ment stirred the brakes on the hillside. A little barefoot
girl stood there, looking about. She had heard voices, but at
first did not see the uniforms that blended with the yellow and
brown of the wood. Then she saw the sun shining on two heads; one
square, and amber in colour,--the other reddish bronze, long and
narrow. She took their friendliness for granted and came down the
hill, stopping now and again to pick up shiny horse chestnuts and
pop them into a sack she was dragging. David called to her and
asked her whether the nuts were good to eat.

"Oh, non!" she exclaimed, her face expressing the liveliest
terror, "pour les cochons!" These inexperienced Americans might
eat almost anything. The boys laughed and gave her some pennies,
"pour les cochons aussi." She stole about the edge of the wood,
stirring among the leaves for nuts, and watching the two
soldiers.

Gerhardt knocked out his pipe and began to fill it again. "I went
home to see my mother in May, of 1914. I wasn't here when the war
broke out. The Conservatoire closed at once, so I arranged a
concert tour in the States that winter, and did very well. That
was before all the little Russians went over, and the field
wasn't so crowded. I had a second season, and that went well. But
I was getting more nervous all the time; I was only half there."
He smoked thoughtfully, sitting with folded arms, as if he were
going over a succession of events or states of feeling. "When my
number was drawn, I reported to see what I could do about getting
out; I took a look at the other fellows who were trying to
squirm, and chucked it. I've never been sorry. Not long
afterward, my violin was smashed, and my career seemed to go
along with it."

Claude asked him what he meant.

"While I was at Camp Dix, I had to play at one of the
entertainments. My violin, a Stradivarius, was in a vault in New
York. I didn't need it for that concert, any more than I need it
at this minute; yet I went to town and brought it out. I was
taking it up from the station in a military car, and a drunken
taxi driver ran into us. I wasn't hurt, but the violin, lying
across my knees, was smashed into a thousand pieces. I didn't
know what it meant then; but since, I've seen so many beautiful
old things smashed... I've become a fatalist."

Claude watched his brooding head against the grey flint rock.

"You ought to have kept out of the whole thing. Any army man
would say so."

David's head went ba