Page:Storm Over Paris.pdf/260

collection of civilians. A field kitchen crawled along, trailing behind it a ribbon of smoke.

Anna watched helplessly.

"Hey, you," one of the soldiers yelled. "Do you want to get your nose sliced off! You'd better stand back-or stick out a red signal flag, if you want the traffic to stop."

Anna looked at the stream of soldiers. An indistinguishable mass; one hardly to be recognized from another. Realizing that only some sort of action would help her, she lifted Robert in her arms, and swayed him back and forth as though he were a traffic sign. While Paul followed at her heels, she managed at last to start across the packed road.

Cries and catcalls were aimed at her from the loaded vans as she forced her way past. Somebody called her Margot, another Audree. Suddenly she heard her name-"Anna"-shouted in a voice that lifted itself above the chorus of sounds. She shuddered in surprise, but controlled herself until she reached the other side of the road; and it was only when she was safely across that she turned to search with her eyes among the mass of uniformed men. But the boys waited for no further evidence. At the top of their voices they began to shout-"Papa! Papa!"

Anna told them over and over again that their father was in an entirely different sector, on the northern front, yet their shouts now confused her. "Where? Where?" she cried.

At last she caught sight of a soldier standing near the rear of one of the transport vans. The glasses he wore shone like searchlights in the sun. He was waving his hand in a familiar gesture and calling:

"Anna! Anna!"

Although she hadn't the faintest idea who the soldier might be, Anna waved back. Reassured by her waving, the soldier began to maneuver his way from van to van. When