Page:Ruth of the U.S.A. (IA ruthofusa00balm).pdf/378

 coming up closer, he saw the German jerk his hooded head and point groundward. Gerry gazed down upon a stark and silent land.

The spots of shells were gone. Where they had erupted and flung up great billows of sand, and where their smoke had puffed and floated, the surface lay bland and yellow under the morning sun. Truce had come—truce which the German pilot in the Fokker alongside signalized by wave of his hand. Gerry raised his hands from his gun lanyard, and, a little dazedly, waved back, and he let the German steer away. Gerry swung his own ship about, and, flying low over an anomalous land of man-specks walking all about in the open, he shut off his motor and came down in his airdrome.

Silence—except for voices and motor noises—silence! And nothing particular to do or to expect; nothing immediately threatening you; death no longer probable. Truce!

Gerry joined the celebrants; but soon he retreated to the refuge of his quarters, where he was alone. It was rather confounding suddenly to find yourself with the right to expect to live. To live! What amazing impatience this morning aroused. He had leave to depart in two hours to spend a week wherever he pleased; and while the minutes dallied and dragged, he reread the last letter he had received from Ruth, which had arrived four days ago. She had mentioned that she expected to be sent to Paris, so Gerry found place upon the Paris train; and, upon arriving in the city, he took a taxi to the Rue des Saints Pères.

The little French girl, who opened the door of the