The sergeant stiffened. “You, Slim, stay here with the kid, out of range--and both of you _keep down_,” he ordered. Several shapes moved quietly off into the black field. André looked up at the gray shape of the lean, rangy fellow slouched against a tree. The soldier held his Tommy gun easily. A thumb was hooked in the belt festooned with grenades, and a wicked-looking sheath knife was strapped to his leg. André cleared his throat and asked, “Slim--is this the--Invasion?” The paratrooper smiled. “Well, son,” he drawled, “it’s a start, anyhow. Quite a parcel of us has been dropped from Heaven, and I reckon there’ll be an awful lot more tomorrow when the gliders get in. All I know is, son, I’m a long, long way from Pecos, Texas.” After that, for a moment, André thought the man was going to sleep. Presently he noticed that the trooper’s face was half turned away and that he was listening intently. A dog barked, and André cried softly, “That’s my Patchou. The men must be coming into our farmyard.” Suddenly, an explosion of shots, grenades, and hoarse shouts came from the direction of the house. “Got ’em,” sighed Slim. “They’re good, our boys are. Especially at that sneaky stuff. Better keep down there. Might be bullets flyin’ ’round. I _do not_ like flyin’ bullets.” As the racket continued, the two stretched out among the ferns. “May’s well rest,” Slim murmured drowsily. “Doubt if there’s gonna be much time from now on.” A few moments later there was a crackling in the hedge, from a direction away from the farm. Slim shot into action like a snake, Tommy gun aimed, body tense. The faint sounds continued. After a moment Slim called, “Halt! You out there. Stay where you are.” A gusty sigh came through the undergrowth, and then a voice. “You from the 505th?” Slim kept his gun steady and answered, “Check. Who’re you?” There was a soft groan. “Captain Dobie.” Slim stared at the man pushing toward them, then sprang forward. “You hurt, sir?” He helped the officer to get to his feet and took his arm. With André on the other side, they helped him stagger into the shadow of a tree. “We thought we’d lost you sure, Cap’n,” Slim said sympathetically. “Broke my leg when I landed on a stone wall, I guess,” the officer said fretfully. He stared around him and asked, “What’s happening? We should start toward the coast--we’re much too far in.” Slim nodded. “I know. But Sergeant Weller’s cleanin’ out a machine-gun nest in the barn yonder. He’ll be back with six or seven men shortly. They must have finished over there by now. Some Nazis was in this kid’s barn.” Slim directed a long thumb at André, and added, “He’s puny, but he’s real sharp.” In spite of the fact that he was evidently in great pain, the captain managed to smile at the boy. Slim had helped him to sit down, braced against the tree. André saw that he was watching--Slim, André himself, the road, the meadow. And he was listening to the distant noises--for the return of his men.