Produced by K Nordquist, Chris Logan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) THE FLAG By HOMER GREENE Author of "The Unhallowed Harvest," "Pickett's Gap," "The Blind Brother," etc. [Illustration] PHILADELPHIA GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO PUBLISHERS _Copyright, 1917 George W. Jacobs & Company_ _All rights reserved Printed in U. S. A._ [Illustration: He Glared Defiantly About Him] List of Illustrations He Glared Defiantly About Him _Frontispiece_ Aleck Turned it Upside Down and Rightside Up, But Failed to Find the Place _Facing p. 54_ Into the Face of Death He Led the Remnant of His Brave Platoon " 274 The French Hospital's Greeting to the American Colonel " 316 THE FLAG CHAPTER I Snow everywhere; freshly fallen, white and beautiful. It lay unsullied on the village roofs, and, trampled but not yet soiled, in the village streets. The spruce trees on the lawn at Bannerhall were weighted with it, and on the lawn itself it rested, like an ermine blanket, soft and satisfying. Down the steps of the porch that stretched across the front of the mansion, a boy ran, whistling, to the street. He was slender and wiry, agile and sure-footed. He had barely reached the gate when the front door of the square, stately old brick house was opened and a woman came out on the porch and called to him. "Pen!" "Yes, Aunt Millicent." He turned to listen to her. "Pen, don't forget that your grandfather's going to New York on the five-ten train, and that you are to be at the station to see him off." "I won't forget, auntie." "And then come straight home." "Straight as a string, Aunt Milly." "All right! Good-by!" "Good-by!" He passed through the gate, and down the street toward the center of the village. It was the noon recess and he was on his way back to school where he must report at one-fifteen sharp. He had an abundance of time, however, and he stopped in front of the post-office to talk with another boy about the coasting on Drake's Hill. It was while he was standing there that some one called to him from the street. Seated in an old-fashioned cutter drawn by an old gray horse were an old man and a young woman. The woman's face flushed and brightened, and her eyes shone with gladness, as Pen leaped from the sidewalk and ran toward her. "Why, mother!" he cried. "I didn't expect to see you. Are you in for a sleigh-ride?" She bent over and kissed him and patted his cheek before she replied, "Yes, dearie. Grandpa had to come to town; and it's so beautiful after the snow that I begged to come along."