“‘You Prussian fiend!’ shouted the sergeant.

“‘What!’ The captain wheeled like a flash.

“’For that you die!  And ere the German could utter another word, the soldier leveled his revolver at the officer and fired.  There followed a loud report, and Pierre’s mother was avenged, for the Prussian captain lay dead on the floor.

“For a few seconds following the shot the Prussian soldiers stood mute, then, with one accord, they threw themselves upon the helpless sergeant who already had twice fired his revolver at them, but without effect.  They beat him cruelly and dragged him out and before another captain, to whom they told the story of what had occurred in Pierre’s home.

“The unfortunate sergeant was ordered to be taken to the village square, where a dozen old men of the village were being held by the Germans under sentence of death on the flimsy charge of having resisted the Prussians.  One by one these unhappy Frenchmen were being lined up before a firing squad and shot down.  The sergeant, who, of course, was to share a like fate, was reserved for the last that he might have more time for fear to sink into his heart while watching the execution of the others.  The sergeant neither asked for nor expected mercy.  Well did he know what the penalty was for such an act as his, and he was willing to die for his country as well as for the sake of the woman who had nursed him through so many dark days of suffering.

“They tied him to a tree while engaged in their cruel work of shooting the accused old men, where the sergeant hung weak from loss of blood, for, under their rough handling his wounds had reopened.

“Little Pierre, his eyes large and troubled, had followed his friend to the square and stood sympathetically beside him.

“‘What, can I do?  Tell me quickly,’ urged the boy.

“’Fetch me a cup of water.  I am burning with the fever again.  One drink of water and I shall have the strength to die bravely.  Those Prussian dogs shall not see so much as the quiver of an eyelid,’ said the sergeant.

“Pierre slipped into a house and brought a cup of water which he placed at the lips of his friend.  The sergeant had taken one swallow when a captain dashed the cup to the ground.  He swung and struck Pierre a cruel blow across the cheek with the flat of his saber, laying the lad prostrate.  Pierre staggered to his feet, eyes blazing, an angry red welt showing where he had been struck.

“‘To give aid or comfort to the friends of France is to die!’ hissed the German captain.  ’For this you too shall die!  But first you shall see how it goes with the others.’

“‘I fear you not,’ retorted the child, pluckily.  ’I too can die for France with a brave heart, and so you shall die one day at the hands of my dear countrymen, but with a coward’s heart.’

“‘Ah!  You are brave,’ jeered the captain.

“‘I am a Frenchman,’ answered Pierre, stoutly.  ’A Frenchman does not fear to die.’