had been cultivated up to within a few weeks. But the tide of battle
had swept over the region and the French farmers had either been killed
or had left their homesteads. Still, where the fields had not been torn
up by shell fire, grains were growing, and there were even orchards here
and there.

But, as far as the soldier boys could see, there was no sign of life.
Even the birds seemed to have flown away. There were no chickens, no
dogs, no cattle nor horses--in fact none of the usual farm scenes.
Here and there were farmhouses, some in ruins, others scarcely touched
by the devastating wave of war. But in these latter, which were still
habitable, there were no men or women, and no laughing children. In
fact, throughout France it is probable that there were no laughing
children at this stage of the war. Or if they laughed, it was because
they were too young to appreciate the menace of the Boche invasion.

"We may not be so badly off for food, even if we eat up all our
Secretary of the Interior has," remarked Bob, as they trudged along a
deserted road. They had, some time since, left behind them the burning
mill. It was out of sight, though they could catch occasional glimpses
of the smoke from it.

"What do you mean!" asked Jimmy.

"Well, there may be a lot of good things to eat in some of these
farmhouses," suggested the young corporal. "I vote we take a look."

"It can't do any harm," decided Jimmy. "But I doubt if we find
anything worth taking."