back in the shadows of the half-lighted big room. His eyes glittered out of the dimness like disks of fire, his face was strained, and his figure bent forward. "He must have known this chap, the Swallow," I thought to myself. "Just possibly a son or brother or nephew of his." The colonel was going on, telling in fluent, beautiful French the story of how Hirondelle, wrapped in a sheet, had rescued him. The men drank it in. "When those guides are old, old fellows, they'll talk about this night and the colonel's speech to their great-grandchildren," I considered, and again the colonel went on. "Have I m'sieur's permission to _raconter_ a short story of the most amusing which was the last escapade of my Hirondelle before he was killed?" M'sieur gave permission eagerly, and the low murmur of the voices of the hypnotized guides, standing in a group before the colonel, added to its force and set him smiling. "It was like this," he stated. "My Hirondelle was out in No Man's Land of a night, strictly charged to behave in a manner _comme il faut_, for he was of a rashness, and we did not wish to lose him. He was valuable to us, and beyond that the regiment had an affection for him. For such reasons his captain tried--but, yes--to keep him within bounds. As I say, on this night he had received particular orders to be _sage_. So that the first thing the fellow does is to lose his comrades, for which he had a _penchant_, one knows. After that he crawls over that accursed country, in and out of shellholes, rifle in his teeth likely--the good God knows where else, for one need be all hands and feet for such crawling. He crawled in that fashion till at last he lost himself. And then he was concerned to find out where might be our lines till in time he heard a sound of snoring and was well content. Home at last. He tumbled into a dark trench, remarking only that it was filled with men since he left, and so tired he was with his adventure that he pushed away the man next, who was at the end, to gain space, and he rolled over to sleep. But that troublesome man next took too much room. Our Hirondelle planted him a kick in the middle of the back. At which the man half waked and swore at him--in German. And dropped off to sleep again with his leg of a pig slung across Hirondelle's chest. At that second a star-shell lighted up the affair, and Hirondelle, staring with much interest, believe me, saw a trench filled with sleeping Boches. To get out of that as quietly as might be was the game--_n'est-ce-pas, mes amis_? But not for Hirondelle. "'My colonel has a liking for prisoners,' he reported later. 'My captain's orders were to conduct oneself _tres comme il faut_. It is always _comme il faut_ to please the colonel. Therefore it seemed _en regle_ to take a prisoner. I took him. _Le v'la_.' "What the fellow did was to wait till the Boche next door was well asleep, then slowly remove his rifle, then fasten on his throat with a grip which Hirondelle understood, and finally to overpower the Boche