“The Prussian laughed.  ’Do you not know that the villagers have been ordered to remain at home and that he who disobeys this order will be shot?’ questioned the commander, sternly.

“’Ah, sir, that is well for the grown men and women, but for children who go to see their sick grandmothers—­’

“’The order is for all.  About face!  March!  You will be shot for your disobedience.’

“‘But I must see my grandmother,’ insisted the lad.  ’She is ill, I tell you.’

“Two soldiers swung him about and marched him to their camp.  As he neared the camp he 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.