The Boy Scouts on the Trail | Page 8

you should go to your mother, if she is alone at Amiens, because--"
Henri turned on him fiercely.
"Do you mean you think the Germans can get to Amiens?" he cried furiously. "Never! Never! They will never come so far! They will be stopped long before they get near it!"
"I think so--and I hope so," said Frank. "But if my mother were there I should want to be there, too. I've read a great deal about war and battles lately, Harry, and I know that often an army has to retreat, not just because it's beaten, but because it's necessary for battles that are planned later on. The English and the French toward the coast are retreating now--on the left of the allies. They are moving back toward Amiens, and the Germans are following them."
Henri continued to argue bitterly against the possibility that Frank suggested, but his arguments grew weaker. And when he told his aunt what Frank had said she sighed despairingly.
"I, too, have been thinking that," she said. "These are terrible times for our poor France. We shall win--everyone believes that. But we shall suffer greatly first. I have talked with General Broche--you know him, Henri. He is too old and weak to fight now, but he was active in 1870. And he says--he says that the government may move soon, away from Paris!"
"Then they think--!" cried Henri, almost overcome.
"They do not know--no one knows. But if there is to be another siege, it is better that the government should be where the Germans cannot bottle it up. I shall stay here, but I shall be safe. There are plenty to do what I need. Go to Amiens, Henri. Your place is near your mother. If there seems to be danger, beg her to come here, or even to go to her friends, the Douays, in Nice. There at least all will be safe."
Henri did not argue with his aunt. It was hard for him to realize the truth, as it was for Frenchmen older than himself. But he admitted it to Frank and even to himself, that night. And so the next morning they started for Amiens. An officer, returning to the front after bringing despatches to Paris, agreed to see that they reached the northern city safely. Without him, indeed, they would have found it difficult, if not impossible, to get aboard a train, for while other railways were open those that led to the front were entirely in the hands of the military authorities.
But thanks to the friendly officer, a friend of the Martin family in Paris, they reached Amiens quickly enough. On the way, more than once they passed long trains carrying wounded, and, several times, other trains on which were packed German prisoners. These, under close guard, looked out sullenly from the windows. The sight delighted Henri.
"That doesn't look much as if we were losing, does it?" he cried happily.
Amiens itself was a smaller Paris. In times of peace, Amiens is, like many other French cities, a curious place, owing to the contrast between its character as a busy, bustling, manufacturing town, and its other character as a place where there are many renowned examples of ancient art. But now it was quiet save for the ever present soldier. Troops were passing through the streets; in the station several hundred were entraining.
"Do soldiers go from here, too?" asked Frank.
"Yes. Amiens is the headquarters of the second army corps," explained Harry. "All the reservists of that corps report here, no matter where they live. When a regiment loses a lot of men, if it is in the second corps, new men from here go forward to fill their places. There is no sign of the Prussians, eh?"
"No," said Frank. "I hope there never will be! But, tell me, would they fight here? Are there fortifications?"
"Not new ones--no," said Harry. He pointed to the old citadel crowning one of the hills that commanded the town and the crooked, twisting course of the Somme river. "There is the old citadel. That still stands. But the ancient battlements have been dismantled. I believe that in time of war, if the enemy got past the troops in the field, they could come peacefully into Amiens. It is not a fortress, like Lille or Maubeuge. Oh, look, there are some of the scouts! I see Monsieur Marron. He is the directeur of the troop--the scoutmaster. Let us speak to him."
They went over to a tall man in khaki, who was speaking to an officer in the red and blue uniform of the French army. Henri saluted, and when the officer went away, the scoutmaster turned to him with a smile.
"Well--so you are here, Martin," he said. "Are you going to join? We will waive formalities--we need all the scouts we can