Part 20 (2/2)

”We don't mean to be taken prisoners, mamma. Still, as you say, it is certainly an advantage in favor of the regular uniform.”

”And what is to become of Tim?” Milly asked.

”Oh, Tim is going to become a hussar, and act as one of the general's orderlies; and be our servant, when he has nothing else to do. You see, now we are officers, we have a right to servants.”

”I am very glad Tim is going with you,” Mrs. Barclay said. ”My brother tells us that he saved Philippe's life, and it seems a comfort to know that he is with you.”

The next morning Captain Barclay went down with them to the town, and purchased a couple of capital horses which, by great good fortune, were on sale.

Upon the morning of the fourth day of their visit, the boys took leave of their father and mother, and left to join the headquarters of General Cambriels. The parting was far less trying than it had been, the first time they went away. The boys were not, now, going out to an unknown danger. Although the risk that a staff officer runs is, absolutely, somewhat greater than that incurred by a regimental officer; still, it is slight in comparison with the risk run by a franc tireur, employed in hara.s.sing an enemy, and in cutting his communications--especially when capture means death.

Those who remained behind were encouraged partly by this thought, but still more by the really irrational one that, as the boys had gone away and come back safe, once, they would probably do so again.

The evening of the same day, the Barclays reported themselves for duty to the general and, next morning, began work. Their duty was hard, though simple. By day they were constantly on duty--that is to say, either riding over the country, or waiting near the general's quarters in readiness for a start or--more seldom--writing, and drawing up reports in the office. By night they took it in turns with the other staff officers to be on duty--that is to say, to lie down to sleep in uniform, with the horse saddled at the door, in readiness to start at an instant's notice.

Tim's duties as an orderly were not heavy, and were generally over by five o'clock; after which he acted as servant to the boys. It was impossible, under the circ.u.mstances, for the staff to mess together, as usual. There was neither a room available nor, indeed, any of the appliances. Among Tim's other duties, therefore, was that of cooking. They had also another orderly allotted to them, and he devoted himself to the care of the horses; Tim undertaking all other work.

The boys liked their new duties much. The work was hard, but pleasant. Their fellow officers were pleasant companions, and their general most kind, and genial.

A week after they had joined, General Cambriels advanced into the Vosges to oppose the Prussians, who were marching south. The progress of the army was slow, for they had to carry what supplies they required with them. Colonel Tempe kept, with his command, a few hours' march ahead; and one or other of the boys was frequently dispatched with orders, etc. to obtain reports from him.

After three days' marching, they neared the enemy. All was now watchfulness, and excitement. The franc tireurs were already engaged in skirmis.h.i.+ng and, early one morning, Ralph received orders to ride forward and reconnoiter the enemy's position.

Pa.s.sing through the posts of franc tireurs, he rode cautiously along the road; with his hand on the b.u.t.t of his revolver, and his horse well in hand--ready to turn and ride for his life, on an instant's notice.

Presently, as the road wound through a narrow gorge, lined with trees, he heard a voice say, close in his ear, ”Stop!”

He reined in his horse, and drew his pistol. The leaves parted; and a man of some sixty years of age, armed with an old double-barreled fowling piece, stepped out.

”The Germans are just beyond,” he said. ”I expect them every moment.”

”And what are you doing here?” Ralph asked.

”What am I doing?” repeated the peasant. ”I am waiting to shoot some of them.”

”But they will hang you, to a certainty, if they catch you.”

”Let them,” the old man said, quietly; ”they will do me no more harm than they have done me. I had a nice farm, near Metz. I lived there with my wife and daughter, and my three boys. Someone fired at the Prussians from a wood near. No one was. .h.i.t, but that made no difference. The black-hearted scoundrels came to my farm; shot my three boys, before their mother's eyes; ill treated her, so that she died next day and, when I returned--for I was away, at the time--I found a heap of ashes, where my house had stood; the dead bodies of my three boys; my wife dying, and my daughter sitting by, screaming with laughter--mad--quite mad!

”I took her away to a friend's house; and stayed with her till she died, too, a fortnight after. Then I bought this gun, and some powder and lead, with my last money; and went out to kill Prussians. I have killed thirteen already and, please G.o.d,” and the peasant lifted his hat, devoutly, ”I will kill two more, today.”

”How is it that you have escaped so long?” Ralph asked, in surprise.

”I never fire at infantry,” the peasant said. ”It was Uhlans that did it, and it's only Uhlans I fire at. I put myself on a rock, or a hillside, where they can't come--or in a thick wood--and I content myself with my two shots, and then go. I don't want to be killed, yet. I have set my mind on having fifty--just ten for each of mine--and when I've shot the last of the fifty, the sooner they finish me, the better.

”You'd better not go any farther, sir. The valley widens out, round the corner; and there are Prussians in the nearest village.”

”Thank you,” Ralph said, ”but my orders are to reconnoiter them, myself, and I must do so. I am well mounted, and I don't think that they will catch me, if I get a couple of hundred yards' start.

There are franc tireurs in the village, a mile back.”

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