“Hello! I wonder what’s the matter with that brute!” cried Dave, when he saw this action. “It’s a shame to make a lad like that carry such a big bundle.”
“And the poor little chap looks half starved, too,” was Phil’s comment.
“Come on! Let us look into this!” cried Dave. “No soldier has any right to treat a French boy like that!” And he strode forward, never dreaming of the surprise in store for him.
CHAPTER XVI
A PERSONAL AFFAIR
As Dave and his chums strode forward they saw the soldier ahead of them give the gaunt-looking French lad another shove. This caused the poor boy to lose his balance, and over he went in the roadway, falling on top of the big bundle he was carrying.
“Hi, you bruiser, stop that!” cried Dave, coming up behind the soldier and catching him by the arm. Then, as, rather startled by the interruption, the fellow whirled around, he added in amazement: “Nat Poole!”
“See here! what do you mean by grabbing me by the arm?” demanded the son of the money lender of Crumville, as soon as he recovered from his astonishment.
“Why, it’s Nat Poole!” exclaimed Roger.
“Who would have thought of meeting him here?” added Phil.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself for treating a poor French boy like this, Nat,” continued Dave, as he stepped forward and assisted the fallen boy to his feet. The fellow looked much frightened, thus confronted by four soldiers. Evidently he was afraid he had gotten himself into serious trouble. He did not understand what was being said.