Birmingham state herald., 1896-10-25
Ambush vS. Ambush.

Dr. Nelaton's evergreens, where hour af- ter hour he lay, rifle on shoulder, his gaze steadfastly on the aperture in the wall
 of the cottage.
 In the evening he sauntered into the common room, his manner quiet and un-
 assertive, as was his wont His entrance was greeted with derisive laughter.
 Back again empty-handed. Oh, dough- ty younker," shouted Kirchbach..
 Do you know, Herr Baron," said Capt. Won Zanthied, with sheer, that your friend up wonder bowled over another fel- low of my company this afternoon?" Then outspoke Major Won Schonberg himself You have had two whole days, Baron, for your experiment with the rifle which wrought so much execution in the Saxon Switzerland. Tomorrow you will return to your regular duty"
 At your order, Herr Major" replied the Baron, springing to the attitude of rigid attention on receiving a formal or der. Then he relaxed his muscles as much as ever a German officer does, and | made few quiet remarks "I should not have proposed going out again, major, in any case. Captain Kirchbach have not come home empty handed. brought with me my rifle It's barrel is fouled." Then immediately arose the loud clam
 or of questioning. "Have you killed the fellow?" Are you really serious?" etc. The little baron, in his quiet manner, demurely replied: Perhaps the gentle
 men who are interested in this little mat ter will take the trouble tomorrow morn- ing to go out to the front as far as the railway embankment, and from thence survey the front cottage through their field glasses" And with that he bowed said ''Good-night, and went away to his sleeping quarters over the stables. By daybreak next morning a party of us started on the errand suggested by the little baron. As we reached the railway embankment the men of the picket were peering over at the distant cottage, each man with his hand shading his eyes from | the dazzle of the sun on the snow. What | they saw I need not describe. But there was no mistake about it; the little baron had fulfilled the task he had taken on himself.
 It was while we ate a scrappy break fast as we stood around the piano buffet
 next morning that, in as few words as might be, the lad told us the grim story. During the second the Frenchman had fired several times, but had never given glimpse of himself to the young marks man down among pr. Nelaton'S laurels | and hollies.
 His last shot he had fired just before l dusk; this was the shot that killed the
 man of Zanthier's company. Then, as ev- | CT, he fired without exposing himself, but | when the bullet had sped he forgot him l self for the first time in the two days. | Anxious, no doubt, to discover whether
 1 he had done execution, he had for a mo- l ment projected his head and shoulders l over the window sill, peering out to his right front, the direction in which he had | fired. He was in the act of drawing back when the little baron took his snap shot | at him. The Frenchman dropped on the l instant, falling with head and shoulders outside the window, into the attitude in which we had seen the body. Then the | baron had come away through the gath l ering dusk, and that was all he had to say.
 The dead marksman had no successor l in the occupation of the cottage. Strange | ly enough the French never ventured up l to it. Early in January they were driven 1 bodily backward by the fire of the Ger l man "Walrusses," as we used to call the | siege cannon from Maison Guyot and | elsewhere. Then the region about Ville- momble and the Chateau de Launay | lapsed to the Saxons, who buried the l dead sharpshooter under the window | from which he had sped death so often l when alive.
 | He had regularly installed himself in the cottage, it seemed It was found 1 well victualled with bread, bacon, timed l food, wine and coffee, and the man had | brought with him small library of good, l solid reading, as well as writing mate l rials. On the table in the back room lay half Finished letter, which began: Ma l tres chere femme," and which told in the | most matter of-fact style the results of I | children, and begged them to pray for his l continued success.
 | He was not a soldier of the line. He wore the coarse uniform of a private of | the National guard, but his linen was | fine and marked with good name. In | the left breast pocket of his tunic was found the photograph of a handsome wo- man, with little girl at her knee and a baby in her arms. No doubt the French "pig-dog," as the Saxons called him, was a devoted patriot according to his lights, and regarded himself as fighting the good fight for his native land.
 Chonberg's fellows gave me the relic of the dead man when I visited them again just before the equalization of Par is When that event occurred, and found myself in the fallen capital, one of the first things I did after attending to my work was to deliver the relics at the address found in the cottage. The sharp shooter, it turned out, had been himself a journalist. As did so many other gal lant French soldiers of the pen, he had rushed to arms when danger threatened the sacred soil. He had escaped from Se- dan to form am item in the vast garrison of Paris and burning with zeal and devo- | tion to what he strangely conceived duty, | he had thrown himself into the miserable | business of pot shooting.
 | The poor wife thought his work glo- l rious and heroic. His children had crib bage board, with the pegs of which they l had proudly kept the tally of his homi- l cides. l believe before the Commune | time came, that had almost got to look
 at the matter from their point of view
 l never saw sweeter children.