Suddenly the chef-major leaped to his feet.
"Listen—listen—an aeroplane."
We all looked up. There it was, quite low, right over our heads. "A Taube!" he exclaimed, and before he had got the words out of his mouth, Crick-crack-crack snapped the musketry from the field behind us—the soldiers had seen it. The machine began to rise. I stood like a rock,—my feet glued to the ground,—while the regiment fired over my head. But it was sheer will power that kept me steady among these men who were treating it as if it were a Fourteenth of July show. I heard a ping.
"Touched," said the officer as the Taube continued to rise. Another ping.
Still it rose, and we watched it sail off toward the hills at the southeast.
"Hit, but not hurt," sighed the officer, dropping down on the grass again, with a sigh. "It is hard to bring them down at that height with rifles, but it can be done."
"Perhaps the English battery will get it," said I; "it is going right toward it."
"If there is an English battery up there," replied he, "that is probably what he is looking for. It is hardly likely to unmask for a Taube. I am sorry we missed it. You have seen something of the war. It is a pity you should not have seen it come down. It is a beautiful sight."
I thought to myself that I preferred it should not come down in my garden. But I had no relish for being laughed at again, so I did not say it.
Soon after they all went to bed,—very early,—and silence fell on the hilltop. I took a look round before I went to bed. I had not seen Amelie since the regiment arrived. But she, who had done