A Further Blow
The point at which the line to Aix had been broken was not far from the Dutch frontier, and for an hour or so Max and the band he led made good progress. Then their difficulties began. The alarm had clearly been given, and a serious alarm it seemed to be. Bodies of troops, and especially cavalry, were on the march in all directions, and it became a matter of the utmost difficulty to avoid contact with them. Finally, Max, as the day dawned, led his men right away into a wide expanse of farm-land, and took them towards a solitary farm-house.
"What's the game now, laddie?" asked Corporal Shaw, as Max led them boldly towards the farm-house, much to the surprise of the farmer and his family, who came out to see what this strange visit of a body of armed men might mean. "Doesn't this give us away to the enemy?"
"We must have rest and food, Corporal," replied Max seriously. "If we surround the farm and keep prisoners all who are there, and detain all who call, we shall be safe if no parties of German soldiers happen to light upon us. If we can get through the day, I think we shall get safely across the frontier. We are only seven miles away, and a few hours of darkness will see us there."
"Good! You know your business, lad, I can see," replied Shaw briskly, and he gave a quick order to his men to spread out at the double and surround the farm. Max interpreted the order to the French soldiers, who promptly followed suit. In a moment or two the farm had been surrounded, and the men began to close in upon it.
The surprise and curiosity of the German farmer and his family quickly turned to fear as the object of the move became apparent. They could now see, too, the faces and equipment of the men converging upon them, and knew that, whatever they might be, they were certainly not soldiers of the Fatherland.
"You're a prisoner, mein Herr," cried Corporal Shaw cheerfully, as he strode up to the burly farmer and slapped him familiarly on the shoulder. "Be good, or it will be the worse for you."
Max interpreted his words, and added the information that neither he nor any of his household were to stir outside the house, or even to look out of the windows. They were to consider themselves close prisoners, and on their good behaviour their own treatment would absolutely depend. The farmer, as soon as he could recover from his astonishment, passed the order on to his family and domestics with a peremptoriness no doubt considerably enhanced by his own lively fears. The Germans filed into the farm-house, followed by all the band except two. These were set on the watch on the roofs of two barns a little distance away on opposite sides of the building.
Max then called upon the farmer to provide a meal for them all, promising him in return fair payment. Soon the whole band, in high good humour, were deep in enjoyment of the best meal they had had since the retreat from Mons and Charleroi began.
During the day there were occasional alarms as bodies of German soldiers were observed scouring the country in the distance, but none approached the farm-house. Several labourers, evidently missing the presence of the farmer, called, and these were promptly made prisoners. At nightfall everything was made ready for the last march.
The women were sent to their rooms and locked securely in. Then the men, seven in number, were marshalled in line and informed that any attempt to give warning to German troops or the authorities would result in instant death. The order to march was given, and, in single file, Max and the farmer leading, with the remainder of the prisoners in the centre, the band moved across country towards the Dutch frontier.
With the aid of the farmer, Max led the band to a point opposite Maastricht, where the frontier ran through a little wood. He hoped that here there would be no difficulty in getting unmolested through the barbed-wire fences everywhere erected along the frontier by the Germans. A road ran across the frontier close by the wood and a post had been established there by the enemy, but Max believed that, favoured by night and the darkness of the wood, there would be no difficulty in eluding observation.
They entered the wood unobserved, and Max halted the band and went forward with Dale and one of the English soldiers to silence the sentry and cut the wire. The sentry was an oldish man, of the Landwehr, and entirely unsuspicious. He was seized by the throat from behind, his rifle snatched from his hand, and his arms and legs securely pinioned. Then his throat was released and his mouth securely gagged. It was all over in ten minutes, and, leaving the soldier and Dale at work upon the wire, Max went back to bring along the rest of the men.
To his consternation he found them on the move, the last files disappearing from the wood in the direction of the German frontier post, two men only being left behind in charge of the prisoners. Running after them, Max caught up the rearmost men, and was told that they were about to attack the Germans and root them out. Much hurt and angered at this sudden reckless move, Max ran forward to the front of the column and accosted Corporal Shaw.
"What is this, Corporal?" he cried. "It was to be my business to get you over the frontier. I don't agree with your attacking the Germans here."
"That's all right, sir," replied Shaw, still pressing on. "We know what we're about. We've reconnoitred the place, and can clear out the whole lot without turning a hair. Come along, lad, and lend a hand."
"No, Shaw, I'm not going to have this. I've breached the wire a few yards away yonder and put the sentry out of action. All we have to do is to walk through and we are safe. This mad attack right on the frontier will——"
"No, no; our fellows will be disappointed if they don't get one more fling at the Germans!" cried Shaw, pressing on as though anxious to get away from Max's protests. "It'll all be over in——"
At this moment the German sentry in front of the building which housed the frontier guard caught sight of dark shadows approaching. He challenged, and almost simultaneously brought his rifle up to his shoulder.
There was a flash and a report, and one of the men just behind Max gave a gasp and staggered. He recovered himself, however, and with the rest of the band charged madly down upon the sentry and the guard, who were now rapidly tumbling out of the entrance of the building, rifle in hand.
The fight that ensued was to Max the most desperate he had ever seen. The French and British soldiers, after all their discomforts and privations and the terrible sights they had witnessed, were burning with the desire to get to close quarters with the Germans and to try conclusions with them. Like a whirlwind they flung themselves upon the hated foe, and, scarcely firing a shot, stabbed and bayoneted with wild and desperate energy.
The Germans who had poured outside the building were cut down in a remarkably short space of time, and, without a pause, the men dashed into the passage and up the stairs, every man striving to be the first to close with the enemy. Against such reckless valour as this the German Landwehr, although they outnumbered their assailants at least two to one, could do nothing, and it could not have been more than eight minutes from the first onrush before the last German had been cut down.
"Set a light to it, boys," commanded Shaw, highly excited with the success of the combat. "Let's have a blaze to light our way across the frontier, and to tell the Germans we bid them farewell."
"Now, boys, three good cheers for the Allies and down with the Germans!"
The huzzas were heartily given as the fire promptly kindled within blazed up. Round the burning house the soldiers danced, flinging into the fire the arms and equipment of their foes. Across the frontier, only a few yards away, the soldiers of the Dutch guard had turned out, and they watched the strange scene with an interest that to one at least of the band of British and French was far from pleasing.
"Fall in!" commanded Shaw, and the men obeyed. "Form fours—right! Now, boys, we've seen our last of Germany for a time, and are going to march into Holland. Soon we shall be back in the armies of the Allies, ready to take part in another march through Germany. Now, then, by the right, quick——"
"One moment, Shaw," cried Max quickly. "You are making a big mistake if you think you can march thus into Holland and also be free to join the armies of the Allies."
"Why so?" cried Corporal Shaw impatiently. "Why can't we? Who's to stop us?"
"The Dutch soldiers will stop you quick enough," replied Max. "Do you think they will treat us as they do escaped prisoners or fugitives after a battle at their very frontier?"
"Well, what will they treat us as?" cried Shaw sharply.
"As belligerents, of course. We shall be disarmed and interned, and our fighting days will be over."
"Yes, Shaw," interposed Peck. "The lad's right, and we have played the fool in lashing out at the Germans right agin the frontier. You're too headstrong, Shaw. The lad was running this show. Why didn't you leave him alone?"
"Pooh! If we drop our tools, and march across, the Dutchmen will let us go," replied the discomfited Shaw apologetically. "Let's try it on anyway."
"Nay, nay, Shaw," cried the Scot in a deep voice. "Ye've spoiled this business, and ye'd better let be. The lad has the best heid, and let him have his way over it. Come, lad, what say ye—what's oor next move?"
It was certainly time for a move of some sort. On both flanks of the party desultory firing had commenced. The sentries posted along the frontier had doubtless been attracted by the sound of the fighting at their head-quarters and were straggling inwards, exchanging dropping shots with the men on the outskirts of the band. As their numbers increased, a regular battle would ensue, finally compelling the band to surrender, or to cross the frontier and be interned.
Max had no mind to be interned, whatever Shaw felt on the subject. His great task of guarding the Durend workshops was still waiting for him to complete, and were he put out of action it was certain that no one else would carry it on. Shaw had made a great mistake, but it was possibly not irretrievable. At any rate, Max believed it could be set right by prompt and resolute action.
"Come, then," he said firmly. "If you still wish to fight again for your country, follow me, and I will do my best to keep you from losing the chance. You must be silent and watchful and make the best speed possible. Exert yourselves to the utmost for three or four hours, and then I hope we may be safe again. Come—fall in in single file, with the prisoners in the centre, and follow me. Exchange no shots unless I give the word. If you are attacked, use the bayonet, and the bayonet only."
There was a murmur of general assent and a quick bustle as the men fell in. Several were slightly wounded, but only two sufficiently so to need any assistance. Two men took their stand by each of these, and as Max led the way inland from the frontier, through the open country, these assisted them to keep up with the others.
Max kept the German farmer close by his side. The man knew the country well, and Max gave him to understand that his comrades would be very glad indeed of an excuse to strafe him. The man certainly had no reason to disbelieve him. The wild, fierce looks of the men, the assured way in which they marched through an enemy's country, and the pitched battle, ending in the burning of a German post, just fought were enough to convince him that he had to deal with men who were nothing if not determined. At any rate, Max had no trouble with him, and found him a ready and reliable guide all through the night.
For nearly two hours the band moved obliquely inland. Then Max turned and aimed once more at the frontier at a point at least ten miles away from the place where the previous attempt had been made.
The German patrols were fewer here, and with only one mishap they reached the frontier. This mishap took place while the party was crossing a high road. Scouts had reported all clear, and all had crossed except the men at the rear, who were helping the wounded along. These were in the middle of the road, when a motorcar, moving at high speed, turned a corner a short distance away and ran rapidly down upon them.
The powerful headlights of the motor of course revealed the little group of men in the roadway. Brakes were applied, and the machine came to a standstill a yard or two away.
"Who are you? What do you here?" came in the deep peremptory tones of a man who was evidently a German officer.
For the moment the party in the road, half-blinded by the powerful lights, stopped stupidly where they were. None of them understood what was said, and none made a move either to fly or to resist capture.
Max, the instant he saw the headlights approaching, ran back to the roadway and was just in time to hear the officer's demand. It was too late for flight—too late for anything but attack—and, calling to the men nearest him, he sprang towards the car.
Two revolvers flashed in the darkness. One of the bullets cut through the side of his jacket and grazed his side. The other missed altogether. In another moment he was alongside the car and using the rifle and bayonet he carried with hearty goodwill.
The car contained four German officers and a soldier chauffeur. For a fraction of a second Max attacked them single-handed. Then other men sprang to his assistance, and from both sides of the car the Germans were assaulted with an energy they doubtless had never experienced before. It was quickly over. All the men were bayoneted, and left for dead, and, without waiting to do more than dash out the headlights and overturn the car in a ditch, Max again led the band forward to the frontier.
Day was breaking as the band neared the frontier, at a point where it was crossed by a railway. In a little copse at the side of the track Max halted his men and allowed them a short rest while he went with Shaw to reconnoitre and determine the best means of making the actual crossing. They found, of course, the line well guarded, and with a strong post at the frontier to watch the gap necessarily left in the great barbed-wire fence. The post consisted of about thirty men of the Landwehr, and the band of British and French fugitives could have rushed and destroyed it with the greatest ease. But, should they do this, Max feared that they could not cross into Holland and retain their freedom. They would, he felt sure, be treated as soldiers and be interned for the duration of the war. None of them had any desire for that; all wished to be free to strike again at the foe.
From the frontier back to a busy little station, two miles inland, Max and Shaw continued their search. Then they returned to the place where they had left the rest of the band in hiding.
"Well, Max, what do you think of it?" asked Dale. "D'ye think we can get through anywhere about here without too much of a rumpus?"
"I hope so. I've thought of something that seems to promise."
"What is it, old man?"
"Take forcible possession of yon station in the middle of the night and collar the first train that arrives en route to the frontier. We ought then to be able to run her successfully through the Dutch frontier guards."
"Phew!" cried Dale in amazement.
Shaw gave a prolonged chuckle of intense delight. "Train-snatching—eh?" he cried at last. "That'll suit the boys, I give you my word."
"It's not so easy as it sounds," responded Max soberly. "It needs careful planning, for it must be done like clockwork if we are not to make a mess of it."
"Well, we can do that, I suppose?" replied Shaw confidently. "You found the clockwork all right in that raid on the railway? You plan it out and you'll find we shan't fail you."
"No, I don't think you will, Shaw. Well, it must be done about an hour after nightfall, so we must lose no time. This is how I think it ought to be done," and Max unfolded the plan as it had so far framed itself in his mind.
For an hour or two the three discussed the affair earnestly together. Then they broached the scheme to their waiting comrades. As they anticipated, it met with rapturous approval, and it was in a fever of impatience—for the hour of their deliverance or their defeat was close at hand—that the whole of the band awaited the closing in of night.