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on the hillside. They had still a very great superiority in

numbers; for the two companies of franc tireurs only numbered, now,

forty-five men, while the Germans--who had lost upwards of twenty

men--were still nearly eighty strong.

Ralph Barclay still kept his place in the ranks. Tim Doyle had

bandaged up his arm; for Percy, who had at first attempted it, had

nearly fainted at the sight of the blood. The Irishman was in the

highest glee; and occasionally indulged in whoops of defiance, and

in taunting remarks--which would not have flattered the enemy,

could they have heard and understood them.

The Germans, as they emerged from their shelter, were about four

hundred yards distant; and the fire at once recommenced. The franc

tireurs were all lying down, and this gave them a great advantage

over the Germans and, the disparity of numbers being less, the

fight raged with greater obstinacy than before. Very gradually, the

enemy won their way--taking advantage of every rock and inequality

of ground--until they were within two hundred yards of the village.

Nearer than this they could not come, for the ground was open and,

in the face of the force in shelter, armed with breech loaders, it

would have been madness to have attempted a rush.

For some time, the combatants remained in the same position; merely

exchanging an occasional shot, when a head or a hat was exposed. At

last, Major Tempe became uneasy at the prolonged inaction upon the

part of the enemy.

"De Maupas," he said, "run up to the upper story of that house, and

try and see what they are doing. Look all round. I don't like this

long hesitation. They are greatly superior in force, and know it. I

think that they must be going to try some flanking movement."

The lieutenant obeyed and, going up to the upper story of the house

pointed out by his commander, peered cautiously out. As far as he

could see, nothing was stirring. The Germans appeared to be lying

in the little hollow in which they were sheltered. He was about to

descend, when he remembered his orders to look around in all

directions. He therefore went to a window at the end of the house,

and looked carefully out.

As he did so he gave a start; and his heart seemed, for a moment,

to stand still. Then, with a bound, he reached the door, sprang

downstairs, and rushed out to where Major Tempe was standing,

behind a wall.

"The cavalry are upon us," he said. "They are not five hundred

yards off. They have made a great detour and are--"

Major Tempe stopped to hear no more.

"Fall back, men," he shouted. "Keep well together. The cavalry are

upon us. Now, at a double to the forest, for your lives.

"Steady, steady!"

The men sprang from the position behind which they had been firing,

fell in hurriedly in the street; and then went off, at a fast

double, towards the forest. There were a few trees near, but no

shelter sufficient to be of any use nearer than five hundred yards.

Fortunately they were unimpeded by wounded, every man having been

carried back into the forest, immediately he was struck. Still, it

was evident that they could not gain the forest in time. They had

seen the leading horsemen turn into the end of the village, not

more than three hundred yards distant, as they started; and the

carbine balls were already whizzing over their heads.

With the rapidity and steadiness which mark the movements of the

Prussian cavalry, they formed in line as they issued from the

village and, before the fugitives were halfway to the forest, a

line of horsemen, fifty abreast, were in full gallop behind. Then

followed another, of equal strength, fifty yards behind. The franc

tireurs, with their rifles and accouterments, were already

slackening their speed.

"We must form square, major. They are not a hundred and fifty yards

behind," De Maupas exclaimed. "We can beat them off, easily

enough."

Major Tempe shook his head, and shouted cheerily:

"Keep on to the last moment, men, well together. I will tell you

when the moment is come. Hold your rifles in readiness."

In ten more seconds, he gave the word. The men were in readiness,

and the square was formed as if by magic. The Uhlans were not more

than eighty yards off.

"File firing," the major shouted. "Steady! Don't throw away a

shot."

Now was the time for breech-loading weapons, and so deadly was the

fire that the center of the Prussian line melted away before it;

and the men who remained reined aside their horses, as they reached

the hedge of bayonets. The flanks kept on, and united again behind

the square; drawing up near the edge of the wood, a hundred and

fifty yards distant.

The charge of the second line was attended with precisely similar

results. The instant that they had passed, however, Major Tempe

shouted to his men:

"On again for the woods. Steady! Keep square. Reserve your fire

till I tell you. We must break through the cavalry. They only want

to keep us. Their infantry will be here in three minutes. They are

through the village, already."

The position of the franc tireurs was now critical in the extreme.

The enemy's cavalry--between them and safety, only a hundred yards

distant--had unslung their carbines, and opened fire. The infantry

were nearly two hundred yards behind but, fortunately, dared not

fire for fear of hitting their own cavalry.

At a rapid pace--for they were running for life--the little knot of

franc tireurs dashed forward. One or two fell from the fire of the

cavalry and, as they were fifty yards distant from the wood, there

was a cry and Philippe Duburg fell to the ground. In an instant Tim

Doyle--who was his next man--stopped, caught him up as if he had

been a feather and, with a desperate effort, again joined the

others, just as they were within twenty yards of the cavalry.

"Fire!" Major Tempe cried; and from the front, and from each side

of the little square--which was but six deep, either way--the

rifles flashed out.

"Level bayonets; charge!"

There was a short struggle. The second ranks poured their fire into

the cavalry line. There was a clashing of bayonets against swords,

and then the band ran through the broken line of cavalry. There was

a rush into the brushwood; and then, from behind the shelter of the

trees, the fire opened again; and the cavalry fell sullenly back,

having lost upwards of thirty men in that short five minutes since

they had left the village.

The German infantry halted, at a distance of two hundred yards; but

they would have lost too many men, in crossing the open, to make it

worth while to attack the sheltered foe--who could pick them off,

to the last moment, only to withdraw deeper into the forest when

they approached its edge. Accordingly they too fell back,

exchanging fire with the franc tireurs until they gained the

shelter of the village.

The conflict over. The men sank, exhausted, upon the ground where

they stood. Major Tempe went round to each; saying a word of

praise, and giving a little of the brandy--with which he had filled

his canteen, before starting--with some water from their own kegs.

Then he gave a sharp whistle, and the men again gathered round him.

"Once more, lads, I must thank you for your conduct," he said. "You

have defended yourselves against forces, altogether, four times

your own. You fairly kept at bay an infantry force of twice your

own number. You have withstood a charge of cavalry, also double

your own strength; and have performed the unusual feat of

successfully charging cavalry. You have inflicted a very heavy loss

upon the enemy. Not less than forty of the infantry must have been

placed hors de combat; and fifteen or twenty of the cavalry, at the

lowest estimate. Altogether, although forced to fall back, the

affair is more creditable than many a brilliant victory.

"Our own loss has been heavy--as heavy, in proportion to our

numbers, as that of the enemy--though, owing to an advantage of

position, while engaged with the infantry, it is actually far less

than theirs. Still, lads, it is very, very heavy," and the major

looked round, with a saddened face, on the diminished band.

"Our only consolation is that our friends have died doing their

duty, and setting a noble example. If all Frenchmen were but

animated with a spirit like that which, I am proud to say, animates

the franc tireurs of Dijon, there are few of the invaders who would

ever recross the Rhine.

"Lieutenant Ribouville, go through the muster roll of the two

companies. Our brave friend De Maupas has, alas! fallen. He was at

my side when a rifle ball struck him, in the temple."

The list was now called over, and the result was a sad one. The two

companies, including officers, had gone into the fight fifty-five

strong. Only thirty-one answered to their names. Besides these,

eight had been removed farther into the forest, severely wounded;

and Philippe Duburg lay a short distance off--the surgeon being

employed bandaging his leg, which a rifle ball had entered, above

the knee. Fifteen, therefore, were dead or missing--which, as the

Germans bayoneted all wounded franc tireurs, was the same thing. Of

the thirty-one who answered to their names, nine had wounds more or

less severe; and the surgeon, with his assistants, had work on his

hands which would take him far into the night.

The instant that they were dismissed from parade, the boys hurried

to their cousin. He was very pale from loss of blood, but was

perfectly sensible. His brother sat on a bench beside him, holding

his head on his knee.

Philippe smiled faintly as the boys came up.

"I am so glad you have escaped," he said, in a low voice.

They clasped his hand.

"Does it hurt you much, Philippe?"

"Not very much; not so much as I should have thought."

"Did the doctor say anything about it, Philippe?"

"Yes, he said that it had just missed the great arteries; and that

he thinks it struck the bone, and has glanced up somewhere; but he

can't say till he probes it, when--"

"Then your leg is not broken?"

"No, he says it is certainly not broken, but it may be splintered."

"Thank God for that, anyhow," the boys said.

"We owe his life to Tim Doyle," Louis said. "I was not next to him;

and did not see him fall, or know he was hit till I saw Tim come

up, with him on his shoulders--and even if I had, I could not have

lifted him, and carried him off. Tim saved his life. There is no

doubt about that."

As it was evident that Philippe was too weak to talk, and would be

better for being quiet awhile, the boys now left him with his

brother.

Looking through the trees towards the village, a dense smoke could

now be seen rising in several places and, in a few minutes, the

whole village was in a blaze. Moved by the sight, the unfortunate

inhabitants came out from their hiding places in the forest;

wringing their hands, crying, and cursing the invaders. In spite of

the advice of Major Tempe, several of the women went off towards

the scene of conflagration, to endeavor to save some little

household treasure from the flames. In a short time one of them

returned to fetch her husband, saying that the enemy had all left

before they reached the village, and were already far down the

hillside. Major Tempe at once sent forward the unwounded men; to

assist the villagers to put out the fire, and to save property.

Their efforts were, however, altogether unavailing; the Germans had

scattered large quantities of petroleum, before leaving, upon the

beds and such other furniture as they could not carry away, or

destroy.

It was a pitiable sight to see the poor homeless people sitting

about, looking at the ruins of their houses. Some cried piteously;

others gazed with listless faces, but with a cold despair even more

painful to see. Fortunately, they had saved all their animals but,

at present, they were too much absorbed in the thoughts of what

they had lost, to bestow even a thought of satisfaction on what

they had saved.

Major Tempe, grieved and touched at the painful scene of which he

and his men had been the cause, called the franc tireurs together;

and made a proposition to them, which was at once heartily agreed

to. He then called together the cure and schoolmaster and--after a

few well-chosen words of regret, at the ills which he and his had

involuntarily brought upon the village--he handed over to them, in

the name of the whole corps, the hundred pounds in thaler notes

which had been found upon the schoolmaster whom they had executed

for treachery; to be distributed among the inhabitants, according

to their necessities.

The offer was gratefully received, and the priest and schoolmaster

at once went round and told the poor people, whose gratitude and

delight were unbounded. To so poor a population, the sum seemed

immense; and although it would not replace what was destroyed, it

would go far towards making their abodes habitable. The village

only contained about twenty houses. The walls were still standing.

Timber for the roofs and floors was to be had for cutting, in the

forest. Bushes for thatching could be found in abundance. The

principal portion of the houses, therefore, would cost only labor,

and this money would suffice to keep them alive, while engaged upon

it; and enough would remain to get at least a few blankets to lay

upon the straw--which would, for the time, serve for beds--together

with a few other simple necessaries. The sale of a portion of the

animals would do the rest and, in their gratitude to the franc

tireurs, for having thus relieved their first and most pressing

difficulties, the inhabitants altogether forgot the ill-feeling

which they had before felt against them, as the authors of their

disaster.

After burying their dead, the men set to work to assist the

villagers in building temporary huts--or rather bowers--to the edge