He beat himself on his flanks in the excess of his joy, and called up half a dozen friends to hear the amazing tale; and they enjoyed it too.
He said he felt sure his adjutant would appreciate the joke; and, as incidentally his adjutant was the person in all the world we wanted most just then to see, we went with him to headquarters, which was a mile away in the local Palais de Justice--or, as we should say in America, the courthouse.

By now it was good and dark; and as no street lamps burned we walked through a street that was like a tunnel for blackness.
The roadway was full of infantry still pressing forward to a camping place somewhere beyond the town.

We could just make out the shadowy shapes of the men, but their feet made a noise like thunderclaps, and they sang a German marching song with a splendid lilt and swing to it.
"Just listen!" said the captain proudly.

"They are always like that-- they march all day and half the night, and never do they grow weary.
They are in fine spirits--our men.

And we can hardly hold them back.
They will go forward--always forward! "In this war we have no such command as Retreat! That word we have blotted out.