crouching,
apparently watching the crawling figure of the little Frenchman. Remi
rose at the same time, a Boche bayonet pressing against his stomach.

"When the German sentinel discovered that the 'man' confronting him
was only a child, he threw back his head and laughed silently, his
bulky form shaking with merriment. That laugh cost the Boche his
liberty. Like a flash little Remi swept the bayonet aside and jerked
the rifle from the sentry's hands. He sprang back and pointed the
rifle at his amazed adversary.

"'Now march!' he commanded in a low, sharp tone. Straight to the shell
crater the little Frenchman drove his prisoner, thence sent the
captive to the French trenches with an escort. He then returned to the
German trench. As he thought it over the situation became clear to
him. The Germans had placed the sentry outside the trench to keep
watch while they slept, the night being a quiet one, neither side
having fired a shot since sundown. Knowing exactly what he wished to
do, the boy began cautiously removing the rifles from the parapet,
placing them on the ground in front of the trench. He accomplished his
purpose without disturbing the snores of the Boches.

"Having secured the enemy's rifles, Remi crept back to the shell hole,
where his comrades were anxiously awaiting his return.

"'Come,' he urged. 'We shall now capture the stupid fellows. They
sleep, the thickheads. Their rifles I have taken, their heads our
clubs shall find. All shall have the big headache when we have
finished with them.'

"The men of the patrol were amazed. They scrambled from the shell
hole, Remi already having explained what he proposed to do, ready and
eager for action. With the child in the lead they crept up to the
German trench. The Boches slept on, not a man was awake there. The
patrol spread out a little and gripped their clubs, for to use
revolvers would be to arouse the whole German line and start their
rifles, machine guns and artillery all going.

"'Now!' cried the little leader.

"The patrol sprang into the trench, Remi leading, encouraging his men
as they fought their way along with their stout clubs, the boy having
lost his when he slipped into the trench. He could plainly hear the
whacks of the clubs as the patrol brought them down on the heads of
the enemy, mingled with German growls and pleas for mercy, all of
which brought joy to the soul of little Remi.

"'Kamerad! Kamerad!' came cries along the length of the