"This ended Mattia's going to war for some time to come. He found no opportunity to do so until nearly a month later, when he decided to leave his uncle's home again and take his chances. This time he planned well and carefully. Providing himself with food he set out one evening after he was supposed to be in bed and asleep, and, proceeding to the railroad, started walking along it. This, he had found, was the most direct route to the front. "Mattia's uncle did not take enough interest in his nephew's disappearance to have a search made for him. For days after that the lad continued his journey on foot, stopping at farmhouses and doing little odd jobs that were the means of providing meals for him. One day, to his great happiness, he came up with the rear of one of the armies of his beloved country. "The boy plodded in among the troops, for this was a rest camp that he had stumbled upon, some miles distant from the front. An officer, observing that he was a civilian, halted him in the street of the village where the rest camp was situated. "'Where are you going, boy?' the officer demanded. "'To the war with you,' answered Mattia promptly. "'What! To war, at your age? It is impossible. Where is your home?' "Mattia told him. "'My mother is dead, as is my father, and my brothers are fighting at Verdun. Mattia has only his country left to love now. Where is Verdun?' "'You poor little patriot,' answered the officer sympathetically. 'Verdun is yonder where you see the smoke and where the big guns are in action. You can hear them now.' "The boy nodded. "'But you are too young to fight. It is not permissible. Wait! You have no family left at home?' "'None, sir, save my uncle, who does not want me,' "'And you wish to stay here?' "'No, sir, I wish to fight.' "'That cannot be, but if you wish you may remain here. If you can work there is much that you can do in the rear and thus serve your country well. All men who serve their country are not in the trenches. Many are serving heroically who have not yet heard the roar of the big guns.' "'What shall I do here?' "'Help the cooks, do little services for the officers--whatever you may find to do. But, my son, remember you are not to try to go near the firing line. It is not for children to be there. You do not know what the soldiers suffer there. They must be strong and they must be old enough to stand the terrible strain.' "'I care not for that. I want to fight,' replied Mattia with determination. 'I am strong and I can endure as long as can the men. I know, for I have worked with men. Where shall I eat and sleep?' "The officer told him he would speak to the mess sergeant and that the latter would provide him with food, and would arrange for the lad to lodge in one of the buildings where soldiers slept when off duty.