CHAPTER XVIII.
THE COMING OF THE ZOUAVES.
“Why don’t you give them a shot, Rod?” Hanky Panky was heard calling just then, for apparently things had reached a crisis, and he expected seeing one of the raiders come pushing through the opening the next thing.
Rod was only holding back so as to keep his fire to the last extremity. The boy was pale, and his teeth were set, but there was a blaze in his eyes that boded no good for the first Uhlan who ventured to try to enter.
Although the Motorcycle Boys in the start decided not to take sides if such a thing could be avoided, they had found it impossible to control their feelings in the matter. The cause of the Allies seemed to be closer to American ideals than the militarist methods of the Kaiser’s men; and by degrees Rod and his chums had come to sympathize with the French and Belgians until finally ready to openly declare that they were for them heart and soul.
Rod hated the thought of shedding blood, even though his own life, as well as those of his chums, seemed in deadly danger. Only as a very last resort was Rod willing to use that weapon which had come into his possession so strangely; and in his mind he had already determined to only wound, if such a choice seemed possible.
The Uhlans without were exultant over the success they had already attained. To continue their work and presently smash the door completely in, they drew back the ladder which they were using as a battering ram.
Rod saw his chance to look out through the vent. What he saw was not of a reassuring nature. There were five stout men in the uniform of the reckless rough riders belonging to the German army; and they were swinging that heavy ladder in a way that showed what delight they experienced in just such work of destruction.
Rod did not class them as different from the soldiers of any army raiding through the enemy’s country. In fact he was not bothering his head just then making comparisons, for he had enough to do in figuring how he might further delay the crisis so as to give the coming zouaves a little more time in which to arrive.
“I guess it’s got to be done!” the boy was muttering to himself as he peeped through that narrow slit of an opening and saw that the pack had about reached the end of their swing, so that the forward rush was about to begin.
It was easy enough to pick out the man who seemed to be the head and brains of the bunch. He was of course in the van, and by his actions as well as by his loudly shouted exclamations exerted a most important influence on the others. In fact he served as the pilot of the little group; when he gave the word they surged forward with whoops, meaning this time to finish smashing that objectionable door.