position, arranging helmets at the regulation angle, he
presently appeared in front again, and treated the squad to a smile of
commendation.

"Very good indeed, lads. Very good," he said. "Stand easy for a
moment."

Striding across the ground came a dapper officer--one of those smart,
tall, well-turned-out Frenchmen, who appear to be the essence of
soldierly composure. Halting in front of the squad, which was drawn up
at attention once more, he, too, ran his eye over the men, passed a
remark to the Sergeant which was essentially complimentary, and then
advanced a few paces nearer.

"Mes enfants," he said, "there are some among you, who are but new
recruits, who may have done your musketry course already, who doubtless
know something of soldiering, and yet who must needs undergo further
training; to you my remarks do not apply. But there are others among
you who have seen service, who have engaged the Boche, and who may
doubtless desire to return to the front at the earliest moment. Let
such men step a pace forward."

Henri did not even glance at Jules, seeing that, being on parade, he
must keep his eyes directly forward; while Jules, some files to his
left, did not dare to cast a look in Henri's direction. It was
strange, therefore, and yet not strange, when one remembers the spirit
which animated these two young fellows, that, without agreement,
without waiting to see what the other would do, each instantly took a
pace forward, and with them perhaps a dozen of their comrades.

"Bien! Very good! And now we will ask you all about it," said the
officer, smiling pleasantly. "Mon camarade, you who look so strong,
tell us of your experience."

He halted in front of a broad-shouldered, burly man, who was well past
thirty-five years of age, and whose chin was deeply scarred by a wound,
now healed completely.

"What experience, mon Capitaine?" the gallant fellow repeated. "Well,
at Ypres, in 1915, and before that, at Charleroi, in the great retreat
past Chateau Thierry, and so to the south of the Grand Morin."

"And afterwards, mon ami?" asked the officer, patting him in paternal
manner on the shoulder; for, though discipline is strict in the French
army, indeed stricter in no other, there is yet the best of feeling
between officers and men, a species of _camaraderie_ which unites them
closely. "You have seen much service, my friend. What then, after the
Grand Morin?"

"What, then? Mon Dieu! There was