allow ditch the two
young soldiers ate their luncheon.

"I wonder what some of my friends would say if they could see me now,"
mused Leon. "I guess they'd be surprised."

"Because you are fighting here?" asked Jacques.

"Yes. They probably couldn't understand why I should want to enlist in
some other country's army and go to war for strangers."

"But you are fighting for liberty," exclaimed Jacques. "America stands
for liberty, does it not?"

"It certainly does," cried Leon. "Still some people would probably
wonder why I should want to fight for another country's liberty."

"But," protested Jacques, "did not France aid your country in your
struggle for independence in the war of the Revolution? Why then is it
strange that Americans should help France when she is fighting for her
very existence and life?"

"I don't think it's strange," said Leon. "I think it's only right.
What I said was, that some of my friends might not understand it."

"America and France both stand for liberty," said Jacques. "They both
had to fight hard to get it and now they should help each other keep
what they have won so dearly."

"The two nations have always been good friends," said Leon.

"Yes," agreed Jacques simply, "and I hope they always will be."

The young Frenchman rolled over on his side and suddenly jumped almost
to his feet. He clasped both hands to his face and tried to rise but
could not. His head seemed to weigh tons and he simply could not get
up.

"Jacques! Jacques!" cried Leon in alarm, kneeling beside his
companion. "What is the matter?"

Blood was oozing between the fingers of the young Frenchman.

"Let me see," begged Leon. "Take your hands away from your face."

Jacques made no answer but continued his vain efforts to rise.

With difficulty Leon forced his hands from his face. Jacques was now
bespattered with blood which spurted from a long gash running from his
left eye to the corner of his mouth.

"Lie down, Jacques," begged Leon anxiously.

Without a word the wounded boy stretched himself out upon his back in
the ditch. Leon reached for his emergency dressing and began to do
what he could for the young Frenchman.

"A steel splinter hit me, I guess," murmured Jacques.

"I should say it did," agreed Leon soberly. "It's a lucky thing it
didn't hit your eye. How do you feel?"

"All right. Pretty weak though."

"A doctor ought to dress that wound," said Leon. "You can't leave this