The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1914-01-22

went Dit turJher when me otherS
courage failed.
Il dare" said Francois. Then the
dark heads came together in an un-
easy mass, and there was whispering.
At the dinner-hour that day several
mothers of the village remarked that
their small lads were restless, not in
tent as usual on the black bread and
the soup of chopped vegetables and
the green beans-all anxious to finish
and get away. Only the mother of
Francois, however, reasoned from this
that mischief was brewing. When the
slim, wiry, little figure slipped from
the table and out through the open
door, she rose and followed and stood
in the great entry watching him race
across the field toward the church. He
veered but once in his straight path
to turn to the Prilpoteaux cottage,
where the glider lodged while in Vic
ques.
How soon will one be at work up
there again." he asked through the
window of Auguste Philpoteaux sit
ting at his dinner, and the man an
swered good-naturedly:
1T may be in half an hour, my boy,
Not sooner" And Francois raced on.
BY this time boy here and boy
there had stolen from their dinner
tables and we're gathering in groups
down the street, but the elders paid
no attention. Francois disappeared In
to the church; the boys began to grow
breathless.
1T will take some minutes for the
stairs" one said, and they waited.
Two minutes, three, perhaps FIVE;
something rose out Of the trap-door
leading to the platform from which the
steeple sprang-a figure, looking very
small SO far up above them. Instantly
it attached itself, like a crawling fly,
to the side of the steeple; it moved up
ward. Henri Dufour, below In the
street, jumped as hand gripped his
arm. He looked up frightened at La
Claire.
is that my Francois?" she demand
ed sternly, but the boy did not need to
answer.
With that, by degrees people came
from the cottages as at some mysteri-
GUS warning and stood silent, afraid to
breathe, watching the little figure
creeping up, up the dizzy narrowing
peak of the church steeple. A rider
galloped down the road; seeing the
groups, he pulled in his bay horse and
his eyes followed the upward glance
Of the whole village.
who is it?" he flung at the nearest
knot of peasants; his voice was abrupt
and commanding.
The men pulled off their caps, and
one answered respectfully: 1T is lit
tie Francois" Beaupre, my seigneur; it
is child who has no fear; he is al
most at the top, but we dread it when
he descends."
Mon dieu!" the man on horseback
growled. 'If he looks down he Is lost;
the lad is born hero or a born luna
tic"
The crawling spot up there showed
dark in the sunlight against the new
gliding of the ball. 1t stopped; the
blot was fixed for second; another
second. From the crowd rose gasps,
and excited broken sentences.
"He has the vertigo! He is lost!"
The dark blot clung against the gild.
ing. Then suddenly it moved, began
to make slow way downward, and a
long sigh, like a ripple on water, ran
through the ranks of people. No one
spoke: all the eyes watched the little
figure slip down, down the unseen lad
der in the air. At last 1t was at the
bottom; it disappeared into the trap
door. Every one began to talk volubly
at once; woman cried for joy, then a
child spoke in a high voice.
"See," she said shrilly, "the mother
of Francois goes to meet him!"
lie Claire was far down the street,
gliding toward that church door
which was under the steeple. AS she
reached it the little lad came out, his
face flushed, his eyes shining with ex-
citement and triumph. She took his
hand silently, hardly looking at him,
and turned SO, quietly, without word
of either joy or reproof, her face i'm.
passive. She had got her boy again
from the dead, it seemed to Claire.
and those first moments were beyond
words or embraces. To touch his warm
hand was enough. The man on the
bay horse, trotting slowly along. saw
the meeting.
ut Is woman out of the common,
that one," he spoke aloud. "She rules
herself and the boy" And the boy
looked up as he came and smiled and
tugged at his cap with the hand which
his mother did not hold
Good morning, mSieur." he said
with friendliness, and the rider stared.
"Sacre bleu!" he flung back in his
strong sudden voice. 1T is my friend,
the marshal. Was it you, then, glued
up there? Yet another fashion to play
with death, eh? Nom dun CHEN! You
have star of good luck-you are
saved for something great, it must
be-"
"M'sleur the Marshal" he flung at
Francois. Come and see me In the
chateau"
There was clatter of gallopine
hoofs; the bay mare and her rider
were far down the street.
Who is it, my mother the fierce
gentleman" Francois asked.
You are fortunate today, Fran
cois," Claire answered him. THE good
God has saved your life from very
great foolishness, and also think you
have made friend. 1t is the new