Tish ignored her.
“It is my intention,” she went on, “to appeal to the general of his division to rescue my nephew and thus wipe out the stain on the family honor. Failing that, I am prepared to go to any length.” Here she eyed Aggie coldly. “It is no time for craven spirits,” she said. “We may be arrested and court-martialed for being so near the Front, to say nothing of what may eventuate in case of a refusal. I intend to leave no stone unturned, but I think it only fair to ask for a vote of confidence. Those in the affirmative will please signify by saying ‘aye.’”
“Aye,” I said stoutly. I would not fail my dear Tish in such a crisis. Aggie followed me a moment later, but feebly, and Mr. Burton said: “I don’t like the idea any more than I do my right eye. Why bother with the general? I’m for going to V—— and breaking up the pinochle game, and bringing home the bacon in the shape of a Hun or two.”
However, I have reason to think that he was joking, and that subsequent events startled him considerably, for I remember that when it was all over and we were in safety once again he kept saying over and over in a dazed voice: “Well, can you beat it? Can you beat it?”
In some way Tish had heard, from a battery on the hill, I think, that headquarters was at the foot of the hill on the other side. She made her plans accordingly.
“As soon as darkness has fallen,” she said to Mr. Burton, “we three women shall visit the commanding officer and there make our plea—without you, as it will be necessary to use all the softening feminine influence possible. One of two things will then occur: Either he will rescue my nephew or—I shall.”
“Now see here, Miss Tish,” he protested, “you’re not going to leave me out of it altogether, are you? You wouldn’t break my heart, would you? Besides, you’ll need me. I’m a specialist at rescuing nephews. I—I’ve rescued thousands of nephews in my time.”
Well, she’d marked out a place that would have been a crossroads if the German shells had left any road, and she said if she failed with the C. O. he was to meet us there, with two baskets of cigarettes for the men in the trenches.
“Cigarettes!” he said. “What help will they be against the enemy? Unless you mean to wait until they’ve smoked themselves to death.”
“Underneath the cigarettes,” Tish went on calmly, “you will have a number of grenades. If only we could repair that machine gun!” she reflected. “I dare say I can salvage an automatic rifle or two,” she finished; “though large-sized firecrackers would do. The real thing is to make a noise.”