lt of what was happening. Everything
brought the fact of war home to him. To him it was even more vivid
perhaps than to Henri, who had been brought up to know that some time
all this would come about, and saw little that he had not been sure,
some time, of seeing.

The crowds delayed them. Sometimes they had to dismount from their
wheels and walk for a space, but in the end they came to their
destination. Madame Martin, Henri's aunt, greeted him with delight.

"We were thinking of you, Henri!" she said. "Your uncle said to me only
to-night, when we heard of the mobilization: 'And what of Henri? He
cannot go home yet.' I knew you would come to us! And you have brought a
friend? That is very well."

"Oh--an American!" she exclaimed, a moment later. "You have done well,
my nephew."

"I'm half French," said Frank. Somehow he was beginning to feel very
proud of that. These last few hours, that had shown him how France
rallied in the face of a terrible and pressing danger had made it
easier for him to understand his mother's love of her own land. He was
still an American above all; that he would always be. But there was
French blood in his veins after all, and blood is something that is and
always must be thicker than water.

So he had to explain himself, and when he spoke of the uncle who was to
come for him Madame Martin looked concerned.

"I am glad that you are here," she said, simply. "It may be hard for him
to get here. But we can look after you until he comes. There is room
enough--and, ma foi, you shall have all that we have!"

CHAPTER IV

THE RECRUITS

August was drawing to its close. And still Henri and Frank were in
Paris. Henri's father and his uncle had gone to the front; Frank's Uncle
Dick, if he had tried to reach Paris or St. Denis, had not succeeded. Or
if he had, he had been unable to get word to Frank. War in all its
terrible reality was in full blast. Troops were passing through Paris
still, going to the front. But they were older men now, the last classes
of the reservists. Every night, too, the city was dark save for the
searchlights that played incessantly from the high buildings and from
the Eiffel Tower. For now there was a new menace. The Germans fought not
on land alone, but in the air. At any time a German might appear,
thousands of feet above the city, prepared to rain down death and
destruction from the clouds.

Paris was quiet and resigned. Wounded men were coming back; hosp