"We can't fire if those are French troops," said he.
Standing on an ammunition wagon he scanned the threatening horizon through his field-glasses.
"If it's the enemy, they are outflanking us ... outflanking us! They'll be in the woods in a moment.... We shan't be able to see them.... Go and ask the Major."
The Major was no better informed than the Captain, the orders he had received saying nothing about these hills. He also was using his field-glasses, but could not distinguish the uniforms of the moving masses. In his turn he muttered:
"If it's the enemy they're surrounding us!"
A mounted scout was hastily dispatched. We remained in suspense, a prey to nervous excitement.
A single foot-soldier had stopped near the fourth gun. He had neither pack nor rifle. We questioned him:
"Wounded?"
"No."
"Where have you come from?"