hurled into the air and fell several yards away. His own comrades
charged right over him as they passed. Those near enough to hear
caught a faint cry from the lad.

"'Vive la France!' were the words they heard him utter.

"Stretcher bearers, following the charging men, picked the lad up and
tenderly bore him back. They saw that he was mortally wounded. While
they were dressing his wounds, Lucien tugged feebly at the surgeon's
blouse. The surgeon leaned over, for the little fellow's voice was
very weak.

"'Lucien will climb no more trees,' murmured the lad.

"'No, my brave boy,' answered the surgeon.

"'Is Lucien brave, monsieur?'

"'There are no braver. The deeds of valor you have this day performed
will live long after you, little soldier.'

"A smile that was radiant with happiness appeared on the face of the
dying boy.

"'Lucien is no longer a coward,' he repeated several times. 'No longer
a coward. Vive la France!' he cried, half raising himself.

"The surgeon gently laid him back and kissed the lad on both cheeks,
but Lucien did not know. He was beyond the touch of human sympathy."