, don't they?"

"Ah, zat I do not mind."

"Maybe that's why they all like you."

"I will tell you," said Frenchy, reverting to Tom's previous question.
"I am zhust ze same age as you--sefenteen--when zey throw my seester in
ze zhail because she sing ze Marsellaise. Zat I cannot stand! You
see?--When ze soldiers--fat Zhermans, ugh! When zey come for her, I
strike zis fat one--here--so."

"I'm glad you did," said Tom.

"Hees eye I cut open, _so_. Wiz my fist--zhust boy's fist, but so
sharp."

"I don't blame you," said Tom.

"So zen I must flee. Even to be rude to ze Zherman soldier--zis is
crime. So I come to Americ'. Zey are looking for me, but I go by night,
I sleep in ze haystack--zis I show. (He exhibited a little iron button
with nothing whatever upon it.) You see? Zis is--what you
call--talisman. Yess?

"So I come to Epinal across ze border, through ze pass in ze mountains.
I am free! I go to my uncle in Canada who is agent to our wines. Zen I
come to Chicago, where I haf' other uncle--also agent. Now I go to
France wiz ze Americans to take Alsace back. What should I care if they
laugh at me? We go to take Alsace back! Alsace!--Listen--I will tell
you!

"Vive la France!
A bas la Prusse!
D'Schwowe mien
Zuem Elsass 'nuess!

See if you can say zis," he smiled.

Tom shook his head.

"I will tell you--see.

"Long live France!
Down with Prussia!
The Boches must
Get out of Alsace!"

"It must make you feel good after all that to go back now and make them
give up Alsace," said Tom, his stolid nature moved by the young fellow's
enthusiasm. "I'd like it if I'd been with you when you escaped and ran
away like that. I like long hikes and adventures and things, anyway. It
must be a long time since you saw your people."

"Saw! Even I haf' not _heard_ for t'ree year. Eight years ago I fled
away. Even before America is in ze war I haf' no letters. Ze Zhermans
tear zem up! Ah, no matter. When it is all over and ze boundary line is
back at ze Rhine again--zen I will see zem. My pappa, my moother, my
seester Florette----"

His eyes glistened and he paused.

"I go wiz Uncle Sam! My seester will sing ze Marsellaise!"

"Yes," said Tom. "She can sing it all she wants."

"If zey are not yet killed," Frenchy added, looking intently out upon
the ocean.

"I kind of feel that they're not," said Tom simply. "Sometimes I have
feelings like that and they usually come out true."

Fr