The Young Franc Tireurs, and Their Adventures in the Franco-Prussian War. G. A. Henty

great use in assisting me to drill and discipline my recruits, before starting."

      "That I will do, with pleasure," Captain Barclay said. "I had been thinking of offering my services, in that way, to the municipality; as very few of the officers of the Mobiles, still less of the national guard, know their duty. As it is, I will devote myself to your corps, till they march.

      "In the first place, how strong do you mean them to be?"

      "One strong company, say one hundred and twenty men," Captain Tempe answered. "More than that would be too unwieldy for guerrilla work. I would rather have twenty less, than more; indeed, I should be quite satisfied with a hundred. If I find that volunteers come in, in greater numbers than I can accept, I shall advise them to get up other, similar corps. There ought to be scores of small parties, hanging upon the rear and flank of the enemy, and interrupting his communication."

      "How do you think of arming them?"

      "Either with chassepots, or with your English rifles. It is of no use applying to Government. They will not be able to arm the Mobiles, for months; to say nothing of the national guard. We must buy the rifles in England, or Belgium. It will be difficult to get chassepots; so I think the best plan will be to decide, at once, upon your Sniders."

      "I know a gentleman who is connected with these matters, in England; and will, if you like, send out an order at once for, say, eleven dozen Sniders; to be forwarded via Rouen, and thence by rail."

      "I should be very glad if you would do so," Captain Tempe said. "I have no doubt about getting that number of recruits, easily enough. I have had a good many calls already, this morning; and several thousand francs of subscription have been promised. In another three or four days, the money will be ready; so if you write to your friends, to make an agreement with a manufacturer, I can give you the money by the time his answer arrives. When the guns arrive, those who can pay for them will do so, and the rest will be paid for by the subscriptions.

      "Of course, we shall want them complete with bayonets. If, at the same time, you can order ammunition--say, two hundred rounds for each rifle--it would be, perhaps, a saving of time; as the Government may not be able to supply any, at first. However, after the meeting, this evening, I shall see how the subscriptions come in; and we can settle on these points, tomorrow. The municipality will help, I have no doubt."

      "What is your idea as to equipment, Tempe?"

      "As light as possible. Nothing destroys the go of men more than to be obliged to carry heavy weights on their shoulders. We shall be essentially guerrillas Our attacks, to be successful, must be surprises. Speed, therefore, and the power to march long distances, are the first of essentials.

      "I do not propose to carry knapsacks--mere haversacks, bags capable of containing a spare shirt, a couple of pairs of socks, and three days' biscuits. Each man must also carry a spare pair of boots, strapped to his belt, behind. A thick blanket--with a hole cut for the head, so as to make a cloak by day, a cover by night--will be carried, rolled up over one shoulder like a scarf; and each man should carry a light, waterproof coat.

      "I do not propose to take even tents d'abri. They add considerably to the weight and, unless when we are actually engaged in expeditions, we shall make our headquarters at some village; when the men can be dispersed among the cottages, or sleep in stables, or barns. When on expeditions, they must sleep in the open air."

      "I quite approve of your plan," Captain Barclay said. "Exclusive of his rifle and ammunition, the weight need not be above fifteen pounds a man and, with this, they ought to be able to march, and fight, with comfort. The way your soldiers march out, laden like beasts of burden, is absurd. It is impossible for men either to march, or fight, with a heavy load upon their backs.

      "Have you thought about uniform?"

      "No, I have not settled at all. I thought of letting the men fix upon one of their own choice."

      "Do nothing of the sort," Captain Barclay said. "The men will only think of what is most becoming, or picturesque. You cannot do better than fix upon some good, serviceable uniform of a dark-grayish color; something similar to that of some of our English Volunteer Corps. I will give you a drawing of it.

      "Let the tunics be made of a thick and good cloth. Let the men have short trousers--or, as we call them, knickerbockers--with leather gaiters and lace boots. The shoes of your soldier are altogether a mistake. I will bring you a sketch, tomorrow; and you will see that it is neat, as well as serviceable."

      "Thank you.

      "By the way, I suppose that you have no objection to my mentioning, at the meeting this evening, that your sons have joined? If there should be any inclination to hang back--which I hope there will not be--the fact that your boys have joined may decide many who would otherwise hesitate."

      "Certainly.

      "I will not detain you longer, at present. I shall see you in a day or two, and any assistance which I can give is at your service."

      "Thanks very much. I only wish that you could go with us.

      "Goodbye. Tell the boys that their names are down, and that we shall begin drill in a day or two."

Chapter 3: Death To The Spy!

       Table of Contents

      The next morning Madame Duburg arrived, at ten o'clock; an hour at which she had never, as far as Mrs. Barclay knew, turned out of her house since her marriage. She was actually walking fast, too. It was evident that something serious was the matter.

      Mrs. Barclay was in the garden, and her visitor came straight out from the house to her.

      "Is anything the matter?" was Mrs. Barclay's first question.

      "Yes, a great deal is the matter," Madame Duburg began, vehemently. "You and your English husband are mad. Your wretched boys are mad. They have made my sons mad, also; and--my faith--I believe that my husband will catch it. It is enough to make me, also, mad."

      Notwithstanding the trouble in which Mrs. Barclay was, at the resolution of her sons, she could scarcely help smiling at the excitement of Madame Duburg; the cause of which she at once guessed. However, she asked, with an air of astonishment:

      "My dear sister-in-law, what can you be talking about?"

      "I know what I say," Madame Duburg continued. "I always said that you were mad, you and your husband, to let your boys go about and play, and tear and bruise themselves like wild Indians. I always knew that harm would come of it, when I saw my boys come in hot--oh, so unpleasantly hot, to look at--but I did not think of such harm as this. My faith, it is incredible. When I heard that you were to marry yourself to an Englishman, I said at once:

      "'It is bad, harm will come of it. These English are islanders. They are eccentric. They are mad. They sell their wives in the market, with a cord round their neck.'"

      "My dear sister-in-law," Mrs. Barclay interrupted, "I have so often assured you that that absurd statement was entirely false; and due only to the absolute ignorance, of our nation, of everything outside itself."

      "I have heard it often," Madame Duburg went on, positively. "They are a nation of singularities. I doubt not that it is true, he has hidden the truth from you. True or false, I care not. They are mad. For this I care not. My faith, I have not married an Englishman. Why, then, should I care for the madness of this nation of islanders?

      "This I said, when I heard that you were to marry an Englishman. Could I imagine that I, also, was to become a victim? Could I suppose that my husband--a man sensible in most things--would also become mad; that my boys would grow up like young savages, and would offer themselves to go out to sleep without beds, to catch colds, to have red noses and coughs, perhaps even--my faith--to be killed by the balls of German pigs? My word of honor, I ask myself:

      "'Am I living in France? Am I asleep? Am I dreaming? Am I, too, mad?'

      "I