The boy put his hand into his pocket and held out a slip of paper. I took it and read, "_Bon pour 1,200 francs, prix de 2 chevaux, etc._" "Well, thank God, we've got one left anyhow," thought I as I entered the hall. Just then the gate creaked and I could vaguely distinguish in the deepening twilight the forms of mother Poupard and Julia hurrying towards the stables. I followed. "George! George!" called Julia. "Well?" came the answer from within. "George--where's the old man?" queried mother Poupard in excited tones. "How do I know?" "Was our horse taken? Can you tell us that?" "I think so; yes." "Then why didn't Poupard come back with you and Leon in the cart? Did you see him?" "Yes." "Where was he?" "In front of a cafe as we drove past." "Oh, the old villain! The wretch! Oh, _mon Dieu,_ what shall we do! Oh, the wicked old man--if I had him here, I'd thrash him good!" And mother Poupard began brandishing a pitch-fork with such violence that I commenced to fear that failing her delinquent spouse, she would fall upon George to wreak vengeance. "Oh, the old devil! Oh--" "Look here, I'm not his nurse--now clear out, the lot of you!" The injunction served its purpose, for remembering they were "not at home," the two women retired in high dudgeon, wailing and lamenting in such audible tones that their neighbors came out to see what was the matter, and laughed at mother Poupard's threat of what she would do if ever she got _le vieux_ into her clutches. By six A. M. on the Friday I had breakfasted and was ready to leave for Soissons. The taxi from the Hotel du Balcon made its appearance a few moments later, and after a visit to the town hall, where we secured the necessary passports, we set off on our journey. At the entrance to every little village we were obliged to halt and exhibit our papers--after which formality the chain would be let down and we allowed to go our way. Half an hour later as we crossed Chateau Thierry we could see the rows of horses that had not yet been examined lined up along the square. The commissaries had worked all night and their task was still far from finished. Until we reached Oulchy-le-Chateau, the chains were the only outward signs that betokened the belligerent state of the country, and even then as those who mounted guard were not in uniform, it seemed rather as though we were passing a series of toll-gates. However, as we ran along the splendid roads between the great fertile plains, I observed that the harvesting was being done chiefly by women, and that the roads themselves were empty of any vehicle. Evidently only those who had an important errand were allowed on the _routes nationals_, thus kept clear for the transport of troops or ammunition.