"These brutes ought to be killed—-every one of them!" Dick muttered disgustedly to a French officer near him.
"Most of them will be, before this long war is over," nodded the
Frenchman, "but a soldier's death is too fine for such beasts."
Finally a German officer arrived. Under his crisp orders the now long column of prisoners moved out into the road, forming compactly and guarded by at least forty infantrymen. The order to march was given. With only two halts the prisoners were marched some eight miles, arriving late in the afternoon at a railway yard.
Here the column was halted again for an hour, while the German officer was absent, presumably, in search of his orders. When the march was taken up again its course led across a network of tracks to a long train.
"Why, these are cattle cars," uttered Prescott, disgustedly, when the column had been halted along the length of the foremost part of the train. "And, judging by the odor, these cars haven't been cleaned."
"They won't be until we are through riding in them," returned the French officer at his side. "This is what comes to soldiers who surrender to the German dogs!"
Only one car was given over to the officer-prisoners, who were forced to climb into the unsavory car through a side door. No seats had been provided, but there was not more than room to stand up in the stuffy car. Fortunately the spaces between the timbers of the car sides gave abundant ventilation.
Into cars to the rear the enlisted prisoners were packed. To stomachs that had been empty of food all day the odors were especially distressing.
As the officer in charge of the prisoners came to the side door of the first car Dick made bold to prefer a request.
"We have had no water all day. May we have a bucket of it in here before the train starts?"