As summer came on, life seemed less and less sad to the people of
Fontanelle. With the coming of the Americans the outlook had so changed
that, although the war was not yet over, they could look forward to the
future with some degree of hope. The news brought from Rheims by
occasional refugees was always sad. The Germans continued to shell the
defenseless city, and the Cathedral sustained more and more injuries,
but the beautiful stained-glass windows had been carefully taken down,
the broken pieces put together as far as possible, and the whole
shipped to safer places in France. The statue of Jeanne d'Arc within
the church had also been taken from its niche, while the one before the
Cathedral doors still remained unharmed by shot and shell.
It comforted Mother Meraut to think of that valiant figure standing
alone amid such desolation. She had other things to comfort her as
well. With food and fresh air the roses bloomed again in the cheeks of
her children. Soon, too, the gardens began to yield early vegetables.
In the morning, instead of hearing the sound of guns, they were
awakened by bird-songs, or by the crowing of cocks and the bleating of
goats. These were pleasant sounds to the people of Fontanelle, for they
brought memories of peaceful and prosperous days, and the promise of
more to come.
The rebuilding of the village was begun by the end of June, and the
sound of saws and hammers cheered them with the prospect of comfortable
homes before cold weather should come again. The work proceeded slowly,
for the workers were few, even though their good friend the Commandant
gave them all the help he could. There were now a multitude of little
chicks running about on what had been the stately lawns of the Chateau,
and there were twenty new little rabbits in the rabbit-hutch. As the
rabbits could not forage for themselves, it was necessary for others to
forage for them, and this work fell to the lot of Pierre and Pierrette.
One summer morning one of the roosters crowed very, very early, and the
Twins, having no clock, supposed it was time for them to get up and go
for fresh leaves and roots for the rabbits, as they did every day. They
rose at once, and the sun was just peering above the eastern horizon as
they came out of the stable door. They went to the rabbit-hutch, and
the rabbits, seeing them, stood up on their hind legs and wiggled their
noses hungrily.
"Rabbits do have awful appetites," said Pierre, a little ruefully, as
he looked down at the empty food-box. "Just think what a pile of things
we brought them yesterday."
"There's nothing to do but get them more, I suppose," answered
Pierrette.
"I know where there's just bushels and bushels of water-cress," said
Pierre, "but it's quite a long distance off. You know the brook that
flows through the meadow between here and camp? It's just stuffed with
it, and rabbits like it better than almost anything."
"Let's go and get some now," said Pierrette. "We can take the
clothes-basket and bring back enough to last all day."
Pierre went for the basket, and the two children started down the road
which ran beside the meadow toward the camp. It was so early that not
another soul in the village was up. Even the rooster had gone to sleep
again after his misguided crowing. One pale little star still winked in
the morning sky, but the birds were already winging and singing, as the
children, carrying the basket between them, set forth upon their quest.
When they reached the brook, they set down the basket, took off their
wooden shoes, and, wading into the stream, began gathering great
bunches of the cress. They were so busy filling their basket that they
did not notice the sun had gone out of sight behind a cloud-bank, and
that the air was still with that strange breathless stillness that
precedes a storm. It was not until a loud clap of thunder, accompanied
by a flash of lightning, suddenly broke the silence, that they knew the
storm was upon them. When they looked up, the meadow grasses were bend
ing low before a sudden wind, and the trees were swaying to and fro as
if in terror, against the background of an angry sky.
"Wow!" said Pierre. "I guess we're in for it! We can't possibly get
home before it breaks."
"Oh," gasped Pierrette, as another peal of thunder shook the air, "I
don't want to stay out in it. What shall we do?"
Pierre looked about him. A little distance beyond the brook, toward the
camp, there was a straw-stack with a rough straw-thatched shed beside
it, half hidden under a group of small trees. Pierre pointed to it.
"We'll leave the basket here," he said, "and hide under the straw until
the storm is over. Then we can come back again, get it, and go home."
Another clap of thunder, louder still, sent them flying on their way,
and they did not speak again until they were under the shelter of the
shed. The first big drops fell as they reached it, and then the storm
broke in a fury of wind and water. The children cowered against the
stack itself as far as possible out of reach of the driving rain.
They had been there but a few moments, when they heard a new sound in
addition to the roar of the wind and the patter of the rain upon the
leaves. It was the dull tread of heavy footsteps, and they were
surprised to see a man running toward the straw-stack, his head bent to
shield his face from the rain, under the brim of an old hat. His
clothes were rough and unkempt, and altogether his appearance was so
forbidding that the children instinctively dived under the straw at the
edge of the stack like frightened mice, and burrowed backward until
they were completely hidden, though they could still peep out through
the loose straw.
The man reached the shed almost before they were out of view, but it
was evident that he had not seen them, for he did not glance in their
direction. He took off his hat and shook the rain-drops from it. Then
he wiped his face and neck with a soiled handkerchief and sat down on
the edge of a bench that had once been used for salting cattle. He sat
still for a little while, with his feet drawn up on the bench and his
hands clasping his knees, the better to escape the rain. Then he began
to grow restless. He walked back and forth and peered out into the rain
in the direction of the camp. The children were so frightened they
could hear their own hearts beat, but they had been in danger so many
times, and in so many different ways that they kept their presence of
mind, and were able to follow closely his every move. Soon they heard
the sound of more footsteps, and suddenly there dashed under the shed a
soldier in the uniform of France. It was evident that the first man
expected him, for he showed no surprise at his coming, and the two sat
down together on the bench and began to talk.
The wind had now subsided a little, and though they spoke in low tones
the children could hear every word.
"Whew!" said the soldier as he shook his rain-coat. "Nasty weather."
"All the better for our purposes," answered the other man. "There's
less chance of our being seen."
"Not much chance of that, anyway, so early in the morning as this,"
answered the soldier, looking at his watch. "It's not yet four o'clock!"
"Best not to linger, anyway," said the other man. "That Captain of
yours has the eyes of a hawk. I was up at camp the other day selling
cigarettes and chocolate, and he eyed me as if he was struck with my
beauty."
"I wish you'd keep away from camp," said the soldier, impatiently. "It
isn't necessary, and you might run into some one who knew you back in
Germany. There are all kinds of people in the Foreign Legion. I tell
you, it isn't safe, and besides, I can get all the information we need
without it."
"All right, General," responded the other, grinning. "But have you
_got_ it? That's the question. I expect that buzzard will be flying
around again over this field in a night or so,--the moon is 'most full
now, and the nights are light,--and I've got to be able to signal him
just how to find the powder magazine and the other munitions. Then he
can swoop right over there and drop one of his little souvenirs where
it will do the most good and fly away home. I advise you to keep away
from that section of the camp yourself."
"Here is the map," said the soldier, drawing a paper from his pocket,
"and there are also statistics as to the number of men and all I can
find out about plans for using them. Take good care of it. It wouldn't
be healthy to be found with it on you."
The first man pocketed the paper. "That's all, is it?" he asked.
"All for this time, anyway," answered the soldier.
The man looked at him narrowly.
"Well," said the soldier, "what's the matter? Don't I look like a
Frenchman?"
"You'd deceive the devil himself," answered the man with a short laugh.
"No one would ever think you were born in Bavaria. Don't forget and
stick up the corners of your mustache, though. That might give you
away. When do you think you can get over to see that fort?"
"I don't know," answered the soldier sharply, "but I'll meet you here
day after to-morrow at the same hour. Auf Wiedersehen," and he was gone.
After his departure, his companion lingered a moment, lit a cigarette,
looked up at the sky, and, seeing that the shower was nearly over,
strolled off in the opposite direction.
The children, looking after him, saw him come upon their basket near
the brook, examine it carefully, and then look about in every direction
as if searching for the owners. Seeing no one, he gave it a kick and
passed on. They watched him, not daring to move until he turned toward
the river and was out of sight. Later they saw a boat come from the
shelter of some bushes on the bank, and slip quietly down the stream
with the man in it.
When they dared move once more they crawled out from under the straw,
and Pierrette said, "Well, what do you think of that?"
"Think!" Pierre said, choking with wrath. "I think he's a miserable dog
of a spy! They are both spies! And they are going to try to blow up the
whole camp! You come along with me." He seized Pierrette by the hand,
and the two flew over the wet meadow toward the distant camp.
"Whatever should we do if we met that soldier?" gasped Pierrette,
breathless with running and excitement.
"Look stupid," said Pierre promptly. "He didn't see us, and he'd never
dream we had seen him; but, by our blessed Saint Jeanne, this is where
I get even with the Germans! Let's find Jim and Uncle Sam."
Reveille was just sounding as they entered the camp and presented
themselves at the door of Uncle Sam's tent. During the weeks that had
elapsed since their arrival in France, Jim and Uncle Sam had acquired a
fair working knowledge of the language, and, though it still remained a
queer mixture of French and English, they and the children managed to
understand each other very well.
"Bonjour, kids!" cried Uncle Sam in astonishment, when he saw the two
children at the tent door. "What on earth are you doing here? Don't you
know visitors are not expected in camp at this hour?"
"Sh--sh!" said Pierre, laying his finger on his lips. "Nobody must see
us! We have important news!"
Uncle Sam sat up in bed. "Why, I believe you have," he said, looking
attentively at their pale faces. "Just wait a minute while I get my
clothes on. Here, you--Jim," he added, poking a recumbent figure in the
adjoining cot. "Roll out! It's reveille!"
Jim sat up at once and rubbed his eyes, and, after a hurried
consultation, the two men turned the two children with their faces to
the wall in one corner of the tent, while they made a hasty toilet in
the other.
"Now, then, out with it," said Uncle Sam a few moments later. "Que
vooly-voo? What's up?"
Jim sat down beside him on the edge of the cot, and the two men
listened in amazement to the story the two children had to tell. When
they had finished, Uncle Sam wasted no words. "Come with me to the
Captain tooty sweet," he said. And Jim added, as he patted the Twins
tenderly on the head, "By George, mes enfants, you ought to get the war
cross for this day's work."
A few moments more, and the children and Uncle Sam were ushered by an
orderly into the presence of the Captain, who was just in the act of
shaving. Uncle Sam's message to him had been so imperative that they
were admitted at once to his presence, even though his face was covered
with lather and he was likely to fill his mouth with soap if he opened
it. Uncle Sam saluted, and the Twins, wishing to be as polite as
possible, saluted too. The Captain returned the salute, and went on
shaving as he listened to their story, grunting now and then
emphatically instead of speaking, on account of the soap. When Pierre
came to what the soldier had said under the shed, he was so much
interested that he cut his chin.
"So that's their program, is it?" he sputtered, soap and all, mopping
his chin. "But how on earth did you happen to be in such a place as
that at such an hour in the morning?"
Pierre explained about the rabbits and the cress, and Uncle Sam added:
"They're from Fontanelle. Their father is a soldier wounded at the
Marne, and they lived under fire in Rheims for eight months before
coming here. They're some kids, believe me! They know what war is."
"Yes," said the Captain, "I remember them; they came up the river some
weeks ago." Then he turned to the children. "Would you know that
soldier if you were to see him again?" he asked.
"Oh, yes," said the children.
"Very well," said the Captain, "the men will go to breakfast soon. You
stay with Sam and watch them, and if you see that man go by you step on
Sam's foot. No one must see you do it. Be sure you don't make a mistake
now," he added, "and if you really do unearth the rascal, it's the best
day's work you ever did, for yourselves as well as for France. Sam, you
report to me afterwards, and be sure you give no occasion for suspicion
to any one."
"Yes, sir," said Sam, and saluted. Pierre and Pierrette saluted also.
The Captain returned the salute with ceremony. "You are true soldiers
of France," he said to the Twins as they left his tent.
If their comrades were surprised to see Uncle Sam standing with two
children by his side while the others passed into the mess tent with
cups and plates in hand, no one said anything. It was a little
irregular to be sure--but then--Americans were always unexpected! For a
long time the men filed by, and still there was no sign of the face
they sought. At last, however, Pierre came down solidly on Uncle Sam's
right foot, and at the same time Pierrette touched his left with her
wooden shoe. There, right in front of them, carrying his plate and cup,
and twirling his mustache, was the man they sought!
The Twins stood still, and not by the quiver of an eyelash did they
betray any excitement until the man had passed into the tent. Then
Uncle Sam said to them, "Now you scoot for home, or your Mother will be
worried to death! Tell your Father and Mother all about it, but don't
tell another soul at present." The children flew back across the
meadow, picked up their basket of cress, and when they reached the
Chateau, fed the hungry rabbits. Then they found their Father and
Mother and told them their morning's adventures.