It was broad daylight when they went asleep; when they awoke dusk had fallen. Paul woke first, and he went to the window and looked out. Everything, seemingly, was just as it had been when they had last looked out. The scene was one of profound peace. From the window he could not see the burned house, a patch of blackened ruin in the fair landscape. The fading light played on the leaves just as it had a thousand times before; shadows lay along the little mossy patches, the corners of the lawns that he knew so well.
"Wake up, Arthur!" he said, turning to his chum.
He had to shake Arthur before he could arouse him.
"It isn't time to get up yet—it's still dark, Paul," protested Arthur, sleepily. But then he began to recover his wits, and he dragged himself up, and went with Paul to the window. For a few moments they were quiet, listening.
"Perhaps they're not coming—perhaps it's all a false alarm. I don't hear any guns."
"Look!" said Paul, gripping him suddenly by the shoulder. He pointed to the road. Against the sky stood a horse, on its back a silent rider with a spiked helmet, in his hand a long lance. A German Uhlan!
CHAPTER IX
WAR
"They've come, then!" said Paul. "That means war. Look at his uniform—I never saw a German soldier looking like that before."