Picking my way among the boulders I approached the object, until, a few feet from it, I paused and looked at it aghast. It was the wreck of a German observation balloon. The gas was entirely gone from its great bag which lay plastered down upon the rocks, and its formerly glass-enclosed car was in complete ruin. I think it must have blown across those rocks for some distance to have been so shattered.
But all the details of its wreck and dilapidation were as nothing to me when I saw certain markings on the broken side of its car. There were two black crosses side by side, with the German Imperial coat of arms between them.
The balloon with the two black crosses was known far and wide upon the west front. It was the little palace, the lofty headquarters of an arch demon of aerial frightfulness, who was the peering eye and minion of his murderous superiors. I had talked with those who knew and catered to this sneaking beast, and cowered before his swaggering arrogance—a poor little French girl and her crippled father. He it was who had come from America to help the Fatherland; who “knew about ze ships, when zey will go”; whose two black crosses were a mark of special honor and distinction!
Well, by the grace of Heaven, he was a mystery no longer. Poor, dribbling, guilt-haunted wretch—he had brought me face to face with the wrecked instrument of his crimes.
I make no excuse for what I did—I am only human. I strode back to where the stricken creature sat, twirling and twisting the cord about his neck. I was trembling and my words came short and spasmodic, but whether from amazement or rage I do not know now. I only know that he cowered before me like a reed blown in the blast—it stings me to the heart as I think of it now.
“So you have got your reward,” I said. “Be sure that God knows how to punish such as you! I have seen your evil eye put out and there, there it lies, over among those rocks. You must come back to it, eh? Like a murderer to its victim!”
His breath came in great, panting gulps, he wrung and twisted his hands, and his look—oh, it will haunt me forever.
“I know who you are now! You will tell a little French girl that Americans are murderers and hang their people to lamp-posts! America, where you lived yourself and made your living—— Now you’ve got your reward! I have seen the house that you defiled with your presence—the little cottage of a French peasant! I don’t know how many ships lie at the bottom of the ocean on account of you, you sneaking, lying blackguard! But you’ve got your reward. Those innocent women and babies at the bottom of the sea are better off than you—with your peering eye put out and your senses drivelling. No wonder you’re afraid! Probably the thunder of some Yankee cannon knocked your brain endways. The most bestial German is a saint compared with you—Monsieur le Capitaine!” I sneered. “No, keep away from me!” For he held his hands toward me with a pitiful gesture. “I’ll not interfere with the decree of God. You can wander in these mountains like a lost soul for all I care—drivelling about poor murdered Indians in America. If you’ve forgotten your name, I’ll tell it to you. It’s Toby! I know of one other almost as bad as you are—Slade his name is—who would sell his country. Over there at that balloon is a piece of broken cable—go and hang yourself with it—if you’ve got the nerve!”
And with that I marched away. Scarcely had I gone ten paces when his voice rose in a scream to wake the Heavens. Again and again he screeched in an anguish of despair and his piercing cries echoed from those lonely mountains until they died away in pitiable sobs.
But I never so much as turned to look at him.