He felt instinctively that the rider was for them and that he bore something of great import.

The figure, man and cycle, molded into one, sped along the narrow road which led to the base of the hill on which General Vaugirard and his staff stood.
The huge general saw the approaching figure too, and he began to whistle melodiously like the note of a piccolo, with the vast thunder of the guns accompanying him as an orchestra.

John knew that the cyclist was a messenger, and that he was eagerly expected.

An order of some kind was at hand! All the members of the staff had the same conviction.
The cyclist stopped at the bottom of the hill, leaped from the machine and ran to General Vaugirard, to whom he handed a note.

The general read it, expelled his breath in a mighty gust, and turning to his staff, said: "My children, our time has come.