Apparently they were all of the same opinion—namely, that they needed rest; and, without further ado, every man selected a place in the hay, stretched himself out at full length, and was soon fast asleep. The afternoon wore away, the sun set, and one by one the stars made their appearance, but still the men slept.
The gloom of the forest thickened, and with the long and waving shadows of the elms and beeches crept forth forms of a more tangible and sinister nature. Sergeant Mackay awoke with a start, and, springing to his feet, strained his ears and listened.
“Nightmare!” he said. “I made certain the Germans had got hold of me. Weel, weel, it’s nowt but a dream. I will go and see what the gude wife is about, and, perhaps, if she hae not gone to bed, she will gie us some hot tea or milk—that red wine of hers hae made me uncommon thirsty.” He scrambled down on to the ground, and, leaving the rest of the men still asleep, crossed the yard and pushed open the door leading to the kitchen. He was about to enter, when there came a half-choking cry and the front of the house filled with soldiers. Sergeant Mackay knew them at once—they were Germans! Shrinking back into the shadow of the doorway he stood and listened. Though he could not understand their jargon, he soon formed an idea of what was taking place. They had caught the old woman by surprise and were discussing what they should do with her. Had the O——s been armed, Sergeant Mackay would not have hesitated—he would have staked anything on a win against odds at six to one, but in their hasty flight the men had left their rifles behind them, and it would be sheer suicide for them to attack the Germans with their bare fists. Therefore it at once entered his mind to slip out quietly and warn his comrades, so that they could escape without their presence being detected. A cry of pain, however, made him hesitate.
Two Germans had hold of the old woman’s arms and were twisting them round.
The difficulty of his position was not lost on Sergeant Mackay. If he played the knight errant and helped the old woman, he would not be able to give his comrades the necessary warning, and they would all be taken prisoners—perhaps shot. On the other hand this gude wife had been extremely kind to them, and was proving her loyalty by maintaining an absolute silence as to their presence in the cottage. Could he stand by and see her abused? He could not. There was too much of the Gael in him for that, and as the old woman gave another gurgle, he stepped out from his hiding place, and picking up a kitchen chair, rushed at her captors, both of whom he stunned. He was, of course, eventually borne down by numbers, and dragged to the ground.
“What shall we do with him?” one of the men who were holding him asked. “The dog! He has broken Fritz’s head, and more than half killed Hans. He has arms like a bullock.”
“Hang him,” the sergeant in charge of the men replied. “Tie him and the old woman together and hang them from this beam.” And he pointed to a great, white rafter running across the ceiling.
Sergeant Mackay’s uniform should, of course, have protected him, but, then, as the German sergeant put it, this cottage was well hidden in the woods, the English were evacuating the country, and no one was likely to come across the bodies, saving Belgian peasants who dare not say anything, and German soldiers who would not say anything. So Sergeant Mackay was dragged up from the floor, beaten and bruised till there was very little of him left, bound tightly to the old gude wife, and hanged with her. The Germans then ransacked the house, and were preparing to explore the outer premises, when a bugle rang out, and they hurriedly left the cottage. Ten minutes later, when all was quiet, into the house, on tip-toe, stole the rest of the O——s.
“God save us!” ejaculated Private Findlay, starting back and pointing to the grim figures swaying gently from the ceiling. “God save us! Sae what the deils hae done!”
......