The Fayette falcon. (Somerville, Tenn.) 190?-current, 1916-10-13
tlg~ CHAPTER XII.
EkgT
Lost-A WarI

LoSt-A war;
A tranger-unmistakab American
-pedaled decrepit bicycle up to the
very threshold of the Lion dor before
he threw leg YEARLY over the rear
wheel and stood there, leaning heavily
upon the handle bars and saddle. II
was Charlie Brown, though his best
friend might not have recognized him
without some difficulty. He was both
dirty and dlsheveled, 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 Chrlstophe 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 proprietor"
1t was like music In the innkeeper's
ears.
"a customer, and an Americana he
exclaimed under his breath. soul,
monsieur he responded delightedly.
II am very tired" Charlie explained
though he scarcely needed to dilate
upon that obvious fact. II desire a
chamber wlth-a bed, Immediately"
"0ui, monsieur have a very good
room, on the mezzanlne floor-excel-
lent for monsieur! Ten francs
a dayw
"Tenw said Charlie. "Cheap enoughl
Go to It'll"
And while little Jeanne went to pre-
pare the room for him, he threw him
self into a chair and cast a paper par
cel-his sole aggage-upon the table
in front of him. Beyond a few fresh
collars its contents were negligible.
81 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 go to my room in French?" he
groaned.
"But I speak English, SIR" the inn
keeper interposed. He had a decided
accent, 1t was true. But to Charlie
Browns ears the words were as CRATE
full as the sound OF ripping brook
upon q hot summers day.
"You doi Why didn't you say sol"
he demanded.
Pardon me, sirv' the polite Inn
keeper begged him. "But so many
Americans like to exhibit their knowl-
edge Of French that / have found 1t
wisest never to speak English to an
American until I am asked"
"Say-how did you know I was an
American Charlie asked him with
sudden suspicion. He would have liked
to know just what 1t was about his APP
pearance that seemed to stamp him as
a Yankee, no matter where he went
ooh! l could tell at once. .
The voice, the manner. OH l
cannot explain. II is some
thing" Christophe CROPPED, IAN air
one can never mistake it."
Mr.. Brown grinned at him.
Fright there with that French 'gaff,
aren't your he said.
Henri Christophe smiled.
"Ah, m'sleu, understand" he ex-
claimed, noddlng his head sagely. "But
you do me an injustice. / do not fat
ter. / speak the truth"
All at once the American remem-
bered that he was a newspaper man.
swell, then, have you seen anything
OF war around herel" he asked.
"No, sirT'
Neither have IF' Charlie voiun-
teered. "And I've been looking for 1t
for a week"
"0h, there win be no war here"
Christophe assured him. at Is always
ike this-just our peaceful little VII
lagel We harvest our crops; we brew
some beer; We make little wine
good wine. Monsieur shall sample It
and see" be added parentheucally.
I'VE 20 to church on Sunday. we live
and die in the quiet sunshine. d.
There will be no war here"
Charlie Brown did not like TO break
rudely in upon the good mans placid
dream. But at the same time he saw
no reason for descending. II trouble
were coming-as he belieyed-he con-
utaa~na a. ao xrau that sha fnnkoovaor