第 23 页

back, in return.

"'Shoot away,' says I, 'as hard as you like; but let's shoot back,

in return.'"

The boys laughed, and the day passed pleasantly as they rode, and

talked. The dusk had already fallen when they reached a party of

franc tireurs. It was not their own corps, nor could the officer in

command tell exactly where they could find them.

"We are scattered over a considerable extent of country," he said;

"and the colonel, alone, could tell you how we are all placed. I

expect that he will be here, tonight; and your best plan will be to

stay here, till he comes. We have not much to offer you, but such

as it is, it is at your service."

After a moment's consultation, the boys agreed to accept the offer;

as they had palpably more chance of meeting Colonel Tempe, there,

than in a journey through the woods, at night; and in another ten

minutes their horses were tied to trees, and they were sitting by a

blazing fire, with the officers of franc tireurs. The village

consisted of only three or four houses and, as there were fifty men

in the party upon which they had come, they bivouacked under the

trees, hard by.

"How far off are the Germans?" Ralph asked, when dinner was over;

and they lay by the fire, smoking cigars.

"Ten miles or so," the officer answered, carelessly.

"No chance of their coming this way, I hope," Ralph laughed. "We

were very nearly caught near Saverne, once."

"So I heard," the officer said, "but I am rather skeptical as to

these night surprises. In nine cases out of ten--mind, I don't mean

for a moment that it was so in your case--but in nine cases out of

ten, these rumors of night attacks are all moonshine."

"Perhaps so," Ralph said, a little gravely--for he had already

noticed that the discipline was very different, among these men,

than that to which he had been accustomed among the franc tireurs

of Dijon; "perhaps so, but we can hardly be too careful.

"How do you all like Colonel Tempe?"

"The colonel would be an excellent fellow, were he not our

colonel," the officer laughed. "He is a most unconscionable man.

For ever marching, and drilling, and disciplining. If he had his

way, he would make us like a regiment of line; as if there could be

any good in carrying out all that sort of thing, with franc

tireurs. He had about half of us together, for three or four days;

and I give you my word it was as bad as slavery. Drill, drill,

drill, from morning till night. I was heartily glad, I can tell

you, when I got away with this detachment."

Ralph saw that his new acquaintance was one of that innumerable

class who conceived that drill and discipline were absurdities, and

that it was only necessary for a Frenchman to shoulder a gun for

him to be a soldier; so he easily avoided argument, by turning the

subject. For a couple of hours they chatted; and then, as the fire

was burning low, and the men had already laid down to sleep, Ralph

suggested that they should do the same.

"I will walk round the sentries first, with you, if you like," he

said.

"Sentries!" the other said, with a laugh; "there is my sentry," and

he pointed to a man standing, ten paces off, leaning against a

tree. "The men have marched all day--they only came in an hour

before you did--and I am not going to waste their strength by

putting half of them out to watch the forest.

"No, no, I am no advocate for harassing my men."

"Good night, then," Ralph said, briefly, and he wrapped himself in

his cloak, and lay down.

"We are not accustomed to this sort of thing, Percy," he whispered

to his brother, in English, "and I don't like it. No wonder our

franc tireurs do so badly, if this is a sample of their

discipline."

"I don't like it either, Ralph. The Prussians are advancing; and if

that fellow last heard of them as ten miles off, they are as likely

as not to be only two. I shan't be sorry when morning comes."

"Nor I either, Percy. However, here we are, and we have no

authority over this fellow; so we must make the best of it, and

hope that--for once--folly will not have its just reward."

So saying, the boys remained silent for the night. But although

silent, neither of them slept much--Ralph especially, whose arm was

still very sore, and at times painful, hardly closed his eyes. He

told himself it was absurd, but he could not help listening, with

painful attention.

Had the night been a quiet one, he need not have strained his ears;

for as he knew, from the many hours he had passed at night upon

guard, the hush is so intense--in these great forests--that one can

hear the fall of a mountain stream, miles away; and the snapping of

a twig, or almost the falling of a leaf, will catch the ear. The

night, however, was windy; and the rustle of the pine forest would

have deadened all sound, except anything sharp, and near.

The sentry did not appear similarly impressed with the necessity

for any extraordinary attention. He was principally occupied in

struggling against cold, and drowsiness. He walked up and down, he

stamped his foot, hummed snatches of songs, yawned with great

vigor, and so managed to keep awake for two hours; when he roused

the next for duty, and lay down with a grunt of relief.

At last, after keeping awake for hours, Ralph dozed off. How long

he slept, he knew not; but he was roused into full wakefulness by a

touch on the shoulder, and by hearing Tim Doyle whisper:

"Hist, Mister Ralph, I've my doubts that there is something wrong.

I couldn't sleep, in this camp without watch or outposts; and for

the last quarter of an hour, I fancy I've been hearing noises. I

don't know which way they are coming, but it seems to me they are

all round us. I may be wrong, sir, but as sure as the piper--"

"Hush, Tim!" Ralph said to the Irishman, who had crawled

noiselessly along, and had lain down by his side.

"Percy, are you awake?"

"Yes, I woke at Tim's whisper. Listen."

They did listen; and distinctly, above the sighing of the wind,

they could hear a rustling, cracking noise. Day was just breaking,

but the light was not sufficiently strong to show objects with any

distinctness, among the trees.

"By Jove, we are surrounded!" Percy said; and was just going to

alarm the camp when the sentry, startled into wakefulness,

challenged and fired.

The franc tireurs woke, and leaped to their feet. Percy and Tim

were about to do the same, when Ralph held them down.

"Lie still," he said, "for your lives."

His words were not out of his lips, when a tremendous volley rang

out all round them; and half the franc tireurs fell.

"Now!" Ralph said, leaping up, "make a rush for a house.

"To the houses, all of you," he shouted, loudly. "It is our only

chance. We shall be shot down, here, like sheep."

The officer of the franc tireurs had already atoned for his

carelessness, by his life; and the men obeyed Ralph's call and,

amidst a heavy fire, rushed across the fifty yards of open space to

the houses. The door was burst in, with the rush.

Ralph had not stopped at the first house but, followed by his

brother and Tim Doyle, had run farther on; and entered the last

house in the village.

"Why did you not go in with the others, Ralph? We have no chance of

defending ourselves, here. We have only our revolvers."

"We have no chance of defending ourselves anywhere, Percy," Ralph

said. "There must be a couple of hundred of them, at least; and not

above fifteen or twenty, at most, of the franc tireurs gained the

houses. Resistance is utterly useless; and yet, had I been with

those poor fellows, I could not have told them to surrender, when

they would probably be shot, five minutes afterwards. We should be

simply throwing away our lives, without doing the least good."

There was a heavy firing now heard and, a moment after, half a

dozen shots were fired through the window. Then there was a rush of

soldiers towards the door, which Ralph had purposely left open.

"We surrender," Ralph shouted, in German, coming forward to meet

them. "We are French officers."

"Don't fire," a voice said, and then a young officer came forward.

"You are not franc tireurs?" he asked, for the light was still

insufficient to enable him to distinguish uniforms.

"We are officers of the army, upon General Cambriels' staff. This

man is an orderly.

"Here are our swords. We surrender, as prisoners of war."

The German officer bowed.

"Keep your swords, for the present, gentlemen. I am not in

command."

At this moment, another officer came up.

"Who have we here, Von Hersen? Why do you make prisoners?"

"They are two staff officers, major."

"Hem," said the major, doubtfully.

"Well, if you are an officer," he continued, "order your men to

cease their resistance."

The franc tireurs, most of whom had taken refuge in the same

cottage, were still defending themselves desperately; and were

keeping up a heavy fire, from the windows.

"I will order them to surrender, at once," Ralph said, quietly; "if

you give me your word that they shall be treated as prisoners of

war."

"I will do nothing of the sort, sir," the German answered.

"Then I shall certainly not advise them to surrender," Ralph said,

firmly. "I have no authority, whatever, over them; but if I give

advice, it would be that they should sell their lives as dearly as

possible."

The officer swore a deep German oath, and strode off. For five more

minutes the fight continued round the cottage, many of the Germans

falling; then a rush was made, there was a fierce contest inside

the house--shouts, shrieks, cries for mercy--and then all was

still.

The young Barclays and Tim were now told to sit down near a tree,

at a short distance off; with two sentries, with loaded rifles,

standing over them. The German soldiers took from the houses what

few articles they fancied, and then set fire to them; sitting down

and eating their breakfast as the flames shot up. At a short

distance from where the Barclays were sitting was a group of some

eight or ten franc tireurs, and six or seven peasants, guarded by

some soldiers.

Near them the German major and two lieutenants were talking. One of

the young men appeared to take little interest in the conversation;

but the other was evidently urging some point, with great

earnestness; and the major was equally plainly refusing his

request, for he stamped his foot angrily, and shook his head.

"What a type that major is, of the brutal species of German," Ralph

said. "One used to meet them, sometimes. Their officers are either

particularly nice fellows, mere machines, or great brutes;

apparently we have a specimen of each of them, here."

The officers passed near enough for the Barclays to catch what they

were saying.

The young lieutenant was very pale.

"For the last time, major, I implore you."

"For the last time, Lieutenant von Hersen," the major said,

brutally, "I order you to do your duty and, by Heavens, if you

speak another word, I will put you in arrest!"

The young lieutenant turned silently away, called up twenty men,

and ordered them to place the franc tireurs and the peasants

against a wall.

"This is horrible, Ralph," Percy said. "That scoundrel is going to

shoot them, in cold blood."

"I protest against this execution," Ralph said, in a loud tone,

advancing towards the major, "as a cold-blooded murder, and a

violation of all the rights of war."

"Hold your tongue, sir," the German major said, turning to him

furiously, "or, by Heavens, I will put you up there, too!"

"You dare not," Ralph said, firmly. "Outrage, as you do, every law

of civilization and humanity; you dare not shoot an officer of the

army, in cold blood."

The major turned black with passion.

"By Heavens!" he exclaimed.

But the officer who had not--hitherto--interposed, threw himself

before him.

"Pardon me, major," he said, respectfully, "but the Frenchman is

right. It would bring discredit upon the whole army to touch these

prisoners of war.

"In the other matter, I have nothing to say. The order has been

published that franc tireurs, and peasants sheltering them, shall

be shot; and it is not for me to discuss orders, but to obey

them--but this is a matter affecting all our honors."

The major stood, for a moment, irresolute; but he knew well that

the German military authorities would punish, probably with death,

the atrocity which he meditated; and he said hoarsely, to some of

the men near:

"Tie their arms behind their backs, and take them farther into the

wood."

Ralph, his brother, and Tim Doyle were hurried into the wood by

their guards but--strict as is the discipline of the German

army--they could see that they disapproved, in the highest degree,

of the conduct of their commanding officer.

They were still near enough to see what was passing in the village.

Not a man of the franc tireurs begged his life, but stood upright

against the wall. Two of the peasants imitated their example, as

did a boy of not over thirteen years of age. Two other lads of the

same age, and a peasant, fell on their knees and prayed piteously

for life.

The young officer turned round towards the major in one, now mute,

appeal. It was in vain.

"Put your rifles within a foot of their heads," the lieutenant

said. "Fire!"

When the smoke cleared away, the soldiers were standing alone; and