“‘None, sir, save my uncle, who does not want me,’

“‘And you wish to stay here?’

“‘No, sir, I wish to fight.’

“’That cannot be, but if you wish you may remain here.  If you can work there is much that you can do in the rear and thus serve your country well.  All men who serve their country are not in the trenches.  Many are serving heroically who have not yet heard the roar of the big guns.’

“‘What shall I do here?’

“’Help the cooks, do little services for the officers—­whatever you may find to do.  But, my son, remember you are not to try to go near the firing line.  It is not for children to be there.  You do not know what the soldiers suffer there.  They must be strong and they must be old enough to stand the terrible strain.’

“‘I care not for that.  I want to fight,’ replied Mattia with determination.  ’I am strong and I can endure as long as can the men.  I know, for I have worked with men.  Where shall I eat and sleep?’

“The officer told him he would speak to the mess sergeant and that the latter would provide him with food, and would arrange for the lad to lodge in one of the buildings where soldiers slept when off duty.

“That was satisfactory to little Mattia.  He was happy, for he was with the army, and that night the roar of the distant artillery lulled him to sleep.  It was sweet music to him.  ’Tomorrow I shall fight like the Frenchman I am,’ he murmured as he dropped off to sleep.

“It was many days later, however, before he got the chance to take part in actual fighting.  Even that came about by chance.  He had been sent back to carry a message to the lieutenant in a high-angle gun squad—­”

“What is that?” interjected Joe Funk.

“I should have explained.  That is what the outfit that handles the anti-aircraft guns, the men who stay on the ground and shoot at airplanes, is called.  He was permitted to stand by and watch the operations of the squad.  Pretty soon he was assisting them by running back and bringing up the long, slender projectiles that the gun, pointed toward the skies, fired.  He enjoyed watching the kick of the piece and the way it ejected the case of the shell after the projectile had soared on its way to the clouds.

“Mattia proved himself very useful that day and earned the thanks of the ammunition carriers for his help.  He was quick and never stumbled or dropped a shell.

“That night he slept on the ground near the gun, which was silent all through the night.  Early in the morning he was awakened by the sharp report of the weapon.  Quickly springing up, he saw, high in the air, a black speck which he knew to be an enemy airplane, because the gun squad was firing at it.

“Once more Mattia took up his work of carrying ammunition.  Something tremendous exploded not far from the squad.

“‘The Boches are bombing us,’ cried a soldier.  The lad knew from that that the airplane, so far above them, was dropping bombs to destroy the gun and its squad.  The only effect of the bombing, however, was to knock down several men, Mattia among the number, by the shock of an exploding bomb.