All for a Scrap of Paper Part 28

"We'll give them a run for their money, anyhow," said Bob, dropping into colloquial French.

"Good, monsieur; that's it. And you are doing it for honour's sake.

We lost in 1870, because we would not violate what those German pigs called a 'sc.r.a.p of paper,' and now you are going to save us for the same thing. All for 'a sc.r.a.p of paper.' They do not know what honour is! They cannot understand. But we shall win. We are driving them back. They are nearly at Mezieres now. They will soon be over the border. And then!"

"And then---- Yes, then we shall see what we shall see. But thank you for your good wishes, monsieur."

Train after train moved slowly out, while old women waved their handkerchiefs and young girls threw kisses, and all poured out their blessings. The thing that seemed to impress them was that England, who had nothing to gain, and who needed not have taken any part in the war, was throwing all her great weight on their side for the sake of the _Entente Cordiale_, and for the sake of our honour.

A few hours later Bob found himself in Paris. Several of the trains had gone by another route, but both Bob and Captain Pringle, with many others, were ordered to Paris. Here they stayed one day, and then went on to the front.

Although he had often heard how the British soldier was loved in Paris, Bob had no conception of the truth until he got there. The attention which he and Captain Pringle received was embarra.s.sing. Wherever they went they were watched and followed, while remarks of the most complimentary nature were made about them. Even in the restaurant where they went for dinner a number of Frenchmen entered with them, and insisted on paying for their repast.

"No, no, messieurs," they exclaimed, when Bob protested; "but you are our guests. You come as our friends, you come to help us to fight our battles. Your visit must cost you nothing. _Vive l'Angleterre!_"

Both men and women vied with each other in courteous acts. They insisted on shaking hands again and again, they plied them with cigarettes, while Bob was very much confused by two elderly dames, both of whom insisted on kissing him on both cheeks.

"What would you?" they cried. "We are each old enough to be your mother. Besides--ah, the good G.o.d knows what is in our hearts; have we not sons fifty miles away, fighting for France? We shall win, monsieur! Do you not think so? With such gallant men as you to help us we cannot fail. The Germans are pigs, devils; but we have driven them back, back! Soon they will be out of France."

In the streets it was sometimes difficult for them to get along. On every hand people came up and insisted on shaking hands. But few of them could speak English, and they imagined that Bob was just as ignorant of French.

Again and again they received slaps on the back, while cries of "Good old Sport!" reached them.

Indeed, this was the popular form of salutation. It was nearly all the English many of them knew, and appearing to believe that this was the British form of salutation, they indulged in it freely.

At length their duties in Paris were at an end, and then Bob, with a strange feeling at heart, mounted a train which was to take him to within a short distance of the line of battle.

They had not long left the French capital, before Bob realised that he was pa.s.sing through country which not long before had been the scene of carnage. The train pa.s.sed slowly along, and was often held up owing to the terrible exigencies of war.

"Do you see that, Nancarrow?" said Pringle, pointing to a field in which wheat had been planted, but which had never been garnered.

Indeed it would be impossible to garner it. It had been trampled under foot by tens of thousands of hurrying feet.

Here and there they saw trenches that had been hastily dug, and then discarded when they were no longer of use. Repeatedly they saw the ruins of villages, some of which had been wantonly, barbarously destroyed by the invading foe.

It was a warm day, windless and clear, and as the train stopped at roadside stations or drew up at sidings, they could not help being impressed by the peace which seemed to reign. The birds still sang on the tree branches, cattle still lowed in the fields, and peasants still worked on their little farms.

"If one closed one's eyes, it would seem as though war were impossible," said Bob.

"Yes, but you'd be quickly undeceived when you opened them," replied Pringle. "Look at those trees!" and he pointed to a small wood, where charred trunks of trees, splintered branches, and blackened leaves told their story.

"I expect some of our men were there, or the Germans thought they were," said Pringle, "and so they----" and he shrugged his shoulders significantly.

"Perhaps some poor beggars may be lying wounded around there even yet,"

suggested Bob.

"I don't think so. As far as I can learn, the whole line has been carefully searched, and every man that could be saved has been. But, by G.o.d, the thought of it is awful!"

"Yes, no one knows what may have happened in a firing-line hundreds of miles long. It must have been h.e.l.l."

What struck them forcibly, however, was the cheerfulness of the peasantry. At the little roadside stations the people crowded around the trains and cheered the soldiers.

"Yes, monsieur," said one old farmer, "my little house was destroyed--burnt to the ground. I had lived there ever since I was married, and all my children were born there. Two of them, _grace a Dieu_, are at the front now. Where do we live? Ah, monsieur, they spared a barn, and we are there now. It's not so bad as it might be, and we are cheerful."

"And your harvest?" asked Bob.

"Ah, that was saved. It was in the fields in small stacks, and not yet brought to the yard. Had it been, it would have been burnt with the house. The turnips and the mangolds are still in the field, badly trampled, but not destroyed. Oh yes, it might have been worse, much worse--with us. Thank G.o.d, we had no daughter at the house."

"Why do you thank G.o.d for that?"

"Need you ask, monsieur? Those Germans are devils, devils! Ah, here is Jules Viney; let him tell you what he has had to suffer."

And then an elderly man told a story which I will not here set down.

It was too horrible, too heart-rending. Bob's heart sickened as he heard it, and he found his teeth becoming set as he vowed to fight long as G.o.d gave him breath.

"She was but little more than a child, either," cried the man, who was trembling with pa.s.sion, "and had only a year or two ago made her First Communion. As fair and as pure a child as ever G.o.d made. But, thank G.o.d, she is dead!"

"Dead?"

"Dead, yes! How could she live after those devils from the deepest h.e.l.l---- But she took her own life, and she is with the saints."

"And this is the fruits of the German culture, when it is overruled by the War G.o.d," thought Bob. "Great G.o.d, I did not believe that these stories could be true!"

About two o'clock the train stopped at a siding, where an official told them they must remain for at least an hour.

"Things have been terrible here," said the man; "a terrible battle was fought all around," and he waved his arms significantly.

"Let's get out," said Bob. "I see some trenches over yonder. I remember reading about an engagement here."

A few minutes later they were face to face with evidences of battle.

The whole country-side was devastated. Everything had been swept away by the hordes who breathed out death. Sickening _debris_ was seen on every hand. Swarms of flies and insects had fastened upon heaps of filthy garbage. Nothing was seen of comfortable homesteads but charred, smoke-begrimed walls. Exploded sh.e.l.ls lay around. Great excavations, the work of huge bombs, were seen on every hand. All around, too, they could see the carcases of horses, killed in battle, the bones of which were beginning to appear. The smells were horrible.

"Let's get away from this!" said Pringle; "it's worse than any h.e.l.l I ever dreamed of."

But Bob refused to move. He seemed to be fascinated by what he saw.

He loathed the sickening sights which met his gaze, but he could not tear himself away.

"See the hundreds of little mounds!" he cried. "They will be the graves of the fellows who fell here. Don't you remember what we read in the papers? When the Germans retreated, a number of men were left behind to dig little graves, and throw the dead into them."

"Come away, I tell you!" shouted Pringle.

"This is the beginning of war's aftermath, only the beginning--but, great G.o.d, think of it! What is that?"

"What?"

"Surely that's some one alive over there! Don't you see? In the ditch yonder."

As if by a magnet the two men were drawn to the spot to which Bob had pointed.

"It's a man, anyhow," said Pringle.