I knew her because I've seen her before. A refugee. I don't know
where she comes from, but she's at Gamblin, in a family there."
"She's thin and beautiful," Volpatte certified; "one would like to
make her a little present--she's good enough to eat--tender as a
chicken. And look at the eyes she's got!"
"She's queer," says Fouillade. "You don't know when you've got her.
You see her here, there, with her fair hair on top, then--off!
Nobody about. And you know, she doesn't know what danger is;
marching about, sometimes, almost in the front line, and she's been
seen knocking about in No Man's Land. She's queer."
"Look! There she is again. The spook! She's keeping an eye on us.
What's she after?"
The shadow-figure, traced in lines of light, this time adorned the
other end of the spinney's edge.
"To hell with women," Volpatte declared, whom the idea of his
deliverance has completely recaptured.
"There's one in the squad, anyway, that wants her pretty badly.
See--when you speak of the wolf--"
"You see its tail--"
"Not yet, but almost--look!" From some bushes on our right we saw
the red snout of Lamuse appear peeping, like a wild boar's.
He was on the woman's trail. He had seen the alluring vision,
dropped to the crouch of a setting dog, and made his spring. But in
that spring he fell upon us.
Recognizing Volpatte and Fouillade, big Lamuse gave shouts of
delight. At once he had no other thought than to get possession of
the bags, rifles, and haversacks--"Give me all of it--I'm
resting--come on, give it up.
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