CHAPTER XXVIII
A MYSTERY SOLVED
Just after the scenes described in the foregoing chapter, there was comparative quiet along our front—the calm that follows a storm.
The British army under Haig had struck a staggering blow at Ludendorff’s northern lines, and had driven him back in defeat. This had seemingly withdrawn the German attention, or ability, to concentrate for the defeat of the American and French armies on their southwestern front.
General Burbank explained to me that it evidently was the policy of General Foch, while remaining in watchful touch with the enemy, to strengthen by rest and reorganization the forces that had for so long a time been hotly engaged at our part of the line; and in this way keep them fresh and vigorous for service.
I was favored through the kindness of the general in being allowed to take up my quarters in the same building with him. This gave me the benefit of his daily counsel and association, and was of inestimable value to me, both in increasing my military knowledge and improving my bearing. Both were needful for my further advancement as an officer as the general was so kind as to say that I was naturally endowed with the qualities of a good soldier. I valued this association and by daily contact with him grew more and more to love and admire my general.
Neither of us had, since the assurance he had so graciously given me of Jonathan’s loyalty, spoken on the subject; though my brain was still puzzled. It had, however, been a habit with me to put aside that which I could not understand, until circumstances or a flash of intuition, made its meaning clear. With me, the more I pondered over perplexing problems, the further was I from their solution.
General Burbank often discussed and explained to me the larger operations of war and, by suggestion, set me to thinking on them giving me thereby a clearer insight into its problems and greater love for the profession of a soldier.
After reveille one morning, the general called me to him. The moment I saw his face, I felt that he had something to communicate of more than usual interest. He simply handed me a message of three words in Jonathan’s minute and delicate handwriting, “Saddle not ripped.” And then, pointing to the saddle on his chair, said, “I have been at work all night and must get some sleep,” he left me. I guessed that the work he referred to was connected with another message from Jot.
I began without delay, cutting the stitches of the saddle until I found deftly concealed under the saddle’s lining, some papers in Jonathan’s handwriting addressed to me as follows: