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to a prison camp in Germany, where he was the life of a soldier at the immediate risk of dreadfully treated and given scarcely enough your own. That deed alone is worthy of the to eat. Then, because he could talk English Cross, but we find, upon examination, that in and pretended to be an American, he man Paris as well as in Rheims, in all things you aged to escape to Holland—and from there it have acted as a brave and worthy daughter of was no trouble to come back home.
our land. The Abbé Chinot tells us that you “I looked to find you in Paris,” he ended. should have had the Cross long ago for what “I knew you would be worried about me, so I you did here in the first days of the bombardhurried there as fast as I could.”
ment of the cathedral. In Paris I learned that “And you found me in Rheims in a hos you set your hand willingly to any duty that pital!” I said, thinking it strange. “But what might help our soldiersis the matter with me?” I asked; remembering "Monsieur," I interrupted, "that required no that I did not really know why I was there. bravery.”
"You were shocked by the explosion of a “Mademoiselle," he answered, soberly, "the bomb, my dear,” he answered. “Luckily you Croix de Guerre stands for something more were not wounded, but it will be some time than doing brave things on the battle-field. It yet before you are out of bed.”
means more than doing one's duty as it comes I was not particularly curious about my own in the day's work of the soldier. It is a badge condition. Papa was there, and nothing else to show the spirit of the wearer. That brave seemed to matter.
and glorious spirit that has held us all under Presently, as we talked, I noticed that on my one banner, the tricolor of France." nightgown was the cross of war which Father “Then all French women should wear the had won, and in a moment I was fumbling at it. medal,” I observed, “and the men, too.”
“It 's yours," I told him. “I want to pin it “Mademoiselle,” he returned with a little on your uniform.”
bow, “I agree with you, but until a new order He leaned
is issued the Cross is given to those who have breast. I was very glad.
both the spirit and the achievement. Permit "It looks better there," I said. “Now I can
He leaned over the bed and pinned a new “Yes, but I can't,” he laughed. “Before, Cross upon my breast. while you were wearing it, I could admire it "My congratulations, Monsieur le Capiwithout trouble. Now I shall have to stand taine,” he said, turning to Father. “Upon anbefore the mirror all day.”
other occasion I shall have the pleasure to I laughed, of course,—that is what he want talk more at length upon the services of your ed me to do,—and he too laughed. Then the daughter." tears came into his eyes and he leaned down He started to go, but I called to him. and kissed me again.
"Oh, Monsieur, what has happened to “Oh, my dear, it is so good to hear that Léon-” laugh of yours!” he whispered.
"He is in Paris, Mademoiselle. He has And then I laughed again, knowing of what given us much valuable information. I think he was thinking, though the tears were in my you deserve another medal for saving him.”
And with that he went stiffly out of the ward. But we were very happy and, to crown all, For a moment Father and I looked at each the next day there came a high officer into the other without speaking. ward who was led directly to my bed. I looked “Well,” he began finally, “now I shall not up at him and recognized the gentleman I had have to stand in front of the mirror to see a met at the general's headquarters that night Cross of War." I went to try to help Léon. He and Father "Nor shall I,” was my answer; and then a knew each other and shook hands; then the thought came to plague me. “Will you have officer turned to me with his queer, inexpres to go back to your regiment?” sive face.
“Oh, yes,” he replied, “you would not have "Mademoiselle," he began formally, "I have it otherwise, I know." the pleasure of being commissioned to bestow “And I back to my funny little school. You upon you the medal for bravery, the Croix de remember, Father,” I went on, “how I longed Guerre.”
to do something as our dear saint did to save "For me?” I cried out in surprise. “Why, I France? How I wanted to be a boy and go have done nothing !”
to the front? Well, I have found my work “Mademoiselle,” he replied, "you have saved and am happy. Wait till you have seen my
RUSTY ON THE TRACK
AN EXTRACT FROM JEANNETTE'S DIARY
little school, and Paul and Henriette and Alice and—and little Fleurette. They will be fine French men and women, and I shall have helped to make them good citizens. That is worth something, is n't it?"
For a moment he sat silent, thinking deeply, then he spoke with quiet gravity.
"When this war is done, when we have put an end to war, it will be known by all people that it is better to make good citizens than the finest general that ever lived. Le Bon Dieu has found work for us all, and I think the good Saint Jeanne is right pleased to see the Cross upon your breast.”
"It was she who helped me to win it," I answered. "She is still leading France, Papa, but when will the war end?”
“When we have made the earth safe for kindly people who wish to live at peace with all the world,” he replied.
RHEIMS, April 3rd, 1915. To-morrow I am to leave the hospital and return to my school dans la terre. I think they have kept me here too long. I shall be glad to be with my children once more. And Léon Guyot came to see me to-day. He is not a spy in future, but will train for the aviation. He looks very handsome in his uniform.
Also a letter came from Eddie Reed. He begs me to answer him. His French is very funny. Perhaps it is my duty to help him write our language better. This is a matter which requires consideration. Léon is not as tall as Eddie, but he has fine eyes.
Papa is expecting to be ordered lâ bas. It will be hard to let him go but-c'est la guerre! Whatever happens, we shall endure.
L’izie la France !
RUSTY ON THE TRACK
By JOSEPH T. KESCEL
STRAIGHT out onto the brush-dotted flat they ing as the party loped up to a swarthy, blackraced at top speed, their pounding hoofs kick eyed Mexican sitting on a rock, idly swishing ing up tiny dust-clouds that were quickly
his quirt. scattered by the stiff southwest-Texas breeze. “Pablo, you 're in luck that there was one A hundred yards—two-three-a quarter
real hoss in the outfit.” Bromley chuckled, mile; then the snaky lariat noose, circling turned over the bridle-reins, then went on, “If above Houston Page's head, suddenly shot there had n't been, that almost good nag of forward and settled around the neck of a yours would 've splashed across the Rio magnificent big black horse, saddled and Grande before sundown.” bridled, but riderless. Rusty, Houston's beau Pablo resented the jocular remarks and tiful sorrel, at once started to slow down. The showed it by frowning brows. “Nothin' here rope grew taut, and the black was brought to as fast!” he growled, swinging into the saddle. a standstill just as half dozen bronzed-faced Bromley snorted. “Pablo, you make me cowboys dashed up, Jack Bromley in the lead. snicker. He 's just about fast enough to run
“By ginger”—Bromley coaxingly made his his nose in a feed of oats. I 'll admit he's a way to the black's head, picked up the bridle little faster than the average cayuse, with a reins, and tossed off the lariat,—"you and that leg on each corner, and head, tail, and teeth; hoss of yours are sure a winnin' team !”
but he ain't' in Rusty's class at all. I'd be And a winning team they were, too; Hous willin' to bet a forty-pound, full-rigged saddle ton, alert, sturdy, brown-faced, blue-eyed, and against a collar-button the sorrel could run him easy in the saddle, and the trim-built sorrel off his feet in a quarter-mile dash.” with the points of a racer, whose silky coat, "Pooh !” Pablo sniffed; “all talk !" so much the color of rusty gold, had given him "Yuh think so?” Bromley glanced at the his name, "Rusty,” well known to horsemen sun, now well down in the heavens, winked at along a big strip of the Rio Grande. Houston Houston, then again turned to Pablo. “Well, laughed, coiled his rope, and all hands rode what 's the matter with makin’ sure? We've for the low hill where the chase had started. got a good chance before startin' for the
Bromley, tall, lean, dark, free of speech-a ranch, and the hosses ain't tired. What do young broncho-buster—was doing all the talk yuh say to a race?"
RUSTY ON THE TRACK
Pablo jumped at the idea, for he felt sure horse into a run, waved his hat in the air, and as to the outcome. Rusty had overtaken his yelled, “Come on!” With his eye he meahorse, but he was certain the black had not sured off a quarter-mile, then appointed startdone its best. “All right,” he said, and looked ers and judges and told Houston and Pablo to at Houston's smiling, freckled face, and into get ready. his clear blue eyes that were taking in the Houston rode back of the starters, but be“What you say? All ready, Señor?” yond shortening his stirrup-straps a trifle, did
nothing to prepare for the race.
Pablo, however, prepared enough for two, because he intended to win if it were possible. First, he took off the heavy stocksaddle, mounted bareback, and, as the fastsetting sun shone on his brown face, nounced, “I 'm ready!" Time and again he tried to jockey Houston into a bad start, only to be neatly blocked by the alert young Texan, who
At last Houston yawned, purposely, glanced toward the sun, now partly hidden behind the hills, then drawled, “I say, Pablo, it 's gettin' late. Go ahead! I 'll catch you." The black
was oft like an arrow,
with good fifty-foot lead, Rusty bounded into his stride, and the race was
Before the first two hundred yards had been covered, Pablo looked back over his shoulder and immediately started to quirt and spur. Still, he 110t draw
from that racing red "A SWARTHY MEXICAN, SETTING ON A ROCK"
streak behind. Another
hundred yards, and “Sure! I 'll go you a quarter; that won't Rusty's nose was at the black's flanks. The tire 'em much."
next hundred, and Pablo could see a khaki-clad Houston's words made Pablo smile, for a back, and pounding hoofs that appeared to quarter-mile was exactly the distance he scarcely touch the ground. And as they flashed wanted.
by the judges, with Houston and the sorrel Bromley immediately took charge of the romping in as the winner, Pablo knew his black whole affair. Looking over the flat, he picked was greatly outmatched. out a fairly clear, hard, level strip, spurred his Houston was extremely gracious when the
RUSTY ON THE TRACK
two horses stopped side by side, some distance a whole lot of people like you that think a out on the flat, for he was not the kind to rub person can't get fun out of anything or be a it into a loser.
sportsman without betting. That's where “That 's a mighty good hoss you 've got you 're wrong. I figure the real sportsman is there, Pablo,” he said, in his soft-spoken, the one that goes into anything with the idea southwestern drawl, taking in the black's of winning, not how much will be made out of heaving sides.
it. If your man's got the sand to run his hoss Pablo showed all over that he was a poor under those conditions, trot him along." loser, and grunted something that Houston did Bromley looked rather taken aback and not hear as they turned and made for the started to speak, but checked himself as Housstarting-line.
ton's hand went up again, this time with, But every one was not so magnanimous as "Rusty 's my hoss, Jack." Houston, for when the racers came up, Brom The conditions had n't struck Pablo as very ley greeted Pablo with a good-natured poke in good either, for he knew that his countrymen the ribs, quickly followed by a laughing, would back their choice to the limit if a race "What yuh think now? Huh?”
could be arranged. He would jeer the young Pablo glared at Bromley before he shot gringo into different terms and sneered, back, "He is a little faster than my horse, “Piker !" Then he flashed his even, white but I know of one that can leave him far teeth and laughed. Bromley looked glum, but behind.”
said nothing. "Haw—Haw–Haw! Pablo, you make me “How does this strike you?" Houston refeel coltish,” and Bromley once more prodded sumed, as he lazily lounged over his saddlethe Mexican's ribs.
horn. “What 's the matter with making this a “Cut it out!” Pablo now lost his temper race between the fastest hoss in Mexico and entirely, brushed Bromley's hand aside sav the best little hoss in the United States ? I agely, and, while speaking English, uncon won't say mine is the fastest, but I can say I sciously used the pompous style of his mother think he's the best. If you beat 'im, you 'll tongue. “You give me the great pain. You know that wonder of yours has been running.” have altogether too much freshness. The
"I'll bct you cverything I own that,” Rusty horse is slower than a hobbled cow "You won't bet me a single centavo,” Housalongside one I know. It is I who will laugh, ton broke in, straightening up and making should the two ever be brought together!” ready to ride off. “If you want to show that “Whew-w-w!” At Bromley's drawn out
a real sportsman, trot your hoss exclamation, Pablo's black eyes flashed and around. I 'll be on the job at any time.” both hands clenched. “Where is this wonder “Bueno," was the only word that left Pablo's ful old plug you 're talking about?” Bromley lips, but the uppermost thought in his mind went on, easily. “Can he beat the black?” was, “After the race, these Americanos will
"He has beaten everything that has ever not feel so stuck up.” Hurriedly resaddling, been matched against him, and they were the he started for the Rio Grande, while Houston best horses of my country.”
and the others rode to the Page ranch, thinkBromley beamed, for an idea had suddenly ing Pablo was only talking. formed in his mind. “I say, Pablo,” he broke Two days later, at sundown, Pablo turned out, “you 're all right after all, and I 'll stop his horse into one of Page's corrals and immemy funny business. I ain't joshing now. Why diately found Houston. "Be ready a week can't we get these hosses together?”
from to-day for a half-mile dash,” he said, his All hands formed into a circular group be black eyes dancing. "Don Juan and 'Silver fore Pablo replied, “That is what I 'd like Plume' are on the way here now.
They will to do."
travel much slower than I, to have the horse Bromley looked at Houston. “What do you in the best condition possible. Don Juan said
it was fair, your country against mine. He Houston nodded. Then he suddenly held up also must be what you call a sportsman, for he his hand. “Hold on a second. I don't mind has told my people there must be no betting.” running Rusty a quarter or a half, but no long At no time had Houston thought Rusty distance. And remember this, no betting—no would ever be matched against the famous betting!"
Silver Plume, whose wonderful speed made Pablo's lip curled. "Already backing down?" him the pride of every Mexican. Bromley
"Don't you ever believe it!” Without wait was in his element, and sent word to the nearing for a reply Houston went on, “There are by towns and ranches for everybody to be on