As it happened, the big American attack was in progress, and every available soldier was being rushed to the front, the few remaining in this village being among the number. They were preparing to leave.
So that, in their haste to obey orders and get to their firing line, or perhaps because they were too busy to notice one lone little American scientist, no attention was paid to Professor Snodgrass.
When he saw that he was in an unfamiliar village and began to ask questions, he was met with astonished looks, perhaps as much at his peculiar way of speaking French as anything else. But one Frenchman said:
“How did you, an American, manage to get through?”
“I don’t know,” answered the professor. “But now I want to get back.”
“Impossible, Monsieur. But come, I will hide you, if I can. I have some fellow countrymen of yours at my house, or rather, some fellow countrywomen.”
“Americans?”
“Yes, two young ladies. They were left behind 239 by a certain German, by name of Louder or Chowder—name of a name—and I looked after them. They will be glad to see you.”
“Oh, dear!” said the professor. “Ladies—American ladies—here in this terrible place! I must do what I can for them. Take me to them, please.”
And the Frenchman did so, with all the caution he could use. But it was not needed. Events were transpiring that made the Germans think of beginning a retreat instead of capturing one lone United States college professor.