they also were called to march forth and join the French Army. Remi
was to be left in the care of the neighbors. That was the plan made by
the uncle. The little French lad, however, had his own ideas about
that, but kept his plans to himself. He now forgot all about going to
school, and spent his time watching his uncle's comrades
drill--watched until he knew every command, every evolution so well
that he himself could have drilled the company of his uncle.

"As you children perhaps already have surmised, it was Remi's plan to
go to war and fight for his country. The order for the Territorials to
move came suddenly, as such orders most always do. They came while the
lad was having a supper of black bread and cheese with a friendly
housewife of the neighborhood. The Territorials were to march within
an hour.

"Remi's eyes grew bright. He stowed what was left of his meager supper
into his blouse and strolled out. Once clear of the house, he ran
swiftly to the edge of the village, and from the end of a hollow log
drew forth a canvas bag. He inspected the contents, which included a
knife, some string, a clean pair of stockings and one change of
underwear. He had picked up an old pack discarded by a soldier, and
made it his own, secreting it for just such a moment as this. The
child stowed his belongings back in the pack, added the cheese and
bread, and, swinging the pack over his shoulder, started at a brisk
trot for the gathering place of the Territorials. The men of his
uncle's company already had reached the scene, loaded down with
equipment, rifles brightly polished, looking very warlike with their
outfits and tin derbies--"

"What's a tin derby?" interjected Joe Funk.