“March them back to our lines.”
“And why didn’t you?”
“You’re admitting by your line of questions now that there may have been a little intelligence in my method,” Phil observed as a prelude to his answer.
“Intelligent enough if you had succeeded,” retorted Dan grimly.
“I get your argument and am inclined to agree with you in a way,” the severely grilled Marine returned. “Well, I’m going to tell you why I didn’t take my prisoners back to our lines in triumph. A 200-pound boche sneaked up from behind and jumped on my back and—”
“That’s enough; you got what was coming to you,” declared Dan with a finality of opinion that admitted of no further discussion. “If you care for my judgment in the matter, I’ll say it’s up to you to use your wits as you never used ’em before and whip the kaiser internally in order to retrieve your honor. Get me? You’re on the inside now and you must do something to help win the war from this side of the boche lines. But here’s the call to breakfast and some guards coming this way. Methinks they’re curious to know what’s the nature of this warm discussion of ours. Everybody shut up and look hungry—for something a dog can hardly eat.”
CHAPTER XIII
MR. BOACONSTRICTOR
“Something we can hardly swallow” proved to be a true characterization of the meat-and-vegetable stew that was served to the prisoners in tin bowls, which looked as if they had seen service in the Franco-Prussian war. The meat was in small bits, which were few in number and so tough or gristly as to be hardly edible. The vegetables were principally potatoes and onions. This combination would have been fairly well calculated to sustain life if it had been well seasoned and if it had not tasted and smelled as if it had been warmed several times over a low fire insufficient to bring it to the boiling point. A piece of stale brown bread was served to each prisoner with this stew.
In order to prevent any of the prisoners from getting double portions of this mess, the men were lined up next to the barbed wire fence, along which several boys and men, the latter too old for military service, passed, carrying kettles of stew and buckets of sliced bread and handing out dippersful and slices through the fence to the hungry Americans and Frenchmen.
Meanwhile two guards, also of the superannuated post-military class entered the inclosure and advanced to the spot where the animated discussion was going on among the three comrade Marines. The latter, as has been observed, noticed their approach and so camouflaged their further words and actions that the evident suspicion of the guards was effectually dispelled.