The Young Franc Tireurs, and Their Adventures in the Franco-Prussian War. Henty George Alfred

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СКАЧАТЬ course, we shall want them complete with bayonets. If, at the same time, you can order ammunition–say, two hundred rounds for each rifle–it would be, perhaps, a saving of time; as the Government may not be able to supply any, at first. However, after the meeting, this evening, I shall see how the subscriptions come in; and we can settle on these points, tomorrow. The municipality will help, I have no doubt."

      "What is your idea as to equipment, Tempe?"

      "As light as possible. Nothing destroys the go of men more than to be obliged to carry heavy weights on their shoulders. We shall be essentially guerrillas Our attacks, to be successful, must be surprises. Speed, therefore, and the power to march long distances, are the first of essentials.

      "I do not propose to carry knapsacks–mere haversacks, bags capable of containing a spare shirt, a couple of pairs of socks, and three days' biscuits. Each man must also carry a spare pair of boots, strapped to his belt, behind. A thick blanket–with a hole cut for the head, so as to make a cloak by day, a cover by night–will be carried, rolled up over one shoulder like a scarf; and each man should carry a light, waterproof coat.

      "I do not propose to take even tents d'abri. They add considerably to the weight and, unless when we are actually engaged in expeditions, we shall make our headquarters at some village; when the men can be dispersed among the cottages, or sleep in stables, or barns. When on expeditions, they must sleep in the open air."

      "I quite approve of your plan," Captain Barclay said. "Exclusive of his rifle and ammunition, the weight need not be above fifteen pounds a man and, with this, they ought to be able to march, and fight, with comfort. The way your soldiers march out, laden like beasts of burden, is absurd. It is impossible for men either to march, or fight, with a heavy load upon their backs.

      "Have you thought about uniform?"

      "No, I have not settled at all. I thought of letting the men fix upon one of their own choice."

      "Do nothing of the sort," Captain Barclay said. "The men will only think of what is most becoming, or picturesque. You cannot do better than fix upon some good, serviceable uniform of a dark-grayish color; something similar to that of some of our English Volunteer Corps. I will give you a drawing of it.

      "Let the tunics be made of a thick and good cloth. Let the men have short trousers–or, as we call them, knickerbockers–with leather gaiters and lace boots. The shoes of your soldier are altogether a mistake. I will bring you a sketch, tomorrow; and you will see that it is neat, as well as serviceable."

      "Thank you.

      "By the way, I suppose that you have no objection to my mentioning, at the meeting this evening, that your sons have joined? If there should be any inclination to hang back–which I hope there will not be–the fact that your boys have joined may decide many who would otherwise hesitate."

      "Certainly.

      "I will not detain you longer, at present. I shall see you in a day or two, and any assistance which I can give is at your service."

      "Thanks very much. I only wish that you could go with us.

      "Goodbye. Tell the boys that their names are down, and that we shall begin drill in a day or two."

      Chapter 3: Death To The Spy!

      The next morning Madame Duburg arrived, at ten o'clock; an hour at which she had never, as far as Mrs. Barclay knew, turned out of her house since her marriage. She was actually walking fast, too. It was evident that something serious was the matter.

      Mrs. Barclay was in the garden, and her visitor came straight out from the house to her.

      "Is anything the matter?" was Mrs. Barclay's first question.

      "Yes, a great deal is the matter," Madame Duburg began, vehemently. "You and your English husband are mad. Your wretched boys are mad. They have made my sons mad, also; and–my faith–I believe that my husband will catch it. It is enough to make me, also, mad."

      Notwithstanding the trouble in which Mrs. Barclay was, at the resolution of her sons, she could scarcely help smiling at the excitement of Madame Duburg; the cause of which she at once guessed. However, she asked, with an air of astonishment:

      "My dear sister-in-law, what can you be talking about?"

      "I know what I say," Madame Duburg continued. "I always said that you were mad, you and your husband, to let your boys go about and play, and tear and bruise themselves like wild Indians. I always knew that harm would come of it, when I saw my boys come in hot–oh, so unpleasantly hot, to look at–but I did not think of such harm as this. My faith, it is incredible. When I heard that you were to marry yourself to an Englishman, I said at once:

      "'It is bad, harm will come of it. These English are islanders. They are eccentric. They are mad. They sell their wives in the market, with a cord round their neck.'"

      "My dear sister-in-law," Mrs. Barclay interrupted, "I have so often assured you that that absurd statement was entirely false; and due only to the absolute ignorance, of our nation, of everything outside itself."

      "I have heard it often," Madame Duburg went on, positively. "They are a nation of singularities. I doubt not that it is true, he has hidden the truth from you. True or false, I care not. They are mad. For this I care not. My faith, I have not married an Englishman. Why, then, should I care for the madness of this nation of islanders?

      "This I said, when I heard that you were to marry an Englishman. Could I imagine that I, also, was to become a victim? Could I suppose that my husband–a man sensible in most things–would also become mad; that my boys would grow up like young savages, and would offer themselves to go out to sleep without beds, to catch colds, to have red noses and coughs, perhaps even–my faith–to be killed by the balls of German pigs? My word of honor, I ask myself:

      "'Am I living in France? Am I asleep? Am I dreaming? Am I, too, mad?'

      "I said to myself:

      "'I shall go to my sister-in-law, and I will demand of her, is it possible that these things are true?'"

      "If you mean by all this, sister-in-law, is it true that I have consented to my boys going out to fight for France, it is quite true," Mrs. Barclay said, quietly.

      Madame Duburg sat down upon a garden seat, raised her hands, and nodded her head slowly and solemnly.

      "She says it is true, she actually says that it is true."

      "Why should they not go?" Mrs. Barclay continued, quietly. "They are strong enough to carry arms, and why should they not go out to defend their country? In a short time, it is likely that everyone who can carry arms will have to go. I shall miss them sorely, it is a terrible trial; but other women have to see their sons go out, why should not I?"

      "Because there is no occasion for it, at all," Madame Duburg said, angrily; "because they are boys and not men, because their father is English; and stupid men like my husband will say, if these young English boys go, it will be a shame upon us for our own to remain behind.

      "What, I ask you, is the use of being well off? What is the use of paying taxes for an army, if our boys must fight? It is absurd, it is against reason, it is atrocious."

      Madame Duburg's anger and remonstrance were, alike, lost upon Mrs. Barclay; and she cut her visitor short.

      "My dear sister-in-law, it is of no use arguing or talking. I consider, rightly or wrongly, that the claims of our СКАЧАТЬ