after his arrival the Territorials fell into line and started away. Remi melted away in the darkness, and might have been observed legging it across a field in a short cut to a point where he knew the soldiers would pass. And, after they had marched by he fell in at a safe distance behind and trudged along on his way to war.

"Daylight came; the men halted for breakfast, and the boy, secreting himself by the roadside, munched his bread and cheese and waited for the soldiers to resume the march. All day long he followed them as closely as he dared, but early in the second evening he made bold to draw up to the rear rank and plodded along behind it until they halted for rest. Suddenly the lad felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He found his uncle frowning down upon him.

"'What are you doing here?' demanded the uncle severely. 'Home with you as fast as you can go!'

"'But, uncle, I wish to be a soldier. I am little but I am strong. See, I have marched a day and a night and you, my uncle, are weary, while Remi is still fresh as the morning flowers.'

"'Yes, but what can you do in the Army, my Remi?'

"'I can fight,' answered the child simply, whereat the uncle shrugged his shoulders in token of surrender.

"At first the officers were for sending the lad home, but he was making himself so useful in many little ways, and his patriotism was so deep and true that he finally was permitted to remain.

"What most disturbed Remi was that he had no rifle. The soldiers laughed at him when he demanded one, so he determined to get one for himself at the first opportunity.

"By this time they were well within sound of the big guns. The sound reminded him of a distant thunderstorm. It grew louder as the hours passed and the men neared the front. All understood what the sound meant. To Remi that distant roar was the sweetest music he ever had heard.

"The Territorials finally were halted in a shell-torn village for a brief rest. Men were urgently needed at the front, and Remi's companions soon entered a communicating trench that began under a house in the village, and started for the firing line, a short distance from the German trenches. Remi was sternly ordered to remain behind. This order nearly broke his heart and, when he more fully realized that he had been left behind, he sat down and gave way to, bitter tears.

"A peculiar whistling sound in the air suddenly attracted his attention. The strange sound grew louder. He stood up. Then, with a mighty crash and roar, the earth about him rose up and darkness overwhelmed him. A German shell had landed fairly in the village street hard by and half buried the child in the wreckage. Remi, bruised and with clothing torn, dug himself out practically unharmed. He shook his fist in the direction of the German lines.

"'The Boches!' he breathed, clenching both fists. 'I must have a rifle. Having none, I am good for nothing.'

"For a few moments he stood observing the stretcher men gathering up those who had been wounded in the explosion. He did not quail at sight of the maimed forms before him—he was unafraid, but his childish face drew down into hard lines that made him look years older. He knew now that he must join his company and fight for France. After what he had seen nothing should hold him back. Perhaps once at the front he might find a gun. Remi tried to enter the communicating trench, but was stopped by a sentry. He was still undaunted. It was the odor of cooking that finally led to the solution of his problem. He followed his nose, as the saying goes, because he was hungry. He found the cooks at work, as he learned, preparing food to be carried to the men in the front-line trench. The boy promptly offered his services to help carry in the food. You see, Remi used his head.

"'What nursery do you belong to?' jeered the mess sergeant.

"'Thirty-first Territorials, Company C,' answered the lad promptly, his quick reply bringing a laugh in which the mess sergeant joined heartily.

"'All right, take a load of coffee and follow the leader, but if you spill so much as a drop of it you'll face a firing squad at daybreak.'

"Two heavy containers filled with hot coffee, suspended from a yoke that fitted over the shoulders, were placed on the lad. The soldiers expected to see him collapse under the heavy load, but Remi stood up very straight and awaited the command to go forward. He was stronger than they thought he was. The journey through the dark trenches was a long one, made thrilling by the Germans, who were trying to drop shells into them as the food was coming up to the front line. The 'chow' carriers, however, arrived safely at Company C's station and Remi had every drop of coffee that he had started out with.

"'Well, here I am,' he announced loudly. 'Remi wants a gun, he wants it right away, and then he wants to see a Boche.'

"'You'll see him sooner than you expect if you don't lower your voice,' rebuked a soldier.

"At that moment a star-shell shot high up into the air and, bursting, flooded the space between the French and German lines with a brilliant light. Remi peered over the top of the parapet and across the 'No Man's Land' of which he had so often heard, over its barbed-wire entanglements and on to the parapets of the German trenches.

"'Why do they do that?' he questioned.

"'To see if any of our patrols are out there nosing about. You see, we send out night patrols to find out what the enemy is doing,' he was told.

"'I, too, shall be a night patrol,' declared the lad confidently.

"Unmindful of the desperate chance he was taking, Remi, watching his opportunity, slipped over the top of the French trench and began crawling toward the enemy lines. He did not know where the openings in the wire entanglements were located, but, being small, he was able to crawl under. Now and then he saw other figures slinking about out there, but he took good care that they should not see him, and, when another star shell was fired, he flattened himself on the ground, face downward, and thus avoided detection. So intent was he, however, in watching for enemy patrols that he actually bumped into the parapet of the German trench before he knew it. The boy flattened himself on the ground and listened. He heard low-toned conversation mingled with German snores in the trench, and sniffed contemptuously. Raising a hand to pull himself up to the top of the sandbags, he struck something sharp. It was the point of a bayonet. Remi's hand crept cautiously along and the lad barely escaped an exclamation, for here, right in his hand, was a German rifle aimed toward his own lines, ready to be fired at his beloved French comrades.

"Cautiously drawing the weapon over the parapet, he caressed it affectionately, then started to crawl back toward his own lines with his precious find.

"'At last Remi has a rifle, and none shall take it from him,' he muttered triumphantly. 'See what I have!' he cried after having been challenged and hauled into his own trench. 'I took it from the thickheads over there. I—' He said no more, for his comrades were hugging him delightedly. They hurried the child off to the captain of his company, who, after listening to the story, embraced Remi.

"'Ah, you are a true Frenchman,' cried the officer. 'Keep the gun and use it for our beloved France.'

"'I will,' promised Remi solemnly.

"Two nights later he stole out and fetched back five more German rifles. By this time the officers began to realize that the boy must be taken seriously. From that night on