CHAPTER XIV
IN CLOSE QUARTERS
The four Camport boys greeted Stone joyfully and gladly made room for him.
"It's another German atrocity," grinned Billy. "They were sore at us for swiping their grub and they sent our kettle to smithereens."
"I'm glad they don't know about it anyway," said Tom. "I don't want any
Boche to have the laugh on me."
"I guess they're not doing much laughing this morning," remarked Will Stone, as he dropped down on the ground beside them. "Or if they are, it's on the wrong side of their mouths."
"We've certainly waxed them good and plenty," said Bart enthusiastically.
"Jumbo was all to the good this morning," exulted Frank. "It did my heart good to see the way he ploughed along. There was nothing to it after he got started."
"He certainly scattered the Huns good and plenty," chortled Billy. "They ran like hares."
"He does for 'em all right," agreed Stone, glad to have his pride in his giant pet justified. "And the best of it is that, although the bullets came against his hide like hail on a tin roof, he came through practically without a scratch. He sure is a tough old fellow."
"The tanks are wonders," chimed in Tom. "They've won this fight. It was scrumptious the way they tore those entanglements up by the roots. Without 'em we'd have lost ten times as many men as we did."
"So far we've gotten off pretty easily," agreed Stone, "but the hardest part of the fighting is coming. The Boches have got their second wind by this time, and there can't be any more surprises. You fellows would better fill up now, for you'll have to have plenty to stand up on."
"Trust us," laughed Billy. "We may be slow in some things, but when it comes to filling up, we're some pumpkins. But I certainly do feel sore about that stew."
"Billy'll never get over that," laughed Bart. "He had his mouth all fixed for it. No other stew in all his life will ever taste so good to him as this one that he didn't get."
"It's always the biggest fish that gets away," laughed Stone, as he fell to with the rest.
While they were eating, there was a thunder of hoofs along the road. This had been such an unusual occurrence up to date that they sprang to their feet with eager interest.
Then the cavalry swept by.
Fine fellows the cavalrymen were on splendid mounts, which they bestrode as though they had never done anything else in all their lives. For months past they had chafed under restraint, for since the struggle had settled down to trench warfare they had seldom seen service except on foot. But now their turn had come, for with the broken line of the enemy had come a call for the cavalry to pursue and complete the demoralization of the foe.
"Some class to that bunch," remarked Tom, as he watched the flying column with an appraising eye.
"A little faster than your tanks, old scout?" remarked Bart, giving
Stone a nudge in the ribs.
"They sure are," admitted Stone. "But don't forget that though we may be slow we get there just the same."
After a brief resting spell the lines were reformed and the fighting was resumed. The space between the second and the third lines was a wide one, and the country was hilly, with numerous lanes and ravines. These were being held in greater or less force by enemy troops posted in advantageous positions supported by machine guns, while beyond them their big guns kept up a heavy fire to prevent the Allied advance.
To clean these up and get ready for an attack upon the third line was a work of hours, as every foot of advance was bitterly contested by the Germans, who had now recovered from their surprise and fought desperately to stem the tide that had overwhelmed their first position.
There were two or three villages in the fighting zone and one town of considerable size. Not that it was a town now in any real sense of the word. What had once been houses were now mere pitiful heaps of wood and stone and mortar, and their inhabitants had long since been dispossessed or slain. It stood gaunt and desolate and forbidding in its mute protest against the pitiless storm of war to which it had fallen a victim.
In cleaning out a particularly obnoxious nest of machine gun positions Frank and his friends had been kept busy until nearly noon. But at last the guns were silenced and the crews wiped out or captured.
The boys started to regain their main force, but the country was unfamiliar and they took a turning in the road which led toward the German lines instead of toward their own.
"Gee!" remarked Tom as they trudged along, "maybe I'm not tired. My feet feel as though they weighed a ton."
"Perhaps they do," gibed Billy unfeelingly. "Considering the size of them, I should say a ton was just about right."
"I notice your hoofs are not so small," retorted Tom. "But how much longer is this hike going to take?"
"Search me," responded Frank. "To tell the truth, I'm twisted up about the direction. Seems to me we ought to strike some of our troops soon."
"It would be funny if we walked straight into the German lines," observed Billy.
"Funny!" snorted Tom. "Yes, as funny as a funeral. Some people have a queer sense of humor."
They were passing a hedge that walled off an orchard from the road when Frank, who was ahead, saw before him a great wave of gray uniforms coming around a bend in the road.
"Quick, fellows," he whispered. "Over the hedge and down on the ground."
Like a flash the boys were out of sight, and not one instant too soon, for a moment later they could see through the hedge what seemed to be an endless line of gray uniforms going past at the double quick. They were evidently hurrying forward to reinforce their hard-pressed comrades farther down the road.
The boys lay still as death until the troops had passed, and then looked at each other ruefully.
"We're cut off," ejaculated Frank. "Those fellows are between us and our line."
"Looks pretty bad," said Bart.
"This is a pretty kettle of fish," grumbled Tom. "Let's cut across the orchard and see if we can find some of our boys."
They acted on the suggestion, but found to their dismay that the Germans were everywhere. In whatever direction they looked the only uniforms they saw were the detested field gray. The Germans had rallied and the boys had been caught in the swirl of the returning tide.
"We'll have to hide somewhere until our men drive back the Huns and get as far as this orchard," said Billy.
"We're up against it for fair," growled Tom disconsolately.
"It's easy enough to talk of hiding, but where shall we hide?" asked Bart. "If we stay here above ground we're bound to be spotted before long."
"Let's make our way toward the town," suggested Frank. "There wasn't a soul in sight there a few minutes ago. It seemed to be wholly deserted. There must be plenty of hiding places in those heaps of stones, or perhaps we can stow ourselves away in a cellar. Let's get a hustle on, too, or we'll know sooner than we want to what a prison camp looks like."
As quickly as they dared they crept along, using every bit of cover that offered itself until they reached the outskirts of what had been the town. As Frank had said, it appeared to be wholly deserted at the moment. It was clear that all available forces had been summoned away to stem the great drive.
Having satisfied themselves that there was no one about they moved cautiously from one street to another seeking some place of refuge. The prospect was not hopeful, for there was scarcely a room in a single house that was not gaping wide open. Doors were gone and windows had vanished. There was hardly a place where anything as large as a cat could be free from detection.
"A mighty slim outlook," grumbled Tom, as they crouched close to a pile of masonry near the corner of a street.
"Stop grouching," counseled Frank. "We may stumble across something at any minute."
"Stumble is right," said Bart, as he rubbed a barked shin. "I've been doing nothing else since we got in among these rock piles."
"That house over the way there seems in a little better condition than the rest of these heaps," suggested Billy, pointing a little way down the street.
"We'll try our luck there," said Frank, and again their cautious journey was resumed.
They reached the place and squeezed themselves in through a narrow opening on a side that had faced a tiny yard bordered by a wall about eight feet in height.
There had been three rooms on the ground floor of the house, but all three had been knocked into one by the visitation of shells. The boys picked their way over the uneven masses of plaster, and Frank gave an exclamation as he perceived an opening that seemed to lead down into a cellar.
"This way, fellows," he said as he looked down into the darkness. "I don't see any stairs here but we can take a chance and drop. It doesn't seem very deep. One of you hold this gun of mine and I'll go first."
There was a chance of spraining an ankle if nothing worse, but luckily he landed safely.
"All serene," he called up in a low tone. "Hand me down your guns and then come along."
They did so, and the four found themselves in a cluttered cellar that by feeling around with their hands they found to be about thirty feet long by twenty in width. There was a furnace which had been broken into a pile of junk and a little light filtering down showed where a pipe had formerly gone through to the upper floor. There were a number of barrels in one corner, but apart from these the cellar seemed to hold nothing but rubbish.
"It's as dark as Egypt down here," grumbled Tom.
"So much the better," replied Bart. "There'll be that much less chance of a Heinie seeing us if he takes the trouble to look down here."
"So this is where we've got to hang out until our boys get here," remarked Billy, grinning. "It reminds me of the Waldorf-Astoria—it's so different."
"Never mind," said Frank cheerfully, "it's a thousand per cent. better than a Hun prison camp, and don't you forget it!"
"You said a mouthful that time," replied the irrepressible Billy, with more force than elegance.
CHAPTER XV
THE FOUR-FOOTED ENEMY
"The first thing to do is to make a barricade of these barrels," said Frank, when the four privates had made an inventory of what the cellar afforded in the way of defense.
"They will help us in putting up a fight if the Huns discover us here," agreed Bart.
"Let's see if there's anything in them," suggested Billy.
"Swell chance," commented Tom. "They smell as if they'd had wine or beer in them, and you can trust the Heinies to have drained them to the last drop. Not that I want any of the stuff, but if they were full they'd stop a bullet better than if they were empty."
They tested the barrels by knocking against them with the butts of their rifles and the hollow sound they gave back proved that Tom had conjectured truly.
"Dry as the Desert of Sahara," pronounced Frank.
"And that reminds me," said Bart. "What are we going to do for water to drink? We've got grub enough in our kits to last us a couple of days in a pinch. But we can't hold out long without something to wash it down with."
"We won't worry about that yet," said Frank. "I stepped into a puddle over in one corner while we were going round here. I suppose that came from the rain we had last night. It doesn't fit my idea of what drinking water ought to be, but it's a mighty sight better than dying of thirst."
They got out their stock of food and decided that with careful rationing they had enough for two days.
"And that will be plenty," prophesied Billy. "Our fellows will be here before long. Perhaps this very night we'll be with the old bunch again."
"I wish I had your cheery disposition," growled Tom. "When any one hands you a lemon——"
"I make lemonade out of it," came back Billy, and there was a general laugh.
"That's the way to talk," said Frank. "The Huns haven't got us yet, and even this hole is better than a German prison camp."
"You bet!" responded Billy. "From all I hear those places are something fierce. A fellow had better die fighting than die of abuse or starvation."
"That's what," agreed Bart. "And that's another thing that shows how low the Huns have stooped in this war. Look at the way we treat them when we take them prisoners. They live on the fat of the land. Of course the Germans haven't as much food in their country as we have, and we don't expect so much for our men in the matter of grub, although even at that they don't get enough to keep body and soul together. But it's sickening to hear of the way they torture them. One of their favorite sports is to set dogs on 'em. If a man doesn't move quickly enough to suit 'em they stick a bayonet into him. It's low beastly tyranny that puts them on a level with the Turks. It's no wonder that Germany is coming to be hated and despised by the whole world."
"Did you hear of the fire that happened in one of their camps?" queried Tom. "There was a hut in one corner of the camp with five men in it. It caught fire and the men, who couldn't get out of the door because it was locked, tried to get out of the window. The sentry thrust his bayonet into the first man, and threw him back into the flames. The poor fellow made another attempt and again the sentry ran the bayonet into him. And every one of the five men burned to death, though every one of them could have been saved. What do you think of that, fellows? Isn't it the limit?"
"They'll get theirs," said Frank bitterly. "They can't sow the wind without reaping the whirlwind. They'll surely pay, soon or late, for every bit of this brutality.
"I hope it will be soon," said Billy. "I'm getting impatient."
"It won't be long if we can keep up the pace we set this morning," said Bart. "Gee, how our tanks went through those wires as though they were rotten cord."
"And our guns are keeping it up," said Frank. "Just listen to that roar. What a shame it is we can't be out there doing our bit. It makes me feel like a slacker."
"It's the fortune of war," said Billy philosophically. "But it's might hard luck just the same that we took the wrong direction after we cleared up that machine gun nest so neatly. But let's have a hack at that grub, fellows. Oh, boy, if we only had some of that stew we lost this morning!"
"That stew still sticks in Billy's crop," laughed Frank.
"I only wish it did," mourned Billy. "But it never got that far."
"Well, just remember, fellows, that we're on rations now," warned Frank as he doled out a little portion to each from the common stock they had pooled together. "We've got to make this last as long as we can. If we feel hungry when we get through we'll just have to tighten our belts and let it go at that."
They ate sparingly, but, although they were all thirsty, especially after the heat and excitement of the fighting, it was a long time before they could bring themselves to drink from the pool in the corner of the cellar. They finally had to come to it, however, though they tried to make it less repugnant by filtering it through the only clean handkerchief they could muster among them.
The time dragged on interminably in their narrow quarters. They tried to sleep, but though they were very tired after their strenuous day, the novelty and discomfort of their position kept them on edge.
The daylight finally vanished from the little opening in the floor above and the darkness became absolute. They had matches in their kits, but they feared to use them lest some prowling sentry might see the light through some rift in the masonry.
The roar of the heavy artillery had died down, though the guns still gave out an occasional challenge. The fighting for the day was evidently at an end. But there had been no clash in the streets of the ruined town to betoken the arrival of the Allied forces. However they might have fared in other parts of the battlefield, the town itself had not been wrested from the Germans. In all probability the boys were still in the midst of their enemies.
"Another night as well as a day to stay in this shebang," remarked Tom when the hope of immediate rescue had failed them.
"Oh, well, to-morrow's a new day," said Frank. "A lot may happen between now and to-morrow night. Our grub will hold out till then anyway, and if nothing better turns up we'll make a dash and try to reach our lines."
He had scarcely stopped speaking when there was a loud clattering in the street as though a cavalry troop were passing through.
"Perhaps those are our men now!" exclaimed Billy jubilantly.
"Perhaps," assented Frank. "And they seem to be coming this way."
The pace of the horses died down as they neared the house, and they finally stopped just before it. The boys could hear the troopers dismount and a moment later they heard footsteps on the floor above.
They listened intently. Would the first words they heard be English or German? If the first it would mean a boisterous shout to the men above and a hasty and joyful scramble out of their prison. If the second, it would mean that they were in imminent danger of capture or death.
A light filtered down through the hole where the stovepipe had been. Somebody above had struck a match. But he had evidently burned his fingers as he did so, for the light went out and there was an impatient exclamation.
"Donnerwetter!"
Just one word, but it made the hearts of the listening boys go down into their boots.
For it was a German who just then struck a second match and lighted a candle, and it was a German cavalry troop whose horses stood before the door.
But for what purpose had they entered the house? Were they in search of the boys? Had any one seen them entering the house and given information?
"Be ready, fellows," whispered Frank. "It looks as if we were in for a scrap."
They clutched their rifles firmly to be ready for whatever might happen.
But it was not long before they realized that this sudden irruption had nothing to do with them. What seemed to be a bench or a table was dragged across the floor and one or more candles placed upon it. There seemed to be half a dozen or more officers in the room, and they were soon engaged in an earnest conversation.
"I never thought much of the German language," whispered Bart to Billy, "but I'd give a farm to understand it now."
"If Frank only knew German as well as he does French," responded Billy, "we might pick up something that our officers would give a lot to know."
For perhaps half an hour the raucous tones above continued. The debate was at times an angry one and was punctuated by the sound of fists brought heavily down on a table. Just after one of these, the stovepipe hole was dimmed by something that shut off the light from the room above. It floated down with a slight rustle and the boys could see that it was a paper of some kind.
In an instant Frank had crept across and grabbed the paper, thrusting it into the bosom of his shirt. Then he moved swiftly back to the shelter of the barricade.
"That was taking a chance, old boy," whispered Bart, as his friend resumed his place among them. "If you'd knocked against anything and the Huns had heard you, they'd have been down here in a jiffy."
"I suppose it was a little risky," returned Frank, "but we've got to take risks sometimes, and it struck me that there might be something in that paper that our officers would like to know."
Just then Billy, in trying to get in a less cramped position, knocked against one of the rifles that had been stood in a corner. It fell against one of the barrels with a clatter that in the confined place and the tense state of the boys' nerves sounded to them like thunder.
Frank grabbed it before it could fall on the cellar floor, but it seemed as though the mischief must have been done, and their hearts were in their mouths as they listened for anything that might indicate that the sound had been heard on the floor above.
But the debate had reached a lively stage just at that moment, and the incident attracted no attention, so that after two minutes more of strained listening the boys were assured that they had come off scot free from what might have been a disaster.
"This is sure no place for a man with heart disease," murmured Tom, and his comrades unanimously agreed with him.
The conference in the room above had come to an end, as was shown by the shuffling of feet as the men rose from the table. There was a sound as of a sheaf of papers being hastily gathered together. But there was no outcry to indicate that any one of them was missing, and the boys drew a long breath and relaxed their grasp on their rifles. There would be no search, and for the moment they were safe.
The lights above were extinguished and the party went out. The horses clattered away, and once more the house and the town were as still as the grave.
"So near and yet so far," murmured Frank, when he was sure that the last of the unwelcome visitors had departed.
"That was what you might call too close for comfort," grinned Billy.
"They wouldn't have done a thing to us if they had nabbed us," declared Bart. "We wouldn't have had a Chinaman's chance. No prison camp for ours! They'd have shot us down like dogs! They'd have reasoned that we had heard their military plans, and that would have been all the excuse they wanted."
"Not that they would care whether they had the excuse or not," said Billy. "The mere fact that a German wants to do anything makes it all right to do it."
"How they'd froth at the mouth if they knew Frank had that paper," remarked Tom. "I wonder what it is."
"It has a seal on it and it feels as if it were heavy and official," replied Frank. "I don't want to strike a match now, but I'll take a squint at it when daylight comes. Probably it's in German, and if it is I can't read it. But they'll read it at headquarters all right, and it may queer some of Heinie's plans."
They conversed in whispers a little while longer, and then made ready to go to sleep. Their preparations were not extensive, and consisted chiefly in finding a place where no sharp edge of stone bored into the small of their backs. But they were too tired to be critical, and after putting away the food in a corner and arranging to stand watch turn and turn about they soon forgot their troubles in sleep.
When they awoke the light shining through the hole in the floor told them that it was day.
"Time you fellows opened your eyes," remarked Tom, who had been standing the last watch. "If you hadn't I'd have booted you awake anyway, for you were snoring loud enough to bring the whole German army down on you."
"I'd hate to call you an out and out prevaricator, Tom," remarked Billy, rubbing his eyes and running his hands through his tumbled hair, "so I'll simply say that you use the truth with great economy. Suppose you bring me my breakfast. I think I'll eat it in bed this morning."
He dodged the shoe that Tom threw at his head and rose laughingly to his feet.
"Mighty bad manners the people have at this hotel," he remarked, "but since you feel that way about it I'll take my grub any way I can get it. Haul it out from that corner, Bart, and let's have a hack at it. I'm hungry enough to eat nails this morning."
Bart needed no second request, for he was quite as hungry as his mates. But when he picked up the canvas wrapper in which the food had been stored he dropped it with a startled exclamation.
"What's the matter?" cried Frank.
"Matter enough," replied Bart. "The bag's empty. There isn't a blessed thing in it."
The others rushed him under the light that came from above and examined the wrapper with sinking hearts. What Bart had said was true. Not a crumb was left.
There was no mystery about it. The gnawed and tattered holes in the bag told their own story. It was summed up in the one word that came from their lips simultaneously. "Rats!"
Their four-footed enemies had perhaps brought them nearer capture than their human enemies had been able to do.