“That bullet will have to be taken out,” she said. “It’s not in very deep. It won’t hurt much.” “It’s gonna stay right there,” Weller said. “It’s probably the only proof I’ll have to show my kids I was ever in this war.” André had been saying, “Sir,” at intervals. But he had trouble saying it loud enough to make the captain hear. When the prisoners had been herded together under guard a little distance away, Captain Dobie sank back in his seat and smiled down. “André,” he said, “I’m too glad to see you alive to tell you what I ought to.” André felt his face grow red. “I wanted to try to get my father and mother home.” “It would have been simpler for all of us if you had waited,” replied the captain. “I couldn’t, sir,” André said staunchly. “If Patchou hadn’t been here, Captain,” Marie said, “I might have missed André. It was Patchou who found _me_.” The dog, at the sound of his name, tossed up his head. Then he sniffed deeply, and whirled in the direction of the château gates, paused a brief second, and shot away at an excited gallop. Captain Dobie could only say, “_Now_ what?” CHAPTER NINETEEN _The 82nd Finishes Its Fight_ The building which had housed the patients from the St. Sauveur hospital for a week was being emptied hastily. A plump older nurse was helping the sick who could walk. Hurrying them into their wraps, she bustled them out to a line of waiting, ancient cars. Doctors were aiding the more helpless patients. All of them froze like statues when a shell crashed near by. “Since dawn,” scolded the nurse, “this racket has been going on. Now, one foot up into the car, dear. Now the other. That’s my good girl. _Bon voyage._” The last to leave were the Gagnons. Pierre walked slowly toward the door with his arm around Mme. Gagnon. She moved stiffly, but without pain. At the door a doctor smiled at them. “Do not worry about madame, M. Gagnon,” he said. “She is greatly improved. I expect no more difficulties for her.” “_Merci_, doctor,” Pierre replied gruffly. The doctor peered around the door. “I see that M. Angell is waiting for you in his car. I’m sure you will find his house a fortress of safety.” His words were drowned in the shriek and explosion of a second shell, and the rending crash of roof timbers. The blast hurtled the three of them into a corner. A shower of falling lath and plaster filled the room. The doctor and Pierre pulled Mme. Gagnon to her feet. From outside, the desperate voice of the car driver shrieked, “Hurry, doctor! Come at once! I do not intend to wait till another explosion hits my car.” Mme. Gagnon shook herself and with great dignity stated firmly, “I can walk. Observe your own step, Pierre. You, also, doctor.” She crossed the shattered porch and went down the steps. Pierre and the doctor raced to help her into the conveyance. At the slam of the door, M. Angell was prepared, and the car leaped forward through the gates and into the lane.