Upon Colonel Tempe's rejoining the men--who were already busy
preparing their suppers--he ordered the assembly to be sounded and,
when they were formed up, he formally thanked them, in the name of
the general, for the service that they had rendered; adding that
they would appear in general orders, upon the following day.
The men replied with a cheer of "Vive la France!"
Their commander then informed them that he, himself, had received a
step in rank and would, in future, command them with several other
corps; that Lieutenant Ribouville would, in future, be their
special commander, with the rank of captain; that the other two
lieutenants would be promoted; and that three of their number would
receive commissions and, while one of them remained under Captain
Ribouville, the others would--with the newly-made captains--be
attached to other corps. The two Barclays would receive commissions
as officers, on the staff of General Cambriels, himself.
When Colonel Tempe finished speaking, the boys could hardly believe
their ears; and looked at each other, to inquire if they heard
aright. There could be no mistake about it; for Colonel Tempe
called them forward and, shaking hands with them, congratulated
them on the promotion which, he said, they had well earned. The men
gave a hearty cheer; for the young English lads were general
favorites, for their good temper and willingness to oblige.
Directly the men were dismissed, the colonel again called the lads
to him.
"I am sorry to lose you," he said, "but of course it is for your
good. Come with me, at once, to General Cambriels. I will introduce
you, and you had better ask for four days' leave. You can get the
railway in four hours' ride from here. You will have no difficulty
in finding a place in some of the commissariat cities going to
fetch stores. If you start tonight, you can catch a train before
morning, and be in Dijon quite early. A couple of days will be
sufficient to get your uniforms made, and to buy horses.
"Your cousin will go with you. I gave him leave, last night, to
start upon our arrival here. He is not so strong as you are; and
the surgeon says that he must have rest, and quiet. He is quite
worn out.
"Now, pile your rifles--you will not want them any more--and come
with me. I have said good night to the general, but he will excuse
me."
Still bewildered, the boys did as they were ordered. As they were
piling their rifles, they heard a loud blubbering. Looking round,
they saw Tim Doyle, weeping most copiously.
"What is the matter, Tim?"
"Matter! Your honor, ain't yer going to lave us? What am I going to
do, at all?"
The boys hurried away, without reply--for Colonel Tempe was waiting
for them--and, on the way to headquarters, mentioned Tim's grief at
parting with them.
The general received the lads most kindly and, at once, granted
them four days' leave to go to Dijon, to procure uniform.
Colonel Tempe then said:
"You do not want orderlies, do you, general?"
"I do, indeed," the general answered. "I have about a dozen cavalry
men, of different regiments, who form my escort and act as
orderlies; but they are my entire force of cavalry."
"I have an Irishman in my corps, general, who only joined to be
near these young fellows. He was brought up among horses; and you
have only to put him in a hussar uniform, and he would make a
capital orderly, and would act as servant to your new staff
officers."
"By all means," the general said; "send him over, in the morning.
We will make a hussar of him, in half an hour; we have got a few
uniforms in store."
What a meeting that was, near Dijon! The boys, upon reaching the
station, had found a train on the point of starting; and it was
seven in the morning when they reached the town. The shops open
early, in French country towns; and although their tailor had not
as yet taken his shutters down, he was up and about, and willingly
measured them for their new uniforms--promising that they should
have them, without fail, the next afternoon. They then walked up to
the cottage; and dropped in just as the party, there, were sitting
down to breakfast.
There was a loud exclamation from Captain Barclay, and a scream of
delight from their mother, and Milly; and it was a good ten minutes
before they were sitting round the table, talking coherently. It
was but six weeks since they had left, but it seemed like years;
and there was as much to tell, and to talk about, as if they had
just returned, after an absence of half a lifetime, in India.
"How long have you got leave for?" was one of the first questions.
"Only four days," Percy said. "The corps has now joined the army of
the Vosges, and will act regularly with it. A move forward will
take place, in a few days, so that we could not ask for longer."
"Only four days!" Mrs. Barclay and Milly repeated, aghast.
"It is not much, mamma," Ralph put in, "but it is better than
nothing. You see, you did not expect us at all."
"Quite so," Captain Barclay said, cheerfully. "It is a clear gain,
and we waste the time in regretting that it is not longer. It is a
great delight to have you back again, even for a few hours. You
both look wonderfully well, and fully a year older than when you
left. Roughing it, and exposure, evidently suits you.
"Has Louis come back with you?"
"Yes, papa, he has come back to stay, for some time. He is
completely done up, and the surgeon has ordered rest and quiet, for
a while.
"How is Philippe?"
"He is getting on well; and will walk, the doctor hopes, in another
fortnight, or three weeks; but I have not seen him for--although
your uncle comes in, as usual, for a chat with me--Madame Duburg
has never forgiven me for having, as she says, influenced him in
allowing the boys to go; and of course, since this wound of
Philippe's, she has been more angry than ever."
The boys laughed. They understood their aunt's ways.
"Tim has not been hurt, I hope?" Milly asked.
"Oh no; Tim is as well as ever, and the life and soul of the
corps."
As breakfast went on, the boys gradually related the changes that
were taking place: Major Tempe's promotion to be colonel, and the
fact that he was placed in command of several corps of franc
tireurs, who were hereafter to act together. They said no word,
however, about their own promotion; having agreed to keep that
matter secret, until the uniforms were completed. They had also
asked their cousin to say nothing about it, at home; as otherwise
their uncle would have been sure to have come in to congratulate
them, and the secret would have been at an end, at once.
An hour later, Monsieur Duburg came in to see them. After the first
talk, he said to Captain Barclay:
"The way in which your boys have stood the fatigue is a proof, in
itself, how much the prosperity of a nation depends upon the
training of its boys. England is strong because her boys are all
accustomed, from their childhood, to active exercise and outdoor,
violent games. In case of a war, like this which we are going
through, almost every man could turn soldier, and go through the
fatigues of a campaign; and what is more, could make light of--not
to say enjoy--them.
"Here, upon the contrary, our young fellows do nothing and, in an
emergency like the present, want both spirit and strength to make
soldiers. Almost all the boys who went from here in Tempe's corps
have returned, completely worn out. Even Louis is a wreck;
although, thanks to the companionship of your boys, he has
supported it better, and longer, than the majority of them. Had he
began, as a child, to take pleasure in strong exercise; no doubt he
could have stood it as well as Ralph and Percy, who look absolutely
benefited by it. Unfortunately, I allowed my wife's silly objection
to prevail; until the last three years, when I insisted that they
should do as they liked.
"As I have said before, Barclay, I say again: I congratulate you on
your boys. You have a right to be proud of them. I wish the race of
young Frenchmen were only like them."
Great indeed was the astonishment--upon the afternoon of the
following day--when Ralph and Percy walked into the sitting room,
dressed as staff officers; feeling a little awkward with their
swords, but flushed with an honorable pleasure and pride--for their
epaulets had been gained by no family interests, no private
influence. They were worn as the reward of good service. Captain
Barclay wrung the boys' hands, silently. Their mother cried with
delight, and Milly danced round the boys like a small possessed
one.
"It is not for the absolute rank itself, boys, that I am pleased,"
their father said, when they had related the whole circumstances;
"for you have no idea of remaining in the French service and,
consequently, the rank will be of no use to you, after the end of
the war. Still, it is a thing all your lives to be proud of--that
you won your commission in the French army, by good service."
"What I am thinking of most," Mrs. Barclay said, "is that, now they
are officers in the regular army, they will run no risk of being
shot, if they are taken prisoners."
"We don't mean to be taken prisoners, mamma. Still, as you say, it
is certainly an advantage in favor of the regular uniform."
"And what is to become of Tim?" Milly asked.
"Oh, Tim is going to become a hussar, and act as one of the
general's orderlies; and be our servant, when he has nothing else
to do. You see, now we are officers, we have a right to servants."
"I am very glad Tim is going with you," Mrs. Barclay said. "My
brother tells us that he saved Philippe's life, and it seems a
comfort to know that he is with you."
The next morning Captain Barclay went down with them to the town,
and purchased a couple of capital horses which, by great good
fortune, were on sale.
Upon the morning of the fourth day of their visit, the boys took
leave of their father and mother, and left to join the headquarters
of General Cambriels. The parting was far less trying than it had
been, the first time they went away. The boys were not, now, going
out to an unknown danger. Although the risk that a staff officer
runs is, absolutely, somewhat greater than that incurred by a
regimental officer; still, it is slight in comparison with the risk
run by a franc tireur, employed in harassing an enemy, and in
cutting his communications--especially when capture means death.
Those who remained behind were encouraged partly by this thought,
but still more by the really irrational one that, as the boys had
gone away and come back safe, once, they would probably do so
again.
The evening of the same day, the Barclays reported themselves for
duty to the general and, next morning, began work. Their duty was
hard, though simple. By day they were constantly on duty--that is to
say, either riding over the country, or waiting near the general's
quarters in readiness for a start or--more seldom--writing, and
drawing up reports in the office. By night they took it in turns
with the other staff officers to be on duty--that is to say, to lie
down to sleep in uniform, with the horse saddled at the door, in
readiness to start at an instant's notice.
Tim's duties as an orderly were not heavy, and were generally over
by five o'clock; after which he acted as servant to the boys. It
was impossible, under the circumstances, for the staff to mess
together, as usual. There was neither a room available nor, indeed,
any of the appliances. Among Tim's other duties, therefore, was
that of cooking. They had also another orderly allotted to them,
and he devoted himself to the care of the horses; Tim undertaking
all other work.
The boys liked their new duties much. The work was hard, but
pleasant. Their fellow officers were pleasant companions, and their
general most kind, and genial.
A week after they had joined, General Cambriels advanced into the
Vosges to oppose the Prussians, who were marching south. The
progress of the army was slow, for they had to carry what supplies
they required with them. Colonel Tempe kept, with his command, a
few hours' march ahead; and one or other of the boys was frequently
dispatched with orders, etc. to obtain reports from him.
After three days' marching, they neared the enemy. All was now
watchfulness, and excitement. The franc tireurs were already
engaged in skirmishing and, early one morning, Ralph received
orders to ride forward and reconnoiter the enemy's position.
Passing through the posts of franc tireurs, he rode cautiously
along the road; with his hand on the butt of his revolver, and his
horse well in hand--ready to turn and ride for his life, on an
instant's notice.
Presently, as the road wound through a narrow gorge, lined with
trees, he heard a voice say, close in his ear, "Stop!"
He reined in his horse, and drew his pistol. The leaves parted; and
a man of some sixty years of age, armed with an old double-barreled
fowling piece, stepped out.
"The Germans are just beyond," he said. "I expect them every
moment."
"And what are you doing here?" Ralph asked.
"What am I doing?" repeated the peasant. "I am waiting to shoot
some of them."
"But they will hang you, to a certainty, if they catch you."
"Let them," the old man said, quietly; "they will do me no more
harm than they have done me. I had a nice farm, near Metz. I lived
there with my wife and daughter, and my three boys. Someone fired
at the Prussians from a wood near. No one was hit, but that made no
difference. The black-hearted scoundrels came to my farm; shot my
three boys, before their mother's eyes; ill treated her, so that
she died next day and, when I returned--for I was away, at the
time--I found a heap of ashes, where my house had stood; the dead
bodies of my three boys; my wife dying, and my daughter sitting by,
screaming with laughter--mad--quite mad!
"I took her away to a friend's house; and stayed with her till she
died, too, a fortnight after. Then I bought this gun, and some
powder and lead, with my last money; and went out to kill
Prussians. I have killed thirteen already and, please God," and the
peasant lifted his hat, devoutly, "I will kill two more, today."
"How is it that you have escaped so long?" Ralph asked, in
surprise.
"I never fire at infantry," the peasant said. "It was Uhlans that
did it, and it's only Uhlans I fire at. I put myself on a rock, or
a hillside, where they can't come--or in a thick wood--and I
content myself with my two shots, and then go. I don't want to be
killed, yet. I have set my mind on having fifty--just ten for each
of mine--and when I've shot the last of the fifty, the sooner they
finish me, the better.
"You'd better not go any farther, sir. The valley widens out, round
the corner; and there are Prussians in the nearest village."
"Thank you," Ralph said, "but my orders are to reconnoiter them,
myself, and I must do so. I am well mounted, and I don't think that
they will catch me, if I get a couple of hundred yards' start.
There are franc tireurs in the village, a mile back."
Ralph now rode carefully forward, while the peasant went back into
his hiding place by the wood. As he had said, the gorge widened
into a broad valley, a few hundred yards farther on. Upon emerging
from the gorge, Ralph at once saw a village--almost hidden among
trees--at a distance of less than a quarter of a mile. After what
he had heard, he dared not ride on farther. He therefore drew his
horse aside from the road, among some trees; dismounted, and made
his way carefully up the rocky side of the hill, to a point from
which he could command a view down the whole valley.
When he gained this spot, he looked cautiously round. Below, beyond
the village, he could see large numbers of men; could make out
lines of cavalry horses, and rows of artillery. A considerable
movement was going on, and Ralph had no doubt that they were about
to advance. In his interest in what he saw, he probably exposed his
figure somewhat; and caught the eye of some sharp-sighted sentry,
in the village.
The first intimation of his danger was given him by seeing some
twenty Uhlans dart suddenly out of the trees, in which the village
lay, at the top of their speed while, almost at the same moment,
eight or ten rifles flashed, and the balls whizzed round him in
most unpleasant propinquity. Ralph turned in an instant; and
bounded down the rock with a speed and recklessness of which, at
any other moment, he would have been incapable. Fierce as was the
pace at which the Uhlans were galloping, they were still a hundred
yards distant when Ralph leaped upon his horse, and galloped out in
front of them.
There was a rapid discharge of their carbines, but men at full
gallop make but poor shooting. Ralph felt he was untouched but, by
the convulsive spring which his horse gave, he knew the animal was
wounded. For a couple of hundred yards, there was but little
difference in his speed; and then Ralph--to his dismay--felt him
flag, and knew that the wound had been a severe one. Another
hundred yards, and the animal staggered; and would have fallen, had
not Ralph held him up well, with knee and bridle.
The Uhlans saw it; for they gave a shout, and a pistol bullet
whizzed close to his head. Ralph looked round. An officer, twenty
yards ahead of his men, was only about forty yards in his rear. In
his hand he held a revolver, which he had just discharged.
"Surrender!" he shouted, "or you are a dead man!"
Ralph saw that his pursuers were too close to enable him to carry
out his intention of dismounting, and taking to the wood--which,
here, began to approach thickly close to the road--and was on the
point of throwing up his arm, in token of surrender; when his horse
fell heavily, with him, at the moment when the Prussian again
fired. Almost simultaneously with the crack of the pistol came the
report of a gun; and the German officer fell off his horse, shot
through the heart.
Ralph leaped to his feet, and dashed up the bank in among the
trees; just as another shot was fired, with a like fatal result,
into the advancing Uhlans. The rest--believing that they had fallen
into an ambush--instantly turned their horses' heads, and galloped
back the road they had come.
Ralph's first impulse was to rush down into the road, and catch the
officer's horse; which had galloped on a short distance when its
master fell, and was now returning, to follow its companions. As he
did so, the old peasant appeared, from the wood.
"Thank you," Ralph said warmly. "You have saved my life or, at any
rate, have saved me from a German prison."
The peasant paid no attention to him; but stooped down to examine,
carefully, whether the Germans were both dead.
"Two more," he said, with a grim smile. "That makes fifteen. Three
apiece."
Then he picked up the officer's revolver, took the cartridge
belonging to it from the pouch and, with a wave of the hand to
Ralph, strode back into the wood.
Ralph removed the holsters from the saddle of his own horse--which
had fallen dead--placed them on the horse of the German officer and
then, mounting it, rode off at full speed, to inform General
Cambriels of the results of his investigation.
"Hallo, Barclay!" one of his fellow officers said, as he rode up to
the headquarters, "what have you been up to? Doing a little barter,
with a German hussar? You seem to have got the best of him, too;
for your own horse was a good one, but this is a good deal better,
unless I am mistaken.
"How has it come about?"
Quite a crowd of idlers had collected round, while the officer was
speaking; struck, like him, with the singularity of the sight of a
French staff officer upon a horse with German trappings. Ralph did
not wish to enter into explanations, there; so merely replied, in
the same jesting strain, that it had been a fair exchange--the
small difference in the value of the horses being paid for, with a
small piece of lead. Then, throwing his reins to his orderly--who
came running up--he went in to report, to the general, the evident
forward movements of the Germans.
"Are they as strong as we have heard?" the general asked.
"Fully, I should say, sir. I had no means of judging the infantry,
but they seemed in large force. They were certainly strong in
cavalry, and I saw some eight or ten batteries of artillery."
"Let the next for duty ride, with all speed, to Tempe; and tell him
to hold the upper end of this valley. Send Herve's battery forward
to assist him. Have the general assembly sounded."
Ralph left to obey these orders, while the general gave the colonel
of his staff the instructions for the disposition of his forces.
The army of the Vosges--pompous as was its name--consisted, at this
time, of only some ten thousand men; all Mobiles or franc tireurs,
with the exception of a battalion of line, and a battalion of
Zouaves. The Mobiles were almost undisciplined, having only been
out a month; and were, for the most part, armed only with the old
muzzle loader. Many were clothed only in the gray trousers, with a
red stripe, which forms part of the mobile's uniform; and in a blue
blouse. Great numbers of them were almost shoeless; having been
taken straight from the plow, or workshop, and having received no
shoes since they joined. Half disciplined, half armed, half
clothed, they were too evidently no match for the Germans.
The fact was patent to their general, and his officers. Still, his
instructions were to make a stand, at all hazards, in the Vosges;
and he now prepared to obey the orders--not hoping for victory, but
trusting in the natural courage of his men to enable him to draw
them off without serious disaster. His greatest weakness was his
artillery, of which he had only two batteries; against eight or ten
of the Germans--whose forces were, even numerically, superior to
his own.
In half an hour, the dispositions were made. The valley was wide,
at this point; and there were some five or six villages nestled in
it. It was pretty thickly wooded and, two miles behind, narrowed
again considerably. Just as the troops had gained their appointed
places, a faint sound of heavy musketry fire was heard, in the
gorge ahead; mingled, in a few minutes, with the deep boom of
cannon.
The general, surrounded by his staff, moved forward towards the
spot. From the road at the entrance to the narrow part of the
valley, nothing could be seen; but the cracking of rifles among the
trees and rocks on either side, the bursting of shells and the
whistling of bullets were incessant. The general and his staff
accordingly dismounted, handed their horses to the men of the
escort, and mounted the side of the hill.
After a sharp climb, they reached a point from whence they could
see right down the long narrow valley. On beyond, the trees--except
near the road--were thin; the steep sides of the hills being
covered with great blocks of stone, and thick brushwood. Among
these--all down one side, and up the other--at a distance of some
five hundred yards from the post taken up by the general, a
succession of quick puffs of smoke told where Colonel Tempe's franc
tireurs were placed; while among the trees below there came up
great wreaths of smoke from the battery, which was supporting them
by firing at the Germans.
These formed a long line, up and down the sides of the valley, at
three or four hundred yards distance from the French lines. Two
German batteries were down in the road, a few hundred yards to the
rear of their skirmishers; and these were sending shells thickly up
among the rocks, where the franc tireurs were lying hid; while two
other batteries--which the Germans had managed to put a short way
up on the mountain sides, still farther in the rear--were raining
shell, with deadly precision, upon the French batteries in the
road.
A prettier piece of warfare it would have been difficult to
imagine--the lofty mountain sides; the long lines of little puffs
of smoke, among the brushwood and rocks; the white smoke arising
from the trees, in the bottom; the quick, dull bursts of the
shells--as a spectacle, it was most striking. The noise was
prodigious. The steep sides of the mountain echoed each report of
the guns into a prolonged roar, like the rumble of thunder. The
rattle of the musketry never ceased for an instant, and loud and
distinct above the din rose the menacing scream of the shells.
"This is grand, indeed, Ralph!" Percy said, after a moment's
silence.
"Splendid!" Ralph said, "but it is evident we cannot hold the
gorge. Their skirmishers are three to our one, and their shells
must be doing terrible damage."
"Barclay," General Cambriels said, "go down to the battery, and
bring me back word how they are getting on."
The scene quite lost its beauty to Percy, now, as he saw Ralph
scramble rapidly down the hillside in the direction of the trees;
among which the French battery was placed, and over and among which
the shells were bursting, every second. It seemed like entering a
fiery furnace.
It was a terribly long ten minutes before Ralph was seen, climbing
up the hillside again; and Percy's heart gave a jump of delight,
when he first caught sight of his figure. As Ralph came near, his
brother saw that he was very pale, and had a handkerchief bound
round one arm. This was already soaked with blood. He kept on
steadily, however, until he reached the general; who had, upon
seeing he was wounded, advanced to meet him.
"One gun is dismounted, sir, and half the men are killed or
wounded."
"Go down, Harcourt, and tell Herve to fall back at once; and to
take position in the clump of trees, a quarter of a mile down the
valley, so as to sweep the entrance.
"Laon, go to the right, and you, Dubois, to the left. Order the
franc tireurs to retreat along the hillside and, when they get to
the end of the gorge, to form in the plain, and fall back to the
first village.
"You are wounded, Barclay. Not seriously, I hope?" he said, kindly,
as the officers hurried away on their respective missions.
"A splinter of a shell, sir," Ralph said, faintly. "I don't think
it has touched the bone, but it has cut the flesh badly."
Ralph was just able to say this, when his head swam; and he would
have fallen, had not Percy caught him in his arms, with a little
cry.
"He has only fainted from loss of blood," the general said. "Two or
three handkerchiefs, gentlemen.
"Now, major, bind them round his arm.
"Now take off his sash, and bind it as tightly as you can, over
them. That's right.
"Now carry him down the rocks, to the horses. We have no time to
lose."
Two of the officers at once put their arms under Ralph's shoulders,
while Percy took his feet; and they hastened down to the horses. As
they did so, Ralph opened his eyes.
"I am all right, now," he said, faintly.
"Lie quiet," the major said, kindly. "It is only loss of blood.
There is no real harm done.
"There, here are the horses."
Ralph was placed, sitting, on the ground; a little brandy and water
was given to him and, as the blood was oozing but slowly through
the bandage, he felt sufficiently restored to sit on his horse.
"Doyle, you go with Lieutenant Barclay," the colonel of the staff
said. "Ride slowly, and keep close beside him; so as to catch him,
if you see him totter. You will find the surgeons ready at the
general's quarters.
"Halt, stand aside for a moment. Here comes the artillery."
"Well done, lads, well done!" the general said, as the diminished
battery rattled past, at full gallop.
Then he himself, with his staff, put spurs to his horse and went
off at full speed; while Tim followed at a walk, riding by the side
of Ralph. The flow of blood had now stopped, and Ralph was able to
sit his horse until he reached the house which had served as the
general's headquarters, in the morning. Here one of the staff
surgeons had fitted up a temporary ambulance; and Ralph's bandages
were soon taken off, and his coat removed. Tim turned sick at the
sight of the ugly gash in his young master's arm, and was obliged
to go out into the air.
The artillery were already at work, and their fire told that the
franc tireurs had retired from the gorge, and that the Germans were
entering the wider valley.
"You have had a narrow escape," the surgeon said, after examining
Ralph's arm, "a quarter of an inch lower, and it would have cut the
main artery; and you would have bled to death in five minutes. As
it is, there is no great harm done. It is a deepish flesh wound
but, with your youth and constitution, it will heal up in a very
short time. I will draw the edges together, with a needle and
thread: put a few straps of plaster on, and a bandage; and then you
had better get into an ambulance wagon and go to the rear, at
once."
"Can't I go into the field again, now?" Ralph asked; "I feel as if
I could ride again, now."
"No, you can do nothing of the sort," the surgeon said. "You have
lost a lot of blood; and if you were to ride now, it might set off
the wound bleeding again, and you might be a dead man before you
could be brought back here. Keep quiet, and do as you are ordered,
and in a week you may be in the saddle again."
"It seems very hard," Ralph began.
"Not at all hard," the surgeon said. "You will see plenty more
fighting, before this war is over.
"This is a hard case, if you like; you have every reason to be
thankful."
As he spoke, he pointed to a young mobile who was brought in, his
chest literally torn open with a shell.
"I can do nothing for him," the surgeon said, after a brief
inspection of his wound; "he has not half an hour to live, and will
probably not recover consciousness. If he does, give him some weak
brandy, and water."
Wounded men were now being brought in fast, and Ralph went out and
sat down by the door.
"Fasten my horse up here, Tim. The ambulance will be full of poor
fellows who will want them more than I shall. If I see that we are
being driven back, I shall mount and ride quietly back.
"No, there is nothing more you can do for me. Go and join Percy."
The fight was now raging furiously. The Germans, covered by the
fire of their artillery, had debouched from the pass and were
steadily pressing forward. They had already carried the village
nearest to them. This the French had set fire to, before
retreating, to prevent its serving as a shelter for the enemy. The
Mobiles stood their ground, for the most part well, under the heavy
fire of shot and shell; but their muzzle loaders were no match for
the Germans' needle guns, and the enemy were pressing steadily
forward. Just as Tim Doyle rode up to the staff, the Germans had
taken another village.
"That village must be retaken," the general said. "Barclay, ride
and order the Zouaves to carry it, with the bayonet."
Percy galloped off to where the Zouaves, lying behind a ridge in
the ground, were keeping up a heavy fire in answer to the storm of
shot and shell which fell around them. He rode up to the officer in
command.
"The Zouaves are to retake the village, with the bayonet," he said.
The colonel gave the order, but the fire was so heavy that the men
would not face it. Again and again the officer reiterated the
order; standing exposed on the bank, in front of his men, to give
them confidence. It was in vain, and the colonel looked towards
Percy with an air of despair. Percy turned his horse, and galloped
back to the general.
"The colonel has done all he can, sir, but the men won't advance."
"The fire is very heavy," the general said, "but we must have the
village back again."
And he rode off, himself, to the battalion of Zouaves. The shot and
shell were flying around him, but he sat on his horse as immovable
as if at a review.
"My lads," he said, in a loud, clear tone, "generally the
difficulty has been to prevent the Zouaves rushing to an attack.
Don't let it be said that a French general had to repeat, to French
Zouaves, an order to charge before they obeyed him."
In an instant the Zouaves were on their feet and, with a cheer,
went at the village. The Germans in possession fired rapidly, as
the French approached, and then hastily evacuated it; the Zouaves
taking possession, and holding it, under a tremendous fire.
All the afternoon the battle raged, villages being taken and
retaken, several times. The Germans, however, were gradually
gaining ground. Some of the regiments of Mobiles had quite lost all
order and discipline, and their officers in vain tried to persuade
them to hold the position in which they were placed. Two of the
staff officers were killed, three others wounded.
Percy had escaped, almost by a miracle. Over and over again, he had
carried the general's orders across ground swept by the enemy's
shot and shell. A horse had been killed under him, but he had not
received even a scratch; and now, mounted upon the horse of one of
the officers, who was killed, he was returning from carrying an
order across a very open piece of ground, at full gallop. Suddenly
he came upon a sight which--hurried as he was, and exposed as was
the position--caused him instantly to draw his rein, and come to a
full stop.
Illustration: The Children on the Battlefield.
There, in the open field, were two children: the one a boy, of six
or seven years old; the other a little flaxen-haired, blue-eyed
girl, of five. They were quietly picking flowers.
"What are you doing here?" Percy asked, in astonishment.
He spoke in French and, receiving no answer, repeated the question
in German.
"What are you doing here?"
"If you please, sir," the boy answered, "I have been out in the
wood, with Lizzie, to pick flowers; and when I came back there was
a great fire in the house, and a great noise all round, and I
couldn't find father and mother; and so we came out, to look for
them."
Percy did not know what to do. It was too pitiful to leave the poor
little creatures where they were; and yet, he could not carry them
away. He had no doubt that their parents were hid in the woods.
"Look here," he said; "if I take Lizzie upon my horse, will you run
along after me?"
"No, no," the little girl said, vehemently.
There was no time for parley.
"Look here, do you see those soldiers lying down in a ditch?" Percy
asked, pointing to a line of Mobiles, not fifty yards in front.
The children nodded.
"Now look here, the best thing you can possibly do is to play at
being soldiers. It is capital fun. You lie down quite flat in that
ditch, and throw little stones over the bank. Don't you go away.
Don't get up, whatever you do; and if you are good children, and
play nicely, I will send father and mother to you, if I can find
them. If they don't come, you go on playing at soldiers till all
this noise stops; and then, when it is quite quiet, you go home,
and wait there till father and mother come back."
The children were delighted with the idea, and threw themselves
flat in the bottom of the ditch; and Percy went on again, at full
gallop. The French were now being driven back, towards the point
where the valley narrowed again; and many of the Mobiles were in
full flight. General Cambriels, therefore, withdrew his artillery
to a point where they could cover the movements; and then ordered a
rapid retreat--ten regiments of line, and the Zouaves, acting as
rear guard.
It was already getting dark, and the movements were carried out
with but slight loss. The Germans, contented with their success,
attempted no movement in pursuit.