trotted uphill, head bent forward.

The colonel was entranced. "Hardy fellows--the making of fine soldiers,"
he commented, tossing his cigarette away to stare.

That night after dinner--but it was called supper--the colonel and I
went into the big, airy log kitchen with the lake looking in at three
windows and the forest at two doors. We gunned over with the men plans
for the next day, for the most must be made of every minute of this
precious military holiday. I explained how precious it was, and then I
spoke a few words about the honor of having as our guest a soldier who
had come from the front, and who was going back to the front. For the
life of me I could not resist a sentence more about the two crosses
they had seen on his uniform that day. The Cross of War, the Legion of
Honor! I could not let my men miss that! Rafael had been quiet and
colorless, and I was disappointed in the show qualities of my show
guide. But the colonel beamed with satisfaction, in everything and
everybody, and received my small introduction with a bow and a flourish
worthy of Carnegie Hall.

"I am happy to be in this so charming camp, in this forest magnificent,
on these ancient mountains," orated the colonel floridly. "I am most
pleased of all to have Huron Indians as my guides, because between
Hurons and me there are memories." The men were listening spell-bound.
"But yes. I had Huron soldiers serving in my regiment, just now at the
western front, of whom I thought highly. They were all that there is,
those Hurons of mine, of most fearless, most skilful. One among them was
pre-eminent. Some of you may have known him. I regret to say that I
never knew his real name, but among his comrades he went by the name of
l'Hirondelle. From that name one guesses his qualities--swift as a