the major asked. "Yes, sir. I had one in Beaufays, not this make, but one a good deal like it." The officer pondered. "My battery may go into action at any minute," he said, "and there's been no chance to send you to the rear. I certainly have not the right to keep you with the battery. The dispatches are important. Minutes are precious and I do not know where to find a messenger. Well, then, you shall go." He drew the boy aside, out of hearing. "I will tell you the message," he said, "that, if anything happens, you can pass on the word and the dispatch. Charleroi is in German hands." "So Croquier told me last night," ejaculated the boy. "Pay attention," said the Major, curtly. "This dispatch is in reply to a message from the Fourth Army, asking for support. The reply is that this army will move its left wing north to join the Fifth Army, falling back on Philippeville and presenting a united front to the armies of Von Buelow and Würtemberg. You understand?" "Perfectly, sir," the boy answered, biting his tongue to keep from repeating his information concerning the German army which lay in between. "Off with you, then," said the major, "and good fortune!" Horace clambered into the saddle of the motor-cycle, snatching a look at the road map which had been found in the dispatch-rider's pocket and started off at full speed. The cheers of his former companions of the battery, led by the loud bellow of Croquier, reached his ears as he rounded a turn of the road. All this had happened before the rising sun had cleared the horizon. He waved his hand in reply.