gium and Holland, where they still were comparatively many,
although the German barbarians had destroyed some of the best at Liege,
Arras, Dixmude, Termonde, and Ypres.

"Monsieur," he went on in a voice which began to grow a little unsteady,
"the Huns have destroyed the ancient carillons of Louvain and of Mechlin.
In the superb bell-tower of Saint Rombold I have played for a thousand
people; and the Carillonneur, Monsieur Vincent, and the great bell-master,
Josef Denyn, have come to me to congratulate me with tears in their
eyes--in their eyes----"

There were tears in his own now, and he bent his white head and looked
down at the worn floor under his crippled feet.

"Alas," he said, "for Denyn--and for Saint Rombold's tower. The Hun has
passed that way."

After a silence:

"Who is it now plays the carillon in Sainte Lesse!" asked Burley.

"My daughter, Maryette. Sainte Lesse has honoured me in my daughter, whom
I myself instructed. My daughter--the little child of my old age,
monsieur--is mistress of the bells of Sainte Lesse.... They call her
Carillonnette in Sainte Lesse----"

The door opened and the girl came in.

CHAPTER XV

CARILLONETTE

Sticky Smith and Kid Glenn remained a week at Sainte Lesse, then left with
the negroes for Calais to help bring up another cargo of mules, the
arrival of which was daily expected.

A peloton of the Train-des-Equipages and three Remount troopers arrived at
Sainte Lesse to take over the corral. John Burley remained to explain and
interpret the American mule to these perplexed troopers.

Morning, noon, and night he went clanking down to the corral, his
cartridge belt and holster swinging at his hip. But sometimes he had a
little leisure.

Sainte Lesse knew him as a mighty eater and as a lusty drinker of good red
wine; as a mighty and garrulous talker, too, he became known, ready to
accost anybody in the quiet and subdued old town and explode into French
at the slightest encouragement.

But Burley had only women and children and old men on whom to practice his
earnest and voluble French, for everybody else was at the front.

Children adored him--adored his big, silver spurs, his cartridge belt and
pistol, the metal mule decorating his tunic collar, his six feet two of
height, his quick smile, the even white teeth and grayish eyes of this
American muleteer, who always had a stick of barley sugar to give them or
an amazing trick to perform for them with a h