She was alone the first time and she stopped by John's cot, where he slept so peacefully. He was undeniably handsome, this young American who had come to their house in Paris with Philip. And her brother, that wonderful man of the air, who was almost a demi-god to her, had spoken so well of him, had praised so much his skill, his courage, and his honesty. And he had received his wound fighting so gallantly for France, her country. Her beautiful color deepened a little as she walked away.
John awoke again in the afternoon, and the first sound he heard was that same far rumble of the guns, now apparently a part of nature, but he did not linger in any twilight land between dark and light. All the mists of sleep cleared away at once and he sat up, healthy, strong and hungry. Demanding food from an orderly he received it, and when he had eaten it he asked for Surgeon Delorme.
The surgeon did not come for a half hour and then he demanded brusquely what John wanted.
"None of your drugs," replied happy young Scott, "but my uniform and my arms. I don't know your procedure here, but I want you to certify to the whole world that I'm entirely well and ready to return to the ranks."
Surgeon Delorme critically examined the bandage which he had changed that morning, and then felt of John's head at various points.
"A fine strong skull," he said, smiling, "and quite undamaged. When this war is over I shall go to America and make an exhaustive study of the Yankee skull. Has bone, through the influence of climate or of more plentiful food, acquired a more tenacious quality there than it has here? It is a most interesting and complicated question."
"But it's solution will have to be deferred, my good Monsieur Delorme, and so you'd better quit thumping my head so hard. Give me that certificate, because if you don't I'll get up and go without it. Don't you hear those guns out there, doctor? Why, they're calling to me all the time. They tell me, strong and well, again, to come at once and join my comrades of the Strangers, who are fighting the enemy."
"You shall go in the morning," said Surgeon Delorme, putting his broad hand upon young Scott's head. "The effects of the concussion will have vanished then."
"But I want to get up now and put on my uniform; can't I?"
"I know no reason why you shouldn't. There's a huge fellow named Picard around here who has been watching over you, and who has your uniform. I'll call him."