Then one day, in the sunny desert of the Place de la Concorde, he came on a more cheering sight. A motley band of civilians, young, middle-aged, and even grey-headed, were shambling along together, badged and beribboned, in the direction of the Invalides; and above them floated the American flag. Troy flew after it, and caught up with the last marchers.
"Where are we going? . . . Foreign Legion," an olive-faced "dago" answered joyously in broken American. "All 'nited States citizens. . . . Come and join up, sonnie. . . ." And for one mad moment Troy thought of risking the adventure.
But he was too visibly only a schoolboy still; and with tears of envy in his smarting eyes he stood, small and useless, on the pavement, and watched the heterogeneous band under the beloved flag disappearing
