for a long time, if not forever, now that Mico is our prisoner. At
any rate, I hope all will remain peaceful and tranquil till I go
home and return. For a month I have a leave of absence, to visit my
native State."

"Going home, captain, to see your mother?" spoke up a fair-haired
young boy, scarcely eighteen, who had sat a silent listener to the
conversation between Carlos and his commander.

"Ah! Franco, I have no mother; she died long ago," replied the
captain; "but I am going back to my native State. My father and a
brother and sister live there."

"It has been many a long day," said Franco, "since I saw my native
hills, and heard my mother's gentle voice, as she went singing about
our humble home. I often wonder how she could sing so, with so much
poverty and care constantly about her. Maybe I shall never see her
again ;" and a shade of sorrow crept over the fair young face of the
French recruit.

The captain replied, "I trust that you may, Franco, though you are
now so many leagues away. What brought you away from her, Franco?"

"Poverty, captain, poverty; and unless I can lighten the burden of
my mother's life by returning, I shall never go back!"

Silence at length settled upon the camp, and one by one the groups
of comrades disbanded. The campfires were extinguished, and at an
early hour sleep tenderly enfolded these guardians of their
country's peace and security.