The Mathews journal. (Mathews C.H. [Court House]) 1903-1937, 1912-05-23
WEEKLY SHORT STORY
BRINGING THE NEWS.
BY Pierre Gantier.


The light had faded rapidly, for it
was late in teh afternoon and winter.
1t had been bad enough out on the
plains, but here, deep in the forest Of
che Vosges, the darkness hung like
pail. Jean Caval was afraid. Fear
had gripped him earlier in the day
into Metz, driving all before them
That was why he was here-and
that had made him run for the woods,
when the triumphant Germans swept
alone! 1t was the shouting Uhlans
sobbing and gasping, and calling on
God to spare his life. OF what wild
retreat he remembered little Every
thing was so confused. The rolling
thunder of the artillery, the cracking
OF rifles as they spas out the leaden
hailstones of death, the thudding hoOfs
OF pursuing cavalry, and the flying
legions OF France before the swoop of
the German eagle.
In his terror he had entered the for
est too far 20 the south. Mirecourt lay
more to the northeast, so he struck off
In that direction and made for his ma
tive place with all the speed he could
cummon from his jaded limbs.
Pines, pines and pines, Everywhere
Jean looked the trees stood stiff and
sphinX-like, until the gloom of the
woods showed them only as a solid
background.
And Jean sobbed as the knocking
voices reverberated in the trees around
him, and fear took him by the hand
and goaded his shrinking body to a
stumbling run, until he found himself
IN clearing where a pond lay, re-
fleeing the sky upon the surface of its
Still waters. Here it was lighter and
Jeans spirits rose a little
With a grunt of satisfaction Jean
fell asleep. He awoke with a cry Of
surprise. A hand was resting lightly
upon his shoulder and a voice was
calling him by name.
"Jean-Jean! Wake up, oh, wake
up"
"Marie!' he cried. Marie"
Il thought YOU dead. Jean! There is
blood upon your chest and here, and
herei' Marie pointed the clotted
patches out to Jean.
Mon Dieu," he cried, 1--WE lost! All.
how We lost! Marie. my child, we ran
like the wind; the Germans drove us
and, like the autumn leaves we flew
This way and that! And everywhere,
blood, And men, and things that
had once been men,"
Marie threw her arms about him
and cried her thanks to heaven that
Jean had been spared 20 her. She had
prayed for him and it seemed that
her praye RS had been heard.
The Army, Jean-where is the
Army?"
Jean looked away, and, with a short
laugh, pointed through the trees
towards Metz. Then he swept his
arm around until his fingers lay in the
direction of the VOsges Mountains.
"There-and some there!"
And you, Jean?"
"Oh, got leave" he said shortly;
and then: And how is my Father.
and everyone l know at MirecoI-t?"
Your father is we'll l have been
with him every night. We talk of the
war. and OF you. Let us go, Jean.
They will be anxious for news. All
yesterday we coul hear the guns
booming on the frontier"
So together they walked back to
Mirecourt
They reached the Octroihouse at the
beginning of the village street, and the
people ran from the gates and clamor-
ed for the war news. Their sabots
rang out on the cobbles Of the village,
and brought Others from their houses.
And Jean raised his voice and spoke of
the war
Metz has fallen!" he cried. "The
armies Of France are routedi We shall
have the Prussians at the gates of
Paris within a week, unless the good
God intervenes!"
The commotion had fetched an old
man out into the street. He stood for
a moment shading his eyes from the
morning sun, which shone through the
struggling streets in a long shaft of
gold. Jean saw him, and with quick
run, was by his side, saying: Father
we have lost"
"My poor boy, my JEAN" was all
the old man could say and they hug
ged each other and kissed before the
people of Mirecourt.
A squadron of French Light Cav
airy drew to a halt. their uniforms
almost indistinguishable for dust. A
corporal rode along up the cobbled
road. while the troopers sat at atten-
ton on their horses.