It must not be supposed, because things were more cheerful for the
inhabitants of Fontanelle, that they had forgotten the war. They were
reminded of it every day, not only by the presence of soldiers, but by
the sound of distant guns, and by the visits of German airplanes. Often
in the middle of the night an alarm would be given, and the people of
the village would spring from their beds and seek refuge in the cellars
of the Chateau--that is, all but Kathleen; she obstinately refused to
go, even when the Doctor reasoned with her. "Let me die in my bed," she
pleaded. "It's better form. Our best people have always done it, and
besides when I'm waked suddenly that way I'm apt to be cross." So, when
the sound of the buzzing motor was heard in the sky, she simply drew
the covers over her head, and stayed where she was, while a strange,
half-clad procession, recruited from stables and granary, filed into
the Chateau cellar. These raids were likely to occur on bright nights,
and as the time of the full moon approached, the people of the village
grew more watchful and slept less soundly.
On the night following the adventure of the Twins in the meadow, though
the moon shone, no aerial visitor appeared, nor did one come the next
night after. Neither did any news from camp come to the village. Pierre
and Pierrette longed to tell Mademoiselle and the Doctor their secret,
but Uncle Sam had told them to share it with no one but their parents,
and they knew obedience was the first requisite of a good soldier; so
they said nothing, and nearly burst in consequence. They went no more
to the meadow after cress, however. Mother Meraut saw to that. If they
had gone there on the morning of the next day but one after their
encounter with the spies, they would have had a still more thrilling
experience, for at midnight Uncle Sam, Jim, and the Captain had quietly
stolen away from camp and hidden themselves in the straw. There they
stayed until in the gray of the early dawn they saw a boat come up the
river, and the slouching figure of the spy stalk across the meadow to
his rendez-vous under the shed. They stayed there until the soldier
appeared, and until they had heard with their own ears the plan for
signaling the German airplane that night, and for giving information
which would en able the aviator to blow up their stores of powder and
ammunition. Then, suddenly and swiftly, at a prearranged signal, the
three men sprang from the straw, and the astonished spies found
themselves surrounded and covered by the muzzles of three guns. They
saw at once that resistance was useless, and sullenly obeyed the
Captain's order to throw up their hands. They were then marched back to
camp, turned over to the proper authorities, and the next morning at
sunrise they met the fate of all spies who are caught.
That was not the end of the affair, however, for, knowing that the
airplane which the spy had referred to as the "Buzzard" was to be
expected that night, and that the German aviator would look for signals
from the straw-stack, plans were made for his reception, and this part
of the drama was witnessed from the village as well as from the camp.
The night was clear, and at about eleven o'clock the whirr of a motor
was heard in the distance. The Doctor, who had returned late from a
visit to a sick patient in an adjoining village, heard it, and at once
gave the alarm. Out of their beds tumbled the sleepy people of
Fontanelle, and, wrapping themselves in blankets or any garment they
could snatch, they ran out of doors and gazed anxiously into the sky.
Pierre and Pierrette, with their parents and grandparents, were among
the first to appear. They saw the black speck sail swiftly from the
east, and hover like a bird of ill omen over the meadows. No alarm
sounded from the camp, but suddenly from the shadows three French
planes shot into the air. Two at once engaged the enemy, while a third
cut off his retreat. The battle was soon over. There were sharp reports
of guns and blinding flashes of fire as the great machines whirled and
maneuvered in the air, and then the German, finding himself outnumbered
and with no way of escape, came to earth and was taken prisoner.
"Three of 'em bagged, by George," exclaimed Jim to Uncle Sam, when the
aviator was safely locked up in the guardhouse, "and all due to the
pluck and sense of those two kids. If it hadn't been for them, the
chances are we'd all have been ready for cold storage by this time.
They've saved the camp--that's what they've done! There are explosives
enough stored here to have blown every one of us to Kingdom-come!"
"Right you are, Jim," replied Uncle Sam with hearty emphasis, "we
surely do owe them something, and that's a cinch. Let's talk with the
boys."
That night Uncle Sam and Jim made eloquent use of all the French they
knew as they sat about the camp-fire, and told the story of Pierre and
Pierrette to their comrades in arms. Not only did they tell of their
finding the spies and saving the camp from destruction, but of their
Father, wounded at the Marne, of their experience in the Cathedral at
Rheims, and of all they had suffered there, and especially of their
plucky Mother whose spirit no misfortune could break. And when they had
finished the tale, the men gave such a hearty cheer for the whole
Meraut family that it was heard in the village a mile away, though no
one there had the least idea what the noise was about.
The next day Uncle Sam and Jim appeared in Fontanelle and told the
story of the spies to the Doctor and Mademoiselle, and then they held a
long private conference with Mother Meraut. The children were on pins
and needles to know what they were talking about, and why Mother Meraut
looked so happy afterward, but she only shook her head when they begged
her to tell them, and said, "Someday you'll find out."
Two days later an orderly rode into the Chateau gate on horseback, and
inquired for Pierre and Pierrette Meraut. At the moment he arrived the
Twins were feeding the rabbits, but they came running to the gate when
their Mother called them, and the orderly handed them an envelope with
their names on it in large letters. The Twins were so excited they
could hardly wait to know what was inside. They had never before
received a letter. Their Mother opened it and read the contents to the
astonished children. This was the note:--
"The Commandant and men of the Foreign Legion request the pleasure of
the company of Pierre and Pierrette Meraut, and of all the people of
Fontanelle at a birthday party to be held at Camp (of course the exact
name of the camp has to be left out on account of the Censor) on July
14th at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. R. S. V. P."
The eyes of Pierre and Pierrette almost popped out of their heads with
surprise. "Why, Mother," they cried, "that's our birthday! And it's
Bastille Day too! Do you suppose it is the birthday of the Commandant
also?"
"Maybe," said their Mother, smiling. "Anyway it is the birthday of our
dear France."
The orderly smiled, too, and touched his hat. "Is there an answer?" he
asked.
"There will be," said Mother Meraut, "but first the others must be
told."
The Twins ran with their wonderful letter to the dispensary and told
the Doctor. Then they found Mademoiselle, who, with Kathleen's
assistance, was putting a new tire on one wheel of the truck. They
found Louise mending a chicken-coop, and Mary and Martha sorting
supplies in the storeroom. They found all the other people of the
village, some in the garden and some working elsewhere, and every
single one said they should be delighted to go.
"Now," said Mademoiselle, when they returned to her and reported, "you
must write your acceptance."
The Twins looked blank. "Can't we just tell him?" they asked anxiously.
"We can't write very well--not well enough to write to the Commandant."
"Oh, but," said Mademoiselle, "I'm sure he will expect a letter, and
you must just write the very best you can, and it will be good enough,
I'm sure. Get writing-materials, and I will help you."
At her direction Pierre brought paper and ink from her little house,
and the two children sat down on the ground beside the truck.
"Now, what shall we say?" asked Pierrette.
"I know," said Pierre; "let's say: 'Thank you for asking us to your
party. We are all coming. Amen!' Don't you think that would do?"
Mademoiselle bent over her tire. "Yes," she said, "I think he will like
that, but I'd both sign it if I were you."
So the Twins signed it and put it in an envelope and gave it to the
orderly, who promptly put it in his pocket, saluted, wheeled his horse,
and galloped away toward camp.
The days before the party were full of excitement for the Twins. They
thought of nothing else, and how strange it was that Bastille Day and
the Commandant's birthday both should be the same as theirs. Mother
Meraut bought some cloth, and made Pierrette a new dress, and Pierre a
new blouse, to wear on the great occasion, and when the day finally
came, the children searched the fields to find flowers for a bouquet
for the Commandant; since they had no other birthday gift to offer him.
At three o'clock in the afternoon the whole village was ready to start.
Mademoiselle drove the truck with the old people and little children
sitting in it on heaps of straw. Kathleen was the driver of the Ford
car, and had as passengers Father Meraut, because he was lame, and
Grandpere because he was Grandpere, and the Twins because it was their
birthday; and everybody else walked.
When they reached the camp, they found Jim and Uncle Sam ready to act
as guard of honor to conduct them to the Commandant, who, with the
Captain beside him, waited to receive them beside the flagstaff at the
reviewing-stand of the parade-ground. It seemed very strange to Pierre
and Pierrette that they should walk before their parents, and even
before the Doctor and Mademoiselle, but Uncle Sam and Jim arranged the
procession, and placed them at its head. So, carrying their bouquet of
flowers, they followed obediently where their escort led. "Now, kids,"
said Uncle Sam in a low voice as they neared the reviewing-stand, "walk
right up and mind your manners. Salute and give him the bouquet, and
speak your piece."
"We haven't any piece to speak," quavered Pierrette, very much
frightened, "except to wish him many happy returns of his birthday."
Uncle Sam's eyes twinkled. "That'll do all right," he said; only of
course he said it in French.
The regiment was massed before the reviewing-stand as the little
company came forward to meet their host, and when at last Pierre and
Pierrette stood before the Commandant, with the beautiful flag of
France floating over them, though they had been fearless under
shell-fire, their knees knocked together with fright, and it was in a
very small voice that they said, together, "Bonjour, Monsieur le
Commandant, accept these flowers and our best wishes for many happy
returns of your birthday."
The Commandant took the flowers and smiled down at them. "It is not my
birthday, my little ones," he said gently, "it is the birthday of our
glorious France and of two of her brave soldiers, Pierre and Pierrette
Meraut, as well, and the Foreign Legion is here to celebrate it! Come
up here beside me." He drew them up beside him on the reviewing-stand
and turned their astonished faces toward the regiment.
"Men of the Foreign Legion," he said, "these are the children who
discovered two spies, and by reporting them saved our camp from
probable destruction." Then, turning again to the children, he said:
"By your prompt and intelligent action you have prevented a terrible
catastrophe. In recognition of your services the Foreign Legion desires
to make you honorary members of the regiment, and France is proud to
claim you as her children!" Then he pinned upon their breasts a cockade
of blue, white, and red, the colors of France, and kissed them on both
cheeks, the regiment meanwhile standing at attention.
When he had finished the little ceremony, the men, responding to a
signal from the Captain; burst into a hearty cheer. "Vive Pierre! Vive
Pierrette! Vive tous les Meraut," they cried.
For a moment the Twins stood stunned, petrified with astonishment,
looking at the cheering men and at the proud upturned faces of their
parents and the people of Fontanelle. Then Pierre was suddenly
inspired. He waved his hat in salutation to the flag which, floated
above them and shouted back to the regiment, "Vive la France!" and
Pierrette saluted and kissed her hand. Then the band struck up the
Marseillaise, and everybody sang it at the top of his lungs.
It was a wonderful golden time that followed, for when the children had
thanked the Commandant, all the people of Fontanelle were invited to
sit on the reviewing-stand and watch the regiment go through the
regular drill and extra maneuvers in honor of the day, and when that
was over, the guests were escorted back to the mess tent, and there
they had supper with the men. Moreover, the camp cook had made a
magnificent birthday cake, all decorated with little French flags. It
was cut with the Captain's own sword, and though there wasn't enough
for the whole regiment, every one from Fontanelle had a bite, and
Pierre and Pierrette each had a whole piece.
When the beautiful bright day was over and they were back again in
Fontanelle, the Twins found that even this was not the end of their joy
and good fortune, for Mother Meraut told them that the regiment had put
in her care a sum of money to provide for their education. "Children of
such courage and good sense must be well equipped to serve their
country when they grow up," the Commandant had said, and the men,
responding to his appeal, had put their hands in their pockets and
brought out a sum sufficient to make such equipment possible.
More than that, Uncle Sam and Jim had two small uniforms made for
them,--only Pierrette's had a longer skirt to the coat,--and on parade
days and other great occasions they wore them to the camp, with the
blue, white, and red cockades pinned proudly upon their breasts.
Indeed, they became the friends and pets of the whole regiment, and
were quite as much at home with the soldiers as with the people of
Fontanelle.
Then one day Uncle Sam had a letter from home in which there was
wonderful news. It said that the city of Rheims had been "adopted" by
the great, rich city of Chicago far away across the seas, and that some
happy day when the war should be over and peace come again to the
distracted world, Rheims should rise again from its ashes, rebuilt by
its American friends.
In this hope the Twins still live and work, performing their duties
faithfully each day, like good soldiers, and praying constantly to the
Bon Dieu and their adored Saint Jeanne that the blessings which have
come to them may yet come also to all their beloved France.