With this branch of their work, Captain Tempe was determined that they should be thoroughly acquainted, and they were taught how to use cover of all kinds with advantage; how to defend a building, crenelate a wall, fell trees to form an obstacle across roads, or a breastwork in front of them; and how to throw themselves into square, rapidly, to repel cavalry.

Captain Barclay was indefatigable as a musketry instructor and, with the aid of a few friends, got up a subscription which was spent in a number of small prizes, so as to give the men as much interest as possible in their work. Captain Tempe impressed most strenuously, upon the men, the extreme importance of proficiency in shooting; as it was upon the accuracy and deadliness of their fire that they would have to rely, to enable them to contend with superior forces in the combats they would have to go through; and each man would probably have frequently to depend, for his life, upon the accuracy of his fire.

The original plan--of instructing a third of the men, each week, in musketry--was abandoned; and the parties were changed each day, in order to enable all to advance at an equal rate. Besides, their ammunition was supplied; so that those who chose to do so could practice shooting, for their own amusement, between their morning and afternoon drill.

The Barclays were constant in their attendance at the shooting ground; and the steady hand and eye which cricket, fencing, and other exercises had given them now stood them in good stead for, by the end of the time, they became as good marksmen as any in the corps. They still lived at home, as did all those members of the corps whose residences were in and around Dijon. For those who lived too far away to come in and out every day to drill, a large empty barn was taken, and fitted up as a temporary barracks.

The time did not pass away without great excitement for, as the end of August drew on, everyone was watching, in deep anxiety, for the news of a battle near Chalons--where MacMahon had been organizing a fresh army. Then came the news that the camp at Chalons was broken up, and that MacMahon was marching to the relief of Bazaine. Two or three days of anxious expectation followed; and then--on the 3rd of September--came the news, through Switzerland, of the utter defeat and surrender of the French army, at Sedan.

At first, the news seemed too terrible to be true. People seemed stunned at the thought of a hundred thousand Frenchmen laying down their arms. Two days later came the news of the revolution in Paris. This excited various emotions among the people; but the prevailing idea seemed to be that--now there was a republic--past disasters would be retrieved.

"What do you think of the news, papa?" the boys asked as, drill over, they hurried up to talk the matter over with their father.

"With any other people, I should consider it to be the most unfortunate event which could have possibly occurred," Captain Barclay said. "A change of Government--involving a change of officials throughout all the departments, and a perfect upset of the whole machinery of organization--appears little short of insanity. At the same time, it is possible that it may arouse such a burst of national enthusiasm that the resistance which, as far as the civil population is concerned, has as yet been contemptible--in fact, has not been attempted at all--may become of so obstinate and desperate a character that the Prussians may be fairly wearied out.

"There is scarcely any hope of future victories in the field. Raw levies, however plucky, can be no match for such troops as the Prussians, in the open. The only hope is in masses of franc tireurs upon the rear and flanks of the enemy. Every bridge, every wood, every village should be defended to the death. In this way the Prussians would only hold the ground they stand on; and it would be absolutely impossible for them to feed their immense armies, or to bring up their siege materiel against Paris.

"The spirit to do this may possibly be excited by the revolution; otherwise, France is lost. Success alone can excuse it; for a more senseless, more unjustifiable, more shameful revolution was, in my mind, never made. It has been effected purely by the Radicals and roughs of Paris--the men who have, for years, been advocating a war with Prussia; and who, a month ago, were screaming 'To Berlin.' For these men to turn round upon the Emperor in his misfortune and, without consulting the rest of France, to effect a revolution, is in my mind simply infamous.

"Even regarded as a matter of policy, it is bad in the extreme. Austria, Italy, and Russia--to say nothing of England--would, sooner or later, have interfered in favor of an established empire; but their sympathies will be chilled by this revolution. The democratic party in all these countries may exult, but the extreme democratic party do not hold the reins of power anywhere; and their monarchs will certainly not feel called upon to assist to establish a republic.

"Prussia herself--intensely aristocratic in her institutions--will probably refuse to treat, altogether, with the schemers who have seized the power; for the King of Prussia is perhaps the greatest hater of democracy in Europe.

"Still, boys, these changes make no difference in your duty. You are fighting for France, not for an empire or a republic and, as long as France resists, it is your duty to continue. In fact, it is now more than ever the duty of you, and of every Frenchman, to fight. Her army is entirely gone; and it is simply upon the pluck and energy of her population that she has to trust."

"Do you think Paris will hold out, papa?"

"She is sure to do so, boys. She has made the revolution, and she is bound to defend it. I know Paris well. The fortifications are far too strong to be taken by a sudden attack, and it will be a long time before the Prussians can bring up a siege train. Paris will only be starved out and, if her people are only half as brave as they are turbulent, they ought to render it impossible for the Prussians to blockade such an immense circle. At any rate, France has two months; perhaps much longer, but two months ought to be quite enough, if her people have but spirit to surround the enemy, to cut off his supplies, and to force him to retreat."

The next morning, when the corps assembled for drill, Captain Tempe addressed them on the subject of the events in Paris. He told them that, whether they approved or disapproved of what had taken place there, their duty as Frenchmen was plain. For the present they were not politicians, but patriots; and he hoped that not a word of politics would be spoken in the corps, but that everyone would give his whole thought, his whole strength and, if must be, his life in the cause of France.

His address was greatly applauded, and gave immense satisfaction to the men; for already differences of opinion were becoming manifest among them. Some had exulted loudly at the downfall of Napoleon; others had said little, but their gloomy looks had testified sufficiently what were their opinions; while many among the gentlemen in the corps, especially those belonging to old families, were well known to be attached either to a Legitimist or Orleanist Prince. The proposal, therefore, that no politics should be discussed during the war, but that all should remember only that they were fighting for France, gave great satisfaction; and promised a continuance of the good fellowship which had hitherto reigned in the corps.

It was a great day when, a fortnight from its first organization, the corps turned out for the first time in their uniforms. The band of the national guard headed them, as they marched down the high street of Dijon to the parade ground; and--as the spectators cheered, the ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and the whole corps joined in cheers, to the stirring notes of the Marseillaise--the young Barclays felt their cheeks flush, their hands tighten upon their rifles, and their hearts beat with a fierce longing to be face to face with the hated Prussians.

A day or two after this, the Snider rifles ordered from England by Captain Barclay arrived; and although the men at first preferred the chassepots, with which they were familiar, they were soon accustomed to the new weapons; and readily acknowledged the advantage which--as their commander pointed out to them--the dark-brown barrels possessed, for skirmishers, over the bright barrels of the chassepots which, with the sun shining upon them, would betray them to an enemy miles away.

A day or two afterwards, as Ralph and Percy were returning in the evening from drill, they heard a great tumult in the streets. They hurried forward to see what was the matter, and found an excited crowd shouting and gesticulating.

"Death to the spy!"

"Death to the spy!"

"Hang him!"

"Kill the dog!" were the shouts, and two gendarmes in the center of the crowd were vainly trying to protect a man who was walking between them. He was a tall, powerful-looking man; but it was impossible to see what he was like, for the blood was streaming down his forehead, from a blow he had just received.

Just as the boys came up, another blow from a stick fell on his head; and this served to rouse him to desperation, for he turned round, with one blow knocked down the fellow who had struck him, and then commenced a furious attack upon his persecutors. For a moment they drew back, and then closed upon him again. Blows from sticks and hands rained upon him, but he struggled desperately. At last, overwhelmed by numbers, he fell; and as he did so he raised a wild shout, "Hurroo for ould Ireland."

"He is an Englishman, Percy," Ralph exclaimed; "he is not a Prussian, at all. Come on!

"Here, Louis, Philippe, help; they are killing an Englishman."

Followed by their cousins--who had just arrived at the spot--the boys made a rush through the crowd; and arrived in another moment by the prostrate man, whom his assailants were kicking savagely. The rush of the four boys--aided by the butt-end of their rifles, which they used freely on the ribs of those who stood in their way--cleared off the assailants for an instant; and the two gendarmes--who had been hustled away--drawing their swords, again took their place by the side of their insensible prisoner.

The mob had only recoiled for a moment; and now, furious at being baulked of their expected prey, prepared to rush upon his defenders; shouting, as they did so:

"Death to the spy!"

The moment's delay had, however, given time to the boys to fix bayonets.

Chapter 4: Starting For The Vosges.

The day for the departure of the corps was near at hand. The party at the Barclays were all filled with sadness, at the thoughts of separation; but all strove to hide their feelings, for the sake of the others. Captain and Mrs. Barclay were anxious that the boys should leave in good spirits, and high hope; while the boys wished to keep up an appearance of merely going upon an ordinary excursion, in order to cheer their parents.

The day before starting, the whole corps marched to the cathedral; where mass was celebrated, a sermon preached, and a blessing solemnly prayed for for them. The boys had asked their father if he had any objections to their taking part in this ceremonial, in a Roman Catholic Church; but Captain Barclay had at once said that, upon the contrary, he should wish them to do so. Protestants might not approve of many things in the Catholic Church; but that could be no reason, whatever, against a Protestant taking part in a solemn prayer to God, wherever that prayer might be offered up.

The young Duburgs were unaffectedly glad that the time for their departure had come, for the month that had passed had been a most unpleasant one to them. Their mother had in vain tried to persuade them to stay; first by entreaty, and then by anger and, finding these means fail, she had passed her time either in sullen silence, or in remaining in bed; declaring that her nerves were utterly shattered, and that she should never survive it. She had refused to see Mrs. Barclay when the latter called, a day or two after their visit to the cottage, and she had not been near her since. Julie and Justine were forbidden to go in to see Milly and, altogether, there was quite an estrangement between the two families.

The boys however were, of course, constantly together; and Monsieur Duburg came in as usual, every day or two, for a chat with Captain Barclay.

September the fifteenth--the day of separation--arrived. They were to march at eight in the morning; and left home, therefore, at seven. This was so far fortunate that it left less time for the painful adieus. Captain Barclay had a long talk with the boys the night before, repeating all the hints and instructions which he had before given them.

It is not necessary to describe the parting. Every one of my readers can imagine for themselves how sad was the scene. How Milly sobbed aloud, in spite of her efforts; how Mrs. Barclay kissed her boys, and then ran up to her own room to cry alone; how their father wrung their hands and, after giving them his blessing, turned hastily away, that they might not see the tears which he could not keep back; and how the boys, in spite of their uniform and their dignity as soldiers, cried, too. Tim Doyle had gone on an hour before, taking their blankets; so they had nothing to do but to snatch up their guns and hasten away, half blinded with tears, towards the town. They reached it just as the bugle sounded the assembly. By this time they had steadied themselves and, in the work of preparing for the start, soon lost all feeling of despondency.

It would be difficult to find a more workmanlike little corps than the franc tireurs of Dijon as, with the band of the national guard at their head, playing the Marseillaise, they marched through the old city. Their uniform was a brownish gray Their blankets--rolled up tight and carried, like a scarf, over one shoulder and under the other arm--were brown, also. Their belts and gaiters were of buff leather. Their caps had flat peaks, to shade their eyes; but round the cap was rolled a flap lined with fur, which let down over the ears and back of the neck, tying under the chin. On the outer side of the fur was thin India-rubber, to throw the rain off down over the light waterproof cloaks; which each man carried in a small case, slung to his belt. The waterproof on the caps, when rolled up, did not show; the caps then looking like fur caps, with a peak.

Slung over the shoulder, on the opposite side to the blanket, was a haversack--or stout canvas bag--brown like the rest of the equipments. Each bag was divided into two compartments; the larger one holding a spare shirt, a few pairs of socks and handkerchiefs, a comb, and other small necessaries. In the other, bread, biscuits or other provisions could be carried. Each man had also a water bottle, slung over his shoulder.

On either side of the ammunition pouch, behind, was strapped a new boot; so placed that it in no way interfered with the bearer getting at the pouch. Next was fastened the tin box; the lid of which forms a plate, the bottom a saucepan or frying pan. On one side hung the bayonet; upon the other a hatchet, a pick, or a short-handled shovel--each company having ten of each implement.

It will be judged that this was a heavy load, but the articles were all necessaries; and the weight over and above the rifle and ammunition was not--even including the pick or shovel--more than half that ordinarily carried by a French soldier.

At the head of the corps marched its commandant. The French term commandant answers to an English major, and he will therefore in future be termed Major Tempe. Each of the four companies was also headed by its officer. Major Tempe had chosen for these posts four men who, like himself, had served--three in the army, and one in the navy. He had written to them as soon as the corps was organized, and they had arrived ten days before the start. One or two only of the franc tireurs--who had entertained a hope of being made officers--were at first a little discontented but, as it was evidently vastly to the advantage of the corps to have experienced officers, the appointments gave great satisfaction to the rest of the men. Fortunately, there were in the ranks several men who had served as privates or non-commissioned officers; and from these Major Tempe selected a sergeant, and a corporal, for each company.

Behind the corps followed the cart; loaded with the stores of the corps, a considerable amount of ammunition, two or three cases of gun cotton for blowing up bridges, several small barrels of powder, a large quantity of fine iron wire, three or four crowbars, bags of coffee and rice, and a keg of brandy, four kettles and as many large saucepans, together with all sorts of odds and ends. By the side of the horse walked Tim Doyle; dressed in the uniform of the corps, but without the equipments, and with a long blouse worn over his tunic. He was, in fact, already enrolled as an active member of the corps. This was done, in the first place, at his own earnest request; and upon the plea that thus only could he escape the chance of being seized as a spy, whenever he might for a moment be separated from the corps; and also that, unless he had a uniform like the rest, how could he take any vacancy in the ranks, even when it should occur?

Major Tempe, in exceeding the hundred and twenty determined upon, was influenced partly by these arguments; but more by the fact that difficulties would arise about food, cooking, and various other points, if the driver were not upon the same footing as the rest of the corps.

The march was not a long one--only to the railway station. A few carriages, with a truck for the cart, and a horse box, were drawn up alongside the platform in readiness; and in ten minutes more all were in their places, the carriages attached to the ordinary train and--amidst great cheering and waving of handkerchiefs and hats, from hundreds of people collected in the station to see them off--they started for the Vosges.

Railway traveling, at no time rapid, was extremely slow at this period; and it was evening before they arrived at Epinal, where they were to pass the night. The journey, shortened by innumerable songs and choruses, had scarcely seemed long. The railway ran throughout its whole distance through pretty, undulating country; indeed, towards the end of their journey, when they were fairly among the Vosges, the scenery became wild and savage. At Vesoul, which was about halfway, the train had stopped for two hours; and here wine, bread and cheese, cold sausages, and fruits were distributed to the men by the inhabitants--who were assembled in large numbers at the station, and gave the corps an enthusiastic reception. They were the first band of franc tireurs who had passed through, and the inhabitants regarded them as protectors against the wandering Uhlans; whose fame, although as yet far off, had caused them to be regarded with an almost superstitious fear.

At Epinal, a similar and even warmer greeting awaited them; Epinal being so much nearer to the enemy that the fear of Uhlans was more acute. The station was decorated with green boughs; and the Maire, with many of the leading inhabitants, was at the station to receive them. The corps formed upon the platform; and then marched through the little town to the Hotel de Ville, loudly cheered by the people as they passed along. Here they were dismissed, with the order to parade again at half-past four in the morning.

There was no trouble as to billets for the night, as the Maire had already made out a list of the inhabitants who had offered accommodation--the number being greatly in excess of the strength of the corps. These persons now came forward, and each took off the number of franc tireurs who had been allotted to them.

The sergeant of the first company, knowing the relationship and friendship of the young Barclays and Duburgs, had promised them that--when practicable--he would always quarter them together. Upon the present occasion, the four were handed over to a gentleman whose house was a short distance outside the town. Upon the way, he chatted to them on the proposed course of the corps, upon its organization and discipline; and they asked for the first time the question which was so often, in future, to be upon their lips:

"Had he any news of the enemy?"

The answer was that none, as yet, had come south of Luneville; and that indeed, at present they were too much occupied at Metz, and Strasburg, to be able to detach any formidable parties. Small bodies of Uhlans occasionally had made raids, and driven in sheep and cattle; but they had not ventured to trust themselves very far into the mountains.

Upon arriving at the residence of their host, they were most kindly received by his wife and daughter; who, however, could not refrain from expressing their surprise at the youthfulness of their guests.

"But these are mere boys!" the lady said to her husband, in German; "are all the franc tireurs like these?"

"Oh no," her husband said, in the same language, "the greater part are sturdy fellows but, as they marched by, I observed some twelve or fourteen who were scarcely out of their boyhood.

"It is cruelty to send such youngsters out as these. What can they do against these Prussians, who have beaten our best soldiers?"

"Fortunately," Ralph said in German--which he spoke fluently, as has already been stated--and with a merry laugh--which showed that he was not offended at the remark--"fortunately, fighting now is not an affair of spears and battle axes Age has nothing to do with shooting; and as for fatigue, we shall not be the first in the corps to give up."

"I must really apologize very much, but I had no idea that you understood German, or I should not have made any remarks," the lady said, smiling; "but so few French boys, out of Alsace, do understand it that it never struck me that you spoke the language. You will find it an immense advantage for, outside the towns, you will scarcely meet a person understanding French. But I am sure you must be all very hungry, and supper is quite ready."

They were soon seated at a well-spread table--waited upon by the daughter of the family--while their host and hostess sat and chatted with them, as to their corps, while the meal went on.

"Excuse another remark upon your personal appearance," the lady said, smiling, "but two of you look more like Alsatians than French. You have the fair complexion and brown, wavy hair. You do not look like Frenchmen."

"Nor are we," Ralph laughed. "My brother and myself, although French born, are actually English. Our father is an English officer, but our mother is French and, as you see, we take after him rather than her."

"But I wonder that, as your father is English, he lets you go out upon this expedition--which is very perilous."

"We wished to go--that is, we thought it was our duty," Ralph said; "and although they were very sad at our leaving, they both agreed with us."

"I wish all Frenchmen were animated by the same feeling," their host said warmly. "Your gallant example should shame hundreds of thousands of loiterers and skulkers.

"You speak French perfectly. I should have had no idea that you were anything but French--or rather, from the way you speak German, that you were Alsatian."

"We have lived in France all our lives, except for two years which we passed in Germany; and two years at one time, together with one or two shorter visits, in England."

"And do you speak English as well as French?"

"Oh yes, we always speak English at home. Our father made a rule that we should always do so; as he said it would be an immense disadvantage to us, when we returned to England, if we had the slightest French accent. Our mother now speaks English as purely and correctly as our father."

"Are your friends any relations of yours?"

"They are our cousins," Ralph said; "their father is our mother's brother."

For some time longer they chatted, and then their host said:

"It is half-past nine; and we are early people, here. You will have to be up by five, so I think that it is time you were off to bed. We shall scarcely be up when you start; but you will find a spirit lamp on the table, with coffee--which only requires heating--together with some bread and butter. You will have some miles to march before you breakfast.

"And now, you must all promise me that, if you come to this place again, you will come straight up here, and look upon it as your home. If you get ill or wounded--which I hope will not happen--you will, of course, go home; but something may occur not sufficiently important for you to leave the corps, but which could be set straight by a few days' nursing, and rest. In that case, you will come to us, will you not?"

The boys all gratefully promised to avail themselves of the invitation, in case of need; and then said good night and goodbye to their host, and went off to the room prepared for them. In the morning they were up in good time, dressed as quietly as they could--so as not to disturb their host--and went downstairs; lit the spirit lamp under a glass bowl full of coffee and milk and, in ten minutes, were on their way towards the town.

"We shall be lucky if we are often as comfortable as that," Percy said, looking back; and there was a general assent.

"There goes the bugle," Louis Duburg said; "we have a quarter of an hour, yet.

"What pretty girls those were!"

Louis was nearly seventeen and, at seventeen, a French lad considers himself a competent judge as to the appearance and manners of young ladies.

"Were they?" Percy said carelessly, with the indifference of an English boy of his age as to girls. "I did not notice it. I don't care for girls; they are always thinking about their dress, and one is afraid of touching them, in case you should spoil something. There is nothing jolly about them."

The others laughed.

"I am sure Milly is jolly enough," Philippe Duburg said.

"Yes, Milly is jolly," Percy answered. "You see, she has been with us boys, and she can play, and doesn't screech if you touch her, or mind a bit if she tears her frock. So are our cousins in England--some of them. Yes, there are some jolly girls, of course; still, after all, what's the good of them, taking them altogether? They are very nice in their way--quiet and well behaved, and so on--but they are better indoors than out."

The clock was just striking half-past five, as the boys reached the place of assembly. Most of the men were already upon the spot, and the bugler was blowing lustily. In another five minutes all were assembled; including Tim Doyle, with his horse and cart.

"Good-morning, Tim," the boys said, as they came up to him. "I hope you had as comfortable quarters as we had, last night."

"Splendid, your honor--downright splendid; a supper fit for a lord, and a bed big enough for a duchess."

The boys laughed at the idea of a duchess wanting a bed bigger than anyone else, and Tim went on:

"Ah, your honor, if campaigning was all like this, sure I'd campaign all my life, and thank you; but it's many a time I shall look back upon my big supper, and big bed. Not that I should like it altogether entirely; I should get so fat, and so lazy, that I shouldn't know my own shadow."

And now the bugle sounded again, and the men fell in. As they started, they struck up a lively marching song; and several windows opened, and adieus were waved to them as they passed down the street into the open country. Everyone was in high spirits. The weather, which had for some time been unfavorable, had cleared up; the sun was rising brightly, and they felt that they had fairly started for work. The road was rough, the country wild and mountainous, thick forests extended in every direction, as far as the eye could carry.

"There is one comfort, Percy," Ralph said, "if we are beaten and driven back, we might get into this forest, and laugh at the Prussians."

Percy cast rather a doubtful eye at the dark woods.

"The Prussians might not be able to discover us, Ralph; but I would as leave be killed by Prussian balls as die of hunger, and our chances of getting food there, for a hundred men, would be very slight."

"They don't look hospitable, certainly, Percy. I agree with you. We had better keep in the open country, as long as possible."

The first village at which they arrived was Deyvilliers. Here a halt was called for ten minutes, five miles having already been marched. Many of the men--less fortunate than the Barclays and Duburgs--had had nothing to eat upon starting and, when the arms were piled, there was a general dispersal through the village, in search of provisions. Bread had been bought over night, at Epinal, and brought on in the cart; which was fortunate, for the village was a very small one, and there would have been a difficulty in obtaining more than a loaf or two. Cheese and fruit were in abundance; and the boys bought some apples, and sat down by the little feeder of the Moselle which passes through the village, and watched it tumbling past on its way to join the main stream, a few miles below Epinal.

In a quarter of an hour, they were again on the march. In another five miles they reached Fontaine, lying a little off the road to their right. They had now marched ten miles, and Major Tempe ordered a halt for three hours. A piece of level ground was chosen, arms were piled, blankets and haversacks taken off, and then preparations began for their first meal. Men were sent off with kettles, for water. Others went up to the village with cans for wine--or beer for, in Alsace, beer is more common than wine. Tim took the horse out of the shafts, and gave him some oats. Some of the men were sent from each company to fetch wood, and the old soldiers prepared for the important operation of cooking.

Several little fireplaces were made, with stones and turf, open on the side facing the wind. In these sticks were placed and, when they were fairly alight, the saucepans--each holding the allowance of ten men--were placed on them. In these the meat--cut up in pieces of about half a pound--was placed; with pepper, salt, onions, rice, and potatoes peeled and cut up, and the whole filled up with water.

When the preparations were finished, the men threw themselves down under the shade of some trees; and smoked and chatted until, in about an hour, the cooking was complete. Each man then brought up his tin canteen, and received his portion of soup in the deep side, and his meat and vegetables in the shallow can. The bread had already been cut up. The tin drinking pots which, with knives, forks, and spoons, were carried in the canteens, were filled with beer and, with much laughing and fun, each man sat down on the grass, or scattered rocks, to eat his breakfast.

Many of the villagers had come down; and these brought, for the most part, little presents: a few apples, a little fresh cheese, or a bunch of grapes. It was a merry meal, and the boys agreed that it was the jolliest picnic that they had ever been at.

At two o'clock the bugle sounded. The cooking things were packed up and placed in the cart again; the blankets and haversacks slung on, and the rifles shouldered and, with many a good wish from the peasants, they marched forward again.

Eight miles further marching brought them to the end of their day's journey, the village of Destord. It was a tiny place, with scarcely over a half-dozen houses. Major Tempe in consequence determined, as the weather was fine, upon bivouacking in the open air. For a time, all were busy collecting wood. A sheltered place was chosen, for the village lay very high, close to the source of a little stream running into the river Mortagne.

The cooking places were again prepared for supper. At seven o'clock the meal was served, differing but little from that of the morning; except that after the men had eaten the soup, and the meat from it (in France called bouilli), they fried some thin slices of meat in the lids of their canteens, and concluded the meal with a cup of coffee.

Then four large fires were lit--one for each company--and a smaller one for the officers. Blankets were spread out on the ground round these fires, and the men lit their pipes and chatted gaily. All were more or less tired for, although their month's hard drill had accustomed them to work, eighteen miles with arms, ammunition, and accouterments had tired them more than they had anticipated.

As this was their first night out, Major Tempe told them that he should not place a regular cordon of sentries; but that in future he should do so, whether they were near the enemy or not. By nine o'clock the fires began to burn low, the talking gradually ceased, and the men--rolling themselves up in their blankets, and putting their haversacks under their heads, for pillows--soon dropped off to sleep; a solitary sentry keeping guard against pilferers.

A short march of ten miles took them, next day, to Rambervillers, where they were billeted among the inhabitants; and fourteen miles on the day after to Baccarat, on the river Meurthe, where they also obtained quarters. They were now approaching the neighborhood of the enemy, and Major Tempe advised a halt for the next day; in order that he might make inquiries, and investigate thoroughly the best route to be pursued.

Chapter 5: The First Engagement.

The news which the commandant of the franc tireurs heard, at Baccarat, determined him to change his intentions; and to push on without delay to Halloville--a tiny hamlet on the lower spurs of the Vosges, some four miles from Blamont; and overlooking the valley of the Vexouse, in which the latter town was situated.

It was a long march, and the weather had again changed, the rain descending all day in a steady pour. The men--in their light, waterproof cloaks, and the flaps of their forage caps down--plodded steadily on; their spirit sustained by the thought that, ere another twenty-four hours, they might be in action. The news which hurried them forwards had been to the effect that a body of two hundred Uhlans had left Sarrebourg, and were advancing towards Blamont. They were going quietly, stopping to levy contributions at the villages on the way. It was probable that they would enter Blamont on the same evening that the franc tireurs reached Halloville. It was supposed that they would proceed, with the sheep and cattle that they had swept up, by the valley of the Vexouse to Luneville.

To within four miles of Halloville, the road had been a fair one; but it was here necessary to turn off, by a track that was little better than a goat path. In vain, a dozen of the men were told off to help with the cart; in vain they pushed behind, and shoved at the spokes of the wheels. The road was altogether impracticable. At last the horse and cart were taken aside into a thick wood and left there; with Tim Doyle, a corporal, and six of the men who were the most footsore, and incapable of pushing on. Tim was dreadfully disgusted at being thus cut off from the chance of seeing, and joining in, any fighting; and only consoled himself with the hope that a vacancy would be likely to occur the next day, and that he would then be able to exchange his whip for a rifle.

The rest of the corps plodded on until, long after dusk, they arrived at the half-dozen houses which form the village of Halloville. Their appearance, as they marched up to it, was greeted by a scream from a woman, followed by a perfect chorus of screams and cries. Men, women, and children were seen rushing out of the houses, and taking to flight; and it was with the greatest difficulty that they were made to understand the truth, that the formidable body, which had so suddenly dropped upon them, was not composed of the dreaded invaders.

When the truth was known, they did their best to receive them hospitably. Their means, however, were small; their houses equally so. However, in a short time blazing fires were lighted on the hearths; blankets having been put up before the windows, to prevent any light being visible from the valley. A fire was allotted for the cooking of each company, and preparations for supper were soon commenced. Then an examination was made of the facilities in the way of sleeping; and two barns were found, well provided with straw. This was shaken out and, after eating their suppers, the men packed close together upon the straw, and soon forgot both damp and fatigue; numerous sentries being thrown out, in various directions, to prevent the possibility of surprise--for the peasants had informed them that the information which they had received was correct; and that the Uhlans, about two hundred strong, had entered Blamont that afternoon, and had laid a requisition of twenty thousand francs upon the inhabitants, besides a considerable amount of stores of all sorts.

At three o'clock they were roused and found, to their great pleasure, that the rain had ceased. Guided by one of the villagers, they made their way down to a point where the wood approached quite close to the road, at a narrow point of the valley. Here Major Tempe posted his men along in the wood. Several coils of wire had been brought with them; and these were now stretched tightly from tree to tree, at a distance of about eighteen inches from the ground. Some forty yards farther back, young trees were felled and branches cut; and these were laid with the bushy parts towards the road, wires being twisted here and there among them, so as to form abattis perfectly impenetrable for horsemen, and difficult in the extreme for infantry. All worked hard and, by eight o'clock in the morning, everything was in readiness.

A small party had been left upon the high ground near Halloville, and one of them had brought down news every half hour. Soon after daybreak, a party of Uhlans had been seen to leave Blamont, and to visit Barbas and Harboise--two villages in the flat of Blamont--and then to retire, driving some cattle and sheep before them. At ten o'clock the rest of the men from Halloville came down, with the news that the Uhlans--about two hundred strong--had just left Blamont, and were coming down the valley.

Each man now took the station allotted to him: thirty men behind the trees, next to the road; the main body being stationed behind the abattis, each man having previously settled upon a spot where he could fire through the leaves, which entirely concealed them from view from the road. Number one company was placed to the right and, consequently, near to Blamont. Ralph and Percy were both in the front line, behind the trees.

Not a shot was to be fired, on any consideration, until Major Tempe gave the word. The men behind the trees were all ordered to lie down among the low undergrowth and brushwood. The line extended nearly a hundred yards. The waterproofs, blankets, and all other impediments had been left behind at Halloville, so that the men had the free use of their arms. The rifles were loaded, the pouches shifted round so as to be ready at hand and--orders having been given that not a word should be spoken, even in a whisper--a perfect silence reigned over the spot.

Ralph and Percy were near to each other. They had exchanged a hearty grip of the hand, before lying down; and now lay, with beating hearts and hands firmly grasping their rifles, in readiness for the signal.

The time was not very long--only a few minutes--but it seemed to them an age before they heard the tramp of horses. Nearer and nearer they came, and now they could hear the jingling of accouterments First, through their leafy screen, they could see two Uhlans pass at a walk; scanning keenly the woods, and looking for possible danger. The bushes were thick, and they noticed nothing, and kept on at the same pace. It is probable, indeed, that they really anticipated no possibility of an attack, as the Dijon franc tireurs were the first who appeared upon the scene of action; and the Prussians were, consequently, in entire ignorance of the vicinity of any armed body of the enemy and, at worst, apprehended a stray shot from a straggler from one of the French armies, hidden in the woods.

In another minute or two four more Uhlans passed; and after the same interval came the main body, escorting a number of cattle and sheep. The greater portion had passed the spot where the boys were lying, and were opposite the whole line of franc tireurs, when the silence of the wood was broken by Major Tempe's shout:

"Now!"

Before the Uhlans had time to rein in their horses, or to ask each other what was the meaning of the cry, the flash of thirty rifles broke from the trees, and several men fell from their horses. There was a momentary panic, followed by a hurried discharge of carbines at the invisible foe.

The captain of the Uhlans--a handsome young officer, with light mustache and beard--shouted to his men:

"Steady, they are only a handful. Form line, charge!"

Quickly as the maneuver was executed, the franc tireurs had time to fire again; and then--in accordance with their orders--retreated, and joined their comrades by passages left in the abattis, on purpose. In another instant the Uhlans charged but, as quickly, the direst confusion reigned, where before had been a regular line. The wire had served its purpose. Horses and men went down on the top of each other, and thirty rifles again fumed their deadly hail into the confused mass.

The second line of Uhlans--who had not charged--returned the fire of their invisible enemies and, although they could not see them, several of the balls took effect. Nothing could be cooler than the officers of the Uhlans, and their voice and example steadied their men. Under cover of the fire of their comrades the men, in part, extricated themselves and their horses, and drew back behind the wood. Orders were then given for all to dismount and, leaving their horses to be held by parties of their comrades--four horses to one man--the rest advanced on foot against their apparently greatly inferior foe, keeping up a heavy fire with their carbines. This was what the commandant of the franc tireurs had hoped for, and expected.

The wire had been broken down by the weight of the horses; and the Prussians advanced, opposed only by a feeble return to their heavy fire, until within five paces of the leafy wall. Then the fire from a hundred rifles flashed out upon them.

The effect was terrible, and a cry of surprise and rage burst from those who had escaped its effect. It was evident that they had fallen into an ambush. The captain--wild with rage and mortification, at the fault he had committed--rushed forward; and his men gallantly seconded his efforts. In vain, however, did they try to separate the interlaced boughs while, as they struggled, the shots from the enemy flashed out thick and fast. In another moment the young captain threw up his arms and fell, shot through the heart. The officer next in command ordered a retreat, the horses were regained and, amidst a continuous fire from the franc tireurs, the diminished troop galloped back towards Blamont.

The franc tireurs now quitted their leafy fortress. A small party was at once sent forward up the valley, to give notice if the Uhlans showed any signs of returning. A strong body set to work to drive in the scattered animals--which were galloping wildly about the valley--while the rest collected the dead and wounded.

Of the franc tireurs eight were killed, fourteen wounded. Of the Uhlans forty-seven were killed, and nineteen wounded remained on the ground. Their large number of killed, in proportion to the wounded, was accounted for by the fact that the firing was so close that, in many cases, the coats of the dead men were actually singed by the explosion; while the slightly wounded men had been able to regain their horses, and escape.

The first impulse of the young Barclays, when the fire ceased, was to turn round and to embrace each other with delight--on finding that they had each escaped without a scratch--and then to shake hands heartily with their cousins, whose fortune had been equally good. There was no time for words, however; for Major Tempe's order came, sharp and decisive:

"You the Barclays, you also the Duburgs, sling your arms, and go assist to drive in the cattle. Quick, lose no time.

"You have done well. I am content with you, my boys."

With a flush of pleasure, the boys started off to carry out the orders; which had been given, by their commander, with the kind thought of sparing the lads the terrible sight of the battle ground.

The short but desperate conflict through which they had passed seemed, to the young Barclays, almost like a dream. In the excitement of loading and firing, in the tumult and the rattle, they had scarcely had time even to give a thought to the danger.

Fear is seldom felt by the soldier when engaged in close conflict. The time when his nerves are most tried is while waiting inactive, at a distance, exposed to a heavy shell fire; or while advancing to an attack, under a storm of musketry and artillery. In a hand-to-hand conflict, he has no time to think. His nerves are strung up to so high a pitch that he no longer thinks of danger, or death. His whole thoughts are given to loading and firing.

Any thought that the boys had given to danger was not for themselves, but for each other; and Ralph--though his own position was unsheltered--had once or twice spoken, to Percy, to keep his body better sheltered by the trees behind which he was standing.

It was a long chase before the frightened animals were collected together, and driven up towards the spot where the fight had taken place. By the time that it was accomplished, the wounded had been collected, and the surgeons had bandaged many of their wounds. A qualified surgeon had accompanied the corps, as its regular doctor, and two other young surgeons had enlisted in its ranks; and these, their arms laid by, were now assisting to stanch the wounds and to apply bandages. Of the franc tireurs, there were only four so seriously wounded that they were unable to walk.

By that time two carts arrived from the village of Douteppe, which stood in the valley, half a mile only from the scene of action; and to which place Major Tempe had sent off a messenger directly the affair had terminated. In one of these the wounded were placed, while in the other were piled the arms and accouterments of the fallen Uhlans. One of the young surgeons was to accompany the wounded as far as Baccarat, where they were to remain for treatment.

Twenty-three horses of the Uhlans had also been captured, by the party who had driven in the cattle--among whom they were galloping. Four men were told off to take them back to Epinal, and there dispose of them, with their accouterments, for the benefit of the military chest of the corps.

The question then arose as to what was to be done with the Prussian wounded. Major Tempe decided this by saying that, as it was quite impossible for the corps to be burdened with wounded men, the best plan was to allow one of the slightly wounded among the prisoners to walk back to Blamont; with a message that the Uhlans could come back to fetch their wounded without molestation, as the franc tireurs were upon the point of taking their departure.

The corps then assembled round a grave which had already been dug, and into it the bodies of their comrades who had fallen were placed. Major Tempe then said a few brief words of adieu, hoping that all who fell might die equally bravely, and victoriously. Then the sods were shoveled in; and the men, saddened by the scene--though still flushed with the triumph of their first, and signal, success--prepared to leave the spot.

Major Tempe had already held a consultation with his officers, and their plan of operation had been decided upon. The difficulty which they had encountered the evening before, with the horse and cart, had already proved that it would be impossible to drag it about with them. They had also taken thirty fine cattle, and upwards of a hundred sheep from the enemy; and it was therefore resolved to establish a sort of headquarters in the mountains, where they could retire after their expeditions, and defy the efforts of the Prussians to disturb them. The spot fixed upon was the forest of Bousson, high up among the Vosges, and distant two hard days' marching.

A portion of the troop, therefore, went round to Halloville, to fetch the accouterments, blankets, etc. which had been left there; while the rest marched, by the road, to the place where the cart had been left the night before. Two peasants were engaged as guides and, in the afternoon, the corps started for their destination.

It was a terrible march. The roads were mere tracks, and the weather was terrible. Over and over again, the men had to unload the carts, shoulder the contents, and carry them for a considerable distance, until ground was reached where the cart could again be loaded.

It was not until late on the evening of the third day's march that, thoroughly done up by fatigue and hardship, the corps reached the little village of Raon, in the heart of the forest of Bousson. There was no possible fear of attack, here; and the commandant decided that, for the night, there was no occasion for any of the men to be out as sentries. The villagers at once took charge of the animals, and turned them into a rough enclosure. The men were too much done up even to care about keeping awake until supper could be cooked and--being divided among the houses of the village--they threw themselves down, and were fast asleep in a few minutes.

The next morning, the sun shone out brightly; and the men, turning out after a long sleep, felt quite different creatures to the tired band who had wearily crawled into the village. The bright sky, the fresh morning air, the pleasant odor of the great pine forest around them, and the bracing atmosphere--at the height of fifteen hundred feet above the sea--at once refreshed and cheered them.

There was a brief morning parade--at which Tim Doyle, for the first time, took his place with a rifle on his shoulder--and then the major dismissed them, saying that there would be no further parade that day, and that the men could amuse themselves as they liked. In a short time, every man was following the bent of his own inclination. First, however, there was a general cleaning of the rifles and accouterments; then most of the men went down to the stream, and there was a great washing of clothes, accompanied with much laughing and joking. Then needles and thread were obtained, from the women of the village, and there was much mending and darning--for the past three days' work, among rocks and woods, had done no little damage to their uniforms.

Next came the grand operation of breakfast, for which two of the sheep had been killed. This, being the first regular meal that they had had, for three days, was greatly enjoyed. After it was eaten most of the men lit their pipes, and prepared to pass a day of delightful idleness. Two or three of the village boys had been engaged, as cowherds and shepherds; and the animals were all driven out into the woods where, in the open glades, they would find an abundance of food.

The cart was unanimously condemned as worse than useless. An empty shed was turned into a storehouse; and it was determined that such stores of powder, etc. as might be required, upon each expedition, should be packed upon the horse's back and, if the horse could not take all required, that other horses should be hired.

The Barclays, with their cousins, started for a ramble in the wood; taking with them the Irishman, whose good humor and unflagging spirits, during the last three days, had made him a general favorite.

"Sure, and are there any wild bastes in the wood, your honor Because, if there be, it would be well to take our rifles with us. It would be mighty unpleasant to come across a lion, or a tiger, and not to be able to pass him the time of day."

"No, Tim, we shall meet neither lions nor tigers, so you need not trouble yourself with a rifle. A hundred years ago, we might have met with a bear, or a wild boar; but they have disappeared, long since. It is possible that there are a few wolves scattered about; but they are never formidable to any but a solitary person, even in winter; and at all other times fly from man's approach."

The party had a charming ramble, for the scenery here was very fine. At times, the forest was so thick that they could see no glimpse of the sky, and the trunks of the trees seemed to make a wall, all round them; then again, it would open, and they would obtain a glimpse over the country far away, rise beyond rise, to the plain of Champagne or--if the view were behind, instead of in front of them--they could see the tops of the highest range of the Vosges, rising hill above hill, and often wooded to the very summit--the Donon, one of the highest points of the range, being immediately behind them.

The villages are, here, few and far between, and the people extremely poor; for the soil is poor, and although in summer the cattle--which form their only wealth--are able to pick up an abundance of food, in the forests, they have a hard struggle to keep them alive during the winter. Their language is German, and their appearance and dress rather German than French but, notwithstanding this, they were thoroughly French in spirit, and regarded the invaders with an intense hatred.

Another day, passed in rest, completely restored the most exhausted of the band. Orders were therefore issued for an early start, the next morning; the object, this time, being to endeavor to cut the railway. The band were to march in a body for the slopes of the Vosges, behind Sarrebourg and Saverne; and were then to divide into companies, and scatter themselves among the villages between Lorquin and Marmontier, so as to act together or separately, as it might seem expedient.