"More fool he," she said crisply; "he's old enough not to get romantic. What's going to be done with the school?" "That's all been arranged," the boy replied, without explaining further, for he knew that his aunt would regard the master's action as "high-falutin and romantic." "Well, you'd better get ready," she said sharply, "though I don't see how you can do much study with all the noise those forts are making. I should have thought they'd have had sense enough to build them farther away from where folks live." "Aunt," said Horace, "suppose the Germans should take Beaufays?" "Well, what about it?" "If they burn the houses and steal everything and kill everybody and--" "Get along with your foolishness," his aunt replied. "I've known plenty of Germans. They weren't much different from any other kind of humans I ever saw. Burn and steal and murder? What next! Get on to school, Horace, or you'll be late." The boy put on his cap and left the house. The air was heavy with the smell of powder, drifting from the not-distant bombardment. Groups of villagers and peasants loitered aimlessly about the streets. Work was at a standstill. One of the old men called him. "Was it you who caught the eagle?" he asked. "Yes," Horace answered, "I caught him." The old peasant chuckled with toothless gums. "Perched on a pole he is," he said, "and we'll have the Kaiser himself there, presently." "Where is the bird?" asked the boy. "In front of the inn. Croquier's got it. He won't take his eyes off it." A few steps brought Horace to the _estaminet_ and there, blinking in the strong August sunlight, perched the eagle that he had captured the night before. During the night an excessively strong cage had been made of twisted strips of wrought iron. It would have resisted an elephant's strength. Welded into the top of the cage was a ring and to this ring was fastened a steel chain. The end was clamped around Croquier's wrist. So much, at least, ensured that the bird would not escape, but there was a surer sign still, for Horace, looking on the hunchback's face, saw the face of a man who had been transfigured. The savage petulance, born of misfortune, had been replaced by an equally savage determination, born of confidence and trust. It did not need two looks to see that the man would be cut in pieces before he would betray his trust. He spoke as soon as the lad approached. "I have been wondering," he said, "how you, with your little strength, managed to capture this bird. Bird! It is an evil spirit. I have never seen a bird so strong, and I know what is strength. Twice, last night, it tried to escape." "How?" asked the boy.