"One! two! right! left! one! two! Number Three, you are not in line. Forward a little! That's it. Now then--one! two! right! left!" It was early morning of a midsummer day, and a dozen or more boys, between the ages of ten and fifteen, marched out of the market town of Morainville, some armed with wooden swords, and others with broom-handles which did service as rifles, while the most of them were eating big slices of bread with keen relish.…
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