第 22 页

have fallen, had not Percy caught him in his arms, with a little

cry.

"He has only fainted from loss of blood," the general said. "Two or

three handkerchiefs, gentlemen.

"Now, major, bind them round his arm.

"Now take off his sash, and bind it as tightly as you can, over

them. That's right.

"Now carry him down the rocks, to the horses. We have no time to

lose."

Two of the officers at once put their arms under Ralph's shoulders,

while Percy took his feet; and they hastened down to the horses. As

they did so, Ralph opened his eyes.

"I am all right, now," he said, faintly.

"Lie quiet," the major said, kindly. "It is only loss of blood.

There is no real harm done.

"There, here are the horses."

Ralph was placed, sitting, on the ground; a little brandy and water

was given to him and, as the blood was oozing but slowly through

the bandage, he felt sufficiently restored to sit on his horse.

"Doyle, you go with Lieutenant Barclay," the colonel of the staff

said. "Ride slowly, and keep close beside him; so as to catch him,

if you see him totter. You will find the surgeons ready at the

general's quarters.

"Halt, stand aside for a moment. Here comes the artillery."

"Well done, lads, well done!" the general said, as the diminished

battery rattled past, at full gallop.

Then he himself, with his staff, put spurs to his horse and went

off at full speed; while Tim followed at a walk, riding by the side

of Ralph. The flow of blood had now stopped, and Ralph was able to

sit his horse until he reached the house which had served as the

general's headquarters, in the morning. Here one of the staff

surgeons had fitted up a temporary ambulance; and Ralph's bandages

were soon taken off, and his coat removed. Tim turned sick at the

sight of the ugly gash in his young master's arm, and was obliged

to go out into the air.

The artillery were already at work, and their fire told that the

franc tireurs had retired from the gorge, and that the Germans were

entering the wider valley.

"You have had a narrow escape," the surgeon said, after examining

Ralph's arm, "a quarter of an inch lower, and it would have cut the

main artery; and you would have bled to death in five minutes. As

it is, there is no great harm done. It is a deepish flesh wound

but, with your youth and constitution, it will heal up in a very

short time. I will draw the edges together, with a needle and

thread: put a few straps of plaster on, and a bandage; and then you

had better get into an ambulance wagon and go to the rear, at

once."

"Can't I go into the field again, now?" Ralph asked; "I feel as if

I could ride again, now."

"No, you can do nothing of the sort," the surgeon said. "You have

lost a lot of blood; and if you were to ride now, it might set off

the wound bleeding again, and you might be a dead man before you

could be brought back here. Keep quiet, and do as you are ordered,

and in a week you may be in the saddle again."

"It seems very hard," Ralph began.

"Not at all hard," the surgeon said. "You will see plenty more

fighting, before this war is over.

"This is a hard case, if you like; you have every reason to be

thankful."

As he spoke, he pointed to a young mobile who was brought in, his

chest literally torn open with a shell.

"I can do nothing for him," the surgeon said, after a brief

inspection of his wound; "he has not half an hour to live, and will

probably not recover consciousness. If he does, give him some weak

brandy, and water."

Wounded men were now being brought in fast, and Ralph went out and

sat down by the door.

"Fasten my horse up here, Tim. The ambulance will be full of poor

fellows who will want them more than I shall. If I see that we are

being driven back, I shall mount and ride quietly back.

"No, there is nothing more you can do for me. Go and join Percy."

The fight was now raging furiously. The Germans, covered by the

fire of their artillery, had debouched from the pass and were

steadily pressing forward. They had already carried the village

nearest to them. This the French had set fire to, before

retreating, to prevent its serving as a shelter for the enemy. The

Mobiles stood their ground, for the most part well, under the heavy

fire of shot and shell; but their muzzle loaders were no match for

the Germans' needle guns, and the enemy were pressing steadily

forward. Just as Tim Doyle rode up to the staff, the Germans had

taken another village.

"That village must be retaken," the general said. "Barclay, ride

and order the Zouaves to carry it, with the bayonet."

Percy galloped off to where the Zouaves, lying behind a ridge in

the ground, were keeping up a heavy fire in answer to the storm of

shot and shell which fell around them. He rode up to the officer in

command.

"The Zouaves are to retake the village, with the bayonet," he said.

The colonel gave the order, but the fire was so heavy that the men

would not face it. Again and again the officer reiterated the

order; standing exposed on the bank, in front of his men, to give

them confidence. It was in vain, and the colonel looked towards

Percy with an air of despair. Percy turned his horse, and galloped

back to the general.

"The colonel has done all he can, sir, but the men won't advance."

"The fire is very heavy," the general said, "but we must have the

village back again."

And he rode off, himself, to the battalion of Zouaves. The shot and

shell were flying around him, but he sat on his horse as immovable

as if at a review.

"My lads," he said, in a loud, clear tone, "generally the

difficulty has been to prevent the Zouaves rushing to an attack.

Don't let it be said that a French general had to repeat, to French

Zouaves, an order to charge before they obeyed him."

In an instant the Zouaves were on their feet and, with a cheer,

went at the village. The Germans in possession fired rapidly, as

the French approached, and then hastily evacuated it; the Zouaves

taking possession, and holding it, under a tremendous fire.

All the afternoon the battle raged, villages being taken and

retaken, several times. The Germans, however, were gradually

gaining ground. Some of the regiments of Mobiles had quite lost all

order and discipline, and their officers in vain tried to persuade

them to hold the position in which they were placed. Two of the

staff officers were killed, three others wounded.

Percy had escaped, almost by a miracle. Over and over again, he had

carried the general's orders across ground swept by the enemy's

shot and shell. A horse had been killed under him, but he had not

received even a scratch; and now, mounted upon the horse of one of

the officers, who was killed, he was returning from carrying an

order across a very open piece of ground, at full gallop. Suddenly

he came upon a sight which--hurried as he was, and exposed as was

the position--caused him instantly to draw his rein, and come to a

full stop.

Illustration: The Children on the Battlefield.

There, in the open field, were two children: the one a boy, of six

or seven years old; the other a little flaxen-haired, blue-eyed

girl, of five. They were quietly picking flowers.

"What are you doing here?" Percy asked, in astonishment.

He spoke in French and, receiving no answer, repeated the question

in German.

"What are you doing here?"

"If you please, sir," the boy answered, "I have been out in the

wood, with Lizzie, to pick flowers; and when I came back there was

a great fire in the house, and a great noise all round, and I

couldn't find father and mother; and so we came out, to look for

them."

Percy did not know what to do. It was too pitiful to leave the poor

little creatures where they were; and yet, he could not carry them

away. He had no doubt that their parents were hid in the woods.

"Look here," he said; "if I take Lizzie upon my horse, will you run

along after me?"

"No, no," the little girl said, vehemently.

There was no time for parley.

"Look here, do you see those soldiers lying down in a ditch?" Percy

asked, pointing to a line of Mobiles, not fifty yards in front.

The children nodded.

"Now look here, the best thing you can possibly do is to play at

being soldiers. It is capital fun. You lie down quite flat in that

ditch, and throw little stones over the bank. Don't you go away.

Don't get up, whatever you do; and if you are good children, and

play nicely, I will send father and mother to you, if I can find

them. If they don't come, you go on playing at soldiers till all

this noise stops; and then, when it is quite quiet, you go home,

and wait there till father and mother come back."

The children were delighted with the idea, and threw themselves

flat in the bottom of the ditch; and Percy went on again, at full

gallop. The French were now being driven back, towards the point

where the valley narrowed again; and many of the Mobiles were in

full flight. General Cambriels, therefore, withdrew his artillery

to a point where they could cover the movements; and then ordered a

rapid retreat--ten regiments of line, and the Zouaves, acting as

rear guard.

It was already getting dark, and the movements were carried out

with but slight loss. The Germans, contented with their success,

attempted no movement in pursuit.

Chapter 12: The Surprise.

After the check in the Vosges, General Cambriels found it

impossible to restore sufficient order, among the Mobiles, to

enable him to show face again to the enemy. He was, besides, in

want of many articles of urgent necessity. Half his force were

shoeless; and the thin blouses which were--as has been said--all

the covering that many of the Mobiles had, were ill calculated to

resist the bitter cold which was already setting in. Ammunition,

too, as well as food, was short.

The general determined, therefore, upon falling back upon Besancon,

and reorganizing his forces there. A wound in his head, too, which

was insufficiently healed when he took the command, had now broken

out again; and his surgeon ordered absolute repose, for a while.

Upon the day of the fight, Ralph had ridden slowly to the rear,

when he saw that the fight was going against the French. Hardened

as he was by his work, and with an excellent constitution, his

wound never for a moment assumed a troublesome aspect; but at the

end of a week he was able--keeping it, of course, in a sling--to

mount his horse, and report himself ready for duty. The

headquarters were now at Besancon; and Ralph could, had he applied

for it, have obtained leave to go to Dijon; but he had not done so,

as he had been so lately at home, and he thought that the sight of

his arm in a sling would be likely to make his mother more nervous,

and anxious on their account, than before.

The Germans were still at some distance from Besancon, being

watched by Colonel Tempe and his franc tireurs, and by the

irregular forces. A considerable army was now fast gathering at

Besancon, and the regimental and superior staff officers were hard

at work at the organization As aides-de-camp, the boys had little

to do; and therefore requested leave, for two or three days, to go

up to their old friends, the franc tireurs of Dijon. The general at

once granted the required permission; adding, with a smile:

"Don't forget you are officers now, lads, and get into any

hare-brained adventures, you know; and be sure you are back on

Thursday, as I expect General Michel--my successor--to arrive on

Friday; and I shall have to give you, as part of my belongings."

"We are sure to be back, general."

And so they set off; taking, as usual, Tim Doyle with them, as

orderly and servant.

"Faith, and I am glad enough to be out in the open again, Mister

Ralph," Tim said, as they left Besancon behind. "After living out

in the woods, for six weeks; there does not seem room to breathe,

in a crowded town."

"It's jolly to be out again, Tim; but I don't know that I mind a

town again, for a few days."

"Ah, it's all very well for the likes of yees, Mister Ralph--with

your officer's uniform, and your arm in a sling, and the girls all

looking at you as a hero--but for me it's different, entirely. Out

in the open I feel that--except when there's anything to do for

your honors--I am my own master, and can plase myself. Here in the

town I am a common hussar; and my arm is just weary with saluting

to all the fellows, with a sword by their side, that I meet in the

street.

"Then there's no chance of any fighting, as long as we're shut up

in the walls of a town; and what's the use of being decked up in

uniform, except to fight? Is there any chance of just the least

scrimmage in the world, while we are back again with the boys?" he

asked, persuasively.

The boys laughed.

"Not much, Tim; but we shall be pretty close to the enemy, and

something may turn up, at any moment. But surely you've had enough,

in the last six weeks?"

"Pretty well, Mister Percy--pretty well; but you see, the last

affair didn't count."

"Oh, didn't it count!" Ralph said, looking at his arm. "I think it

counted for two or three fights and, if you were not hit, I am sure

you were fired at often enough to satisfy the most desperate lover

of fighting, Tim."

"I was fired at often enough, I daresay, Mister Ralph; and I can't

say that I liked it, entirely. It isn't so mighty pleasant--sitting

like a stiff statue behind the general, with the shells falling

about you like peas, and not allowed the divarshin of a single shot