The Argosy, January 1906 — page 76: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

258 the Germans are across the Rhine; it is to them you must turn, for France has betrayed her honor. Remember, it was France that killed your father.” It was plain to Bosworth that the old nobleman was mad—he who had served France through two generations; but the girl answered dully. “Tt is France—France that has slain you, mon pére; do you think I shall for- get?” The old man was leaning heavily - against her shoulder. Suddenly he straightened, and with that last sum- moning of strength which sometimes comes to the dying, raised himself to his full height. “YT hear it—listen—the thunder of the charging squadron. It is_ the chasseurs, come to put this canaiille to the saber, or, perhaps—perhaps it is the Prussians from across the Rhine.” He staggered, lurched forward, and fell at full length at the very feet of the Franc-tireur leader, and, even as he fell, Bosworth was conscious of a sound which rose above the crash of the body to the floor—the impatient movement of horses’ feet, the ring of steel against steel, which came in through the open window. Those of the F'ranc-tireurs nearest the veranda turned hastily, peered into the night, then began to press forward upon those between them and the center of the room, this pressure urging those in front forward toward the American. Not comprehending the meaning of this movement, Bosworth raised the re- volver. “Back!” he shouted, and _ fired rapidly four times into the frenzied group before him. Oaths, eries, and a terrible uproar arose from the F’ranc-tireurs. Those in front were being pushed forward by the frenzy of those behind; crowded toward the stern-faced man who was shooting into their ranks as fast as his finger could press the trigger. The revolver empty, Bosworth gave himself up as lost. Hurling the weapon straight into the face of the nearest Frenchman, he sprang to one side, caught the girl in his arms, and, drag- ging her into the nearest corner, pushed her behind him. THE ARGOSY. But the Franc-tireurs did not turn in that direction. Straight across the room, over the body of the marquis and those of their fallen companions, they pushed and surged in a mad endeavor to gain the door which led into the hall. A tumult of cries filled the room ; men fought, pulled at each other’s hair, bit, tore with their nails; and, above all this tumult, Bosworth could distinguish the words: “Tt is the Prussians—save yourself! ” Suddenly, from out of the darkness be- hind this frenzied mob, the faces of men appeared in the opening of the win- dow. ‘These faces were bronzed and bearded, surmounted by little, queer- shaped, shining caps, which glistened in the lamplight. Below the faces appeared broad shoul- ders, and uniforms edged with yellow. These men sprang through the win- dow casement into the room; first one, then a second, and after this one others. The first carried lances, below the steel tips of which fluttered little pennons of black and whice. Before ‘these lances, and the men whe bore them, the /Wranc-tireurs fled as would sheep before a pack of hungry wolves. Bosworth, shielding the marquis’ daughter with his body, looked upon these things as through a mist; the scowhng faces of the Franc-tireurs no longer appeared between him and the window. The space which they had oc- cupied was indeed filled with men, but men from across the Rhine—the Uhlans. He heard the gruff command, uttered in German, to halt. Then, as the last of the Mranc-tiwreurs crowded frantically through the doorway, a flash, followed by a second, a third, a fourth, and fifth spurted from the revolvers in the Prus- sians’ hands... Two of the Frenchmen fell, and through the smoke which filled the room a dozen Uhlans rushed for the door lead- ing into the hall; others turned toward the corner. An officer peered through the drifting smoke, his revolver half raised. “You surrender?” said he gruffly. Bosworth pulled himself together, and took a step forward. 7€O re comicbook