A short time later the two young Americans entered the French trenches and turned their prisoners over to the guard. Congratulations and praise for their exploit were heaped upon them and it was in vain that they protested that Dubois should receive all the credit. Leon, especially, for he had been in the regiment longer than Earl, had performed too many daring feats to be able to shift the praise to some one else. All his comrades were aware of his worth.
"Too bad Jacques could not be with you," said one of the men. "He will be furious when he hears what he missed."
"He doesn't miss many things in that line," laughed Leon. "It's a good thing for him to get some rest."
"Was he wounded badly?" inquired another soldier.
"No," said Leon. "A cut across his face merely."
"He will be back here to-morrow then," laughed the man. "You cannot keep that dare-devil away from the front for long."
At this moment Captain Le Blanc approached and stepping up to the two brothers shook each heartily by the hand. The informality and comradeship among the French troops is one thing that makes the army of France so wonderful. They are all working together for one common cause, and officers and men both have the same object. The men never take advantage of their superiors however and discipline is not interfered with.
"Fine work, boys," said Captain Le Blanc cordially. "That was a splendid and nervy thing you did."
The two boys muttered their thanks, too much embarrassed to say anything.
"I shall see to it that you are mentioned in the dispatches," continued the captain.
"And Dubois," exclaimed Leon quickly.
"Yes," laughed the captain. "And Dubois."
Captain Le Blanc passed on, leaving two very happy boys behind him. It was a great honor to be mentioned in the official dispatches and naturally the two brothers were proud.
"Jacques will be jealous of you," remarked the soldier who had been talking about the young Frenchman a few moments before.
"Jacques is jealous of nobody," exclaimed Leon warmly. "He never has been and he never will be. He is too fine a fellow and has too much sense."
"That's right," agreed another soldier nearby. "He is not the sort ever to begrudge another man an honor."
"Dubois is still out in that trench, Leon," Earl reminded his brother. "I think we'd better go out to him, don't you?"
"I certainly do," exclaimed Leon readily. "All you men are coming too, aren't you?"
The little gathering thus addressed were very eager to go, and soon the process of shifting their position was under way. One by one the men crept forward to the captured trench and before many moments had elapsed Leon, Earl and Dubois were esconsed in their position with nine more of their companions.
"This is the safest place I've struck yet," exclaimed Dubois. "All the German shells go over our heads here. We're just as safe here as we would be ten miles behind the firing line."
"Yon wouldn't be absolutely safe that far away," said Earl.
"Well pretty nearly so anyway," said Dubois.
"How about Dunkirk?" demanded Earl. "See what they did there."
"What did they do?" asked one of the men.
"They dropped a shell in the town from a distance of twenty-two miles. What good would ten miles do you against a gun like that?"
"The Germans certainly have some wonderful guns all right," said Dubois. "They won't touch us here though I guess."
"We're sort of between the fires, aren't we?" remarked Leon.
"Yes," said one of the men, "and I'm afraid it is going to be tiresome here after awhile."
"Tiresome!" exclaimed Earl. "It seems to me there is enough going on around here to suit anybody."
"Not for me," said the man, Armande by name. "I think I'll go out and take a look around."
"You're crazy," exclaimed Dubois. "What's the use in doing a thing like that? You'll only get killed and what good will it do?"
"I won't be killed," laughed Armande. "Those Boches, they cannot shoot."
"Don't you fool yourself," said Dubois seriously. "Of course they can shoot and shoot well too. You are foolish, Armande."
"Perhaps," Armande admitted with a shrug. "At any rate I shall now crawl over and have a look at the German trenches while it is yet dark. I shall be back before long."
"I hope so," muttered Dubois soberly.
Armande crept out of the trench and disappeared into the night. It is one of the remarkable things about war that men soon seem to lose all fear of death. The noise of the big guns and the shell fire terrifies them at first, but they rapidly become accustomed to it and it makes but small impression on them. Life in the trenches becomes very dull and the men do all kinds of foolhardy things just to experience a thrill. They laugh at death and even play with it.
Such a man was Armande and though Dubois had tried to prevent his leaving the trench, the fact that he insisted upon going did not make much impression upon him. Many others had done things equally foolish.
"He may get back," remarked Leon.
"Oh, yes," said Dubois lightly. "The night is dark and he may not be seen."
"How far is it to the German trenches from here?" asked Earl.
"A hundred yards I guess," said Dubois. "I'm not quite sure though."
"About that," said Leon. "What's he going to do?"
"He said he was going to go over and take a look at the German trenches," said Earl. "I suppose that's where he's gone."
Many moments passed and Armande did not return. The roar of the cannonade seemed to be slackening as time went on but it was still violent. No orders had come to the men as to what they were expected to do and consequently they surmised that they were not to attack again that morning. Before a charge the soldiers were usually notified so that they could have full opportunity for preparation.
"What's that?" demanded Earl suddenly, during a slight lull in the artillery duel. Armande had been gone about an hour.
"What's what?" asked Leon.
"I thought I heard a bell ring."
"A bell! What kind of a bell?"
"It sounded like a cow-bell to me."
"How could that be? What would a cow-bell be doing out here on the battlefield? I suppose the Germans are grazing their cattle out there."
"Don't be silly, Leon," exclaimed Earl.
Suddenly the bell sounded again; there was no mistaking it this time and all the men heard it. It was immediately followed by a burst of violent machine-gun fire from the German trenches.
"What do you suppose it is?" demanded Leon excitedly.
"It's a bell," said Earl. "I told you that before."
"It's very strange," muttered Dubois. "I cannot understand it."
The men were all alert now, however, and on the watch for any trick that the Germans might try to play on them. Every one was mystified and at a complete loss to understand the strange occurrence. A half-hour passed and the performance was not repeated.
"Where can Armande be I wonder," said Earl.
"It certainly seems as if he ought to be back by this time, doesn't it?" exclaimed Leon anxiously.
"He's dead," said Dubois shortly.
"What makes you think so?" asked Earl.
"Well he hasn't come back yet, has he?"
"No."
"Then he must be dead and I believe that bell ringing had something to do with it too."
"In what way?" asked Leon.
"I don't know," said Dubois. "That's what I think though."
Armande was not dead however. A moment later Dubois heard his name called and the missing soldier slid over the parapet and into the trench once more. "Slid," expresses what he did exactly, for he shot forward head-first and fell in a heap on the bottom of the trench. He lay there moaning.
"Armande," cried Dubois bending over him. "What happened?"
"They got me," said the wounded soldier simply.
"Where? How?"
"In the leg. A machine-gun bullet."
"Where have you been?"
"Over to the German trenches. They shot me about half an hour ago and it has taken me all this time to get back here."
"Send word to the Red Cross," said Dubois to one of the men. "I wish I could do something for you," he added to his wounded comrade. "It is so dark here I cannot see a thing. Are you badly hurt?"
"No; just above the knee. It is painful and it was hard to walk but I doubt if it is serious."
"I hope not," exclaimed Leon heartily. "How did they happen to see you?"
"Did you hear a bell?" asked Armande.
"We certainly did," exclaimed Leon. "What was it?"
"It was my finish," said Armande. "It was a clever ruse on the part of the Boches however and I must give them credit for it."
"What was it?" asked Earl eagerly. "Can you tell us about it?"
"It was like this," said Armande. "I crawled out of the trench here and began to creep over towards the German positions. It was so very dark that I could see practically nothing, but I knew the general direction and so kept on. I traveled very slowly and no incident of importance took place for some time.
"Finally I could see the German barbed wire flickering faintly just ahead of me. I crept closer. I did not make a sound, and unnoticed I came directly up to the wire entanglements. I was so near I could hear the Boches talking to one another in their trenches."
He paused and uttered a low groan.
"What is it?" cried Dubois anxiously. "Can't I help you, Armande?"
"Will you tie something around my leg? It throbs badly."
"Perhaps you'd better not try to talk," suggested Leon.
"It is not that," exclaimed Armande. "It is just my leg. Ah, that is better," he sighed as Dubois wrapped the wound tightly with a long bandage produced by one of the men.
"Well, as I was saying or was about to say," he continued after a moment, "I could hear them talking. I crouched there and listened for a few moments trying to make out what they were saying. I know but little German however and I could only catch a word here and there and as they made no sense I quickly became tired of listening.
"It struck me as a fine chance to give the Boches a good scare however. I determined to wake them up with a hand-grenade. I took one in my hand and prepared to hurl it. I raised myself slightly from the ground and took hold of a strand of the barked wire to steady my aim. No sooner had I touched the wire than a bell rang."
"I heard it," cried Earl eagerly.
"I had touched the wire but lightly," continued Armande, "and the bell did not ring loudly. It startled me however and I drew back quickly. I also noticed that the Germans immediately ceased talking. It did not occur to me that my touching the wire had made the bell ring however. I thought it a mere coincidence.
"For some moments I lay there quietly and presently the Boches began to talk again. I waited what seemed to me a long time. Then once more I took the hand-grenade in my right hand and raised myself on one elbow. I determined to act quickly this time. Again I seized the wire with my left hand and hurled the grenade.
"Squarely into the trench it landed and I have the satisfaction of knowing that it did good work. I had not caught them napping however. I had seized the wire much more firmly the second time and at the same instant when I threw my missile the bell rang violently; much more so than formerly.
"It was probably hanging on the wire," exclaimed Earl.
"Exactly," agreed Armande. "As soon as anyone touched the wire the bell would ring. It warned the Germans and I must admit it was a clever trick."
"It surely was," agreed Leon. "What happened then?"
"I jumped to my feet and started to run," exclaimed Armande. "I had gone but a few steps however when they cut loose with their rapid-firers. A second later I was down, shot through the leg. I guess the Boches thought a whole regiment was making a surprise attack on them. They certainly used enough ammunition to wipe out two regiments."
"Funny no more bullets struck you, Armande," said Dubois. "How do you account for that? Was their aim poor?"
"When I fell I rolled into a shell-hole," said the wounded man. "That afforded me good protection from their bullets. After awhile, when they discovered that they were not being attacked, they ceased firing and I crawled back here. It was hard going I can tell you."
"I should think it might be," exclaimed Leon grimly. "I hope your wound won't prove to be serious, Armande."
At this moment two of the Red Cross men arrived with a stretcher and carried the wounded soldier away.
"Well," said Earl when they had gone, "I should say that Armande ought to be pretty glad that he got nothing worse than a bullet in his leg. I think he's lucky to be alive."
"I think so too," agreed Leon. "That was a great stunt for the Germans to hang that bell on the wire like that, wasn't it?"
"It was indeed," said Dubois. "I know what we can do to them though."
"What can we do to the Germans, Dubois?" asked Leon curiously.
"We can play a trick on them. What's the use in allowing them to have all the fun?"
"But what do you intend to do?"
"I will show you presently. First of all I want a long piece of stout twine. I shall need a whole ball of it I guess."
"What are you going to do with it?" demanded Leon.
"You will see very soon," said Dubois evasively. "I must get the twine before we do anything else."
He made his way along the trench to the spot where the field telephone had been installed and had a message sent back for the next courier who came out to their position to bring with him a ball of strong string.
"I wish you'd tell us what your plans are," said Earl when Dubois had rejoined him and his twin brother.
"You will know in good time," said Dubois. "If I were to tell you now you would try to restrain me. You would say I was foolish."
"Are you going over to the German trenches?" demanded Leon.
"Wait and see," smiled Dubois.
"Well all I can say is that if you try a thing like that you are crazy," exclaimed Leon warmly. "You saw how much good Armande's expedition did and what happened to him."
"I knew you'd object to my plan," said Dubois.
"Then you admit that you are going over to their trenches?"
"I didn't say so. Let's not talk about it any more."
Although both boys tried hard they were unable to draw Dubois into further conversation concerning his project. The talk finally drifted into other channels and the Frenchman's plans, whatever they were, were finally forgotten.
"Who was looking for a ball of twine?" asked a voice about a half-hour later. "Who was it that wanted the string?"
The voice seemed strangely familiar to the ears of both Leon and Earl. They peered eagerly through the darkness to see if they could discover the identity of the speaker. All they could see was the faint outline of some soldier's figure. The man, whoever it was, had a bandage tied around his face.
"Did anyone here want twine?" he asked again.
"Jacques!" cried Leon eagerly. "What are you doing here?"
"Leon, is it you?" demanded Jacques, for it was the daring young Frenchman who had returned. "Where is Earl?"
"Right here," exclaimed that individual briskly. "But what are you doing back here so soon?"
"Why shouldn't I come back?"
"But you were wounded."
"Merely a scratch. The silly old doctors wanted me to remain in the base hospital for a day or two but that is ridiculous."
"You are reckless, Jacques," said Leon reprovingly. "Still I am awfully glad to see you again."
"Who wants this twine?" asked Jacques. "When I started back they gave it to me to bring out to some one in this trench who had telephoned in for it."
"I want it."
"Who are you?"
"Dubois."
"Ah, Dubois. What use can you have for string?"
"Let me have it and I'll soon show you."
Jacques handed the twine over to Dubois, who immediately unwound a small section of it and tested its strength.
"That is fine," he murmured approvingly. "Now for the fun."
Without waiting a moment longer he placed the ball of string in his pocket and climbed out of the trench. He did not even take his gun with him. His companions were too surprised by his strange actions to offer any objection and he had disappeared into the darkness almost before they were aware of it.
"Well," exclaimed Leon. "What do you think of that crazy man?"
"Where's he going?" asked Jacques, puzzled by the actions of his friend.
"Over to the German trenches I think."
"What for?"
"To get killed I guess," said Leon. "I don't see what else it can be."
"He must have some object I should think," said Jacques. "Wouldn't he tell you what it was?"
"No, he wouldn't," answered Earl. "It has something to do with a bell though I'm sure," and he related the story of Armande's adventure.
"Perhaps he's going to try to fix it so it won't ring any more," suggested Jacques. "He's not afraid of anything you know."
"It's not a question of being afraid," said Leon warmly. "It's a question of using good common sense."
The three boys waited anxiously for the return of their comrade but the moments passed and he did not reappear. The firing had been fitful all through the night; the steady booming of the big cannon being broken by an occasional burst of machine-gun fire.
"He'll never come back I'm afraid," said Earl slowly after the lapse of half an hour.
"Don't give up yet," exclaimed Jacques. "He may return."
"I'd like to know why he went," said Lean. "Why was he so mysterious?"
At this moment, however, Dubois suddenly reappeared and clambered back into the trench.
"Dubois!" cried Leon eagerly. "Where have you been?"
"Over to see Fritzie," chuckled Dubois gayly. "Fritzie" was the name by which the French and English sometimes referred to the Germans.
"Are you hurt?" demanded Leon.
"Hurt?" echoed Dubois. "I never felt better."
"What have you been doing?"
"I'll show you in just a moment," and Dubois busied himself with something he held in his hands. It was too dark for his companions to make out just what he was doing.
After a few moments the reckless Frenchman turned to his friends. His preparations, whatever they were, evidently were complete.
"Now for the fun," he exclaimed. "Listen!"
He made a quick motion with his right arm as though he were jerking something. From across the battlefield came the faint sound of a bell. Almost instantly followed the sharp rattle of many machine-guns being fired at once.
"Hear that?" demanded Dubois enthusiastically. "Isn't that great?"
"What are you doing?" asked Leon curiously. "You don't mean to say that you made that bell ring."
"Oh, is that so?" exclaimed Dubois gleefully. "I'll show you again as soon as they stop that noise over there."
Gradually the fire from the German trenches died down and the front regained its former state of comparative quiet. Once again Dubois jerked his arm and again came the sound of the bell, followed by the sudden burst of machine-gun and rifle fire.
"Dubois! What have you got there?" demanded Earl.
"A string," said Dubois almost beside himself with laughter.
"That ball of twine I brought out?" asked Earl.
"Yes," said Dubois. "That's the one."
"And you sneaked out and tied it to that bell?" demanded Leon.
"Well not exactly to the bell," replied Dubois. "I tied it to the wire right along side the bell though; it serves the same purpose."
Again he pulled the string and the previous performance instantly was repeated. The bell rang and the Germans fired violently. Dubois was delighted beyond all comprehension with his exploit, and the evident nervousness of the enemy every time the bell sounded amused him immensely.
"You're a dare-devil," exclaimed Leon. "You took an awful chance just to have a little fun with the Germans."
"It's not a little fun," Dubois corrected him. "It's a lot of fun."
Many of their comrades gathered around him to see the performance and at intervals all through the remainder of the night the men amused themselves by ringing the bell and startling the Germans. Along towards morning Leon gave the string a vicious tug but no bell sounded and the twine seemed not to be attached to anything.
"One of their bullets has cut the string," said Dubois ruefully. "Our fun is over for the present I'm afraid."
The following day the French did not try to push their advantage any farther nor did the Germans launch an attack to recover their lost positions. Both sides seemed worn out by their great exertions and were apparently content to allow matters to remain as they were, for the present at least.
The big gun duel still continued but it had lost its intensity and the infantry fighting came almost to a standstill. The men complained of the inaction, for the life in the trenches was monotonous with but little to vary it. They were constantly on the alert and always prepared to meet any surprise attack of the enemy but there was but little for the men to do.
"I don't like it," said Dubois peevishly one day. "It is getting on my nerves."
"This quiet life I suppose you mean?" laughed Leon sarcastically.
"Exactly."
"I don't call that very quiet," exclaimed Leon as one of the German's huge shells sped over their heads with the roar and rattle of an express train. They could hear it explode several miles away with a sound as if some one had dropped a large plank upon a pile of lumber.
"But we're not doing anything," objected Dubois.
"We're alive anyway," said Earl. "That's something."
"But why don't they launch a great big offensive and drive these Germans out of our country?" demanded Dubois. "Just sitting here in the trenches is not going to free France."
"Remember this, Dubois," Jacques reminded his impulsive countryman. "It takes thousands of guns and millions of shells to make the kind of an attack you are talking about."
"Haven't we got them?"
"Not yet, I'm afraid. General Joffre won't send his men out until he has sufficient backing for them either."
"Well if we haven't got enough guns and ammunition," persisted Dubois, "why don't we hurry up and get them?"
"It takes time," smiled Leon. "You can't build factories and teach people how to manufacture powder and shells over night, you know."
"Germany seems to have enough," said Dubois.
"Yes," agreed Leon, "but they have been preparing for this war for a long time. Russia, France and England were caught napping."
"What would they have done if it had not been for the United States?" demanded Earl breaking into the conversation. "We've sent millions of dollars' worth of stuff to the Allies."
"Tell me about that," exclaimed Dubois. "Is America sending supplies to Germany too?"
"Practically none, I guess," said Earl.
"But why not? Is it neutral for a country to sell to one side and not to the other?"
"America would sell to Germany just the same as to Russia, France, and England," said Earl. "The trouble is that Germany can't get the stuff into her country."
"Because of the English fleet?"
"Exactly. The English fleet has swept the German navy off the ocean. The only place left for them is the Baltic."
"That's wonderful, isn't it?" exclaimed Dubois.
"Yes, it is, and most people don't give England half the credit she deserves for that. Just because her fleet doesn't fight a battle every day and do a lot of grandstand work people think it isn't doing anything important. In my opinion it has won the biggest victory of the whole war so far."
"By keeping the German fleet bottled up you mean?" asked Jacques.
"That's it," said Earl decidedly. "Take the English fleet away and let the German warships come out of their hole and see what would happen to the Allies!"
"What would happen?" inquired Dubois.
"Well first of all they'd stop the shipment of all supplies for us from America. Think what that would mean. Then again they'd soon starve out England and she wouldn't be able to send any more soldiers over here to France."
"They haven't sent so many anyway," muttered Dubois.
"Yes," agreed Earl, "but they're sending them now all right. England only had a small army at the beginning of the war and it takes time to make a good soldier just as it takes time to make a good anything else. They'll send plenty of men, don't you worry, and I feel sure there are a good many more here right now than you have any idea of."
"Probably," agreed Dubois. "At any rate they helped us a lot at the beginning of the war when the Boches were driving us on the run back towards Paris."
"Then you think it's all right for the United States to sell supplies to the Allies and not to Germany?" asked Jacques. "I must say that I am glad that is what they are doing anyway."
"Certainly it is all right," exclaimed Earl. "It is permitted by international law and every nation in the world has done the same thing at some time or another. Just because this happens to be the biggest war in the history of the world and because as a result the United States is selling more supplies, doesn't change the facts, does it? As I said, we'd sell to Germany just as quickly as to the Allies. Because they can't get the stuff isn't our fault."
"Yea, Earl, you're quite a speechmaker," cried his brother gleefully.
"Isn't what I said true?" demanded Earl.
"Of course it is. Why if we refused to sell to the Allies now that would mean that we were actively on the side of Germany and nothing we could do would be of greater help to her just now."
The order was passed along the trench that the regiment was to retire and their places were to be taken by fresh troops. The prospect of reaching a place where the enemy's shells would not be roaring around their ears was a pleasant one to many of the men; the strain of the first line trenches is a heavy one for any man. Others however were displeased, for they had no wish to be absent during any possible fighting.
"The idea of being able to take a bath appeals to me," exclaimed Leon eagerly when he heard of the order. "I am certainly dirty."
"We all are that," laughed Jacques, "but what do you expect? A man can't roll around in the smoke and dirt the way we have the last few days and not get dirty."
"We haven't had our clothes off either," said Earl.
"Just suppose the people at home could see what we look like," chuckled Leon. "They'd disown us, I'm afraid."
Many of the soldiers in the trench with these three young soldiers—for Dubois was considerably older than they—had grown beards. These were caked with mud and the long unkempt hair and soiled uniforms of the men gave them a very ferocious appearance. Many of us have thought of most Frenchmen as little fellows but these men were great strapping, brawny giants. As to size and strength they compared equally if not favorably with the Germans.
A short time later the relief regiment arrived and the men who had won and held the new French front gave way to the newcomers. They filed out of the first-line trench and entering the communicating trench made their way back. Several miles they walked, and many a man had long thoughts as he recalled their last march through these trenches when they were headed the other way.
Finally they emerged from the trenches into the open road. It seemed good to feel the solid earth under their feet once more and to be able to walk along across the fields. What a relief after being shut in by the steep sides of the trenches for so long.
The roads were crowded with troops and vehicles of all descriptions. Great motor-trucks rolled by in an endless procession. Both sides of the road were crowded with them. On one side they went towards the trenches, loaded to their utmost capacity with shot and shell with which to feed the hungry cannon. Across the road they were returning empty.
A regiment of hussars passed, looking very smart in their uniforms and plumed hats. Their mounts were newly groomed and sleek. A great cloud of dust arose from the horses' hoofs and the infantry drew aside to let them pass. Close behind the cavalry came a swift motor-car. Everything on the highway drew back to furnish a lane for the speeding automobile which fairly seemed to fly along the ground.
As it passed, Jacques suddenly grasped Leon by the arm.
"Did you see who was in that car?" he demanded.
"No. Who was it?"
"That was President Poincaré, president of France."
The speeding car was lost in a cloud of dust and soon disappeared.
"Are you sure that was President Poincaré?" asked Leon.
"I am sure of it," replied Jacques. "I have seen him several times before."
"What do you suppose he is doing here?"
"On a tour of inspection probably. He visits the front frequently."
The tired soldiers swung along the road, their ranks thinner than they had been a few days before. Many a brave son of France had marched to his death when thedouzièmehad filed down into the trenches to lead the offensive a short time previous. That the regiment was held in high esteem, however, was proved by the fact that many a cheer went up as soon as its battle-scarred standard was recognized.
At length they reached the village where their headquarters had been established and every man was assigned a place in which he was to live. Leon, Jacques, Earl, and Dubois found themselves together in the loft of a barn. Five rude cots, with mattresses far from soft, were placed there for them to sleep on.
"Five bunks and only four of us," remarked Earl. "I wonder who is going to use the extra bed."
"Don't call that thing a bed," laughed Leon. "I wouldn't insult a bed."
"That's all right," exclaimed Earl. "It looks pretty good to me after the trenches. At any rate I can sleep on anything."
"So can I," agreed Leon quickly. "Don't think I'm complaining. I'd like to know who is going to use the other bunk though."
"Turn around and you'll see," said Dubois.
His three companions followed his bidding and a shout of welcome went up to the newcomer. He limped slightly but there was a grin on his face and he appeared to be very happy.
"Armande!" cried Dubois joyfully. "I am glad to see you."
He rushed up to his comrade and following the French custom, kissed him on both cheeks.
Jacques did the same but Leon and Earl, though they were not less glad to see their friend, contented themselves with welcoming him with a hearty handshake.
"How is your leg?" inquired Jacques solicitously.
"As sound as ever," exclaimed Armande quickly. He tried to execute a few dance steps to show his friends how well his wound had healed, but his leg sank under him and a shadow of pain crossed his face.
"Be careful," said Leon anxiously. "Don't try anything like that yet."
"I guess it is not as well as I thought," admitted Armande with a wry smile. "It will be sound soon though."
The five soldiers soon made themselves perfectly at home in their rude quarters and enjoyed themselves thoroughly. A few days of rest worked wonders with them and with all the others in their regiment. At the end of a week the men were clamoring to be sent back into the trenches.
Daily drills were held to keep the troops in good physical condition and the men indulged in all kinds of sports during their leisure hours. Thousands and thousands of soldiers were concentrated in and around this town and so wonderful was the French organization that they could be shifted to any part of the long battle line almost at a moment's notice. There seemed to be an endless supply of equipment as well as of men and no longer could France say that she was unprepared. The whole question now was whether she was prepared enough to undertake the great offensive the soldiers knew was coming some time.
One day, at noontime, came the word that that afternoon there was to be a review of all the troops stationed thereabouts.
"Who is going to review us, do you suppose?" asked Earl of Armande who now had recovered entirely from his bullet wound.
"I don't know," replied Armande. "I don't like these reviews anyway. For my part I'd much rather do some actual fighting."
"I guess you'd rather fight than anything else, wouldn't you?" said Earl laughingly.
"I certainly would," exclaimed Armande. "At least I would as long as these Boches are in France. When they are driven out I want to go back to my little farm and never hear the sound of another gun as long as I live."
"I hope you may be able to do that soon," said Earl fervently.
"If I am still alive."
"We'll hope for the best," said Earl simply.
"Suppose I am killed," exclaimed Armande. "What difference will it make? I shall die for my country and what happier death is there than to die for France?"
"If everyone else feels the same way I don't see how France can be beaten," remarked Earl, much impressed by the fervor of the impulsive Frenchman.
"Of course she can't be beaten," cried Armande, "and of course everyone feels as I do. Just as surely as the sun will rise to-morrow France is going to come out victorious in this war. They can hold some of our land for a time but they can't kill our spirit. The spirit of France will live forever and it is spirit that wins; it is unconquerable and it will never give in until justice and right rule once more in Europe."
"Vive la France!" cried Jacques lustily. He had been sitting on the edge of one of the bunks attentively listening to the foregoing conversation.
"Vive la France!" echoed Earl and the rafters of the ramshackle old barn shook with the violence of the cheer.
"Inspection is at two and the review at three," Dubois reminded his comrades when they had settled down to a normal state again.
"Then we haven't much time, have we?" exclaimed Leon. "Let's get ready."
At two o'clock, to the second, thedouzièmeinfantry was lined up for inspection. Every man's uniform had been cleaned, his shoes polished and his rifle oiled and rubbed. They all wore the steel helmets adopted by the army since the outbreak of the war; these light metal head coverings had saved many a life and prevented many a wound. In the trench warfare the majority of the wounds are apt to be in the head, for that is all that shows to the enemy; consequently the steel helmets had proved themselves most useful.
A short time later the regiment marched off down the road towards the large open plain where the review was to be held. From all directions came other troops all heading towards the same spot. Bands played and the scene was indeed a gala one. Few dress uniforms were to be seen however. Occasionally some high officer, resplendent in gold lace, whirred past in his motor-car, but as a rule the troops all wore their service uniforms.
On one edge of the plain thedouzièmehalted. Regiments filed by, some on foot and some on horseback; batteries of field artillery rattled past. A murmur of approval swept along the line as the men recognized the famous 75-millimeter guns, the best field artillery in the world. These guns were the pride of the French army.
At length thedouzièmeswung into place and preceded by thousands and followed by thousands it swept along. As far as the eye could see in front and behind appeared a forest of rifles, the keen-edged bayonets gleaming in the sun. It was a most impressive sight and one to inspire confidence. The grim-visaged men were not soldiers in name only but warriors in every sense of the word.
Far across the field marched thedouzièmeand passed along in front of those who were there to review it. The troops all held their guns at attention as they passed and were unable to catch a very clear glimpse of the little group of men who stood there. Five men stood out in front of the others however and from the corner of his eye Leon did his best to see who they were.
"That little man in the khaki suit was King George of England," he said to Jacques after the review was over and they had returned to their quarters. "I also recognized General Joffre, but who was the man with the brown mustache who stood next to King George?"
"Why that was Lord Kitchener," exclaimed Jacques.
"Who was the big man next to him? He was certainly fine looking."
"King Albert of Belgium," said Jacques in a surprised tone. "I should think you'd recognize him."
"It was stupid of me not to," admitted Leon. "Who was the short man in the frock coat and silk hat? He didn't look like a soldier to me."
"He isn't," laughed Jacques. "That was President Poincaré; the man who passed us in the automobile the other day."
"Of course it was," exclaimed Leon. "Quite a distinguished gathering I should say."
At this moment Dubois entered the loft. He was evidently excited.
"Some of these fellows have been wanting excitement," he exclaimed, "and I guess they'll get it soon enough all right."
"What do you mean?" demanded Leon.
"Come with me and I'll soon show you," said Dubois.