ed one another in a brotherly way. "In war times, war measures,"
they would always say as a last excuse. And each one was pressing closer
to his neighbor in order to make a few more inches of room, and helping
to wedge his scanty baggage among the other bundles swaying most
precariously above. Little by little, Desnoyers was losing all his
advantage as a first comer. These poor people who had been waiting for
the train from four in the morning till eight at night, awakened
his pity. The women, groaning with weariness, were standing in the
corridors, looking with ferocious envy at those who had seats. The
children were bleating like hungry kids. Julio finally gave up his
place, sharing with the needy and improvident the bountiful supply of
eatables with which Argensola had provided him. The station restaurants
had all been emptied of food.

During the train's long wait, soldiers only were seen on the platform,
soldiers who were hastening at the call of the trumpet, to take their
places again in the strings of cars which were constantly steaming
toward Paris. At the signal stations, long war trains were waiting
for the road to be clear that they might continue their journey. The
cuirassiers, wearing a yellow vest over their steel breastplate, were
seated with hanging legs in the doorways of the stable cars, from whose
interior came repeated neighing. Upon the flat cars were rows of gun
carriages. The slender throats of the cannon of '75 were pointed upwards
like telescopes.

Young Desnoyers passed the night in the aisle, seated on a valise,
noting the sodden sleep of those around him, worn out by weariness and
exhaustion. It was a cruel and endless night of jerks, shrieks and
stops punctuated by snores. At every station, the trumpets were sounding
precipitously as though the enemy were right upon them. The soldiers
from the South were hurrying to their posts, and at brief intervals
another detachment of men was dragged along the rails toward Paris. They
all appeared gay, and anxious to reach the scene of slaughter as soon
as possible. Many were regretting the delays, fearing that they might
arrive too late. Leaning out of the window, Julio heard the dialogues
and shouts on the platforms impregnated with the acrid odor of men and
mules. All were evincing an unquenchable confidence. "The Boches! very
numerous, with huge cannons, with many mitrailleuse . . . but we only
have to charge with our bayonets to make them run like