The Boy Scouts on the Trail | Page 7

more vivid perhaps than to Henri, who had been brought up to know that some time all this would come about, and saw little that he had not been sure, some time, of seeing.
The crowds delayed them. Sometimes they had to dismount from their wheels and walk for a space, but in the end they came to their destination. Madame Martin, Henri's aunt, greeted him with delight.
"We were thinking of you, Henri!" she said. "Your uncle said to me only to-night, when we heard of the mobilization: 'And what of Henri? He cannot go home yet.' I knew you would come to us! And you have brought a friend? That is very well."
"Oh--an American!" she exclaimed, a moment later. "You have done well, my nephew."
"I'm half French," said Frank. Somehow he was beginning to feel very proud of that. These last few hours, that had shown him how France rallied in the face of a terrible and pressing danger had made it easier for him to understand his mother's love of her own land. He was still an American above all; that he would always be. But there was French blood in his veins after all, and blood is something that is and always must be thicker than water.
So he had to explain himself, and when he spoke of the uncle who was to come for him Madame Martin looked concerned.
"I am glad that you are here," she said, simply. "It may be hard for him to get here. But we can look after you until he comes. There is room enough--and, ma foi, you shall have all that we have!"
CHAPTER IV
THE RECRUITS
August was drawing to its close. And still Henri and Frank were in Paris. Henri's father and his uncle had gone to the front; Frank's Uncle Dick, if he had tried to reach Paris or St. Denis, had not succeeded. Or if he had, he had been unable to get word to Frank. War in all its terrible reality was in full blast. Troops were passing through Paris still, going to the front. But they were older men now, the last classes of the reservists. Every night, too, the city was dark save for the searchlights that played incessantly from the high buildings and from the Eiffel Tower. For now there was a new menace. The Germans fought not on land alone, but in the air. At any time a German might appear, thousands of feet above the city, prepared to rain down death and destruction from the clouds.
Paris was quiet and resigned. Wounded men were coming back; hospitals, from which floated the Red Cross flag, were everywhere. The hotels were sheltering the wounded; churches, theatres, all sorts of buildings not commonly so used were in the hands of the doctors and the nurses. There were few newspapers; there was neither paper on which to print them, nor men to run the great presses or write what they usually contained. All were gone; all except the old and the children. Hundreds of thousands of men were still in Paris, but they were the garrison of the city, the men who would man the forts if the Germans came.
And now, to get the news, Harry and Frank went to the places where the bulletins were posted, becoming a part of the silent crowds that waited. Every day they took their places in the crowds, to learn what they could and carry the tale back to Madame Martin. She was too busy to stand among the crowds herself; every day she was doing her part, helping in the nursing, and helping, too, to relieve the distress among the poor.
One day the two friends turned away. They had seen the last bulletin; for some hours there would be no more news.
"I'm afraid it's not going well, Harry," said Frank.
"No," said Henri, almost with a sob in his voice. "It looks to me, too, as if the Germans were winning!"
"But many thought they would win, at first," said Frank. "It's not time to be discouraged yet, Harry. At first we all believed the Belgians were doing better than they could do--because they fought so well at Liege. Now Namur has fallen. And the English--they are falling back."
"Ah, well, that is so," said Henri, brightening a little. "We did not expect to fight in Belgium, we French. Wait till they try to enter France! We will stop them--at Lille, at Maubeuge, at Valenciennes!"
"I hope so, Harry," said Frank, soberly. "But do you know what I think? I believe we ought to go to your home at Amiens. I think you have been waiting here on my account--because you thought my uncle was coming. Well, I think he couldn't come. I am better off with you. And perhaps I can help, too. I think