"Ah! Here is supper. I am quite ready for that, too."
The men who officiated as cooks--and who, by agreement, had been released from all night duty in consideration of their regularly undertaking that occupation--now brought in a large saucepan full of soup; and each man went up with his canteen, and received his portion, returning to his bed upon the straw to eat it.
"Anything new, Barclay?" one of the men asked, from the other side of the room.
"Yes, indeed," Ralph said. "New, and disagreeable. Mind none of you get taken prisoners, for the Prussian General has issued a proclamation that he shall shoot all franc tireurs he catches."
"Impossible!" came in a general chorus, from all present.
"Well, it sounds like it, but it is true enough," and Ralph repeated, word for word, the proclamation which he had translated to Major Tempe.
As might have been expected, it raised a perfect storm of indignation; and this lasted until, at nine o'clock, the sergeant gave the word:
"Lights out."
In the morning, after parade, Ralph and Percy strolled away together and had a long talk and, at the end of an hour, they walked to the house where Major Tempe had established his headquarters.
"Good morning, my friends," he said, as they entered. "Is there anything I can do for you? Sit down."