“Ah! young M’sieu, that is the most remarkable thing I ever knew to happen. Yes, it is little Jacques you see there on the blanket. He has been injured, but we hope and believe he will recover. He surely will if our prayers are of any avail; for, wonderful to say, little Jacques is this day a hero of heroes!”
At that Amos uttered a pleased cry.
“Oh! do you really mean to tell us the little chap actually found his chance after all? What did he do—what could so small a boy do against the fighting soldiers of the Kaiser? Please tell us all about it.”
“It was in this way,” described the burgomaster, proudly. “When the Germans came into the village after that first furious bombardment they managed to hold half of the place. There was fighting in every street, desperate hand-to-hand fighting, for those British were determined they would not be chased out wholly. This kept up until the reinforcements arrived on the run, wild with the lust for blood. Then step by step the Germans were pressed back, until in the end they lost their grip on the village.”
“After that the bombardment must have started in afresh, until the whole place was leveled as flat as a plain?” interposed Jack, wishing to get all the facts clearly in his mind, for future use in his letters to the paper he represented.
“Just as you say, young M’sieu,” continued the burgomaster. “It was while the Germans held part of the town that Jacques found his great opportunity. Two of the invaders discovered him there on the street amidst all that furious firing back and forth. They seized hold of the lad, and, I believe, threatened him with death if he did not reveal the place where his people were hiding with their valuables. The boy played his part well, and after making out that he was almost frightened to death agreed to lead them to our hiding place.”
“Oh! he always claimed that he had a trap ready to spring!” exclaimed Amos, who found himself intensely interested in the story. “Did those two Germans really fall into it, Monsieur?”
“He must have acted his part wonderfully well,” said the old man proudly, for it must be remembered that the lad’s father was his own cousin. “He made them force him along; for in some manner he succeeded in lulling any suspicions they may have had in the start. And, Messieurs, in the end Jacques, a Belgian boy with a heart that beats only for his beloved country, managed to entrap those two pillagers, so that they are now prisoners in the hands of our forces.”
“But how could he do such a wonderful thing?” asked Amos, not skeptically, for he fully believed every word the burgomaster spoke, but with a keen desire to know all the particulars.
“Ah! we none of us understand as yet, for Jacques has been too weak to explain,” the old man told them. “Besides, something else has occurred to claim his attention. What we know is that after the British reclaimed the ruins of our poor village, and the Germans had been beaten back as many as six times, on coming out from my hiding place to see what could be done for those who were lying by scores and hundreds around, I found the boy badly injured by a fragment of a bursting shell.