Mother Meraut was now upon familiar territory, among the scenes
of her childhood. She had often come here with her father when he
had brought a load of produce to sell in the town market. Here
they disembarked, bought a load of provisions, and once more
resumed their journey. Progress from this point on was slower
than that of previous days, for now the current was against them.
Father and Mother Meraut took turns at the oars, and they had
gone some four or five miles up the stream when they came in
sight of something quite unfamiliar to Mother Meraut. Stretching
across the level meadows beside the river, as far, as the eye
could see, were rows and rows of tents. Companies of soldiers in
French uniforms were drilling in an open field. Groups of cavalry
horses were herded in an enclosure, and everywhere there were the
activities of a great military encampment.
"It's a French training-camp," cried Father Meraut, and he waved
his cap on the end of an oar and shouted "Vive la France" at the
top of his lungs. Pierre and Pierrette waved and shouted too, and
Mother Meraut, caught by the general excitement, snatched up
Jacqueline, who had been reposing in the basket, and frantically
waved her. Some soldiers answered their signal, and shouted to
them.
Father Meraut looked puzzled. "That's not French," he said; "I
can't understand what they say. But they have on French uniforms!
I wonder what regiment it can be. I'm going to find out.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69