CHAPTER VII

THE GLORY OF WAR

One glance at Henri seemed to satisfy him. The French boy, so typical of

his race, he was ready to take for granted. He asked just one question.

"You speak English well? You can understand thoroughly?"

"Yes, my colonel," answered Henri.

Then the officer turned to Frank.

"You are English--one of our allies?" he asked.

"No, sir." And Frank had to explain, for the hundredth time since the

war began, as it seemed to him, his nationality and his mixed blood. He

threw up his head a little proudly now as he told of his French mother.

"That is well enough," said the colonel. "You are neutral--in America.

But I think--ah, yes, I believe that you Americans remember Lafayette

and the help you had from Frenchmen once."

"I am ready to do what I can for France, colonel," said Frank, simply.

"That is all I can say."

"Or I, or any of us," said Colonel Menier. "Listen well, then. I shall

tell you things that no one else is to know. You, Martin, know the

country here? You can find your way about?"

"Yes, my colonel."

"I want you to take certain messages for me to the English headquarters.

Where it is to-day, I know. It is here--see, on the map?"

They looked at the spot he indicated, and concealed their surprise. They

had supposed the English much nearer the border.

"Where it may be to-morrow I cannot tell. But it is of the greatest

importance that the papers I give you be delivered at headquarters. It

is so important that we will not trust them to the telephone, to the

telegraph, to the field wireless. They are reports of the most

confidential nature, having to do with movements that will be of great

importance a few days from mow. You will not wear your uniforms of Boy

Scouts for the work in hand."

Neither of them said anything.

"That, you will understand, is because the uniforms would make you more

than ever conspicuous to the Germans. I do not think you will be

anywhere near the Uhlans. But in war one must not think; or, if one

does, one must think of all things that may happen. So you will wear

your ordinary clothes. You have one day, two days, three, if necessary,

to find the British headquarters. No more. These papers are written on

the thinnest of paper. It is so thin that the messages are contained in

these marbles that I give you--one to each of you."

They took the marbles and still they made no comment.

"If you are captured and searched, I believe you will have very little

to fear. It is not likely that a German officer, no matter how zealous

he may be, will be over-suspicious of a lot of marbles in a boy's

pocket. You will have a pocket full of them, and they will all look

alike. And if the Germans find you are only boys moved by the curiosity

of boys to see battlefields, they will not hurt you. I do not believe

they will even hold you. Probably they will not even take your marbles

away from you, thinking them harmless playthings, never once dreaming of

their secret. Only the officer at our headquarters who knows of your

coming will be able to distinguish one marble from another. How he will

do so, it is better that you should not know."

"Someone then will know that we are coming, my colonel?" said Henri, a

smile brightening his face.

"Evidently. When you reach the British lines, you will be challenged,

probably arrested and detained. Say to the soldier that he is to give a

word to his officer--Mezieres. That will insure your being taken to

headquarters. Everywhere, all through the field, the giving of that word

will mean that he who gives it is to be taken at once to the nearest

staff officer."

"Mezieres. We will remember, my colonel," said Henri. "We will change

into our ordinary clothes and start at once. On our return we report to

you here?"

Colonel Menier smiled sadly.

"When you return there will be no French troops in Amiens, I fear," he

said. "Indeed, I know it. The time to stop and turn to fight is not yet.

We shall not play into the hands of the Germans by fighting on their

chosen ground. We shall wait until we are ready. This is not 1870 when

armies were thrown away rather than retreat to ground where the chances

of victory were even, at the worst. Remember that, if you think the

retreat is shameful. If, in 1870, the army of Chalons had retreated upon

Paris, instead of marching to the trap at Sedan, French history might

well be different."

"Then Amiens is to be evacuated, my colonel?"

"It is the order. When you have done your errand, return here or do

whatever the British staff may require of you. It will not be for long

that Amiens shall be deserted. We shall return. But whether I shall be

here then, I do not know. Farewell! Obey the orders I have given you,

and you will deserve well of France."

They saluted then and went to make their preparations for the start.

"Harry," said Frank, "if the Germans are coming to Amiens, your mother

must go. She should be where she will be safe."

"You are right, Frank. We will try to persuade her to go. But will she

leave her task with the wounded?"

"She can take it up elsewhere."

But though they had expected to have difficulty in persuading her, they

found that Madame Martin was already making plans to go.

"The wounded are to be taken to Tours in great numbers," she told them.

"They will need nurses there, and I shall go. Henri, will you and

Francois come with me?"

"We cannot," said Henri. "There is work for us to do. You would want me

to do my share?"

"Of course I do!" she said, her eyes filling with tears. "And so speaks

every mother in France to-day! Stay, then, and serve your land in

whatever way you can, for France needs even the boys now. Remember,

Henri, that somewhere your mother is serving too, and she expects her

son to do his whole duty. More, she _knows_ he will do it." And her face

glowed with pride in her son as she clasped his hand in her own.

"I will remember," said Henri.

Then they went to their room, laid away their newly acquired uniforms of

Boy Scouts, and, keeping not even their new badges of which they had

been so proud, especially Henri, dressed in their ordinary clothes.

"Let's start on bicycles, anyhow," proposed Frank. "We may not be able

to stick to them, but we can save a lot of time on our way to Le Cateau.

That's where we shall go first, isn't it?"

"Yes. We had better start for there. You're right about the bicycles,

too. Even if we lose them, that does not matter so much," said Harry.

"And, Harry, we've got to pretend to be pretty stupid, if we are caught.

You mustn't act as if you knew too much. Don't let the Germans see how

you really feel about them. Pretend to be terribly frightened, even if

you're not," instructed Frank.

"All right. I see what you mean. Come on, then. Let's be off!"

Already, as they rode through the streets of Amiens, the signs of what

was to come were multiplying. Troops were marching out of the town, but

they were going south, away from the battle line, it seemed. And the

townspeople were not slow in taking the hint. They were gathering such

things as they could carry with them, and all those with anything of

real value, and with a place to take it, were preparing to get away

before the coming of the Germans. The refugees from Belgium had told

them lurid tales of the German treatment of captured places; they had no

mind to share the fate of their unhappy neighbors in the plucky little

country to the north. And so the exodus was beginning.

Henri was very much depressed.

"And this is war!" he said, sadly. "So far, except for the wounded, we

have seen only the suffering of women and children. Where is the glory

of war of which history tells? I want to see some fighting! I want to

know that we are really resisting the invaders of the fatherland."

"You'll know it soon enough," said Frank, with a smile. "You are too

impatient, Harry. And you must remember this. While all this is going

on, Russia is advancing too. The Austrians have been well beaten all

along their front already. Soon it will be the turn of the Germans to

meet Russia. They cannot long devote all their energy to France and the

British."

"That is so, Frank. But the Russians won't fight here."

"Perhaps not. But it will be the same. For every army corps that Russia

sends into Prussia means that Germany can spare so many troops less for

the war on this side. Harry, do you know what I think? I think Germany

is beaten already!"

"How can you say that, Frank? We know now that they have pushed us back

everywhere--that they are all over Belgium, and are marching on Paris,

just as they did the last time--"

"No, not just as they did the last time, Harry. For then they marched on

Paris with the field armies of France beaten--one of them captured, the

other locked up in Metz. Now the armies of France are still in the

field. And I say that Germany is beaten because her one chance in this

war was to destroy France as she did in 1870--quickly. If she had done

that, she might have been able to turn back, away from France, and meet

Russia with her full strength."

"Oh, I see what you mean. But I'll feel better when we turn and fight,

instead of running away from them."

"So will I and everyone else, Harry. But the great thing for our side

now is to win delay. Every day is as important as a battle. Russia

moves slowly, but when she is fully in the field she will have as great

an army ready as France and Germany together."

"Well, I hope you are right. Ah, now we are out of the town. We can go a

little faster. En avant!"

In the fields women and young boys were working hard, getting in the

harvest that the men had abandoned. Never had a countryside looked more

peaceful, except that at every bridge they passed now was a sentry,

usually a man of the reserve, held back from the front for this sort of

duty, while the younger men were at the front to do the actual fighting.

For a long time they were not challenged. The sentries looked at them

idly, but decided that they were not at all likely to be Prussian spies,

and let them pass. But when they came to the railroad line leading from

Amiens to Arras, which they had to cross, it was different. Their

crossing was at a culvert, where the road passed under the tracks. Here

there was not one sentry, but a post, under the command of a one-legged

veteran.

To him they were forced to make explanations, which he received gravely,

studying Frank with particular attention.

"So you carry despatches," he said. "You have a word, a countersign,

perhaps?"

"Mezieres," said Henri, promptly.

"Very well. Pass, then, but keep an eye open. There were Uhlans here

before daybreak."

"Here?"

"They are beginning to show now. We hear they were in Arras yesterday.

Some stayed with us. They sought to blow up the culvert here."

Then they went on. And just after they had passed the post, they saw

what the crippled veteran had meant when he had said that some of the

Uhlans had stayed. They lay beside the road, in their greenish gray

uniforms. They were the first German soldiers either of the boys had

seen. And, in the field, two old peasants were digging a grave.

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