The midland journal., 1916-11-10
CHAPTER XII.
Lost-A WarI

6O0p-A WdTE
A Astranger-unmistakably American
-pedaled a decrepit bicycle up to the
very threshold Of the Lion dor before
he threw leg wearily over the rear
wheel and stood there, leaning heavily
upon the handle bars and saddle. 1t
was Charlie Brown, though his best
friend might not have recognized him
without some difficulty. He was both
dirty and disheveled, and hot and tired
as well. Dust lay thick upon his
shoes. And now he gazed mournfully
into the inn, somewhat as a thirst
parched wanderer In a desert might
have looked upon an oasis, with its
promise of shade and cooling water.
Henri Christophe did not see him at
first, for his broad back was toward
the street. But he sprang up quickly
as Mr.. Brown called to him in very
bad French
"Musseer lie proprietorw
It was like music in the innkeeper's
ears.
"a customer, and an Americana he
exclaimed under his breath. "Oui,
monsieurv he responded delightedly.
"I am very tired" Charlie explained
though he scarcely needed to dilate
upon that obvious fact. 81 desire a
chamber with-a bed, Immediately"
"Oui, monsieur have a very good
room, on the mezzanine door-excel-
lent for monsieur! Ten francs
a dayr'
"Ten3'' said Charlie. "Cheap enoughi
Go to it?'
And while little Jeanne went to pre-
pare the room foe him, he threw him
self into a chair and cast paper par
cel-his sole baggage-upon the table
In front Of him. Beyond few fresh
collars it's contents were negligible.
II want to go to my room now"
Charlie informed his host. "I'm dead
to the world" Unconsciously he had
lapsed into his own vernacular. And
then he realized that a Belgian inn
keeper in country town could by no
manner or means comprehend him.
"Oh, how the devil do you say I want
to so to my room in French?" he
groaned.
"But I speak English, SIR" the inn
keeper interposed. He had decided
accent, it was true. But to Charlie
Browns ears the words were as CRATE
full as the sound of a ripping brook
upon a hot summers day.
"You do? Why didn't you say sow
he demanded.
Pardon me, sir!" the polite inn
keeper begged him. "But so many
Americans like to exhibit their knowl-
edge Of French that / have found it
wisest never to speak English to an
American until am asked"
"Say-how did you know I was an
Americana" Charlie asked him with
sudden suspicion. He would have liked
to know just what it was about his ap-
pearance that seemed to stamp him as
Yankee, no matter where he went.
"Oh! / could tell at once. /.
The voice, the manner. Oh!
cannot explain. 1t Is some
thing" Christophe groped, IAN air
one can never mistake it."
Mr. Brown grinned at him.
Fright there with that French 'gaff,
aren't youg" he said.
Henri Christophe smiled.
"Ah, m'sieu, understand" he ex-
claimed, nodding his head sagely. "But
you do me an injustice. I do not fat
ter. / speak the truth"
All at once the American remem-
bered that he was a newspaper man.
"Well, then, have you seen anything
of war around here?" he asked.
"No, STRIP
"Neither have Iv' Charlie volun-
teered. "And I've been looking for it
for week"
"Oh, there will be no war here"
Christophe assured him. "It is always
like this-jiist our peaceful little viii
lage! We harvest our crops; we brew
some beer; we make a little wine
good wine., Monsieur shall sample 1t
and see," he added parenthetically.
"We go to church on Sunday, we live
and die in the quiet sunshine. :.
There will be no war here"
Charlie Brown did not like to break
r1dely in upon the good mans placid
dream. But at the same time he saw
no reason for assembling. If trouble
were comlng-as he believed-he con-
sldered it as well that the innkeeper