One sight in particular filled them with righteous wrath. Traversing one of the smaller streets, they encountered an apple-cheeked French woman and a boy of about ten years. To their united horror they instantly noticed that the child's arms had been lopped off just below the elbow. "Great Heavens! Look at that!" muttered Bob, as the two drew nearer. "Speak to her, Blaise. Ask her if that's Boche butchery." "_Bon jour_, Madame." Jimmy's hand went to his helmet. Since coming to the village, the Khaki Boys had been ordered to replace their campaign hats with the bullet-proof helmets, which the soldier must wear constantly as he approaches nearer to the firing lines. "Is this your son?" he inquired in French. His gray eyes were dark with mingled horror and sympathy, as he indicated the pitiful little figure. "How did this happen to him?" "But _non_, _Monsieur_," the woman replied. "He is a Belgian. _Les Allemands_, this they do. Father and mother, both they kill. This poor child--_Voila_, you see for yourself! He was brought to me thus. Now I have taken him for my own. Three sons I once had. All died at Ypres and for France." In the face of this tragic recital, the five Khaki Boys stood silent. Instantly every helmet was doffed to this grand figure of womanhood. There were no signs of tears in her bright black eyes as she spoke, only a fleeting expression of intense suffering, which merged instantly into a look of intense pride, as she mentioned the loss of her sons. "Ask her, Blazes, if she'll allow us to make the poor kiddie a present," ordered Roger, a trifle unsteadily. The woman flushed, then smiled, showing two rows of strong, white teeth. "It is not necessary, Monsieur," she returned. "Still, if _les Americains_ of the great heart please--I am very poor." "Cough up a dollar or two apiece, quick," ordered Bob, who had understood the reply. His recent complaint regarding far-off pay-day was now forgotten. Each Sammy's hand went instantly to his money belt. "This is your donation party, Rodge." Jimmy handed a two-dollar note to Roger. Ignace, Schnitzel and Bob handed him a like amount. Adding his own offering, Roger tendered it to the woman, who thanked them with a pretty courtesy that quite won their hearts. "Can such things be?" was Bob's savage question as they strolled on. "It's bad enough to read about 'em, but when you meet 'em face to face! Ugh! Lead me to the trenches, and do it quick!" CHAPTER IX ON THE MARCH Jimmy's prediction that they were likely to move on soon was speedily verified. The very next morning at Assembly the men were ordered to report on the parade ground at noon under full pack. An hour's drill and they were dismissed in order to allow them to make final preparations before starting on their march to the front.