What struck them forcibly, however, was the cheerfulness of the peasantry. At the little roadside stations the people crowded around the trains and cheered the soldiers. "Yes, monsieur," said one old farmer, "my little house was destroyed--burnt to the ground. I had lived there ever since I was married, and all my children were born there. Two of them, _grace a Dieu_, are at the front now. Where do we live? Ah, monsieur, they spared a barn, and we are there now. It's not so bad as it might be, and we are cheerful." "And your harvest?" asked Bob. "Ah, that was saved. It was in the fields in small stacks, and not yet brought to the yard. Had it been, it would have been burnt with the house. The turnips and the mangolds are still in the field, badly trampled, but not destroyed. Oh yes, it might have been worse, much worse--with us. Thank God, we had no daughter at the house." "Why do you thank God for that?" "Need you ask, monsieur? Those Germans are devils, devils! Ah, here is Jules Viney; let him tell you what he has had to suffer." And then an elderly man told a story which I will not here set down. It was too horrible, too heart-rending. Bob's heart sickened as he heard it, and he found his teeth becoming set as he vowed to fight long as God gave him breath. "She was but little more than a child, either," cried the man, who was trembling with passion, "and had only a year or two ago made her First Communion. As fair and as pure a child as ever God made. But, thank God, she is dead!" "Dead?" "Dead, yes! How could she live after those devils from the deepest hell---- But she took her own life, and she is with the saints." "And this is the fruits of the German culture, when it is overruled by the War God," thought Bob. "Great God, I did not believe that these stories could be true!" About two o'clock the train stopped at a siding, where an official told them they must remain for at least an hour. "Things have been terrible here," said the man; "a terrible battle was fought all around," and he waved his arms significantly. "Let's get out," said Bob. "I see some trenches over yonder. I remember reading about an engagement here." A few minutes later they were face to face with evidences of battle. The whole country-side was devastated. Everything had been swept away by the hordes who breathed out death. Sickening _debris_ was seen on every hand. Swarms of flies and insects had fastened upon heaps of filthy garbage. Nothing was seen of comfortable homesteads but charred, smoke-begrimed walls. Exploded shells lay around. Great excavations, the work of huge bombs, were seen on every hand. All around, too, they could see the carcases of horses, killed in battle, the bones of which were beginning to appear. The smells were horrible. "Let's get away from this!" said Pringle; "it's worse than any hell I ever dreamed of."