The Children of France | Page 9

saw many cannon and machine guns, large
numbers of cavalrymen and infantry. He estimated as best he could
how many of them there were. He saw, too, that the cannon were being
placed so their muzzles pointed toward the river. Francois nodded
wisely.
"'It is to shoot over to our side of the river,' he said to himself. 'One

would not think they could shoot so far as our village. But they shall
find our fine French cannon can shoot farther.'
"His reflections were broken in upon rudely when he was thrust into
what proved to be the guardhouse. In reality he was thrown in by the
two soldiers who had picked him up and sent him sprawling on the
floor. 'What less could one expect from a Boche?' he muttered. For
aught he knew, he soon would get worse. A sentry was posted at the
door and Francois was informed that if he tried to escape he would be
shot then and there.
"The guard house also was used to store equipment in. There were, as
he observed, many rifles stacked in rows and heaps of knapsacks,
helmets and blankets. The only light in the cell-like room into which he
had been thrust came in through a narrow window high up and far out
of his reach, a window small like those in a prison cell.
"It was not a pleasant situation in which little Francois found himself,
but what fears he had were for the people of his village and the French
troops there. He already had used his eyes to good advantage, and now
had a very clear idea of the size of the German force and its equipment.
'I shall make my escape and hasten back to tell our brave captain what I
have seen,' he promised himself.
"Escape, however, was not so easy. The window was too high by
several feet for him to reach and to go out through the door meant that
he surely would be shot or bayoneted. His bright little eyes swept the
room and instantly he saw a way of escape.
"'The bags!' he exclaimed, and straight-way began piling the knapsacks
and blankets underneath the window. The pile grew slowly. At last it
was high enough to permit the boy to reach the window sill with his
finger tips by standing on tip-toe on the pile he had built up.
"He drew himself up easily, for Francois was strong, and peered out.
"'It is well that Francois is little, for the window is small even for a dog
to squeeze through,' he muttered.

"Peering out to see what lay before him, he saw a garden in the rear of
the building and beyond that fields with hedges and bushes, but there
was not a soldier in sight on that side. The Prussians were busy on the
other side of the building preparing for action.
"'All is well,' said Francois. A new idea came to him. He would take a
German rifle and helmet with him as souvenirs and to prove to the
French captain that Francois really had been in the camp of the
Prussians. He helped himself to a rifle and a helmet, both of which he
threw out into the garden. After a keen, sweeping glance about, the boy
crawled out head first and let himself go. Francois nearly broke his
neck in the fall to the ground, landing as he did on his head and
shoulders. For a moment he lay where he had fallen, then staggered to
his feet, dizzy and a little weak from the jolt. He started away without,
as yet, having a clear idea as to which was the right direction for him to
take. The boy dodged from bush to bush and, reaching a hedge, bored
his way through it and skulked along the other side of it, dragging the
rifle behind him, the German helmet tightly clutched under one arm.
"'Where am I? Ah! The village is to the left. I must turn back and start
again,' he decided. This was risky, but there seemed no other course for
him to follow. Retracing his steps for some distance he finally struck
off in the right direction. When he came in sight of the stream he
discovered that the bridge was so far away that he could not hope to
reach it without being discovered.
"'But Francois can swim,' he told himself. 'He shall yet fool the
Prussians. Look out! There they go!' German soldiers already were
running toward the bridge, and he knew that his escape had been
discovered. He believed, however, that he was far enough away so they
would not see him.
"Francois swung the rifle over his shoulder and secured it there by its
carrying strap, jammed the helmet tightly