other. Then he produced the remnant of a package of chocolate drops,
part of the contents of a box recently received from home.

"Like candy?" he asked, putting some of the candy in the child's lap.
"Good candy -- right, from my home across the sea."

This in such French as Byers could command, which was plenty for the
purpose. At first the child, whom he now perceived was a girl, would
not try it, but presently a sight of the sweet was more than it could
stand.

Seizing the offered sweets, it began to eat greedily.

"My papa have no sweets like this," munching greedily. "Who you?
Where my papa?"

"Know where your pa stays? I take you back to him."

For an answer the girl jumped down, still clutching the candy. She
took Byers' hand, leading him back by another alley amid buildings here
devoted to the culinary department of that cantonment. One of the
sentries appeared. The child pushed on, leading Byers, who cautioned
the sentry to say nothing, but to follow.

"What is your papa's name?" asked the captain.

"He name Bauer -- Monsieur Bauer --" The child suddenly stopped.

"What is the matter, little one?" asked Byers, pulses thrilling under a
vague suspicion. But here the sentry, forgetting the captain's