"But your part gives you no right to fight. You are to bear no arms. That does not mean you have no service to render to your native land; that France does not ask anything of you. She asks much; she expects much from the Boy Scouts. "It may be you can do most by quietly filling the place made vacant in your home--made vacant by father or older brother gone to serve in the ranks. It may be your privilege to aid in caring for the wounded as they come back to their homes from the scene of conflict. It may be you will find a place to help on the battlefields. But wherever you are, whatever you do, remember that Scouts are ever faithful, ever loyal, ever true to the trust reposed in them. "It is cowardly to shirk a duty. Perform your part in the struggle as becomes true Scouts--as becomes men who have been born and reared in our fair France. "Mark my word well. So, if I am spared to return to you, after the war, I shall meet all of you again, and I shall be able to grasp the hand of each one of you, and say: 'Well done! You have deserved well, you of France and of the Boy Scouts Francais!'" His sword flashed from his scabbard, and he held it stiffly to the salute. Then sheathing it, he turned and stamped from the room. He went with a high head and a happy heart to the service of the land he loved--as millions of Frenchmen had gone or would go. There was silence when he had gone. Quietly the scouts melted away to the tasks they had in hand. The words of their departing leader had made a great impression on them. Nor had his reminder of what they should and should not do against the Germans been unnecessary. "I suppose he must be right," said Henri, a little wistfully. "I shall obey. But I had hoped that I might have a shot at a few Germans! Frank, I have practiced so often with my rifle! I have killed hawks and rabbits--" "Let's find Colonel Menier," said Frank. "We can hurt the Germans far more, I expect, by obeying orders than by killing a few. It is not the killing of a few men that will settle this war, Henri! War is bad--war is terrible. Let us not make it worse." Then they went to the barracks, inquiring, as they had been told to do, for Colonel Menier. Soon they were brought to him, a busy, tired looking officer of the staff. He eyed them keenly. CHAPTER VII THE GLORY OF WAR One glance at Henri seemed to satisfy him. The French boy, so typical of his race, he was ready to take for granted. He asked just one question. "You speak English well? You can understand thoroughly?" "Yes, my colonel," answered Henri. Then the officer turned to Frank. "You are English--one of our allies?" he asked. "No, sir." And Frank had to explain, for the hundredth time since the war began, as it seemed to him, his nationality and his mixed blood. He threw up his head a little proudly now as he told of his French mother.