"We have not gone, Tim," Percy said, not wishing to hurt the attached fellow's feelings, by telling him that he had been forgotten; "but we are starting tomorrow. I will tell you all about it, when we get in. We have been to see Monsieur Gambetta, this morning and, do you know, we met Colonel Tempe last night, and are stopping in his rooms."

So saying, he walked along at a quick pace towards their lodgings; Tim occasionally glancing a puzzled look at him. By the time they reached the room, Ralph had stained his face and hands, and was busy dressing in his disguise. His back was to the door, when they entered; but he had heard the Irishman's voice on the stair.

"Well, Tim, how are you?" he said, turning round.

"Holy Vargin!" ejaculated Tim, dropping into a chair, and crossing himself with great fervor "Sure, I'm bewitched. Here's an ould gentleman, wid a wonderful head of hair, has been staleing Mister Ralph's voice."

The two boys went off in a shout of laughter at Tim's genuine terror.

"Sure, I'm bewitched, entirely," he went on. "He laughs for all the world like Mister Ralph. Did ye iver see the like?

"What is it all, Mister Percy dear?"

Percy had by this time taken off his cap; and Tim, as he looked him fairly in the face, gave another start.

"By the mother of Moses!" he exclaimed, in terror, "we're all bewitched. Mister Ralph's turned into an ould man, with a furze bush of hair; and Mister Percy's beautiful hair has all turned black, and shriveled itself up. Am I turning, myself, I wonder?" and he looked into the glass, to see if any change had taken place in his own abundant crop of red hair.

The boys were laughing so that they could not speak for some time, and Tim sat gazing at them in speechless bewilderment. At last Percy, by a great effort, recovered himself; and explained to him the whole circumstances of the case. The Irishman's astonishment ceased now, but his dismay was as great as ever.

"Then is it alone you're going?" he said, at last. "Are you going into danger again, without taking me with you? You'd never do that, surely, Mister Ralph?"

"I am very sorry, Tim, to be separated from you," Ralph said; "but it is quite impossible for you to go with us. If you understood French and German as well as we do, the case would be different; but as it is, the thing is absolutely impossible. You know how great a trouble it was to disguise you, before; and it would treble our anxieties and difficulties. Not only that; but even if, in the face of every possible danger, we got you into Paris with us, there would be great difficulty in getting you out. Gambetta will give orders for us to be allowed to come out, in the first balloon; but it is by no means easy to get places in balloons, and it is unlikely in the extreme that we should be able to bring you out with us. So there you would be, shut up in Paris and separated from us, for months.

"No, no, Tim, the matter is altogether impossible. You stay quietly here and, in ten days or a fortnight—if all goes well—we shall be back again with you."

"And is it in a balloon you're thinking of coming out, Mister Ralph; flying like a bird through the air? Och, wirra, wirra! I'll never see yees again."

"Nonsense, Tim, there's no danger in a balloon. If getting in were no more dangerous than getting out, there would not be much peril in the matter."

"Ah, Mister Ralph dear, how can you be risking your life, and the life of your brother in that way? Shooting at a Prussian, or getting shot at, is all well enough; or going among them with your hair all puffed out, and your face painted brown, and the hair growing all over your face before its time, I say nothing against; but flying through the air, in a balloon, is just tempting the good Providence. I know what it will be. You'll be just touching against a cloud, and tumbling out, and breaking yourselves into smithereens; and nothing to take home to your dear father and mother, not to mention Miss Milly," and Tim fairly blubbered with grief, at the thought.

The boys had great difficulty in pacifying the attached fellow; at last, with a face expressive of mournful resignation, he agreed to remain with Colonel Tempe until they returned; or until their prolonged absence rendered it likely that they would not return at all—Tim evidently making up his mind that the latter contingency would happen. In that case, as Tim—now his corps had ceased to exist—need no longer serve, he expressed his determination to return to Dijon; and to stay with Captain Barclay until the end of the war—as he should not, he said, have the heart to fight any more, when his masters were both killed.

While the conversation had been going on, the boys had continued their toilettes. The preparation which they had obtained gave them an olive complexion; and their transformation was now so complete that the boys would have passed each other unknown, even had they looked steadily at each other. Ralph, especially, was utterly unlike himself.

They now told Tim to go out and get his breakfast, and to return in two hours' time; and then started themselves, rounding their shoulders, and so narrowing their chests as much as possible. Ralph stopped at an optician's, bought a pair of slightly-colored spectacles, and put them on.

It was now twelve o'clock—the preparations having taken them three hours—and they went to the cafe where they were to meet Colonel Tempe, to breakfast. He was already there, and they walked up to the table where he was sitting.

"These seats are engaged," Colonel Tempe said, shortly.

The Barclays sat down at the next table; and called, in a foreign accent, for two glasses of beer. Then they spoke together, for some little time, about a journey from Saint Malo which they had just made; and Ralph then turned to Colonel Tempe, still speaking French with a strong foreign accent.

"Pardon me, colonel," he said, "we have just arrived from England. We have a very large quantity of army shoes, and I should feel under a great obligation if you could inform me who is the proper person to whom to apply."

Colonel Tempe at once informed them, adding:

"If your shoes are good ones, and the price fair, and you can deliver them soon, you will not have to wait long; for they are greatly wanted."

"We have also some harness, for artillery horses," Ralph added.

"I do not know about that," the colonel said; "but you will obtain all information from the officer I have mentioned."

"Thank you very much," Ralph said, and returned to his seat.

Colonel Tempe looked at his watch, a little impatiently. Ralph, after a minute or two, again approached him.

"Don't you think we may as well have breakfast, colonel?" he said, in his natural voice.

The colonel looked at him, in speechless surprise.

"So the disguises are pretty good?" Ralph said, smiling.

"Impossible!" the colonel exclaimed. "Do my eyes or my ears deceive me? Can it really be—?"

"It's us, sure enough, colonel; and now, I suppose we may as well sit down."

So saying, the boys took their seats at the table; but Colonel Tempe still looked from one to the other, in astonishment.

"Wonderful!" he at last said, "wonderful! Even now I know who it is, I do not see the faintest possible resemblance.

"Percy is, of course, less altered than you are, Ralph, because he is still young looking; but even now I should not recognize him. As for you, with that wonderful head of hair, and that beard, you look fifty; and as unlike yourself as possible. Upon my word, if it were anywhere else but here in Tours—where there are all sorts of oddities—I should be ashamed, as a colonel in the army, to sit down to table with you."

"You are a little ashamed, as it is," Ralph laughed. "We had not intended to come out in our new character, so soon; but when my hair was once done, you see, it was impossible to go about in uniform."

"But what in the world have you done with your hair?" the colonel said, examining him closely; for Ralph had taken off his fur cap and laid it beside him. "You have not got a wig on; and yet, all that frizzly bunch cannot be your own."

Ralph explained how it was managed, and added:

"And now, colonel, that you have recovered from your surprise, let us have breakfast."

Breakfast was ordered, to which the boys did full justice; but Colonel Tempe was still getting on but slowly, for he could not take his eyes off Ralph's face.

"Will all that frizzle keep in?" he asked, presently.

"Yes; the man said that the false hair—which is the greater portion of it—will keep as well for a week; and we have got a small curling iron, so we can beautify ourselves up when we like."

"Well, boys, I have no doubt, now, that you will be able to get as far as Versailles; as to getting through, that's another matter—but if anyone can, you will, I am convinced."

"I have not much doubt about it, colonel," Ralph said. "I seem to see my way quite clearly into Paris. Much more clearly, indeed, than I do to getting out again."

"Oh, it does not matter about getting out again, boys. You can stop quietly in there, until the end of the siege."

"That is just what we don't want to do," Percy said. "Would you kindly ask them to put into the dispatches a request that we may be sent out again, by the first balloon that comes? We have no fancy, either of us, for eating rats and cats; which I suppose is what it will come to, before it is over."

"I will see to it, boys," the colonel said, smiling; "but really, I should advise your staying there. You have done all—and more than—your share of work."

The boys shook their heads; and it was arranged that, if they got in, they should come out again in a balloon.

The next morning, the boys were up at half-past four and, at half-past five, were at the Prefecture. Colonel Tempe sent in his name to the minister, and they were at once admitted. Gambetta was at his writing table.

"Good morning, Colonel Tempe," he said, cordially; and then added, in some surprise, "who are these men you have with you, and where are your young Englishmen? I hope they will not be late."

"These are they," the colonel said, smiling.

"They are who?" Gambetta said, puzzled. "I do not understand you, colonel."

"These are the Lieutenants Barclay," Colonel Tempe said.

The minister looked from the colonel to the two boys, and back again.

"Do you mean to say—?" he began, incredulously.

"Yes, sir, it is us," Ralph said; "and I do not think there is much fear of our being recognized."

"So little that I do not recognize you, now.

"There is no mistake, colonel?" he said, gravely; "no mystification? You give me your pledge, and assurance, that these are the officers who have volunteered for this duty? Remember, any mistake might be fatal."

"These are certainly the Barclays, sir. I give you my word."

"It is a marvelous disguise," Gambetta said, his doubts now laid at rest; "and does them immense credit.

"There are the dispatches, gentlemen. They are done up in these two quills, and sealed. They are of the utmost importance; and must not, at any hazard, fall into the hands of the enemy. The dispatches are in duplicate so that, in case one only gets in, the purpose is served.

"This is a circular letter, to all maires and other French authorities, ordering them to give you every possible assistance.

"This is a special note, to the Maire of Melun.

"Here is a letter to General Aurelles, at Orleans. If he is not in when you arrive, the chief of his staff will do. He is ordered to send a staff officer with you, through the lines, as far as you require him. The horses are in the train.

"Now, goodbye. I wish you a very good future, for you are gallant young fellows."

So saying, he shook them warmly by the hand; and they hurried off to the train.



Chapter 15: The Expedition.

A special telegram had been sent forward from Tours to station master at Orleans, to request him to order the two horses, sent forward in the train, to be got out of their boxes without any loss of time; and to do anything else which the owners of the horses required. Accordingly, as the train was waiting outside the station, the guard came round and asked at each carriage for the owners of the horses. He appeared a little surprised, when two Jews answered the inquiry; as he had expected that they were officers of high rank, and importance.

"The compliments of the stationmaster," he said, "and is there anything he can do with the horses?"

"Yes," Ralph said. "Give my compliments to the station master; and say that I shall be much obliged if he will get them out of the horse boxes, without loss of time, and send them on at once to the headquarters of General Aurelles. We will go on at once, in a vehicle."

Five minutes afterwards the train drew up at the platform, and the guard ran up.

"This way, gentlemen. A carriage is engaged."

Upon arriving at headquarters they found that—owing to the forethought of Colonel Tempe—they were expected for, upon sending in their names, they were at once admitted; although several officers, of all grades, were waiting in the anteroom.

The colonel of the staff gave a movement of surprise.

"There is some mistake here," he said, to the orderly who had shown them in; "I ordered the Lieutenants Barclay to be admitted."

"These are the gentlemen who gave me the card, colonel," the orderly answered.

"It is so," Ralph said. "If you will favor us with a moment alone, we will explain the matter to you."

The colonel led the way into a small cabinet, adjoining.

"We are bearers of dispatches, for General Trochu," Ralph said; "and have disguised ourselves, to endeavor to pass through the German lines."

"Oh, is that it?" the colonel said. "I must really apologize; but no one," he said, smiling, "could recognize you, in that disguise, to be French officers. Before we speak further, I must ask you for some proof that you are what you state yourselves to be; for at present I have only your cards."

"Here is our letter from Monsieur Gambetta to General Aurelles," Ralph said. "It is directed to be opened by you, should he be absent."

"That is all right," the colonel said, when he had read it. "My surprise at your appearance was natural, for the telegram we received this morning only said:

"'The two Lieutenants Barclay will arrive, by six o'clock train. Their business is most important. Have a well-mounted officer of staff ready to accompany them through lines.'

"I thought, of course, that you had orders to report on position of troops; and felt, I admit, rather angry that Gambetta should wish to send subaltern officers to inspect matters concerning which he has full reports.

"You wish, of course, to go on at once?"

"Our horses will be here in five minutes," Ralph said, "and we wish to get as far as possible, tonight. We mean to cross the Loing at Montargis, and get as far as we can, tonight; so as to arrive either at Meaux, or Melun, tomorrow evening. We should, of course, prefer Melun, as being much the shortest route towards Versailles. We shall, of necessity, be guided by the position of the Germans."

"You have not breakfasted, of course?" the colonel said. "I was just going to sit down, when you came in; for I go out to the front at ten, and it is half-past nine, now. You will have no chance of getting anything, before you arrive at Montargis.

"I can introduce you to the officer who will accompany you."

The boys readily accepted the invitation, and at once followed the colonel into another room; where breakfast was laid, and several officers of the staff were waiting for the arrival of the colonel, to begin. There was a general look of surprise, when he entered with two strange-looking Jews; which was not a little increased when he said:

"Gentlemen, the Lieutenants Barclay. You look surprised; but your astonishment will cease when I tell you that they are upon an important mission, and do not look like themselves. And now to table, for they have to start in ten minutes.

"Captain Duprat, let me make you specially acquainted with these gentlemen. They are bound for Montargis, and you will see them through our outposts."

In another quarter of an hour, the boys were issuing from the streets of Orleans; and were soon going along, at a hand gallop, by the road along the banks of the Loire; while to the north stretched the flat and densely-wooded country known as the Forest of Orleans. As far as Chateauneuf they kept near the river. Here they halted half an hour, to give breathing time to their horses; then started again, and rode fast to Bellegarde. Here was the last post of regular troops, but Cathlineau's franc tireurs were scattered throughout the country, as far as Montargis; and it would have been more difficult for the Barclays to have passed through them than through the regular troops, as they had less respect for passes.

After another halt, they again started; and Captain Duprat accompanied them as far as Montargis, where there was a small body of franc tireurs. Captain Duprat's orders were to sleep at Montargis, and then return to Chateauneuf the next day.

The boys felt rather stiff and tired, as they rode into Montargis; for they had not been on horseback since the day when they were taken prisoners, in the Vosges, and they had ridden forty miles since breakfast. They would, however, have willingly pushed on another twenty miles; but their horses had even a longer day's work before them, on the morrow.

Being accompanied by a staff officer, no questions whatever were asked them and, after a good dinner at the hotel, they went to the Maire, to inquire whether he could tell them as to the advanced posts of the Germans. This functionary—like such functionaries in general—could give them but slight information but, as far as he knew, there were no German troops on the right bank of the Loing, south of its junction with the Yonne. Beyond the Yonne they were scattered pretty thickly, everywhere.

At daybreak the next morning, they started. Captain Duprat turned his horse's head westward again, while the Barclays rode north. Their pace was rapid; as they never drew rein, except at villages, to ask whether the Prussians had been heard of. They heard of parties at Lorrez, and Cheroy; but as they kept through by-lanes, and as the country was thickly wooded, the risk was—at present—small. They had with them an excellent map, which enabled them to follow the smallest footpaths.

At eleven o'clock, they stopped at the little hamlet of Montarlet. There they breakfasted, and gave the horses an hour's rest while they consulted with the Maire. He was a miller, and turned out a shrewd fellow; entering into the matter with great warmth. He advised them to ford the Yonne between Montereau and its junction with the Loing; to keep to the woods for ten miles, and then to turn to the left, and to cross the Seine—at one of the numerous fords there—into the Forest of Fontainebleau; and they would then find themselves between that town and Melun, and could ride boldly into Melun, as if they had come from Fontainebleau.

"I know every foot of the country," he said, "and will guide you, till you are safely across the Seine. If we should, by any chance, fall upon a patrol of the enemy, it will be simple enough to say that I am a miller of Montarlet; and that you have shown me your permission to travel about, through the German line; and have asked me to guide you, by the shortest way, to Melun."

They had every reason to be thankful to their guide, for they found that there were a great many scattered parties of Uhlans about. By dint of making detours through woods, however, they succeeded in striking the Seine, at Fontaine le Port, without once meeting them.

This village was, however, occupied by some half-dozen cavalry; and it was impossible to pass the river, unseen by them. The Barclays thanked, very warmly, their friend the Maire, and promised to mention his conduct, upon their return to Tours; and then, saying goodbye to him, rode into the village alone. The sergeant of Uhlans came to the door of the principal cabaret, and looked out.

"Good day," Ralph said, in German, reining up his horse. "Is it here that I cross the river, for Fontainebleau? They told me, at Le Chatelet, that it was shorter than going round by the main road."

"Yes, you are right here," the sergeant said. "Have you passes?"

"Oh yes," Ralph said, laughing. "It would have been no easy matter to get from Frankfort here, without them."

So saying, he pulled out the Prussian permit.

"That is right," the sergeant said. "Your horses look very done."

"We have ridden from Coulommiers through Rozoy, and Normant."

"It would have been an easier road to have gone from Normant through Melun," the sergeant said. And he took out a map, and examined it. "No, I see le Chatelet is a more direct line."

"We have time to wait an hour," Ralph said, turning to Percy; "and it will be better for our beasts. See that they are rubbed down, and fed."

The sergeant gave a peremptory shout, and the master of the wine shop ran out. The sergeant pointed to the horses.

"Do you speak French?" he asked Ralph.

"No," Ralph said, "but my son does.

"Aaron, tell him to rub them down, and feed them well; and see to it, yourself. These dogs are capable of cheating even a horse."

Ralph then entered the cabaret, and called for some bread and cheese and a bottle of the best wine, with three glasses. The Prussian sergeant sat down with them, and talked of Germany for an hour. Then they started again, crossed the river and, an hour and a half later, entered Melun. Here, as they came in by the road from Fontainebleau—which was held in force by the Germans—no question was asked.

They rode their tired horses through the streets, until they saw a quiet hotel. Riding into the yard, they told the hostler to put up their horses, and to clean and feed them well; enforcing their request with a five-franc piece. They then entered the hotel, and found that they could have beds; as the number of German officers quartered upon this house was smaller than usual, owing to the greater portion of the troops having been pushed on, to reinforce Von der Tann.

It was now half-past five, and was already dusk. They therefore went at once to the Maire; to whom they presented Gambetta's letter, and requested his assistance in purchasing a van, with a pair of good strong horses, at once.

"It will be next to impossible to get horses," the Maire said, "but I will do my best. I have two carriage horses, of good breed; but I fear, if I were to let you have them, the Prussians might remark it."

"We have two first-rate animals," Ralph said, "from Gambetta's own stables. They have carried us a hundred miles, since breakfast time yesterday. They are likely to be at least as good as yours are, only they want a few days' rest. Will you exchange?"

"Certainly," the Maire said, at once. "If any inquiries were to be made about it, I need make no secret of that transaction.

"As for the covered cart, I will send round at once to those of my neighbors who have one; and as you are ready to pay for it, and as the Prussians are requisitioning them without payment, you can rely upon having one tomorrow morning, ready for your start. I will send a note round to you, tonight, to tell you where it is, at present."

"We had better go now to the German commandant's office, and get our passes countersigned. When that is done, we shall be all right for Versailles."

"Yes, I should advise you to do that," the Maire said. "You will not have much difficulty. They are civil enough about passes, and matters of that kind. Will you mention you have seen me?"

"Not unless any question is asked about horses; in which case we should of course mention that—hearing you had a pair of horses, and ours requiring rest—we had changed with you."

They now went boldly to the orderly room. An officer was on duty.

"Will you please to visa this for Versailles?" Ralph said, in German.

The officer took it, glanced at it, and at them.

"The last visa I see was at Meaux, a fortnight since."

"We have been traveling on horseback, since," Ralph said; "and have had no occasion to have it visaed, as it has always passed us without trouble. As we are now going to Versailles, with a wagon, we thought it better to have the pass visaed here."

"Where have you come from, now?"

"From Fontainebleau," Ralph said. "We have been down to Pithiviers, and I sent off four wagon loads of things from there, for the frontier."

"Your best way is through Corbeil, and Longjumeau," the officer said, handing back the paper.

"Thank you, sir," Ralph replied, "that is the way we are intending to go."

In the evening, the Maire himself came in to look at the horses; and told them that he had obtained a good light-covered wagon, with springs, which had been used for the removal of furniture. The price was a thousand francs.

"If you like," he said, "to come round with me now; my servant shall take the horses round there, put them in, and bring the wagon here; and he can then take your horses back with him to my stables.

"Please to write me a paper—signed by the name on your German pass—saying that you have bought my horses of me, and have sold me yours. Put down any figures you like as having passed between us. You are upon a very perilous expedition and, in case of anything happening to you, it would be well for me that nothing, beyond a mere business transaction, could be traced between us."

At seven o'clock the next morning they started. The distance was only thirty miles, but the roads were terribly slippery from the deep snow, now trampled flat by the immense traffic of the army. It was five in the afternoon when they reached the first sentries, at the entrance to Versailles. The pass was sufficient, and they went on uninterrupted. Percy drove, and Ralph sat beside him.

The town swarmed with officers and soldiers, of all ranks. No one paid them any attention, and they drove through the Place d'Armes and on to the marketplace; where they knew there were many inns, frequented by the market people. Here—as they expected—they found it impossible to get a bed; but they had no difficulty in obtaining permission for the wagon to stand in a yard, and were lucky enough to get stable room for the horses. They went into the town and bought four blankets; and as, at starting, they had filled the wagon two feet deep with straw, they had—in spite of the cold weather—every hope of passing a comfortable night.

Dinner was the next thing and, that over, they strolled about until nine o'clock. It was a singular sight, this army of invaders comfortably quartered in the ancient capital of France. The palace, the statues in front of it, everything told of the glories of France; every park around, every little palace was infinitely associated with its sovereigns; and here, in the midst of these memorials, the German invaders stalked carelessly, drank in the cafes, or feasted in the hotels, as if the place had belonged to them from time immemorial. Afar off, in the quiet of the evening, could be heard the distant boom of the guns round the beleaguered city.

There were several things which the Barclays wanted to get; but they had no difficulty with them, as the shops were all open, as usual. The population had a depressed look. All classes were suffering much, with the exception of the shopkeepers, whose business was as brisk as ever—save only those tradesmen who dealt in articles of female attire, for which there was no demand, whatever. The ladies of Versailles went as little as possible into the streets; and when they did so, all dressed themselves in black, or other somber colors.

By nine o'clock the shops were all closed; and the Barclays returned to their wagon, with their purchases in their hands.

"It's awfully cold, Ralph!" Percy said, as they rolled themselves in their blankets, and covered themselves over with straw.

"It is, Percy; but it will be a deal colder, in the river."

Percy gave a shudder at the thought.

"Don't you think, Ralph, that there is any possibility of entering on either of the other sides?"

"Not the slightest, Percy. It must be across the river, or not at all. The sentries will not be anything like so thick, upon that side."

Had anyone looked into the wagon, at eight o'clock next morning, he would have been surprised at the occupation upon which the boys were engaged. Each was sewing a piece of thin waterproof cloth upon a pair of white woolen gloves; so that the fingers, when outspread, had the appearance of the webbed foot of a frog.

"That ought to help us," Ralph said, when they finished. "For a really long swim, I daresay they would be very fatiguing; but it is cold, not fatigue, we have to fear, and speed is therefore everything."

At nine o'clock, Ralph went to the office of the general in command. There were a number of other persons waiting for permits, and Ralph waited his turn to go in to the officer engaged in signing them.

"I am from Frankfort, as my papers show," he said, handing the officer his pass. "I wish for a pass to go, with my horse and cart, to Bellevue. There are, I hear, many officers desirous of selling, or sending home, articles they have saved."

Saved, it may be mentioned, was the word employed in the German army for stolen—which has an ugly sound.

The officer signed the paper.

"You must not go by the Sevres route," he said. "You must turn off at Viroflay, and go by Chaville."

Half an hour later they started in the wagon At the gates of Versailles—a mile from the town—they were stopped by sentries; but allowed to pass on production of the order, with the necessary stamp.

"Everything is going on well, thus far," Ralph said, as they turned off from the main road, at Viroflay. "It looks like snow, too, which would exactly suit us."

Viroflay was crowded with Prussian troops. An officer stopped them, as they passed.

"Where are you going to?"

"We are going to Bellevue," Ralph said. "We are purchasers of any curiosities or souvenirs of the war—such as pictures, or clocks—and we also undertake to deliver, in Germany, any article which may be entrusted to our charge. We have our passes and papers, in regular order."

"Wait a minute," the officer said. "Draw up at that villa there."

The wagon drew up to the villa, the officer walking in front. He motioned to Ralph to dismount, and to follow him into the house; leaving Percy in charge of the wagon Five or six officers were sitting in what had been the drawing room of the villa.

"Who have you got here?" one of them asked, as Ralph's conductor entered.

"A worthy Hebrew," the other laughed, "who will either purchase, or carry home, articles saved."

There was a general movement of interest. The furniture of the room was a wreck, the papers were hanging in strips, a broken chair was blazing upon the fire; several family portraits on the wall were pierced with holes, having evidently served the purpose of targets, for pistol shooting.

Ralph's conductor left the room for a moment, and returned with a very handsome drawing room clock; worth, Ralph knew, at least fifteen hundred francs.

"How much will you give for that?"

Ralph examined it critically.

"Four hundred francs," he said.

"Nonsense! It cost five times that."

"About four times," Ralph said, "when it was new. It is not new, now, and it has to be taken to Germany. If you prefer it, I will carry it to Frankfort; and send it on thence by rail, at ten percent upon its value."

"Yes, I will agree to that," the officer said. "How much will that be?"

"I am content to take it at your own valuation," Ralph said. "The value you set upon the clock was two thousand francs."

There was a laugh among the other officers.

"He has you there, major."

"Not at all," the officer said. "He shall take it at the valuation he placed upon it—four hundred francs."

"Pardon me," Ralph said, "I did not value it at that sum, I only offered to give that sum for it; besides which, that was an estimate of the value I set upon it at Viroflay, not the value I should set upon it at Frankfort.

"I will say one thousand francs; that is, I will undertake it at a hundred, if you will get it put into a case of some sort."

The other officers now offered various objects, either for sale or transport—pictures, vases, clocks, and even pianos. Ralph haggled over the price of each article, in a way which would have done honor to his appearance. At last—having arranged all their matters—he said that he was going on to Bellevue; but would call and complete the purchases, and receive the goods entrusted to him, either that night or the next morning.

"If any of you gentleman would kindly give me your card, to give to the officer of the regiment at Bellevue, saying that you have found me fair in my dealing, I should feel very grateful," Ralph said, humbly.

The officer laughed, but one of them took out his card, and wrote upon it:

"Dear Von Koch, this man is—for a Hebrew—tolerably fair in his ideas."

"That is for the major of the regiment, at Bellevue," he said; and Ralph bowed, as if he had received a recommendation of the warmest kind.

"I was beginning to be alarmed, Ralph," Percy said, when his brother again took his place in the wagon.

"I have been haggling over prices," Ralph said. "Fortunately, we are not pressed for time."

They had another stop, of some duration, at Chaville; and it was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon before they came down to the back of Bellevue. Here they were stopped and, upon Ralph producing his pass, an officer came up.

"You cannot go any farther," he said. "You are close to Bellevue, now; but if you were to take this wagon into the main road, you would draw Valerien's fire upon us, at once.

"You will find most of the officers there," pointing to a large house, near.

"I have this card, for Major Von Koch," Ralph said. "I am here to buy, or carry home on commission, goods of all kinds."

The officer went with Ralph; and the scene at Viroflay was repeated, but upon a much larger scale. Viroflay is a small village, containing only a few large villas; Bellevue is composed almost entirely of handsome residences, owned by Parisians. The quantity of articles "saved" was proportionately large.

After examining and bargaining for a large number of valuable articles of furniture, pictures and clocks; Ralph left, with some of the officers, to view other articles in the villas upon the side of Bellevue, looking down upon the river. Percy had taken the horses out of the wagon, and accompanied his brother, ostensibly to carry back any articles purchased.

At one of the villas Ralph expressed a great desire to go out into the garden, to look over Paris; and the officer with him—being in an excellent humor, at the disposal of some articles at much higher prices than he had expected to receive; and at having the proceeds, in German bank notes, in his pockets—went out himself, and pointed out all the various objects of interest.

The fog of a winter's evening was already shutting in the view, but the boys could see the principal buildings of Paris. The towers of Notre Dame, the domes of the Pantheon and Invalides, the heights of Montmartre and Vilette, and the forts of Issy and Vanves were distinctly visible. The boys' eyes turned, however, more to the river at their feet, and the intervening ground, than upon the objects—however interesting—of distant Paris.

"Do not show yourself," the officer said. "If we were caught sight of, from Issy or Point du Jour—or from that gunboat, below—we should have a rain of shells about us, in no time. You can look out from among the trees; but do not get beyond their shelter, or you will be seen, instantly."

The house in whose garden they were standing stood upon the brow of the hill. Behind was a little wood, and gardens sloping pretty-steeply down. Then along by the water was a street, with houses upon either side. The river was, here, divided by an island; the lower end of which, however, scarcely extended low enough to be opposite to the spot upon which the boys were standing.

"Bless me," Ralph said, "it must be very dangerous, living down there. Why, that gunboat could blow the place into the air."

"That she could," the officer said, "and consequently, none of our men live there. We have sentries along the river bank, and a few others scattered about; but none of the troops are quartered there, nor even in this line of villas where we now are. If we were to show a light at night, in any window here, we should have a shell in in a couple of minutes. We have no fear, whatever, of a sortie in this direction; and have plenty of force behind."

Ralph and Percy lingered, upon one excuse or another; asking questions as long as they could, and making the best use of their time, to gain a fair idea of the ground that they would have to cross. They had with them, in the wagon, a map of Bellevue and Meudon upon a large scale, with every house marked upon it.

"It is going to be a dark night," the officer said, as they hurried away, "and we shall have snow before midnight."

Another hour or two was spent in purchasing various articles, taken from the French villas. Darkness had come on, and Ralph told the officers that he should not return until the next morning to Versailles; and that if the articles to be entrusted to his care for delivery were put in rough cases—of which there were plenty, which had come full of stores—and brought by ten o'clock in the morning, carefully directed, it would be in sufficient time.

"Will you give us leave to sleep in one of the villas, upon the farther side of the road?" Ralph asked the officer in command. "My boy has never seen a shot fired, in earnest; and I should like him to be able to say he had watched the fire of the forts, round Paris."

"If you sleep there," the colonel said, "you must not light a fire, or show a light, or you would bring the fire of a hundred guns upon us."

"I will be very careful, sir," Ralph answered. "Will you kindly let an orderly go with us, to pass us through the sentries? For, as it's dark now, they would not let us pass."

The colonel gave the order, and an orderly went with them. They stopped at the wagon, and each took out a large bundle.

"We shall want our blankets, tonight," Ralph said. "It is bitterly cold.

"Would you like a glass of brandy, to help keep it out, my man?"

The soldier smiled an assent, drank off a glass of brandy, and then accompanied them to the villa. Short as was the distance, they were challenged twice, and the sign and counter-sign had to be exchanged. They reached the deserted villa, threw down the bundles in a corner; and then the orderly said good night, and left them to themselves.



Chapter 16: A Desperate Attempt.

"So far, so good, Percy!" Ralph said, when they heard the street door slam, as the orderly left. "Hitherto we have had the most extraordinary good fortune and, as it's going to snow—for I felt a few flakes, as we came along—I look upon it as good as done."

"It will take away from us risk of being hit, but I don't see that it will make much difference in our risk of being drowned," Percy said. "I own, Ralph, I am a great deal more afraid of that, than of the other."

"But it does, Percy. It makes all the difference in the world. We had agreed that we would put on life belts; but that we would blow the smallest quantity of air possible into them, so that they might give us some slight assistance, and yet not be too buoyant to prevent us from diving. Now we can blow them up with wind, so as to prevent the possibility of our being drowned. Once in the water, and we are safe from everything except a stray bullet. In a snowstorm, on such a dark night as this, they could not see our heads five yards off."

"But what is worse, Ralph, we shall not be able to see five yards, either; and should have no idea where we were swimming."

"I had not thought of that, Percy. Yes, that would be very serious," and Ralph thought, for some time. "It seems a risk, this, Percy; but I can see no plan, except to draw their fire."

"How do you mean?" Percy asked, puzzled.

"You see, Percy, our idea before was to get down to the shore, to put our dummy into the water, and to let it float down a hundred yards—the length of its string—and then to start ourselves, holding the other end of the string, in hopes that—if the sentries are really sharply on the lookout—they would see the dummy, instead of us, as it will be a much more conspicuous object; especially as we intended to do as much diving as we could, and our movements forward would jerk the dummy's string, and make him bob, like a man swimming. If they once caught sight of it, they would be too busy firing at it to look about for anyone else.

"Well now, I think that instead of giving up the dummy altogether—as we might have done, now that the snow has come on—we must let it float gently down, for seventy or eighty yards; and then throw a stone into the water by it, so as to draw the attention of the sentry. Or—if the sentries are pretty far apart—one of us might make a great splash in the water, when the dummy is floating; and then run back before the sentry gets up, and get into the water quietly, higher up. Their fire will act as a guide to us."

"We had better start soon, Ralph. It may take us an hour, or even two, to get down to the water; for we must go along like ghosts, so as not to alarm the sentries; and we shall have walls to get over, and all sorts of difficulties."

"All right, Percy. I do not see the use of waiting. We shall not get any warmer, by stopping here. It's like having a tooth out. One's got to do it, and the sooner it's done, the better.

"Now for our bundles."

They went downstairs into a cellar—where the light could not be seen from outside—struck a light, and lit a candle. The first thing taken out of the bundle was the dummy—a net, rather larger than a man's head, tightly filled with corks; with a cord, a hundred yards in length, attached. Next were two complete suits, made of white calico; with caps, with long flaps of the same material. Next were two large rolls of India rubber webbing, about six inches wide, which they had brought from Tours with them.

"I can't think that that will be any good, Ralph."

"It will, indeed, Percy. The water will, of course, soak through; but what gets in will remain in, and the heat of the body will warm it, a good deal. I can assure you, it will be a great deal warmer than having the icy water flowing past you."

Both boys now took off their coats and waistcoats, put on a warm flannel jersey over their flannel shirts, and then wound the bandages of India rubber round each other's bodies. They began under the arms; drawing the webbing tight, as they wound it round, so that its natural elasticity caused each turn to press tightly upon the turn above, which it overlapped. This bandage was continued down to the lower part of the body. Then they put on the life belts. Over them they put their suits of white calico, white shoes with India rubber soles, the white caps, and swimming gloves.

They then put the "dummy" in a pillow case, which they had bought for it at Versailles. Before putting on their caps, they fastened the quills with the dispatches in their hair. In a belt, underneath their jackets, each carried a heavy revolver.

"This India rubber stuff regularly squeezes me, Ralph."

"All the better, Percy. You will feel the benefit of it, when you are in the water, believe me."

The boys now knelt down together, and asked for protection through the peril which they were about to encounter. A few minutes later they rose, grasped each other's hand; and then—blowing out the light—groped their way upstairs, opened a window which led into the garden, and stepped out.

The wind was blowing strongly. Snowflakes were being whisked hither and thither, like spray from a wave. Had it not been for the gleam from the snow-covered ground, it would have been impossible to see ten paces, here. As it was, it was intensely dark.

"It's lucky that it's downhill, Percy, or we should never find our way to the water's edge. If we keep descending, we must be there, at last."

Before starting, the boys went a few paces from each other; and were pleased to find that their white costumes suited admirably as, between the driving snow and the white sheet upon the ground, they could not make each other out at more than eight or ten yards, even when they knew exactly where they stood. They now began to descend the hill, very carefully, step by step. The snow upon the ground made walking much more easy than it otherwise would have been. Their footsteps—muffled alike by the India-rubber soles, and the snow upon which they walked—were inaudible, even to themselves. They had several walls to climb, and the noiseless India-rubber soles were of good service, here. Several times they could hear the sentries, beating their feet upon the ground to warm them; but in no case were they near enough to see them.

At last, after an hour and a half—spent in passing the three hundred yards which separated them from the river—they reached, in safety, the wall of the road which runs along by the river. Here the sentries were pacing along at distances of thirty or forty yards apart. The white houses, upon the opposite side of the road, could be faintly seen; and the boys moved along until opposite an opening between them, by which they could get through to the river. Looking over the wall, they could watch the sentries and—choosing their time when one had just passed, so that his back would be turned towards them—he no sooner disappeared in the darkness than they dropped noiselessly into the road, ran across the street, climbed a low railing, and stood in a garden which reached down to the river.

They stood watching, for some time, to assure themselves that no sentry was placed in the garden; but at last they stole forwards and stood at the end of the garden, with the river at their feet. The snow—which was at their backs—was falling faster than ever. The river deepened rapidly from the wall; but the water was low enough for anyone to get along on the sloping side—faced with rough stone—between the foot of the wall and the water.

The boys got over the wall, took the dummy from the bag and, holding one end of the cord, put it quietly into the water; and allowed it to float down, about sixty yards.

"Now, Percy," Ralph said, "you get ready to slip into the water, as quietly as possible, the moment you hear a splash. I will leave this bag here, so as to know exactly where you have gone in and—as the rope is plenty long enough—you keep hold of it here, at sixty yards from the dummy; and I will fasten the slack end to the stone so that, when I go in, I have only to hold the rope in my hand, to be able to join you. I will take this heavy coping stone in my hand; will crawl along on this shelving bank, till I arrive at the dummy; and will then throw the stone in, and run back at full speed, and be in the water a few seconds after you are."

"All right, Ralph, I understand. Keep your pistol cocked in your hand, as you go."

Ralph crept quietly along, under the wall, until he saw the dummy floating at the edge of the water, a few feet below him. He rose on his feet, to throw in the stone; when he heard a deep exclamation behind him and, looking round, he saw a dark figure within two feet of him. Another moment, and the sentry would have brought his rifle to his shoulder—for he sprang back, giving a loud shout—but Ralph wheeled round instantaneously, threw up his revolver, and fired at the sentinel's body.

He saw him fall; turned round, hurled the heavy stone with a loud splash into the water, and then—crawling low under the wall—ran at full speed back again. As he did so, two sentries in the garden over his head fired, in the direction of the splash in the water; and shouts were heard all along the bank.

In another instant Ralph grasped the line, and slid down the snowy slopes into the water; entering so quietly that no sound, whatever, betrayed his entry. It was icy cold, and almost took away his breath. Twenty strokes, and he joined Percy.

"All right, old man, they can't see us now."

"You are not hit, are you, Ralph?" Percy gasped.

"No, it was my revolver. I had to shoot a sentry, to save my life. It's lucky we have got these life belts on, for I am sure we should never get across."

"There! There!" was shouted, in German. "I see his head bobbing up and down," and eight or ten rifle shots were fired, from the garden where the sentry had fallen, in the direction of the dummy.

The boys swam on desperately, then Ralph said:

"You can slip the string now, Percy. The dummy has done its work. It must be quite out of sight from the bank.

"Do not you feel the benefit of the India rubber?"

"Yes," Percy said, "I am warm enough, in the body; but my legs are in agony, from the cold. These gloves are helping us on, though, at a great rate."

"Well, there is one blessing," Ralph said, "we can't miss the way, now."

As he spoke, a heavy fire of musketry opened from the French, upon the other side. Alarmed at the sudden fire on the part of the Germans, they fired at the flashes of their guns and, fresh reinforcements coming up on either side, a heavy exchange of musketry shots took place across the river; partially over the boys' heads, but principally a hundred yards lower down the stream, in the direction where the dummy was seen by the Germans.

The boys swam with long, steady, noiseless strokes.

"We must be halfway across," Ralph said.

"I am getting deadly cold, all over, Ralph. I can't sink, of course; but I shall freeze to death, before I reach the opposite bank."

"No, no, Percy," Ralph said, as cheerily as he could; though he felt, himself, that the intense cold was rapidly overcoming his strength. "Keep up your heart. Strike as hard as you can. The more you exert yourself, the better."

In another minute or two, Ralph found he was leaving Percy behind, and slackened his speed.

"Goodbye, Ralph. My legs are all cramped up, and my arms are numbed. I can't swim another stroke. It is all up with me," he said, faintly. "God bless you. Don't stop with me; you can do no good, and your only chance is to go on."

Ralph, however, put one hand upon Percy's life belt, and struck out for shore; but he felt that it was hopeless. Frightful pains were shooting through his limbs, and he breathed what he believed to be a last prayer; when a boom like thunder, a few yards off, galvanized him into life again—for he saw the gunboat, which they had seen in the morning, only a few yards distant. She had just fired a gun, loaded with grape, in the direction of the Germans who were firing. She was still at anchor, and the stream was drifting them down fast upon her.

"Help!" Ralph shouted. "Help! We are drowning, and have dispatches Throw a rope, quick!"

"Where are you?" answered a voice.

"Here, close to you, just abreast," Ralph shouted.

In another instant a rope struck his face. He grasped it, twisted it tightly round Percy's body and his own, tied a rough knot with his last strength, and then lost consciousness.

When he recovered his senses, his first sensation was that of intense pain—so intense that it extracted a groan from him.

"That's right, rub away; and pour some more brandy down his throat," a voice said.

Then he became conscious that he was being rubbed with hot flannels. He opened his eyes, and saw a gleaming of moving machinery, and the red glare of furnaces.

"Where am I?" he asked, at last.

"In the engine room of the gunboat Farcey," a voice said.

"I am suffering agony," Ralph murmured, between his teeth.

"I daresay," the officer who was standing by him answered. "You were pretty near frozen to death. Luckily your life belts kept you from taking in any water, but it was a near squeak. Another three minutes in the water, and the doctor says it would have been all up with you."

"Where is my brother?" Ralph asked suddenly; sitting up, with a full consciousness of all that had passed.

"He is coming round," the officer said. "He was farther gone than you were; and his heart's action was altogether suspended, from the cold. His limbs are twitching now, and the doctor says he will do.

"You call him your brother, but I suppose you mean your son?"

"Please lend me some clothes," Ralph said. "I can stand, now."

Some clothes had already been got in readiness, and warmed; and in a couple of minutes Ralph was kneeling by his brother's side. Percy was now coming to, and was suffering agonies similar to those which Ralph himself had experienced, from the recommencement of circulation in his limbs. He looked round, utterly bewildered; for he had become insensible before the Farcey's gun had given notice of her proximity. He smiled, however, when his eyes fell on Ralph's face.

"It is all right, Percy, thank God," Ralph said. "We are on board the gunboat Farcey and, in ten minutes, we shall be landed in the heart of Paris."

In another five minutes, Percy was sufficiently recovered to begin to dress. The commander of the Farcey now turned to Ralph.

"Your son has had a very narrow shave of it, sir."

"Son!" Ralph said, "He is my brother."

The officer looked surprised.

"How old do you take me to be?" Ralph asked.

"Forty-five or fifty," the officer said.

"I shall not be seventeen for some months," Ralph answered.

The officer looked at him with an air of intense astonishment, and there was a burst of laughter from the men standing round. The commandant frowned angrily at them.

"Quite so, my dear sir," he said, soothingly. "I was only joking with you. It is evident that you are not yet seventeen."

"You think I have lost my senses, with the shock," Ralph said, smiling. "I can assure you that that is my age. My beard and whiskers are so firmly fixed on, with cobbler's wax, that I shall have an awful trouble to get them off; and my hair the same. If you feel along here, from one ear to the other, you will feel a ridge. That is the cobbler's wax, that sticks all this mass of frizzled hair on.

"Did you not notice that both my brother's and my face and hands were much darker than the rest of our skin?"

"Yes, the doctor did notice that," the captain said—now beginning to think that Ralph was not insane, after all.

Passing his finger where Ralph directed him, he felt the ridge of the false hair.

"Who are you then, may I ask?" he said.

"My brother and myself are named Barclay," Ralph said. "We are lieutenants in the army, and are both decorated for service in the field. We left Tours four days ago, and are bearers of dispatches from Gambetta to General Trochu."

A cheer broke from all who were standing within hearing; and the boys' hands—for Percy came up at the moment—were warmly shaken by the officers of the boat, one after another. Congratulations of all sorts were heaped upon them, and those around were unable to make enough of them.

"No pigeon has come in, for ten days," the commander said. "You will indeed be welcome."

At this moment, a sailor came down to say that they were passing the Louvre and, in another two minutes, the gunboat lay alongside the wharf.

"You do not know, I suppose, where Trochu is to be found?" the commander of the Farcey asked.

"No, indeed," Ralph said.

"I will go with you, myself," the officer said. "If the general has gone to bed, we must knock him up. He won't mind, when he hears the reason."

It was but a short distance to walk, but the boys had great difficulty in getting there; for their limbs were stiff and aching, and they felt a burning sensation all over them, as if they had been dipped in boiling water. General Trochu had not yet gone to bed and—upon the message being delivered by the orderly, "The commander of the Farcey, with officers bearing dispatches, from Tours,"—he ordered them to be instantly admitted.

"These are the Lieutenants Barclay, general," the commander of the Farcey said. "A heavy firing broke out, suddenly, from the water side at Lower Meudon. It was answered from our side and—thinking that it might be someone trying to swim across—I fired a round of grape into the Germans, and ordered a sharp lookout to be kept. I had scarcely spoken the words before we were hailed for a rope; and in another minute these officers—both insensible from cold—were pulled on board. Thinking they might have dispatches, I at once started up the river; and when they were brought round, by the surgeon, they stated that they were the Lieutenants Barclay, bearers of dispatches from Tours."

"Gallantly done, gentlemen! Bravely done!" the general said warmly, shaking both boys by the hand.

The burning heat of Percy's hand struck him, at once.

"Where are your dispatches, gentlemen? You have preserved them, I hope?"

Ralph produced the two quills.

"They are duplicate, general," he said. "We each carried one, in case any accident might befall one of us."

"Thank you," the general said. "I need now detain you no longer. I have work here for all night, and you had better go instantly to bed. Your brother is in a high state of fever."

He touched a bell, and an officer in waiting came in.

"Captain Bar, will you kindly take these gentlemen to a hotel, at once. The horses are, as usual, in the carriage I suppose; and,"—he dropped his voice—"send a message from me to request Doctor Marcey to see them, at once. The younger one is in a state of high fever."

In another quarter of an hour the boys were in comfortable beds, in rooms adjoining each other. Ralph—who was heavy and stupid, with the effects of the cold—was asleep almost the instant his head touched the pillow. He was roused a short time afterwards by being shaken and, opening his eyes, he saw someone leaning over him.

"Drink this," the gentleman said, holding a glass to his lips.

Ralph mechanically did as he was told; and fell off again into a heavy sleep, from which he did not awake until late the next afternoon.

His first impulse was to look at his watch. It had stopped at eleven o'clock, the night before—the hour at which he had entered the Seine. Then he rang the bell.

"What o'clock is it?" he asked, when the servant entered.

"Just struck five, sir."

"What, five in the afternoon?" Ralph exclaimed.

"Yes, sir."

"I have slept," Ralph said, with a laugh. "However, I feel all right again, now.

"Is my brother up?"

"No, sir," the man said.

"Percy!" Ralph shouted, "It is five o'clock in the afternoon. Get up."

"The other gentleman is not in the next room, sir," the servant said.

"Is he not?" Ralph said, puzzled. "I was desperately sleepy last night, certainly; but not too sleepy, I should have thought, to have made a mistake about that. I feel sure he was in the next room."

"He was, sir," the servant said, "but Doctor Marcey, when he came to see you—just after you got into bed—ordered him to be carried at once into another room, in order that he might not disturb you. He said it was essential that you should have your sleep out, undisturbed."

"But why should my brother disturb me?" Ralph asked, anxiously. "Is he not well?"

"No, sir, he has got fever. He has been calling out, a great deal. He has got two sisters with him, and the doctor has been every hour."

By this time Ralph was out of bed.

"Here are some clothes, sir," the man said, handing them to him. "The landlord thought you would want some at once, when you woke; and ordered three or four suits for you to try."

Ralph seized the first that came to hand, and threw them on.

"All Paris was talking about your getting through the enemy, last night, sir. There have been hundreds of people here to call."

Ralph did not even hear what was said.

"Now," he said, "take me to him, at once."

The servant led Ralph along a passage and stopped at a door, at which he knocked. A Sister of Mercy opened the door.

"This is the other gentleman."

The sister opened the door for Ralph to enter.

"He is quiet now," she said, in a soft, compassionate tone.

Ralph went into the room. Percy lay in the bed, with his head surrounded with ice. His face was flushed, and his eyes wild. He was moving uneasily about, talking to himself.

"It is that schoolmaster who is at the bottom of it," he muttered. "He was a traitor, and I thought we hung him, but I suppose we didn't. Perhaps he got down, after we had gone off. If not, how could he have betrayed us again?

"I have heard of liquid fire, but that was liquid ice. It got into my veins, somehow, instead of blood. I tell you, Ralph, it's no good. I can't stand it any longer; but I will pay off that schoolmaster, first. Let me get at him," and he made an effort to rise.

The sister tried to restrain him, but so violent were his efforts to rise that Ralph—who was looking on, with tears streaming down his cheeks—was obliged to assist to hold him down. When he became quiet, the sister forced some medicine between his lips—Ralph holding up his head.

"Shall I speak to him?" Ralph asked. "He may know my voice."

"Better not, sir," the nurse said, "it would probably only set him off again."

"What does the doctor say about him?" Ralph asked.

"He says it is brain fever," the nurse said. "He only said it might be some days, before the crisis came; and that he could not give any decided opinion, at present. But he seemed to have hope."

"Thank God, at least, for that!" Ralph said, earnestly.

Percy, turning his head round again, caught sight of Ralph.

"Ah, there is that schoolmaster again! If no one else will hang him, I will do it, myself. Let me get at him!"

And he again made desperate efforts to get out of bed.

"You had better go, sir," one of the sisters said, urgently. "The sight of you makes him worse, and you can do him no good."

Seeing that it was so, Ralph reluctantly left the room; his only comfort being that Percy was as carefully tended, and looked after, as it was possible for him to be. He had scarcely returned to his room, when an officer was shown in.

"I daresay you hardly remember me," he said. "I came here with you, last night."

"I am very glad to see you again, and to thank you for the trouble you took," Ralph said. "I was too sleepy to do so, last night."

"Not at all," the officer answered. "However, I am here with a message from the general, now. He would have asked you to dine with him but, hearing of the state of your brother, he could not ask you to leave him for so long a time; but he would be glad if you would come to see him, for an hour, this evening. He wishes to know how you managed to pass through the German lines; and he also desires to be informed, as far as you can give such information, of the number and position of the enemy.

"What surprises us all, more than anything, is that the dispatches are dated the morning of the thirteenth instant; and you were picked up, by the Farcey, upon the evening of the sixteenth. It seems incredible that you should have done the distance, and managed to get through the German lines, in the time. Only one other messenger has got through; and his dispatches were more than ten days old, when they reached us, and had been forestalled by some pigeons. Your news is six days later than any we have received."

"We slept, on the night of the thirteenth, at Montargis," Ralph said; "on the fourteenth at Melun, on the fifteenth at Versailles; and last night—as you know—here."

"I must not get the information before the general," the officer said, with a laugh. "It is half-past six, now. The general dines at seven. At what time will you be with him? Shall we say nine?"

"I will be there at nine," Ralph said, "but the general will, I hope, excuse my coming either in uniform, or full dress of any kind. I have, of course, nothing with me."

"General Trochu will of course understand that," the officer said. "Goodbye."

Ralph now went back to Percy's room. The doctor had just come. He was accompanied by another medical man. Ralph stood by, in silent attention, while the doctor felt Percy's pulse, and asked a few questions of the nurse. They then gave some orders, and said that fresh medicine should be sent in, in a quarter of an hour; and that they would come in again, at ten o'clock, to see how he was going on.

"What do you think of him, sir?" Ralph asked, as the doctor came out.

"He has a sharp attack of brain fever," the doctor said, "but he is young, with an excellent constitution. I trust we shall pull him through. I cannot say anything for certain, at present—till the fever takes a turn, one way or the other—but I have strong hopes."

Ralph ordered some dinner to be sent up to his room, for he began to be keenly awake to the fact that he had eaten nothing, for more than twenty-four hours. After he had taken the meal, he sat in Percy's room, until it was time to go to General Trochu's; keeping himself, however, in a position so as to be hidden by the curtain—for the sight of him evidently excited the patient. Percy was, as far as his brother could see, in just the same state as before: sometimes talking to himself, in disconnected sentences; sometimes raving wildly, and imagining himself repeating the scenes through which he had passed, since he left home.

At nine o'clock, exactly, Ralph sent in his name to the governor; and was at once shown in. The general had already left the table, and was smoking in a small study. With him were Generals Ducrot and Vinoy. General Trochu rose, and shook him cordially by the hand; presented him to the other generals, and asked him to take a cigar, and sit down.

"Generals Ducrot and Vinoy are surprised, I see, at your appearance, Captain Barclay," General Trochu began.

"By the way," he interrupted himself, "you are in the Gazette, this morning, as captain."

Ralph bowed, and expressed his thanks.

"No thanks are due at all, Captain Barclay," the old veteran said. "You have well earned your promotion; and Gambetta—who speaks of you, I may say, in the highest terms—tells me that he promised you the step, if you got in. I need not say that, whether he had done so or not, I should have given it to you.

"But I was saying, I see Generals Vinoy and Ducrot are surprised—as I am, myself—at your appearance. Gambetta, in his letter, twice uses the expression young officers. Once he said, 'these young officers have greatly distinguished themselves, and have gained the cross of the legion of honor;' and again he says, 'these young officers have volunteered to carry dispatches.'

"Naturally, my friends were looking for a younger man; and having only seen you for an instant last night, and not having observed your features, specially, I confess that I was expecting a younger man.

"You see," he said, with a smile, "we can quite understand Gambetta's calling your brother a young officer, for he is a mere lad; but one would hardly have applied the same term to yourself."

Ralph had flushed crimson, at the commencement of this speech.

"I must apologize very greatly, general," he said, when the Governor of Paris stopped; "for the mistake is certainly due to my own forgetfulness."

His hearers looked surprised.

"I slept until five o'clock this afternoon," Ralph continued; "owing, I believe, to a powerful opiate that the doctor you kindly sent us gave me. Since I woke, my thoughts have been entirely given to my brother; and the thought of my singular appearance never entered my mind. I have become so accustomed—in the few days since I left Tours—to this beard, mustache, and hair, that I never thought of them, for a moment. Had I thought of it, I could not have presented myself before you, this evening; for I should not have presumed to do so, in my present state; and it will take me some hours of hard work, and not a little pain, before I get rid of them—for they are fastened on with shoemaker's wax and, I fear, will not come off, without taking a considerable portion of skin with them."

The three generals laughed heartily at Ralph's apology, and their own mistake; and General Trochu then asked him to give them a full account of what had happened to him, what he had seen, and what information he had gained since he left Tours. Ralph told the story unaffectedly, from beginning to end, and received warm commendation from his listeners.

"Your story began at Tours," General Trochu said; "where had you last been, before that?"

"We had only arrived, ten days before, from a German prison," Ralph answered.

The generals all laughed.

"You are adventurous fellows, you and your brother," General Vinoy said. "How did you get taken, and how did you get out?"

Ralph again told his story.

"You are cool hands, you Barclays," General Ducrot said. "How did you get commissions first? Were you at the Polytechnic, or Saint Cyr?"

"No, general," Ralph said, modestly, "we had no such advantages. We won our commissions—and the cross of the Legion—in the Vosges, as franc tireurs."

"In which corps?" General Trochu asked, a little sharply. "They have not done any very great things, the franc tireurs."

"We were in the franc tireurs of Dijon," Ralph said, a little proudly. "We several times beat superior forces. We blew up the bridge of the Vesouze; and should have blown up the tunnel of Saverne, had it not been for treachery."

"Yes, yes," General Trochu said; "I remember Gambetta has once or twice mentioned your corps, especially. You see, we don't hear much from outside.

"Let us hear of the affairs you have mentioned. Your account will give us a better idea of the state of things, in the Vosges, than fifty dispatches would do."

Thus asked, Ralph gave an account of the doings of the corps; from the day they arrived in the Vosges, to the day he had left them—reduced to a fourth of their original strength. The three generals sat and smoked their cigars while he spoke, asking questions occasionally.

"Very good," General Trochu said, when he finished; and the other generals cordially assented.

"But how come you to speak German so well?" General Trochu asked; "and how was it you understood the English in which the officer spoke, at Saverne?"

"We are English," Ralph said; and his hearers gave a simultaneous start of surprise. "That is to say, our nationality is English, though we are half French. Our father—an officer in the English army—was wounded, left the service, married a French lady, and settled in France for a time. We have been educated partly in England, Germany, and France; so that we speak the three languages nearly equally well."

"Well, Captain Barclay," General Trochu said, "I am almost sorry that you are not French; for you would be a credit to any country.

"And now, I think it is time to be going to bed," and he drew out his watch. "Bless me, it is one o'clock! I had no idea it was so late. Good night.

"I will not ask you to call again, for a day or two; as your brother will naturally occupy your attention, and care. I trust that I shall soon hear good news of him."

"Good night, Captain Barclay," the other generals said, cordially, each giving him their hands; and Ralph made his way across the dark streets—for there was no gas—back to his hotel.

He went at once up to Percy's room; and found that, if not decidedly better, he was at least no worse; and the Sisters of Charity, who were nursing him, said that the doctors had spoken hopefully at their last visit. Ralph had intended to sit up all night, but the nurses assured him that he could be of no use, whatever; and indeed, that he would be worse than useless, as his presence excited Percy. They themselves were keeping watch, by turns.

Accordingly Ralph—who still felt the effects of the cold immersion—went off to bed and—in spite of the late hour at which he had risen—was in a few minutes sound asleep.



Chapter 17: A Balloon Voyage.

For eight-and-forty hours, Percy's fever and delirium continued unabated. At the end of that time, he fell into a long sleep; and the doctor, as he felt his hand and heard his breathing, told his brother that he thought the crisis was over, and that he would awaken, conscious. His prognostication turned out well founded and, to Ralph's intense delight, Percy knew him when he opened his eyes. He was weak—weaker than Ralph could have supposed anyone could possibly have become, after only two days' illness. But he was fairly convalescent.

Ralph had scarcely left him, during these two days; and had only been out once from the hotel. He had sent for a newspaper; to read for himself, in the Gazette, the promotion which General Trochu had notified to him and, after doing so, he turned to another portion; and there, among the lists of decorations given, were the names of Percy and himself, as promoted to be commanders of the Legion for having, with extreme gallantry, conveyed dispatches from Tours to Paris, through the German lines.

It was after reading this newspaper that Ralph went out. His walk was not a long one. He went first to a tailor, and ordered two captain's uniforms; for Percy was so nearly his own size that—except that his shoulders were an inch less in width—Ralph's clothes fitted him exactly. He then went to the Palais Royal, where there are several shops which sell nothing but medals, and decorations; and bought two ribbons of the commander's rank, in the legion of honor.

One terrible morning Ralph spent in a hairdresser's hands and, at the cost of no little pain, got rid of all that mass of hair which had so transformed him. The stain was now nearly worn off the skin; and Ralph was quite surprised, when he again looked at himself in the glass.

"I was about beginning to forget," he said, with a laugh, "that I was a boy, after all."

The first day of Percy's convalescence, he dozed a good deal; but the next day he woke, much brighter and better.

"Look here, Percy," Ralph said, laying the ribbon before him; "that's better than medicine for you. There is the ribbon of a commander of the legion of honor. You can safely boast that you are the youngest who ever wore it; and earned it well, too, old man. Won't they be pleased, at home? And we are both gazetted as captains."

Percy smiled with pleasure. His attack had been a very sharp one; but so short an illness, however severe, is speedily got over. The doctor had, that morning, said that all he wanted now was building up; and that, in a very few days, he would be about. Indeed, Percy wanted to get up that day; insisting that he was quite strong. When he once stood up, however, he found he was much weaker than he had imagined; but sat up in an armchair, all the evening. The next day he remained up all day and, three days after, he felt strong enough to go to the governor with Ralph, to ask for their promised places in the next balloon.

It was now the twenty-third of November. A carriage was sent for and, after some difficulty, procured; for carriages were already becoming scarce, in Paris. They drove up to the entrance, and went in; but were told by an orderly—who could scarcely conceal his surprise at these lads, in the uniform of captains of the staff, and with decorations scarcely ever seen, except upon the breasts of superior officers—that the general was out. They turned and went out but, as they reached the steps, a number of officers rode up.

"There is General Trochu himself, with Vinoy and Ducrot," Ralph said.

The generals dismounted, and came up the steps. As they did so their eyes fell upon the boys, who both saluted. They paused, in surprise.

"What masquerade is this, young gentlemen?" General Trochu asked, sternly. "Allow me to ask how you venture to dress up as captains, on the staff; and still more how you dare to put on the ribbons of commanders of the legion of honor?

"It is no laughing matter," he said, angrily, as Ralph could not resist a smile. "It is a punishable offence; and your impudence in showing yourselves off, at my door, makes the matter the more unpardonable."

"I see, general, that you do not remember us."

"I do not, sir," General Trochu said, looking at him sternly. "To the best of my belief, I never set eyes upon you before."

The numerous staff of officers—who had accompanied the generals, and who were scattered thickly around them—gave an angry murmur; for scarce one among them wore the coveted decoration.

"I am Ralph Barclay, and this is my brother Percy," Ralph said, respectfully.

"Impossible!" the three generals exclaimed, simultaneously; while there was a general exclamation of surprise, from the officers round—for the courageous deed of the Barclays, in making their way through the enemy's lines, had been a general topic of conversation, and all Paris was familiar with their names.

"It is so, general," Ralph said, respectfully. "I explained to you, at the interview that I had the honor of having with you, in the presence of Generals Ducrot and Vinoy, that it was the false hair which made all the difference; and that I was but little older than my brother."

The generals no longer doubted. They all shook both boys by the hand.

"I am astounded," General Trochu said; "astounded that two such mere boys, as I now see you are, should have accomplished what you have done. However, courage is of no age; and I do not think that there are any here,"—and he turned to the officers round him—"who will not agree with me that these ribbons are worthily placed."

"No, indeed," was the general reply; and the officers all pressed round, to shake hands with the boys, as they accompanied the governor back into the house.

General Trochu went at once into his private study, and told the boys to sit down.

"Now, what can I do for you, boys?"

"Monsieur Gambetta promised us that he would write, to ask for us to have places in the first balloon which came out, after we arrived," Ralph said. "Owing to my brother's illness, I have not been able to ask, before; but I am now anxious to leave as soon as possible, especially as the doctor says that change is desirable for my brother, and that he ought to have at least a month's nursing, at home, before he gets on horseback again."

"A balloon will start tomorrow morning," General Trochu said, "but if you choose to stay here, I will promise you both places upon my own staff; or upon those of Generals Ducrot or Vinoy—either of whom would, I am sure, be very glad to receive you."

"You are very kind, indeed, sir—very kind; and we feel greatly honored by your offer," Ralph said, gratefully. "Had we any intention, whatever, of remaining in the army, we should accept it, with many thanks; but it is not so. We are English; and at the end of the war we leave France, and go back to live at home. We entered the ranks with no thought of winning promotion, or favor; but simply from a sense of duty to the country to which our mother belonged, and in which we were born.

"There will, I suppose, be a great battle fought near Orleans, shortly; and I should like to be present, if possible—and Percy wants rest. Therefore, general, while thanking you most warmly for your kindness, we would rather go out."

"Very well," the general said, "it shall be as you wish. There is certainly more chance of your seeing stirring service, in the field, than in here. I do not blame you for your choice. I will send a note at once to Monsieur Teclier—who has charge of the balloon—to say that you will accompany him.

"Goodbye, lads, goodbye; you are fine young fellows, and your father has every right to be proud of you. Tell him so, from me."

The boys rose, and bowed; but the general held out his hand, and shook theirs warmly.

Upon leaving the room, they found several of the officers of the staff waiting outside; who begged them to stay, and have a chat with them. Ralph at once accepted the invitation; upon the condition that Percy should have a sofa upon which to lie down, for his brother was looking pale, and faint. They were most warmly received, in a large drawing room, in which were over a dozen officers of different ranks. Some bottles of champagne were opened, cigars were lit and, while Percy lay quietly upon the sofa, Ralph chatted with the officers; relating, at their earnest request, several of their adventures in the Vosges, as well as the story of their entering into Paris.

His new friends warmly pressed them to stop and dine with them; but Ralph pleaded that the balloon was to start at five in the morning, and that he wished Percy to lie down, and get a good night's sleep before starting. The carriage had been discharged, hours since; but one of the officers ordered a carriage of General Trochu's to the door and, after a hearty leave taking, the boys returned to their hotel.

"What a curious scene it is, Percy," Ralph said. "Who would think that we were in a besieged city? Everything looks very much as usual: the shops are open; people walk about and chat, and smoke, and drink their coffee or absinthe, just as usual. The only difference is, that everyone is in some sort of uniform or other. One does not see a single able-bodied man altogether in civilian dress; and at night the streets are very dismal, owing to there being no gas."

"How much longer do they seem to expect to hold out, Ralph?"

"Another two months, anyhow; perhaps three, or even more. There seems to be a large stock of everything, and everyone is put on to a regular allowance—just enough to live upon, and no more."

"I seem to have everything I want, Ralph; lots of beef tea, and soup, and jelly, and so on."

"Yes, Percy; but you obtain your food from the hospital. The hotel could not furnish anything of the kind, I can tell you.

"Here we are. Now you lie down at once, and get to sleep. I will wake you in plenty of time."

At ten minutes before the appointed time, the boys arrived at the Northern Railway Station; which presented a very different appearance to that which it ordinarily wore. No whistle of locomotives, or rumble of heavy trains, disturbed the silence of the station. A smell of varnish pervaded the whole place; and several empty balloons hung from the roof, undergoing the process of drying. The official—who had received them at the entrance—conducted them outside the station; and there, in the light of some torches, a great black mass could be seen, swaying heavily to and fro. The aeronaut was standing beside it.

"Here are the gentlemen who accompany you," the officer said to him.

"How are you, gentlemen?" he said, cheerily. "We have a fine night, or rather morning; the wind is northerly. I suppose this is your first ascent?"

"Yes, indeed," Ralph said, "and I own I hope it will be the last. Have the dispatches arrived?"

"No; I have the mail bags, but not the dispatches Hush! There are a horse's hoofs."

A few minutes afterwards a railway official brought a note, which he delivered to Monsieur Teclier.

"Bah!" he said, in an annoyed tone, "why cannot they be punctual?"

"What is it, sir?" Ralph asked.

"A note from the general, to say that the dispatches will not be ready for an hour. That means an hour and a half; and by that time it will be light enough to be seen, and we shall have to run the gauntlet. However, I suppose it cannot be helped.

"The best thing will be to pass the time as cheerfully as we can; and that certainly will not be in waiting out here, in this bitter cold. I have, fortunately, a few bottles of excellent wine in the car; so I propose, gentlemen, that we go in to a fire, have a glass of wine, and smoke a cigar, tranquilly."

Monsieur Teclier gave a few directions concerning the balloon; and they then adjourned to a work shed near, where a good fire was blazing, for the use of the men employed in filling the balloon. Here the hour and a half of waiting passed pleasantly.

At a quarter to seven, the dispatches arrived. They were hastily placed in the car, in which everything else had already been packed. The Barclays took their place, the word was given, "Let go all!" and, in another instant, the earth seemed to sink away from under them, and they were rising over the tops of the houses.

The dawn had already broken, gray and uncertain. Light clouds were floating overhead. For two or three minutes, not a word was spoken. The scene was so wonderful—the effect so extraordinary, to the boys—that they were unable to utter a word. Every instant, the earth seemed to sink away from them; every instant, their view extended farther and farther; and the distant fields, villages, and hills seemed actually to spring into sight.

"It is wonderful!" Ralph said, at last.

"Magnificent!" Percy responded.

"I wonder whether they see us?" Ralph said.

"We shall soon know," Monsieur Teclier said. "We have crossed the river, and over the walls already. In another five minutes, we shall be over their lines."

There were good telescopes in the car, and the boys directed them upon the immense panorama below them.

"What fort is that, immediately beneath us?" Ralph asked.

"That is Vanves. The village you see there is Chatillon. Look out now, we may expect visitors, in a minute."

He had hardly spoken before they heard a faint sound, followed by others similar.

"That is musketry," Monsieur Teclier said. "Listen."

They did listen, and heard a peculiar whistling sound; which seemed below, around, and about them.

"That is a whistle of bullets; there is no mistaking them," Ralph said.

"We are too low," Monsieur Teclier said. "Throw out that bundle of newspapers; we will go up a little."

Ralph did so.

"What would be the consequence, if a bullet hit the balloon?"

"No consequence at all, except that a slight escape of gas would take place.

"There, we are going into the clouds now, and they will not trouble any more about us."

"I thought that we were going to have wind," Ralph said. "The barometer at the hotel had fallen a good deal; and the clouds, before we started, looked like it but, now we are once up here, we do not seem to move."

In another two minutes, they passed through the layer of clouds, and the sun shone brightly upon them. They looked down on a sea of white mist, without a break.

"There," Ralph continued, "we are entirely becalmed. These clouds below do not move, nor do we."

"You cannot tell that," Monsieur Teclier said. "We go in the same direction, and at the same speed, as the clouds. It is just as if you were in a boat, at night, upon a rapid stream. If you could see no banks, or other stationary objects, you might believe yourself to be standing still; while you were being drifted forward, at the rate of twenty miles an hour. We may be traveling, now, forty or fifty miles an hour; and as I agree with you, as to the look of the clouds before starting, I believe that we are doing so—or, at any rate, that we are traveling fast—but in what direction, or at what rate, I have no means, whatever, of knowing.

"Even if we found that we moved, relatively to the clouds below us, that would only show that this upper current was somewhat different from that below."

"But how are we to find out about it?" Percy asked.

"We must keep a sharp lookout for rifts in the clouds. If we could get a peep of the earth, only for a minute, it would be sufficient to tell us the direction and, to some extent, the speed at which we are going."

The boys, in vain, hung over the side. The sea of clouds beneath them changed, and swelled, and rolled its masses of vapor over each other; as if a contest of some gigantic reptiles were going on with them.

"There must be a great deal of wind, to account for these rapid changes of form," Percy said, after a long silence. "Suppose you see nothing of the earth? At what time will you begin to descend?"

"In five hours from the time of starting, at twenty-five miles an hour—supposing that the wind holds north—we should fall south of the Loire, somewhere between Orleans and Bourges. At eleven o'clock, then, I will let out gas; and go down below the clouds, to see whereabouts we are. If we cannot recognize the country, or see any river which may guide us, we shall at least see our direction and rate of movement; and can either throw out more newspapers, and keep on for awhile, or descend at once."

It was just ten o'clock, when Ralph gave a sudden cry.

"The sea!" he said; "the sea!"

"Impossible," Monsieur Teclier said, hanging over the side; "I can see nothing."

"Nor can I, now," Ralph said; "but I caught a glimpse, just now, and I will almost swear to its being the sea—though how we could get there, I don't know."

"If it is," the aeronaut said, "the wind must be blowing half a gale, up here; and must have changed entirely, either to the west or south. It is too serious to hesitate; we must find out if your eyes have not deceived you."