ave not yet heard the roar of the big
guns.'

"'What shall I do here?'

"'Help the cooks, do little services for the officers--whatever you
may find to do. But, my son, remember you are not to try to go near
the firing line. It is not for children to be there. You do not know
what the soldiers suffer there. They must be strong and they must be
old enough to stand the terrible strain.'

"'I care not for that. I want to fight,' replied Mattia with
determination. 'I am strong and I can endure as long as can the men. I
know, for I have worked with men. Where shall I eat and sleep?'

"The officer told him he would speak to the mess sergeant and that the
latter would provide him with food, and would arrange for the lad to
lodge in one of the buildings where soldiers slept when off duty.

"That was satisfactory to little Mattia. He was happy, for he was with
the army, and that night the roar of the distant artillery lulled him
to sleep. It was sweet music to him. 'Tomorrow I shall fight like the
Frenchman I am,' he murmured as he dropped off to sleep.

"It was many days later, however, before he got the chance to take
part in actual fighting. Even that came about by chance. He had been
sent back to carry a message to the lieutenant in a high-angle gun
squad--"

"What is that?" interjected Joe Funk.

"I should have explained. That is what the outfit that handles the
anti-aircraft guns, the men who stay on the ground and shoot at
airplanes, is called. He was permitted to stand by and watch the
operations of the squad. Pretty soon he was assisting them by running
back and bringing up the long, slender projectiles that the gun,
pointed toward the skies, fired. He enjoyed watching the kick of the
piece and the way it ejected the case of the shell after the
projectile had soared on its way to the clouds.

"Mattia proved himself very useful that day and earned the thanks of
the ammunition carriers for his help. He was quick and never stumbled
or dropped a shell.

"That night he slept on the ground near the gun, which was silent all
through the night. Early in the morning he was awakened by the sharp
report of the weapon. Quickly springing up, he saw, high in the air, a
black speck which he knew to be an enemy airplane, because the gun
squad was firing at it.

"Once more Mattia took up his work of carrying ammunition. Something
tremendous exploded not far from the squad.

"'The Boches are bombing us,' cried a soldier.