"Your three hours, and a half hour's grace that I allowed you, have passed.

Didn't I tell you that you'd be ungrateful and that you'd fight against me for fulfilling your request! Open your eyes, man, and stand up!" John sprang to his feet, shook his head violently several times, and then was wide awake.
"Thanks, Wharton," he said.

"You're a true friend but you're a wretched reckoner of time." "How so ?" "You said it was three hours and a half when in reality it was only three minutes and a half." But a clear wintry sun was shining in at the door of the tent, and he saw its gold across the snow.

Beyond was a kitchen automobile at which men were obtaining coffee and food.
"Has Lannes come ?" asked John.
"Not yet, but of course he'll be here soon; by noon, I fancy." John went out and took his breakfast with his comrades of the Strangers.
The morning was uncommonly bright.

There was not a trace of cloud in the heavens, which had turned to the soft, velvety blue that one sometimes sees in winter, and which can make a man fancy that it is summer when he looks up, rather than winter when he looks down.
While John ate and drank, he continually scanned the skies looking for the coming of the _Arrow._ He saw aeroplanes hovering here and there over the French and German lines, but none coming toward Chastel.
He had expected, too, that Weber might return in the morning, but he did not reappear and John felt a distinct disappointment.