The sun rose above the horizon, and what little mist remained was soon dispelled. In place of somberness and cold, gray tones a trace of warm, mellow color spread over the landscape, and presently beams of sunlight were shooting between breaks in the clouds. The hills and distance came into view.
Wonderful indeed was the spectacle before Chase Manning's eyes. For miles along the German front the shells from hundreds and hundreds of French guns of all calibers were exploding, and the multiplicity of flames gleaming through the smoke produced a marvelous, almost terrifying sight. The upper portions of the rolling columns were tinged with rosy hues.
Spellbound, forgetful of almost everything else, Chase Manning continued to gaze on the battle, which had now reached its greatest height. Birds were singing close about him; some alighted on the road not far away, but he scarcely saw them; his whole mind was centered, with feelings of the deepest awe, upon that titanic conflict between the great nations of the world. He thought of the countless sacrifices, of the horror and the tragedy; and he wondered how, in this great age, the folly of mankind could have reached such stupendous proportions.
Very often he saw projectiles bursting in the fields or on the slopes of the hills and sending high in the air huge geysers of smoke and earth.
An hour passed, and the rolling, booming and volleying of the guns had begun to lessen; it was as if their fury had been spent—their strength exhausted by the tremendous effort.
"What I have witnessed would seem to be enough to shake the world," commented Chase, "and yet perhaps it may mean only a gain for the French of a few hundred yards or the capture of a trench or two. Now, boy—en route—en route! As the mysterious poilu said, 'every car—every man must be needed;' and, by George, I'll do my share of work to-day, unless the Boches should happen to catch me before I have a chance."
The old sullen look which had so often marred his features had vanished, and in spite of the ordeal of the night he appeared keen—alert—earnest. Though he fully realized the great risk he ran, he resumed his journey.
The way led over a series of hills—barren, desolate-looking hills; for all the trees and vegetation had been scorched and blasted by the enemy's shells. Every once in a while concussions sounded that brought back some of the old tingling sensations, while shells continually whistled over his head from French batteries on the hills at the rear. To Chase's great satisfaction, the road led in the right direction; then, to further encourage him and revive his spirits, the canopy of clouds overhead was beginning to break away, and nature, refreshed and revivified by the rain, appeared in its most charming aspect.
As Chase finally neared the road which led to the outpost he saw many evidences of the destruction wrought by the bombardment—huge shell-craters, trees uprooted or broken and splintered, and, in many places, great quantities of loose earth and rocks scattered over the ground.
"I don't think anybody can blame me for getting away in such a hurry," he murmured, with a wry smile. "By George! I can't say I exactly relish the idea of going to the outpost on foot, but it's got to be done."