第 6 页

The Barclays were constant in their attendance at the shooting

ground; and the steady hand and eye which cricket, fencing, and

other exercises had given them now stood them in good stead for, by

the end of the time, they became as good marksmen as any in the

corps. They still lived at home, as did all those members of the

corps whose residences were in and around Dijon. For those who

lived too far away to come in and out every day to drill, a large

empty barn was taken, and fitted up as a temporary barracks.

The time did not pass away without great excitement for, as the end

of August drew on, everyone was watching, in deep anxiety, for the

news of a battle near Chalons--where MacMahon had been organizing a

fresh army. Then came the news that the camp at Chalons was broken

up, and that MacMahon was marching to the relief of Bazaine. Two or

three days of anxious expectation followed; and then--on the 3rd of

September--came the news, through Switzerland, of the utter defeat

and surrender of the French army, at Sedan.

At first, the news seemed too terrible to be true. People seemed

stunned at the thought of a hundred thousand Frenchmen laying down

their arms. Two days later came the news of the revolution in

Paris. This excited various emotions among the people; but the

prevailing idea seemed to be that--now there was a republic--past

disasters would be retrieved.

"What do you think of the news, papa?" the boys asked as, drill

over, they hurried up to talk the matter over with their father.

"With any other people, I should consider it to be the most

unfortunate event which could have possibly occurred," Captain

Barclay said. "A change of Government--involving a change of

officials throughout all the departments, and a perfect upset of

the whole machinery of organization--appears little short of

insanity. At the same time, it is possible that it may arouse such

a burst of national enthusiasm that the resistance which, as far as

the civil population is concerned, has as yet been contemptible--in

fact, has not been attempted at all--may become of so obstinate and

desperate a character that the Prussians may be fairly wearied out.

"There is scarcely any hope of future victories in the field. Raw

levies, however plucky, can be no match for such troops as the

Prussians, in the open. The only hope is in masses of franc tireurs

upon the rear and flanks of the enemy. Every bridge, every wood,

every village should be defended to the death. In this way the

Prussians would only hold the ground they stand on; and it would be

absolutely impossible for them to feed their immense armies, or to

bring up their siege materiel against Paris.

"The spirit to do this may possibly be excited by the revolution;

otherwise, France is lost. Success alone can excuse it; for a more

senseless, more unjustifiable, more shameful revolution was, in my

mind, never made. It has been effected purely by the Radicals and

roughs of Paris--the men who have, for years, been advocating a war

with Prussia; and who, a month ago, were screaming 'To Berlin.' For

these men to turn round upon the Emperor in his misfortune and,

without consulting the rest of France, to effect a revolution, is

in my mind simply infamous.

"Even regarded as a matter of policy, it is bad in the extreme.

Austria, Italy, and Russia--to say nothing of England--would,

sooner or later, have interfered in favor of an established empire;

but their sympathies will be chilled by this revolution. The

democratic party in all these countries may exult, but the extreme

democratic party do not hold the reins of power anywhere; and their

monarchs will certainly not feel called upon to assist to establish

a republic.

"Prussia herself--intensely aristocratic in her institutions--will

probably refuse to treat, altogether, with the schemers who have

seized the power; for the King of Prussia is perhaps the greatest

hater of democracy in Europe.

"Still, boys, these changes make no difference in your duty. You

are fighting for France, not for an empire or a republic and, as

long as France resists, it is your duty to continue. In fact, it is

now more than ever the duty of you, and of every Frenchman, to

fight. Her army is entirely gone; and it is simply upon the pluck

and energy of her population that she has to trust."

"Do you think Paris will hold out, papa?"

"She is sure to do so, boys. She has made the revolution, and she

is bound to defend it. I know Paris well. The fortifications are

far too strong to be taken by a sudden attack, and it will be a

long time before the Prussians can bring up a siege train. Paris

will only be starved out and, if her people are only half as brave

as they are turbulent, they ought to render it impossible for the

Prussians to blockade such an immense circle. At any rate, France

has two months; perhaps much longer, but two months ought to be

quite enough, if her people have but spirit to surround the enemy,

to cut off his supplies, and to force him to retreat."

The next morning, when the corps assembled for drill, Captain Tempe

addressed them on the subject of the events in Paris. He told them

that, whether they approved or disapproved of what had taken place

there, their duty as Frenchmen was plain. For the present they were

not politicians, but patriots; and he hoped that not a word of

politics would be spoken in the corps, but that everyone would give

his whole thought, his whole strength and, if must be, his life in

the cause of France.

His address was greatly applauded, and gave immense satisfaction to

the men; for already differences of opinion were becoming manifest

among them. Some had exulted loudly at the downfall of Napoleon;

others had said little, but their gloomy looks had testified

sufficiently what were their opinions; while many among the

gentlemen in the corps, especially those belonging to old families,

were well known to be attached either to a Legitimist or Orleanist

Prince. The proposal, therefore, that no politics should be

discussed during the war, but that all should remember only that

they were fighting for France, gave great satisfaction; and

promised a continuance of the good fellowship which had hitherto

reigned in the corps.

It was a great day when, a fortnight from its first organization,

the corps turned out for the first time in their uniforms. The band

of the national guard headed them, as they marched down the high

street of Dijon to the parade ground; and--as the spectators

cheered, the ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and the whole corps

joined in cheers, to the stirring notes of the Marseillaise--the

young Barclays felt their cheeks flush, their hands tighten upon

their rifles, and their hearts beat with a fierce longing to be

face to face with the hated Prussians.

A day or two after this, the Snider rifles ordered from England by

Captain Barclay arrived; and although the men at first preferred

the chassepots, with which they were familiar, they were soon

accustomed to the new weapons; and readily acknowledged the

advantage which--as their commander pointed out to them--the

dark-brown barrels possessed, for skirmishers, over the bright

barrels of the chassepots which, with the sun shining upon them,

would betray them to an enemy miles away.

A day or two afterwards, as Ralph and Percy were returning in the

evening from drill, they heard a great tumult in the streets. They

hurried forward to see what was the matter, and found an excited

crowd shouting and gesticulating.

"Death to the spy!"

"Death to the spy!"

"Hang him!"

"Kill the dog!" were the shouts, and two gendarmes in the center of

the crowd were vainly trying to protect a man who was walking

between them. He was a tall, powerful-looking man; but it was

impossible to see what he was like, for the blood was streaming

down his forehead, from a blow he had just received.

Just as the boys came up, another blow from a stick fell on his

head; and this served to rouse him to desperation, for he turned

round, with one blow knocked down the fellow who had struck him,

and then commenced a furious attack upon his persecutors. For a

moment they drew back, and then closed upon him again. Blows from

sticks and hands rained upon him, but he struggled desperately. At

last, overwhelmed by numbers, he fell; and as he did so he raised a

wild shout, "Hurroo for ould Ireland."

"He is an Englishman, Percy," Ralph exclaimed; "he is not a

Prussian, at all. Come on!

"Here, Louis, Philippe, help; they are killing an Englishman."

Followed by their cousins--who had just arrived at the spot--the

boys made a rush through the crowd; and arrived in another moment

by the prostrate man, whom his assailants were kicking savagely.

The rush of the four boys--aided by the butt-end of their rifles,

which they used freely on the ribs of those who stood in their

way--cleared off the assailants for an instant; and the two

gendarmes--who had been hustled away--drawing their swords, again

took their place by the side of their insensible prisoner.

The mob had only recoiled for a moment; and now, furious at being

baulked of their expected prey, prepared to rush upon his

defenders; shouting, as they did so:

"Death to the spy!"

The moment's delay had, however, given time to the boys to fix

bayonets.

Illustration: Rescue of a Supposed Spy.

"Keep off," Ralph shouted, "or we run you through! The man is not a

spy, I tell you. He is an Englishman."

The noise was too great for the words to be heard and, with cries

of "Death to the spy!" the men in front prepared for a rush. The

leveled bayonets and drawn swords, however, for a moment checked

their ardor; but those behind kept up the cry, and a serious

conflict would have ensued, had not a party of five or six of the

franc tireurs come along at the moment.

These--seeing their comrades standing with leveled bayonets,

keeping the mob at bay--without asking any questions, at once burst

their way through to their side; distributing blows right and left,

heartily, with the butt-end of their rifles. This reinforcement put

an end to the threatened conflict; and the gendarmes, aided by two

of the franc tireurs, lifted the insensible man and carried him to

the Maine; the rest of the franc tireurs marching on either side as

a guard, and the yelling crowd following them.

Once inside the Maine the gates were shut and--the supposed spy

being laid down on the bench--cold water was dashed in his face;

and in a few minutes he opened his eyes.

"The murdering villains!" he muttered to himself. "They've kilt me

entirely, bad luck to them! A hundred to one, the cowardly

blackguards!

"Where am I?" and he made an effort to rise.

"You're all right," Ralph said. "You're with friends. Don't be

afraid, you're safe now."

"Jabers!" exclaimed the Irishman in astonishment, sitting up and

looking round him, "here's a little French soldier, speaking as

illegant English as I do, meself."

"I'm English," laughed Ralph, "and lucky it was for you that we

came along. We heard you call out, just as you fell; and got in in

time, with the help of our friends, to save your life. Another

minute or two, and we should have been too late."

"God bless your honor!" the man--who had now thoroughly recovered

himself--said earnestly. "And it was a tight shave, entirely.

You've saved Tim Doyle's life; and your honor shall see that he's

not ungrateful. Whenever you want a lad with a strong arm and a

thick stick, Tim's the boy."

"Thank you, Tim," Ralph said, heartily. "Now you had better let the

surgeon look at your head. You have got some nasty cuts."

"Sure, and my head's all right, your honor It isn't a tap from a

Frenchman that would break the skull of Tim Doyle."

The gendarmes now intimated that, as the prisoner was restored, he

must go in at once before the Maire. The young Barclays accompanied

him, and acted as interpreters at the examination. The story was a

simple one, and the passport and other papers upon the Irishman

proved its truth conclusively.

Tim was an Irishman, who had come out as groom with an English

gentleman. His master had fallen ill at Lyons, had parted with his

horses and carriage, and returned to England. Tim had accepted the

offer of the horse dealer who had purchased the horses to remain in

his service, and had been with him six months when the war broke

out. He had picked up a little French, but had been several times

arrested in Lyons, as a spy; and his master had at last told him

that it was not safe for him to remain, and that he had better

return to England.

He had reached Dijon on that morning; but the train, instead of

going on, had been stopped, as large numbers of Mobiles were

leaving for Paris, and the ordinary traffic was suspended. Tim had

therefore passed the day strolling about Dijon. The hour had

approached at which he had been told that a train might leave, and

Tim had asked a passer by the way to the station.

His broken French at once aroused suspicion. A crowd collected in a

few minutes; and Tim was, in the first place, saved from being

attacked by the arrival of two gendarmes upon the scene. He had at

once told them that he was English, and had produced his passport;

and they had decided upon taking him to the Maire, for the

examination of his papers--but on the way the crowd, increased by

fresh arrivals, had determined to take the law into their own

hands; and only the arrival of the young Barclays, and their

cousins, had saved his life.

The Maire saw at once, upon examination of the papers, that the

story was correct; and pronounced that Tim was at liberty to go

where he pleased. The poor fellow, however--though he made light of