Victor’s eyes flickered. “Ah, but I have a plan.” “There is no sense to it.” André shrugged and got to his feet. “No sense!” Victor cried, as though he were about to hurl a bolt of lightning. “You forget. The cart is _mine_. _I paid for it_ yesterday.” Again André could only shake his head. “I’ll put this milk where it is cool,” he said, and started off with a pail in each hand. Victor dived for the other pail and followed. “La Fumée, my mare that you have always been so fond of, you know,” he chattered, “she’s all harnessed and impatient to start off. You know how she loves adventure.” Just then there was a definite lull in the shelling. André set the pails into the cool, stone-lined spring, taking Victor’s from him. Victor caught his eye. “The noise is not so loud,” he said. “There is a trifling din, true, but it is less.” “Perhaps the worst is over,” André said. “We could just start out, and if they tell us we can’t proceed, we can turn back....” Victor’s pink face crinkled brightly. “But of course. Anything else would be gross stupidity.” André fretted: Now he thinks I’ve promised to get his cart no matter what happens. But the Americans would turn them back at once--so no harm would be done. “Okay, Victor. I will start out,” he said. CHAPTER SEVEN _Tricolor over Ste. Mère_ André hesitated. “You wait for me at your house,” he said. “First, I have one thing to do.” Victor stole a searching glance at the boy, then, almost reassured, he nodded and left the springhouse at once. André filled a pitcher with milk and started for the kitchen door. Ranged along the barnyard wall lounged half a hundred German prisoners surrounded by a semicircle of muddy guards bristling with carbines and Tommy guns. André found a mug in the kitchen, and carried the milk in to Captain Dobie. He noticed that the officer’s leg was badly swollen, but the captain seemed unaware of it. The room was crammed with soldiers. Several neighbors, men and women, pressed through the crowd, begging to give help. Many wounded villagers lay sheltered under the trees, they said. But they and the small neighborhood children were being cared for and fed. The captain welcomed them and advised the elders to get deep cellars ready. They must keep the children close to them in case the fighting broke out in the village. “The Germans are fighting hard everywhere, and we must silence each Nazi gun no matter where we find it,” he explained. “Until we get a solid foothold here, we cannot help liberate your country.” André listened, and when he caught the captain’s eye, offered his jug of milk. With a grateful smile, Dobie drained the jug thirstily. “Are things going all right, sir?” André asked.