“But,” André cried, “I must go with you, Victor. You cannot speak English any better than you did when we went to Jacquard’s.” “That is true enough,” Victor admitted. “Good. I go. I translate when soldiers try to stop you,” André announced. “It is an idea,” Victor agreed. “Well, then?” André cried. “The cows,” Victor chided. André paused. “Raoul?” he suggested. “Do you think he would milk them?” “Most certainly. And steal the milk, equally certainly,” Victor said. “I’ll ask him,” André decided. “Wait, _please_.” “I will wait.” Victor sat impatiently in the cart and polished his glasses while André raced across the field. Ten minutes later André was back. Raoul had agreed. And La Fumée was plodding steadily toward Ste. Mère and the clatter and shriek of gunfire. Crouching under a blanket at André’s feet lay Patchou. The Gagnon house stood silently empty for the first time in weeks. About noon a black motorcycle rolled to a stop beside the Gagnon pump. Marie, in dark slacks and a man’s cap similar to the driver’s, dismounted. [Illustration] “The house looks empty, Leon,” she said, alarm in her voice. She pushed open the door and called, “André.” There was no answer as she entered the empty hallway. Hurriedly, she ran through the house in a panic, and returned to the door. “He isn’t here, Leon,” she cried. “The house is empty. Even Patchou is gone.” Leon looked at her calmly. “Perhaps you are not the only adventurous one in the family,” he laughed. Aghast at the thought of André wandering who knows where, Marie paused. “I did hope he had a letter from Maman telling us where the hospital has moved to. And now I don’t even know what has happened to André,” she cried. She looked wildly around the village. Darting between passing trucks she came to the Lescot kitchen. A few minutes later she returned to Leon, breathless. “André has gone off toward St. Sauveur with Victor,” she explained. “Perhaps we can catch up with them on the road to Pont l’Abbé. We must hurry.” The black motorcycle shot off in the direction of Ste. Mère. CHAPTER SIXTEEN _André into the Fighting_ André’s trip with Victor was unexpectedly easy at the beginning. When they passed through Ste. Mère, the town seemed almost quiet, although the litter and destruction on all sides were heartbreaking. Beyond the town, the roads were clogged. Victor was not challenged as they wove through marching troops and rolling equipment. “That looks very unpleasant ahead of us,” Victor stated disapprovingly, when they had crossed the Merderet River bridge. Shell bursts, dust and smoke hung over the once orderly fields and patches of woods. Noises burst out loudly behind clumps of trees and died away. Presently, Victor announced: “We proceed but a short distance farther along this road. At an oak tree ahead we turn left to the village where my daughter is.”