He carefully pushed aside the bushes and saw stretching before him a steep slope, with a wide valley at the bottom and ranges of hills beyond, the summits cutting clearly against masses of white clouds. The wooded hills and bluish distance seen here and there between breaks made a very charming picture in the bright, clear sunlight; but it was not upon these features that the eyes of the aviator's son were intently fixed, for even with the unaided eye he could make out the lines of trenches, both French and German, running in a curiously irregular fashion across the near and far slopes. To the south a few faint grayish spots scattered here and there, inside the French lines, indicated what remained of a little hamlet. In the entire valley Don could not discover a single tree which had escaped the ravages of warfare.
"Do you see a spur on the hillside directly opposite?" asked Lieutenant D'Arraing, who, standing by the side of Don, was peering through a pair of field-glasses.
"Yes—yes," said Don eagerly.
"Take a look at it through your binocular."
"TAKE A LOOK AT IT."
The aviator's son placed the instrument to his eyes. The spur which the artillery officer had indicated instantly became strong and clear.