THE SCOUT THROUGH ALSACE
As soon as it was dark they started southward, following the ridge. Their way took them up hill and down dale, through rugged uplands where they had to travel five miles to advance three, picking their way over the trackless, rocky heights which formed the first foothills of the mighty Alps.
"S'pose we should meet some one?" Archer suggested, as he followed Tom's lead over the rocky ledges.
"Not up here," said Tom. "You can see lights way off south and maybe we'll have to pass through some villages tomorrow night, but not tonight. We'll only do about twelve miles tonight if it keeps up like this."
"S'pose somebody should see us—when we'rre going through a village? We'll tell him we'rre herre to back the Kaiser, hey?"
"S'pose he's a Frenchman that belongs in Alsace," Tom queried.
"Then we'll add on out o' France. We'll say—look out for that rock!—We'll just say we'rre herre to back the Kaiser, and if he looks sourr we'll say; out o' France. Back the Kaiser out o' France. We win either way, see? A fellerr in prison told me General Perrshing wants a lot of men with glass eyes—to peel onions. Look out you don't trip on that root! Herre's anotherr. If you'rre under sixteen what part of the arrmy do they put you in? The infantry, of course. Herre's——"
"Never mind," laughed Tom. "Look where you're stepping."
"What I'm worrying about now," said Archer, his spirits mounting as they made their way southward, "is how we're going to cross the frontierr when we get to it. They've got a big tangled fence of barrbed wirre all along, even across the mountains, to where the battleline cuts in. And it's got a good juicy electric current running through it all the time. If you just touch it—good night!"
"I got an idea," said Tom simply.
"If I could get a piece of that electrified wirre for a souveneerr," mused Archer, "I'd——"
"You'll have a broken head for a souvenir in a minute," said Tom, "if you don't watch where you're going."
"Gee, you've got eyes in your feet," said Archer admiringly.
"Whenever you see a fallen tree," said Tom, "look out for holes. It means the earth is thin and weak all around and couldn't hold the roots."
"It ought to drink buttermilk, hey?" said Archer flippantly, "if it's thin and pale."
"I said thin and weak," said Tom. "Do you ever get tired talking?"
"Sure—same as a phonograph record does."
So they plodded on, encircling areas of towering rock or surmounting them when they were not too high, and always working southward. Tom, who was not unaccustomed to woods and mountains, thought he had never before traversed such a chaotic wilderness. He would have given a good deal for a watch and for some means of knowing how much actual distance they were covering. It was slow, tiresome work.
Every little while he would check their course by the little compass, to see which he often had to light one of their few precious matches.
"One thing surre, we won't meet anybody up herre," said Archer, as he scrambled along. "See those little lights over to the east?"
"Don't worry," said Tom, "that's twenty miles away. We're all right up here. There were some lights further down too and one over that way but I can't see them now. I guess it's after midnight. Sh-h-h. Listen!"
They stood stark still, Archer gripping Tom's arm.
"It's water trickling," said Tom dully.
"Gee, you had the life scared out of me!" breathed Archer.
A little farther on they came to an abrupt, rocky declivity which crossed their course and in the bottom of which was a swift running stream.
"It's running east," said Tom, listening intently. "I can tell by the ripples."
"Yes, you can!" said Archer contemptuously.
"Sure I can," Tom answered. He held his hand first to his right ear, then to his left. "The long, washy sound comes first when you close your left ear, so I know the water's flowing that way. It's easy," he added.
They kept along the precipitous brink, searching for a place to descend and at last scrambled down and into the shallow stream.
"Didn't I tell you so?" said Tom, laying a twig in the water and watching it as best he could in the dim light. "What's on the east of Alsace, anyway?"
"Another parrt of Gerrmany—Baden," Archer answered.
"I was wondering where this stream goes," Tom said; "let's walk along in it a little way and go up at a different place. They can't track you in the water."
"I bet you could," said Archer admiringly.
"Let's have a drink and give me a couple of those chicory roots, and I'll show you something," Tom said.
From each chicory root he cut a plug such as one cuts to test the flavor of a watermelon. Then he soaked the roots in the stream. "The inside's softer than the outside," he said, "and it holds the water." After a few moments he replaced the plugs. "Even tomorrow," he added, "they'll be fresh and cool and they'll quench your thirst. Carrots are best but we haven't got any carrots."
About fifty yards down stream they turned out of it and scrambled up a less abrupt hillside and into an area of more or less orderly forest.
"Maybe it's the Black Forest," said Archer; "anyway it's black enough. Look around and you'll probably see some toys—jumping-jacks and things. 'Most all the toys like that arre made in the Black Forest."
"Not here," said Tom; "we won't find anybody in here."
They were indeed entering the less densely wooded region which formed the extreme northern reaches of that mountainous wilderness famed in song and story as the Black Forest. Even here, where it fizzled out on the eastern edge of Alsace, the world-renowned fragrance of its dark and stately fir trees was wafted to them out of the wild and solemn recesses they were approaching.
"I wish I had a map," said Tom.
"We ought to be thankful we've got the compass. If this is the Black Forest, you can bet I'm going to get a sooveneer. Gee, isn't it dark! It smells good though, believe me."
They passed on now over land comparatively level, the soft, fragrant needles yielding under their feet, the tall cone-like trees diffusing their resiny, pungent odor. It seemed as if the war must be millions of miles away. The silence was deathlike and the occasional crunching of a cone under their feet startled them as they groped their way in the heavy darkness.
"That looks like an oak ahead," said Archer. "You can see the branches sticking out——"
"Sh-h-h," said Tom, grasping his arm suddenly and speaking in a tense whisper. "Look—right under it—don't move——"
Archer looked intently and under the low spreading branches he saw a human form with something shiny upon its head. As the two boys paused, awestruck and shaking, it moved ever so slightly.
The fugitives stood rooted to the ground, breathing in quick, short gasps, their hearts pounding in their breasts.
"He didn't see us," whispered Tom, in the faintest whisper. "Wait till there's a breeze and get behind a tree."
When presently the breeze rustled in the tress the two moved cautiously behind two trees.
And the silent figure moved also....
"SH-H-H." SAID TOM IN A TENSE WHISPER. "LOOK—DON'T MOVE. Page 78"