"Belgium first!" Deschamps declared. The master smiled indulgently at the tone of boyish bombast, but, none the less, it was evident that he was well pleased. "Very well, Deschamps," he said, "in that case I will see you in an hour's time." "Can't we go with you part of the way, sir?" asked half a dozen of the smaller lads, clustering around him. "No," came the decided reply, "most certainly not." "But we want to see the fun!" piped up one of the smallest boys in the school. The master put his hand kindly on the youngster's shoulder. "Ah, Jacques, Jacques," he said, "pray that you may never see it! I am sick at heart to think of what may happen to this little village if the red tide of war rolls over it. Good-bye, boys; remember your trust. Come, Monroe, we must be going." Some of the elder pupils stopped to shake hands with their old master, but most of the younger ones went running in groups along the village street, with fewer shouts than usual, eager to tell at home the strange happenings of that day at school. Horace and the master turned toward the end of the village, the old patriot taking the opportunity to warn the American lad against allowing the boys to go to extremes in exercising their new-found responsibilities. "They are much more likely to be too strict than to be too slack," he said, "balance and judgment come with age and experience. They will need the curb, not the whip. I am torn with the idea of leaving the school when no one knows what may happen, but I cannot stay away from Liége. Hear how those guns continue!" "Just what are you going to do there, sir?" asked Horace. "Whatever I am told to do," was the answer. "A soldier only obeys orders. I served my time with the artillery and my old battery is at Fort Boncelles. I hope they will let me go there, but guns have changed a great deal since my time, and perhaps my experience may be of little use. Yet the principles are the same, still." "Does Madame Maubin know as yet that you're going, sir?" asked Horace, as they neared the house. "No," said the master, "she does not. Of course, we have talked about the possible German invasion, but I said nothing which would alarm her. She will have to be told now." Like all boys, Horace had a deep dislike for emotional scenes, especially of a domestic character, and he would have given a good deal not to be compelled to go into the house, but there was no help for it. Mme. Maubin had seen them coming, and she opened the door. "Are those German guns?" she asked. "Yes," said the master, halting on the threshold. "Then it is all true?" "The invasion?" he sighed. "Alas, it is all true." She turned and walked into the house, the others following. On a chair, near the window, lay the old uniform. "Lucie!" cried the master, understanding. "Did you think that I would fail you," she said, "or try to hold you back?" They went into the inner room together. In a few moments, the woman came out.