on filled with a swirling crowd, and
secured places on a train, they scarcely knew how. Here people sat and
stood upon one another, and, as the train sped westward, they knew that
the storm was bursting with terrific violence. The nervous people around
them no longer restrained themselves. Europe was to be swept with fire
and sword, but above all the Germans and Austrians were going to smash
up France. They dwelt most upon that. The French and the French Republic
must go. There was no longer a place for them in the world.

To John's modest wish that France would not come into it they gave a
stare and frown of disapproval. France had to come in, she must come in,
the two German powers would see that she was smitten down as a nation
was never overwhelmed before. Oh, no, Britain would do nothing. Of
course she wouldn't. She'd stay behind her barrier of the sea, and,
perhaps, at the last when the spoils of war were to be snatched from the
exhausted combatants, she'd step in and snatch them. No, they needn't
consider Britain, and Germany and Austria could easily dispose of France
and Russia.

Much of this was said in English and French to the three travelers and
John's heart sickened. Poor France! Why should she be smashed up! Why
should the French nation be exterminated? He did not forget that France
was a republic like his own country. She had been beaten once by
Germany--and the victor's terms were hard--and whatever her faults had
been that was enough. He did not like Frenchmen personally any better
than Germans, but at that moment his sympathies went to the French and
he felt a great pity for France.

The train crept along, and, after double the usual time, they reached
Salzburg, where they passed an uneasy night, and, the next day, boarded
another train which was to cross the German border and take them to
Munich. It, too, was packed with an excited mass of humanity, and as
John passed along the corridor he saw Kempner in one of the
compartments.

Remembering his previous rebuffs he intended to take no notice, but the
young Austrian nodded at him and smiled.

"I see that you flee," he said in his broken French, "and you do well to
flee. Europe is aflame."

"That's so," said John, "and, since it's no fire of ours, we Americans
mean to be on the Atlantic foam, as soon as we can."

As there was a vacant seat in the compartment and Kempner seemed very
friendly now, John sat down to talk a little. He longed occasion