At first the officers were for sending the lad home, but he was
making himself so useful in many little ways, and his patriotism was
so deep and true that he finally was permitted to remain.

"What most disturbed Remi was that he had no rifle. The soldiers
laughed at him when he demanded one, so he determined to get one for
himself at the first opportunity.

"By this time they were well within sound of the big guns. The sound
reminded him of a distant thunderstorm. It grew louder as the hours
passed and the men neared the front. All understood what the sound
meant. To Remi that distant roar was the sweetest music he ever had
heard.

"The Territorials finally were halted in a shell-torn village for a
brief rest. Men were urgently needed at the front, and Remi's
companions soon entered a communicating trench that began under a
house in the village, and started for the firing line, a short
distance from the German trenches. Remi was sternly ordered to remain
behind. This order nearly broke his heart and, when he more fully
realized that he had been left behind, he sat down and gave way to,
bitter tears.

"A peculiar whistling sound in the air suddenly attracted his
attention. The strange sound grew louder. He stood up. Then, with a
mighty crash and roar, the earth about him rose up and darkness
overwhelmed him. A German shell had landed fairly in the village
street hard by and half buried the child in the wreckage. Remi,
bruised and with clothing torn, dug himself out practically unharmed.
He shook his fist in the direction of the German lines.

"'The Boches!' he breathed, clenching both fists. 'I _must_ have a
rifle. Having none, I am good for nothing.'

"For a few moments he stood observing the stretcher men gathering up
those who had been wounded in the explosion. He did not quail at sight
of the maimed forms before him--he was unafraid, but his childish face
drew down into hard lines that made him look years older. He knew now
that he must join his company and fight for France. After what he had
seen nothing should hold him back. Perhaps once at the front he might
find a gun. Remi tried to enter the communicating trench, but was
stopped by a sentry. He was still undaunted. It was the odor of
cooking that finally led to the solution of his problem. He followed
his nose, as the saying goes, because he was hungry. He found the
cooks at work, as he learned, preparing food to be carried to the men
in the front-line