“Peering out to see what lay before him, he saw a garden in the rear of the building and beyond that fields with hedges and bushes, but there was not a soldier in sight on that side.  The Prussians were busy on the other side of the building preparing for action.

“‘All is well,’ said Francois.  A new idea came to him.  He would take a German rifle and helmet with him as souvenirs and to prove to the French captain that Francois really had been in the camp of the Prussians.  He helped himself to a rifle and a helmet, both of which he threw out into the garden.  After a keen, sweeping glance about, the boy crawled out head first and let himself go.  Francois nearly broke his neck in the fall to the ground, landing as he did on his head and shoulders.  For a moment he lay where he had fallen, then staggered to his feet, dizzy and a little weak from the jolt.  He started away without, as yet, having a clear idea as to which was the right direction for him to take.  The boy dodged from bush to bush and, reaching a hedge, bored his way through it and skulked along the other side of it, dragging the rifle behind him, the German helmet tightly clutched under one arm.

“’Where am I?  Ah!  The village is to the left.  I must turn back and start again,’ he decided.  This was risky, but there seemed no other course for him to follow.  Retracing his steps for some distance he finally struck off in the right direction.  When he came in sight of the stream he discovered that the bridge was so far away that he could not hope to reach it without being discovered.

“‘But Francois can swim,’ he told himself.  ’He shall yet fool the Prussians.  Look out!  There they go!’ German soldiers already were running toward the bridge, and he knew that his escape had been discovered.  He believed, however, that he was far enough away so they would not see him.

“Francois swung the rifle over his shoulder and secured it there by its carrying strap, jammed the helmet tightly over his head and rolled down the bank into the river.  The water was warm and the child was full of joy that he had outwitted his captors.

“Fortunately the river was not wide at this point, and on the opposite side was plenty of cover in the way of trees and bushes.  But discovery came at about the time he reached the middle of the river.  The sun, reflected from his bright metal helmet, had attracted the attention of the soldiers.  A bullet splashed in the water to the right of him.

“‘Huh!’ he grunted.  ’The Boches cannot shoot.  Francois could shoot as good as that with his eyes shut.  Bah!  Shoot again.’  O-u-c-h!  A bullet had gone through the helmet, so low that it raked the top of his head.  It felt like a red-hot iron being drawn across the top of his head, and made his head swim dizzily.

“‘It was a chance shot,’ observed the boy.  ’No Boche could shoot so true on purpose.  I shall yet fool them.’

“Reaching the opposite shore he ran up the bank, not trying to conceal himself there.  A bullet struck him in the shoulder, spun him around and laid him flat on the ground.  He was on his feet almost instantly, shaking a fist at the Germans.