The Boy Scouts Afoot in France; or, With the Red Cross Corps at the Marne
by active 1909-1917 Herbert Carter · English · Gutenberg #47358 · 345,556 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Boy Scouts Afoot in France; or, With the Red Cross Corps at the Marne
Author: active 1909-1917 Herbert Carter
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Language: English
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[Illustration: Those boys would never forget that furious race.
It was impressed on their memories after a fashion that time
could not efface.
Page 60.]
THE BOY SCOUTS AFOOT IN FRANCE
Or
With the Red Cross Corps at the Marne
by
HERBERT CARTER
Author of
“The Boy Scouts at the Battle of Saratoga”
“The Boy Scouts Through the Big Timber”
“The Boy Scouts on Sturgeon Island”
“The Boy Scouts in the Blue Ridge”
“The Boy Scouts’ First Camp Fire”
“The Boy Scouts in the Rockies”
“The Boy Scouts on the Trail”
“The Boy Scouts on War Trails in Belgium”
“The Boy Scouts Down in Dixie”
“The Boy Scouts in the Maine Woods”
“The Boy Scouts Along the Susquehanna”
Copyright, 1917
By A. L. Burt Company
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I Landed in Antwerp 3
II Held Up on the Border 11
III Down the Slope 20
IV Giraffe on Guard 29
V At Calais, on the Channel 39
VI Caught Between the Lines 48
VII A Narrow Escape 58
VIII The Dangerous Crossing 65
IX With the French at the Front 76
X Giraffe Faces a Serious Charge 87
XI The Battle 98
XII The Wanderings of Bumpus 106
XIII A Thrilling Spectacle 114
XIV Back to the Firing Line 123
XV In the Service of the Red Cross 132
XVI At the French Hospital 141
XVII The Scouts Under Fire 151
XVIII Making History 162
XIX Thad Turns Magician 170
XX Running the Gantlet of Shells 178
XXI At Joffre’s Headquarters 189
XXII The Man Who Saved Paris 198
XXIII Where Victory Was Seized 207
XXIV Headed for Paris 216
XXV Giraffe Has a Narrow Escape 225
XXVI The Badge of Courage and Honor 234
XXVII Conclusion 244
THE BOY SCOUTS AFOOT IN FRANCE
CHAPTER I
LANDED IN ANTWERP
“Well, here we are, up the River Schelde at last, and landing at old
Antwerp, boys.”
“Yes, that’s right, Thad, and glad to set foot again on solid ground,
after that long trip over the North Sea from Rotterdam, away up in
Holland.”
“Of course Bumpus is happy, because he expects to join his mother here
at the Sanitarium. We all hope you’ll find her much improved, and ready
to start for the good old United States, where peace hangs out and folks
don’t dream of lining up in battle array like they’re all doing over
here in Europe.”
“Thank you, Thad, I am hugging that same wish to my heart myself right
along. Just as soon as we can get some sort of vehicle let’s head for
the Institution. I’m in a cold sweat for fear something may have
happened. It’s a long time since I heard from my poor mother, you know,
boys.”
“Yes, you worried all the time we were drifting down the Rhine on that
boat we chartered; and Bumpus, I really believe you’ve been thinking of
your mother every hour we spent trying our best to get through Belgium,
while running into so many snags at every turn that we finally had to go
into Holland and take a steamer here.”
“I admit all you say, Giraffe, I humbly do, for you see she’s the only
mother I’ve got. But please look for a vehicle, Thad, or you, Allan. I
have cold spells, and then flashes of fever by turns.”
“I’m thinking we may have considerable trouble finding any sort of
conveyance, because most horses and cars have been seized by the Belgian
military authorities. But we’ll do our best, and money generally talks
over here as it does in America.”
There were four of the boys in the bunch. All of them wore more or less
faded khaki suits, and had battered campaign hats on their heads, which
facts told louder than words could have done that they must belong to
that famous organization known as the Boy Scouts of America.
First, to introduce them in as short a space as possible, for the
convenience of any reader who may be making their acquaintance for the
first time, let it be set down that their names were Thad Brewster,
Allan Hollister, “Bumpus” Hawtree and “Giraffe” Stedman.
The Hawtree lad was once in a while known as “Cornelius Jasper”; and on
rare occasions he who answered to the family name of Stedman, a lanky
chap in the bargain, had “Conrad” tacked to his address; but never when
in the society of his comrades of the baseball or football field, or
when scouring the country in the company of those who wore the khaki.
These lads were all members of the Silver Fox Patrol connected with
Cranford Troop of Boy Scouts; and the enterprising town in which they
lived was located in the eastern part of the States.
They had seen many strange sights, and passed through a host of
experiences, both singular and thrilling, as any one who has read
previous volumes in this series can attest. Perhaps the most remarkable
of all their exploits had come to them during this summer upon finding
themselves in Germany when the Great War suddenly broke out, and they
had the time of their lives trying to get past the fiercely contending
Belgian and Teuton armies, in the endeavor to reach the city of Antwerp
on the River Schelde.[1]
A few words with regard to the reason for their being abroad would
perhaps not come in amiss here, in order that the reader may understand
what follows: It had come about that Mrs. Hawtree, being ill, was
recommended to go to Antwerp and stop for a season at a famous
Sanitarium, where celebrated physicians who had made a specialty of such
cases as hers would very likely be able to render her more or less
assistance, possibly effect a permanent cure.
Mr. Hawtree, being unable to accompany his wife on account of pressing
business engagements, sent his son instead. As Bumpus was usually an
“easy mark” on account of his good nature, it was arranged that his
faithful chums, Thad, Allan and Giraffe, accompany him, half of the
expense being paid by the Hawtrees.
So they had left the lady in Antwerp, and then started out to put a
long-cherished plan into operation. At a certain city on the Upper Rhine
they chartered a boat, aboard which they began to descend the
wonderfully beautiful river, admiring the famous old castles on its
banks, and having a “simply glorious time,” as Bumpus himself always put
it.
Then came the thunderbolt when they learned how war had suddenly broken
out, with the great German military machine pouring troops over the
Belgian border by tens and hundreds of thousands, thinking to catch
France totally unprepared, so that Paris could be taken, and the country
forced to its knees.
The boys had hastily abandoned their cruise on the Rhine, and, securing
an old rattletrap of a car, for fear a good one might be taken from
them, they started for the border, in hopes of getting across, and
finally reaching Antwerp.
But after many adventures they had finally been forced to change their
plans, retreating to Holland instead, and then coming around by way of
the North Sea. So here they were, safe at last at their destination, and
glad to know that they had broken down all obstacles to their progress.
Thad Brewster was the leader. He held the position by virtue of his
commanding nature, as well as the fact that he was at the head of the
Silver Fox Patrol, and indeed often served as scout-master of the troop
in the absence of the duly authorized gentleman who occupied that lofty
office.
On his part Allan Hollister could claim to be the best-posted member of
the troop when it came to a knowledge of woodcraft and an acquaintance
with the denizens of the wilderness in the shape of fur, fin and
feather, for he was a Maine boy, and that stands for a great deal.
Giraffe, he of the long “rubber-neck,” was a master hand at several
things, though it must be admitted that he took more pride in his
ability to start a fire in a dozen different ways than concerning
anything else he did.
As for Bumpus, he did not claim to excel in anything, unless it was a
remarkably good judgment with various kinds of food and ways in which to
prepare them so as to arouse the appetites of his mates.
It happened that they found little difficulty in securing the services
of a driver, since they had made up their minds not to scorn any sort of
vehicle so long as it got them to the Sanitarium on that August morning.
As they bundled in with their scanty luggage and started off from the
quay at which the steamer from Rotterdam had tied up, the boys naturally
found themselves keenly interested in all they saw. Antwerp under war
conditions was quite a different city from the rather quiet, staid place
they had thought it before. Indeed, all of them admitted that it fairly
_seethed_ with excitement, and was full of most thrilling sights just
then.
Men in soldierly garments could be seen on the streets, all apparently
hurrying toward some central point of mobilization. Twice the boys heard
the clatter of many horses’ hoofs as their carriage was drawn hastily
aside to allow a battery of field-pieces to pass by with a whirl. These
were possibly heading for the front, where the Belgians still heroically
resisted this forced invasion of their country by their powerful and
unscrupulous northern neighbor, one of the countries guaranteeing the
neutrality of Belgium at that.
Cars shot this way and that like hurrying meteors. Often they could see
that officers of rank occupied them. For all they knew the boys may have
been looking on the King of the Belgians himself, though it was more
probable that Albert kept much closer to the firing line while his men
were sacrificing themselves for the national honor.
“Honest to goodness!” Giraffe was heard saying as they surveyed all
these interesting sights, turning their heads constantly from side to
side like boys in a “three-ringed” circus. “I kind-a hate to get away
from here while things are booming this way. It’s a chance in a
life-time to see what war means. I seem to feel something strange
stirring within me every time I think of how these brave Belgians are
trying to hold the Kaiser’s terrible military machine in check, and
somehow I imagine it may be hero-worship that ails me.”
“Huh!” grunted the more practical Bumpus, “more’n likely it’s that
cucumber salad you had aboard the steamer for supper last night. It gave
me a few spasms myself, and you know I’m nearly fool-proof.”
“Well, there’s the Sanitarium ahead of us,” suggested Thad just then,
and of course Bumpus had nothing more to say; though his face again
assumed that anxious expression so foreign to its usually calm and
satisfied condition.
Holding the vehicle at their service, the four boys hastened to enter
the grounds of the big and famous institution. Somehow it struck Thad as
though there was lacking considerable of the bustle he had noticed when
there before. He fell to wondering what that sign could mean, and if
poor Bumpus was to have a bitter disappointment after all his trouble.
Gaining the office they found that instead of the pompous individual
whom they had met before, a rather obscure-looking party now held forth,
undoubtedly a subordinate. Bumpus hastened to push forward, and they saw
him talking with this party, who evidently was able to comprehend and
speak English. Indeed, many of the patients came from foreign parts,
even distant America, so it was only natural that those in charge must
be linguists.
Bumpus looked as though far from happy, Thad noticed. The official,
after satisfying himself that the stout, red-cheeked boy was the party
he claimed to be, had produced a letter, which he handed over. This
Bumpus had opened with trembling hands and was seen to devour greedily.
“There’s something gone wrong, take it from me,” remarked Giraffe, as
they saw the other starting toward them, still gripping his letter and
looking pretty pale. “What’s hit you, Bumpus?” he continued, not coldly,
but really with a touch of brotherly sympathy in his voice.
“Oh! what do you think!” exclaimed Bumpus, bitterly; “my mother has gone
to Paris with the head doctor, most of the staff and some of the
patients, and she wants me to join her there.”
CHAPTER II
HELD UP ON THE BORDER
When Bumpus put up this piteous plaint the other scouts exchanged
glances. Here was an unexpected complication that faced them, a puzzling
riddle that would have to be solved.
Undoubtedly, when the news reached Antwerp that the great Kaiser had
sent his terrible army into Belgium, it was realized that although King
Albert’s little army might offer a desperate defense that would cover
them with immortal fame, there would be but one end to such an uneven
struggle. The Belgians might inflict more or less sanguinary losses on
the Teuton host, but the machine-roller would eventually overwhelm them,
and even Antwerp must fall into the hands of the invaders. And so the
managers of the famous Spa had concluded that it would be just as well
if they changed their location. They had a companion Cure in Paris, as
the boys well knew, and, accordingly, the entire faculty, together with
the trained nurses and most of the rich patients as well, had taken
their departure some time before.
If, indeed, Paris were seriously threatened by the Germans, it might be
like jumping from the frying-pan into the fire. At least the step had
been taken, and here was Bumpus looking aghast at the idea of trying to
follow his mother, when the whole of Northern France must be seething
with war preparations, trains taken over for military purposes, private
cars commandeered, and every available horse drafted into the service of
the government.
No wonder, then, that Giraffe presently broke out in his explosive way:
“Gee whiz! Here’s a pretty kettle of fish, now!” he ejaculated. “Your
mother is in Paris, it seems like, just when the Kaiser’s army is
heading that way hot-footed. And she asks you to follow after her, does
she, Bumpus? Whew! I can see a bunch of fellows I know breaking into a
lot of new trouble trying to dodge a million fighters, more or less. But
remember. Bumpus, we’re bound to stick to you whatever happens.”
The party addressed gave Giraffe a look of affection. He could not trust
his voice to utter a single word just then, being so completely overcome
with emotion, brought on by his bitter disappointment.
As usual, they turned to Thad. When things all went wrong it was queer
how these boys of the Silver Fox Patrol placed their dependence on Thad
Brewster to guide them out of the wilderness; and rarely had he failed
them in an emergency.
“We might be able to make it,” the leader told them, seriously, as
though he had been weighing the chances in his mind and already reached
a decision; “that is, if things favored us about getting away from here.
We ought to go to the railway station at once and see when the first
train for Paris starts.”
“But, from all accounts we’ve had, the Germans are already far over the
border, and there is desperate fighting going on in a dozen places on
French soil,” observed the cautious Allan. “I’m mentioning this fact,
not because you’ll find me hanging back whatever you decide to do, but
only to get the situation clear in our minds before we take the jump.”
“You’ve got an idea of your own, I take it, Allan?” suggested Thad
quickly.
“Well, since we’ve come all the way from Rotterdam by sea and found the
going good, what’s to hinder our looking up a boat starting that would
carry us to Calais, Dunkirk or Boulogne? It strikes me that if we did
manage to land at one of those seaports we’d stand a much better chance
of getting through to Paris over the railroad than by coming down here
from Belgium.”
“A bright thought, Allan,” admitted Thad, “so let’s climb aboard our rig
and scurry back to the docks again, to inquire about the departure of
southbound steamers.”
They were speedily hastening back to the river, where those bustling
scenes were hourly taking place, for even at this early date every boat
leaving for London was packed to its capacity with fugitive tourists
trying to get out of the war-stricken country.
Upon inquiry the boys found that they were up against a disappointment.
A boat had left only an hour before for Boulogne; indeed, they
remembered seeing it passing down the Schelde as they neared the docks.
There would not be another bound for a port in France for three days, as
most of the vessels were being impressed into the cross channel service
just then, heading for England.
Realizing that there was no help for it, Thad suggested that they give
up the scheme of going by sea. That long delay was terrible to even
think of, and Bumpus could never stand idling his time away when he
wanted so much to be on the move.
It was thereupon decided that they seek the railway _gare_ and board the
first train that left for Paris. Of course this meant they would have to
take great risks, for it could be understood that there was no telling
what delays they were likely to face. Still, they had no choice in the
matter, unless they chose to cross to London and take chances of being
able to reach France in that roundabout way.
Shortly afterward they drove up to the railway _gare_ and dismissed
their driver. Here, as everywhere, they found things in the utmost
confusion. Every uniformed man was being besieged by a score of
wild-eyed persons all wanting to know how soon their train would start,
and if there was any hope that it might reach the destination for which
it was billed. They had the poor servants of the company almost frantic
with trying to pacify them and be civil at the same time.
Thad went about the business in his customary cool, deliberate fashion.
First, he learned that a train would actually start for Paris within the
hour, though the official who gave him this information merely shrugged
his shoulders in an eloquent way when asked whether there was any chance
of its reaching the French capital.
Next Thad booked himself and three chums for the journey. They would
have to share the third-class compartment with a number of other
fugitives, all wild to shake the dust of Belgium off their shoes before
those terrible Germans overran the whole country. This, however, did not
bother the boys, for they were accustomed to camping out and taking
things as they found them. A little crowding was to be expected under
such remarkable conditions as prevailed at such a time as this. All of
them said they could stand it if the other people were able to endure
the crush.
When, later on, the signal was given for the heavily laden train to
start, there were numerous persons who had not been able to find
accommodations aboard. This came through the ever-growing desire to get
away from the city which undoubtedly sooner or later would hear the
crashing detonations of the monster mortars that had already smashed the
steel-domed defenses of Liege and Namur.
“Well, this is what I call rushing things some,” observed Giraffe, as he
looked out from the window near his elbow and saw that they were already
leaving the environs of the Belgian seaport behind them. “It isn’t as
much as two hours ago that we landed here expecting to pick up Bumpus’
mother and then take passage across the English Channel to London, yet
here we are heading right into trouble again, and like as not with a
good chance of seeing more fighting than fell to our share before.”
As the minutes continued to glide by and they kept going at a good pace
the boys began to hope they might by great luck manage to get by the
scene of hostilities without being held up. Bumpus looked at his little
nickel watch ever so often. No doubt the time dragged with him as never
before, for his faithful heart must be filled with misgivings concerning
his sick mother.
Thad, always observing, saw how the boy was worrying, and he several
times uttered words of cheer that were calculated to buoy the other’s
hopes up more or less.
“Take courage, Bumpus,” he told him, “and look back at our record when
you feel despondent. We have always managed, somehow or other, to
accomplish whatever we set out to do, you’ll remember. No matter how
difficult the task may have seemed, we have been highly favored by good
fortune. And we’ll come through this time with colors flying.”
“I ought to be ashamed to let myself have a single doubt, Thad,” Bumpus
frankly admitted, as he turned his eyes upon the leader in whom he had
such implicit faith, “when right now I’ve got the backing of the best
pards that ever donned the khaki. Yes, I’m going to shut my teeth hard
together, and tell myself that we’ve _got_ to get to Paris, no matter if
a whole German army corps stands in the way.”
“Shucks! I should say so,” Giraffe hastened to remark, for he had been
listening to all that went on in spite of the jabbering of other inmates
of the compartment, mostly French people hastening back home. “And, say,
a railway train isn’t the only means of travel in these enlightened
days; there are cars, and even aeroplanes, if you must come to it;
though it’d have to be a buster of a heavier-than-air machine that could
tote Bumpus fifty miles across country, I reckon.”
They talked from time to time as they continued to progress over the low
country that lies toward the border from Antwerp, where canals seemed to
predominate; and the boys were often reminded of the Dutch lands that
had been reclaimed from the sea by the erection of the great dikes to
shut the water out of Flanders.
They knew that as the minutes passed they were undoubtedly drawing
closer to that region where trouble would possibly be lying in wait for
them, if it came about that they were fated to be held up on their
journey to the French capital.
Hence every time the train slackened speed Bumpus would glue his eyes on
the landscape as seen through the open window, just as if he more than
half-expected to discover a horde of Uhlans, with their lances and
pennons and prancing horses, waiting to take the fugitives into camp as
prisoners.
Finally as the afternoon began to wear away they did come to a halt in a
small town. Thad announced that he believed they must now be on the
border between Belgium and France. Here, if anywhere, they ought to be
able to learn what the immediate future held in store for them.
A guard unlocked the door of their carriage. Thad could see that the man
was looking displeased, as he made gestures with his hand to indicate
that they must all get out.
“Of course they mean to search us for prohibited articles, such as
tobacco and spirits,” Allan went on to say, as they hastened to comply
with the order.
“I hope that’s the extent of the trouble,” ventured the doubting Bumpus;
“but I’m awfully afraid this means we’re going to find ourselves in the
soup. I wish we could coax that fellow to give us a little information;
try him, won’t you, Thad?”
There was only one way of making the guard talk, and Thad understood the
value of a generous tip; so he managed to slip a coin in the willing
palm of the uniformed man, and then asked him something.
Thad had picked up a little French and could manage to make himself
understood. Then again the guard would readily guess just what each and
every passenger aboard the detained train must be anxious about, for it
concerned their chances of continuing the journey into France.
While their leader was holding this animated talk with the guard,
supplemented on the part of the native with sundry expressive shrugs
that spoke more eloquently than words, the other three boys stood near
by, holding their luggage, and wondering what fortune had in store for
them next. So many strange things had happened to the party since coming
across the sea that they were rapidly getting to a point where nothing
surprised them very much.
Presently Thad joined them. His face looked grave, and poor Bumpus
groaned as he anticipated the worst.
“This train is going to be abandoned right here, boys,” Thad told them.
“They had information that the Germans have overrun the country it must
pass through, and there would be no hope of our getting to Paris. We’ve
got to try some other way around.”
CHAPTER III
DOWN THE SLOPE
Upon hearing this unpleasant news poor Bumpus looked broken-hearted. He
seemed to see a host of obstacles confronting him. Paris must have been
something like a thousand miles away just then, according to his
enlarged view.
“Just like the luck,” he sighed desolately; “things were moving along
too fine to last. I had a sneaking idea in my mind something was bound
to blow up before long. What under the sun _will_ we do, Thad?”
“Not give up our plan of getting to Paris, for one thing,” replied the
leader firmly, with that determined look on his face the others knew so
well.
“Hurrah!” exclaimed Giraffe; “that’s the stuff I like to hear! _Nil
desperandum_ it is, Bumpus, and we’ll carry it out on that line if it
takes all the balance of the summer. Grant said that, but any fellow
with a backbone can feel it.”
“First of all,” continued the practical Thad, “I’m meaning to skirmish
around some more and find out what can be done. You see, all the
passengers have been pulled out of the carriages. Listen to them babble,
will you? They are mostly French, and as excitable as wildfire.
Everybody wants to get away from the border here in a hurry. Their dear
old France lies just over yonder, and they’re bound to travel if it has
to be on foot.”
“Oh, my stars!” ejaculated Bumpus, and then he stopped short,
remembering that much as he disliked walking any great distance, he
should be the last one of the quartette to complain now, for it was his
errand that beckoned them on to Paris.
They immediately bestirred themselves. Each fellow was to mingle with
the bustling passengers and pick up any and all information possible.
Since they knew so little of the language it was hardly likely that
Allan, Bumpus or Giraffe would meet with much success; but at least they
would be doing their best.
As usual, they depended a great deal on Thad. He had a happy faculty for
doing things; moreover, in this case, he was better fitted for catching
snatches of conversation on the part of the voluble French people than
any one of his comrades.
About ten minutes later Thad made signals to his chums, on catching
their eyes, bidding them join him. This they did only too gladly, for up
to that moment none of the trio had learned anything worth mentioning.
“It’s going to be all right, I guess,” Thad told them first of all.
“Then you’ve heard of a train we can take, eh?” queried Bumpus eagerly,
while a thankful glow began to appear in his eyes.
“Yes,” replied the other; “it seems there’s another road tapping this
place that leads to Calais, which, you know, is on the Channel, and the
terminus of a boat line coming from Dover over in England.”
“Sure thing,” remarked Giraffe; “and we figured that since England has
butted into this war game she must be sending her little army across the
Channel, or the Straits of Dover that way, to help her ally France hold
the Kaiser in check.”
“Well, they have a great need of every kind of car at Calais, it seems,
passenger and freight, to carry men and munitions from there into the
interior. So there has been made up a long train of empties that is
going to start across country right away, aiming for Calais. And the
railway people here have made arrangements to carry all those who want
to head that way, if they promise not to kick at the poor
accommodations.”
“Well, any port in a storm,” said Giraffe; “we’ll shut our eyes and go
in a cattle van if necessary and not say a single word.”
“Only too glad of the chance,” added Bumpus gratefully; “because once we
get to Calais we’ll be out of the line of the invading German army; and
it ought to be a whole lot easier for us to make Paris from that point
than away up here on the border of Belgium.”
“Yes, it would seem so,” Thad added, with a wrinkle across his forehead;
as if even at that time he might be having a faint vision of the
terrible difficulties they were destined to meet later on while trying
to accomplish their object.
“Lead us to it, Thad,” implored the impatient Giraffe.
Already they could see that some of the excited passengers had commenced
to move away. The word was being passed along the line that if they
chose to head for the city on the Channel there was an opportunity
offered, and few, if any, declined the opening, for they were fairly
wild to get deeper into their native country.
When the four American scouts, a little later on, found themselves at
another station and gazing upon a long string of traffic vehicles they
could not keep from exchanging smiles.
It certainly looked as though already the sudden and violent demands
made upon all the railways of Northern France for transportation on
account of the mobilization of the troops, with their batteries, and
horses, had caused a tremendous drain on their limited resources. They
did not have these things “down pat” to the minutest detail, as in
Germany, where every man, young and old, knew exactly what was expected
of him when a certain order went forth, and the whole nation moved like
a gigantic machine, in unison.
The cars were of a polyglot type. There were a few “carriages” as they
call the passenger cars across the sea, some first-class, others
descending the scale rapidly until they reached the lowest depth of
unpainted transportation vehicles, no doubt taken hurriedly from the
repair shops. So long as they were apparently sound, and would not break
down under a strain, they had been drafted into service.
Besides these there were numerous freight vans, much shorter than even
the ordinary open flat cars seen on all American railways. Box cars are
not in great use abroad, the goods being covered with heavy tarpaulins
instead.
Already most of the carriages had been reserved for the women and
children. Little did the four boys care about this. The day was pretty
hot, and the sun beamed down from a clear sky, but they were well used
to this sort of thing, and had no thought of venturing the first
complaint.
“Pick out as solid a van as you can find, Thad,” remarked Bumpus, as
they started to walk along this string of antequated traffic carriers.
“Yes, please do,” Giraffe chuckled, “for the sake of Bumpus here, who
needs to have things good and strong when he travels. No ordinary coach
will do for a fellow of his heft. How about that third van, Thad; it
looks as if it might be a fair article?”
Apparently the patrol leader thought the same himself, for he proceeded
to climb aboard, after tossing his bag and other “duffle” ahead of him.
The others copied his example without delay. Men were boarding the train
all along the line, picking out their locations as the whim moved them.
There was more or less laughter, and no doubt they joked with one
another in their native tongue; for never before had the majority ever
deigned to travel upon cattle and goods vans.
Men in uniform bustled around to hasten things. From this Thad judged
that there had a hurry call come for the means of transportation over at
Calais, where possibly British troops and munitions and batteries were
landing daily, and must be taken to the front in haste, for the German
invasion threatened Paris by now.
“Here we go,” sang out Giraffe, presently; “that must have been the
signal from the man in the motor ahead, to start the string moving. Yes,
we’re off at last, and over the border in France.”
Bumpus had managed to settle himself upon his bag, and was looking
fairly comfortable, though that anxious expression did not leave his
round face entirely.
The long and singularly mixed train pulled out of the border town.
People waved after it, for there was such a tingle of excitement in the
air these days all over the land that few could settle down to doing any
ordinary business. The younger men had rushed off to mobilization
centres, and were even now fighting valiantly on the front line, in the
endeavor to delay the forward push of the Teuton host, until the
defences of Paris could be strengthened. And while the hearts of fathers
and mothers went out to the boys in the French army in blue, at this
early stage of the great war they did not doubt but that the invaders
would be soon driven back to their Northern country.
While at the border town Giraffe had particularly noticed a man whom he
vowed paid unusual attention to them. A number of times the boy had
declared the other hung around as though trying to listen to what they
might be saying. And really Allan himself confessed that the mysterious
fellow did have some of the ear-marks of a spy, or secret agent.
Giraffe had made up his mind about that. He vowed the other was a German
spy who foolishly believed they must be English boys, and was watching
them for some strange purpose. In support of this rather wild statement,
Giraffe had even stated that it was already well known how the Germans
had planted a host of secret agents all over Belgium and Northern
France. Many of these people had lived there for a long term of years,
and were in daily touch with their neighbors, picking up all manner of
valuable information, which was regularly and systematically forwarded
to Headquarters at Berlin, to be entered in ponderous volumes in the
archives of the Secret Service, and to be used in event of war.
Every now and then Giraffe would refer to this unknown party. He seemed
unable to get the other out of his mind; but then that was Giraffe’s
usual way; for once he formed an opinion he always displayed
extraordinary obstinacy in sticking to it.
“I only hope that skulker got left at the post, and didn’t make up his
mind to go to Calais to find out what was happening there,” he was
saying, after taking a good look over their fellow passengers on the
van, and failing to discover any sign of the unwelcome one.
Thad and Allan watched the shifting scenery, and commented on its
similarity to the Belgian canal country through which they had passed
below Antwerp, only that now they met with occasional low hills, and
there were times when the motor seemed to be put to its best “licks,” as
Allan called it, in order to carry the long train over a rise.
Bumpus still sat there, balancing on his luggage, and possibly trying to
count the miles as they were left behind. Whenever he raised his eyes to
look steadily toward the southeast there appeared a wistful expression
in their depths that did credit to the boy’s faithful heart; because he
must be thinking just then of the mother he loved, and how she would be
eagerly awaiting his arrival in the French capital.
“We’re coming to another climb, it looks like, Thad,” remarked Allan
about this time, as he pointed ahead, and to one side.
The road made something of a bend in order to strike the hill at its
lowest point, and consequently they could see what lay before them. Just
as Allan had said, the train was soon slowly and laboriously ascending
the grade. Giraffe became interested, and soon expressed the opinion
that the little motor would have all it could do to drag that heavy
train over the crown of the rise.
“Still,” he added thoughtfully, “they seem to have enormous power for
such baby engines compared with our big machines, and I guess we’ll make
the riffle in decent shape. I’d hate to get stuck here on the slope, and
have to wait for help to come along so as to push or pull us to the
top.”
He had hardly said this when the boys felt a sudden slackening of the
motion.
“Oh! look there, will you?” almost shouted Giraffe, jumping to his feet.
“Something’s busted, and the train is going on without these four last
vans. There, we’ve commenced to start back down the slope again; and
say, it’s too late to jump off! Everybody hold fast, and set your teeth
for the worst!”
CHAPTER IV
GIRAFFE ON GUARD
While Giraffe was saying this the remnant of the train was indeed
attaining considerable velocity in its backward rush. Thad knew that a
coupling must have broken under the great strain, a no infrequent
occurrence across in America.
Of course by now a pandemonium of loud cries and shrieks had broken
forth. Some of the more excitable passengers aboard the rear vans acted
as though almost ready to hurl themselves out of the open vehicles of
transportation. Indeed, Thad just caught one frightened little boy in
time to prevent him from jumping wildly.
There was a guard’s van at the extreme rear, and the man in this must
have immediately guessed the nature of the accident. Perhaps he had
prepared against such a thing, knowing that it was liable to happen.
At any rate he seemed to have some means for putting on the brakes, for
while they continued to slip rather swiftly down the grade their
progress was not anything like it would have been had the wheels turned
unimpeded.
“It’s all right, and nothing is going to happen to hurt us!” called
Thad, as he held the struggling French lad fast, despite his efforts to
break away.
Although few of those who heard what he said may have exactly understood
what the American scout meant, at least his actions were reassuring, and
they could comprehend the fact that he must be discounting the danger
that menaced them. Then besides they also discovered for themselves that
they were not whirling madly down to destruction, as they had at first
anticipated would be the case.
Reaching the bottom of the slope the action of the brakes became more
pronounced, and presently the fragment of the mixed train came to a stop
at the bend. Already had the man in the motor been informed of the
disaster that had happened. By looking up the boys could see that the
train was backing down toward them.
Everybody breathed easy again. Faces that had turned ghastly white now
burned red with the reaction. Some even laughed hysterically, and of
course boldly disclaimed anything in the nature of fear. It is always so
after the cause of alarm has been effectually dissipated, for people are
pretty much alike all over the civilized world.
Giraffe was rubbing his chin, while a shrewd expression stole gradually
over his lean and suspicious face. Bumpus was puffing with the
excitement, and as red as he could well be. He looked over the edge of
the van at the hard ground, with the air of one who might be figuring on
how it would feel to be tossed out, and flung on that unfriendly soil.
“Only another little incident in our career over here,” remarked Allan,
as though by now they ought to be pretty well accustomed to having
thrilling events turn up every little while.
“Well, now, are you _quite_ sure it was just an accident?” asked
Giraffe, at which remark all the others immediately turned their eyes on
the speaker in surprise.
“What’s bothering you, Giraffe?” spluttered Bumpus, always the slowest
to size up a situation when quickness of thought was an asset. “Course a
coupling broke and let us slip backwards. It often happens around our
part of the country, where the trains have to pull over hills. I’ve seen
a coal train dumped in a hollow because of a defective iron coupling
pin. And we’re the luckiest fellows going, in the bargain, to have
escaped a smash.”
Still Giraffe only wagged that head of his, poised on the longest neck
any boy in Cranford could boast, and looked mysterious. Even the way he
turned his eyes to the right and to the left added to his solemn manner.
“Go on and tell us what ails you, Giraffe, that’s a decent fellow,”
urged Allan Hollister, understanding that unless some one hurried the
other along he would keep everlastingly at this business of looking so
“knowing.”
“Well, then,” began the tall scout, in a low hoarse tone that he tried
to make impressive, “I believe it wasn’t an accident at all, but a
deliberate and dastardly attempt at wrecking the train!”
“Whee! who’d want to bother trying to smash such a collection of old
traps as these carriages and goods vans are, tell me?” wheezed Bumpus.
“You must be dreaming, Giraffe, that’s what.”
“Mebbe I am, Bumpus, mebbe I am,” muttered the other, as he watched the
coming of the front part of the long train, “but all the same I’ve got a
hunch that there’s something crooked about this thing. You ask who’d
want to bother making kindling-wood of these lovely cars? Well, that
German spy I warned you about, for one!”
He looked at them triumphantly as he said this. Allan and Thad exchanged
glances, though it was hard to tell whether they had been duly impressed
or not.
“Now don’t you see, fellows,” the artful Giraffe went on to say,
following up his attack while the “iron was hot,” and Bumpus at least
was thrilled; “even such a makeshift train as this is going to be mighty
useful to the French, for it’ll get a pack of British soldiers to the
fighting line much sooner than if they had to walk all the way across
country. So wouldn’t it pay a real cunning secret agent of the Kaiser to
plot so as to smash things? Why, if he could cause a wreck, and put the
old line out of business for twenty-four hours it would count
something.”
“Why, it does look like that might be so,” admitted Bumpus; “but I can’t
hardly believe any man would put so many innocent lives in danger just
to hold back a few cars and vans.”
“But this is _war_, and we’ve already learned that Germans never
hesitate at anything terrible if only they can serve the Fatherland,”
Giraffe finished triumphantly.
However, neither Thad nor Allan seemed to be convinced. The former even
jumped off and went forward to where some of the men were clustered,
endeavoring to repair the damages so that the reunited train could
proceed once more. When later on he came back again, it was to tell the
others that all was serene, and they were about to proceed, which they
soon found to be the case.
“Did you hear anything said about trickery, Thad?” demanded Giraffe,
after the hill had been successfully negotiated, and they were once more
gliding along at an accelerated pace, perhaps to make up for lost time.
“Not a single word,” the other told him.
“Well, even that doesn’t prove that the thing wasn’t a set-up job,”
complained the stubborn Giraffe. “That rascal could cover his work, and
make it appear as though it had happened by accident. They’re mighty
sly, let me tell you. And I glimpsed him moving about among the people
when repairs were being made. Yes, and he even seemed to be having a
hand in the work, which I take it was only done to throw off suspicion.
But I’m watching him, don’t you forget that. Giraffe’s right on the job.
Sooner or later I calculate to trip that spy up.”
Thad was used to hearing the other talk in that strain, for Giraffe
invariably went in for things with all his heart and soul. That in a
measure accounted for his success in many games in which he took part;
and his vim covered up a multitude of minor shortcomings, according to
Thad’s way of looking at it.
Of course what the suspicious one had said was not entirely without the
bounds of reason. Thad knew that German spies were circulating through
Belgium and Northern France by thousands, and taking all sorts of
desperate chances in order to do something for their native land. Many
of them lived amidst people who had known and respected them for years;
and they even carried on extensive business enterprises; but these were
only masks for the real reason that kept them exiles from home.
There were no signs of war in the country through which they were now
passing, except now and then they glimpsed some man in uniform guarding
a bridge. Women, to be sure, were busily engaged caring for the growing
crops in the fields; but then in times of peace that is a common sight
through most European countries, where they do much of the farm and
garden work, while the men go to town with the produce, carry on the
voting, and “boss things generally, as our American Indians used to do,”
Giraffe had more than once remarked when noticing these things.
In a town they came to, however, there were more stirring sights
awaiting them. A regiment was being embarked on a train bound for the
front, though just why it had been delayed so long of course the boys
never knew. It was a martial spectacle indeed, and one they would often
look back to with a thrill. The men were bidding their wives, children,
or sweethearts goodbye, well knowing that many of them would never look
on those dear faces again.
Those aboard the patched-up train took a deep interest in the going of
the reserves to where duty and honor, perhaps a soldier’s grave, awaited
them. Being detained on account of the other train that was lying across
their track, they could watch all that went on. And when finally it
moved off, amidst loud huzzas, and frantic waving of handkerchiefs
together with a flood of tender farewells, every one joined in the
thrilling shouts, even the four American boys.
Such sights were bound to make a lasting impression on the minds of the
young scouts. In years to come they would surely remember them, and in
imagination once more see the waving hands, the anxious tear-wet faces
of girls and women and children, not to mention the old men; and note
how those aboard the departing troop train thrust their hands far out
from the windows of the carriages so as to get the very last glimpse of
the ones left behind.
But it was over at last. The loaded train bearing brave hearts and
valiant souls devoted to the defense of their beloved country had
vanished, and those who were bound for Calais could now once more
proceed.
“How few of them may ever see their folks again,” said Bumpus, shaking
his head sadly; “for we happen to know how men are mowed down like ripe
grain before those terrible guns of the Germans.”
“Well, it’s always been going on that way,” added Giraffe, who could
survey such things without feeling so “squeamish” as tender-hearted
Bumpus, “since the time this world began. Men and animals keep on
scrapping, and it’ll be the same to the end of time. Men must fight, and
women must weep. But if the women get the vote mebbe they’ll want to do
some of the scrapping themselves.”
They understood that by now they were getting well along on their
journey, and also if everything went smoothly, in another half-hour or
so the slow-moving mixed train could be expected to pull into the
seaport whither it was bound.
“Then a whole lot depends on whether we can get transportation to
Paris,” Bumpus was telling them, as they discussed this matter.
“Don’t cross a bridge till you come to the same,” warned Giraffe, always
confident. “We’ll find a way to get there, make your mind easy, Bumpus.
We always do, you know, and that isn’t bragging, either, only telling
bald facts.”
Just then the train slackened its speed as though signalled to pull up
at the next station, where there was another big crowd awaiting it,
perhaps some of whom meant to go on to Calais so as to get across the
Channel.
“We’ll stop here for ten minutes, I heard a guard say,” observed Thad;
“so if any of you feel like stretching your legs, now’s the time to do
it.”
Only Allan took advantage of the opportunity, besides the scout leader.
Giraffe and Bumpus continued to sit there and watch all that was going
on, at the same time keeping track of such luggage as they possessed.
Giraffe amused himself in trying to mentally figure out what each queer
person he chanced to pick out of the jostling throng might be when at
home. It was a favorite game with the tall scout, for he had the habit
of observation highly developed, as many scouts do, since it grows upon
one.
In the midst of his occupation Giraffe received a sudden, violent shock.
It really affected him so that he seized Bumpus by the arm and gave that
worthy a duplicate thrill.
“Well, wouldn’t that jar you now, Bumpus?” was what Giraffe burst out
with. “If you please, there’s our chums talking to beat the band with a
_man_; and what do you think, it’s that crafty German spy. Now what does
that mean, I’d like to know?”
CHAPTER V
AT CALAIS, ON THE CHANNEL
Of course, Bumpus was duly impressed with the amazing fact. He sat up
and craned his neck in imitation of Giraffe, as well as the difference
in their build permitted. Sure enough, the two boys were seen earnestly
talking with a man; and just as the watchful Giraffe had declared, he
did look a bit mysterious when one came to remember the surrounding
circumstances.
But Thad and Allan seemed to have no fear. In fact, they were apparently
on very good terms with the other, for while Giraffe looked he saw the
man actually shake hands with each in turn, as though he had some reason
to be grateful to them.
Well, Giraffe could stand it no longer. He feared some gigantic
catastrophe must be threatening the safety of his chums, and that it was
high time he hastened to their relief.
Accordingly, he told Bumpus to “sit tight” and watch their luggage.
“I’m bound to find out what all this means, don’t you see?” he
explained.
“Go to it, Giraffe; and don’t let that fellow kidnap our chums,” Bumpus
told him; and possibly there was a slight vein of sarcasm in the manner
of the speaker, though, as a rule, Bumpus was not given to making
cutting remarks.
Giraffe quickly joined the others.
“Glad you came, Giraffe,” said Allan, “for you’re just in time to chin
in and help a chap in distress. Come, pony up a dollar, and it’ll square
the account, both Thad and myself have hit that amount apiece, and he
needs three to get back home again from Calais.”
“W-w-why, w-what’s it all about?” gasped Giraffe, almost stunned when he
saw all his wonderful castles in the air connected with stealthy German
spies tumbling to the ground.
“Nothing out of the way,” explained Thad with a smile, for he understood
that Giraffe was up against the fence and pretty nearly “all in.” “You
see, this gentleman is Mr. Algernon Smikes. He’s a commercial traveler
from London, who, like some other people, chanced to be caught abroad
when the war broke out, and has been having a hard time trying to get
back to Old England. He’s shown us letters to prove all he says, too; so
there’s no doubt about it. His money has run low because of the many
delays; and thinking that we were English fellows, he ventured to speak
to us. We’ve set him straight about our nationality; but at the same
time loaned him eight francs, which he will return when he gets back
home again. How about you helping him out, Giraffe?”
Thereupon the drummer started in to beg that Giraffe would pardon him
for playing such a contemptible role as that of a “beggar,” something he
had never done before in all his life; but the conditions were
remarkable, and he did not know how else he could make the home port.
When Giraffe heard him speak he knew instantly that his suspicions had
been altogether unfounded, for no German spy could ever assume that
cockney brogue. Of course, when he thought the man was watching them in
the capacity of a secret agent, he had been only trying to pick up
courage enough to “touch” them for a small loan, under the impression
that they were also English.
So Giraffe, without a murmur, took out some money and handed it to the
other. He probably thought he owed Algernon that much for having so
unjustly suspected him of espionage when the poor drummer was only
worrying about his inability to cross the Channel after reaching Calais.
They had no further time for engaging in conversation, because the cry
went out that the train was about to start. So the boys hastened to join
Bumpus, who, in turn, must be told how the “suspect” had turned out to
be a most innocent chap indeed. Bumpus grinned a little, upon seeing
which Giraffe, with his face much redder than usual, tried to defend his
blunder.
“That’s all right,” he said, stoutly; “and I acknowledge the corn. I
_was_ mistaken, but, then, nobody can be perfect. I saw my duty, and I
did it. Who’s got any fault to find with that policy, tell me? A scout
must always keep his eyes open and see what’s going on around him. And
he oughtn’t to take things for granted, either. Better to make ten
mistakes than to overlook something important just once. And now let’s
forget all about it. A dollar was a small sum to pay for such an
experience.”
Evidently the lanky chum did not mean to alter his ways, for he was very
stubborn, and often remarked that a “giraffe can’t change his spots any
more than a leopard.”
Well, they were once more moving along at a fair speed and heading for
Calais, on the coast. Allan said it could not be far away, because he
could surely detect something like salt air when he sniffed in a knowing
way; and the others agreed that this was a fact.
In due time they arrived at Calais. Even before entering the city they
could understand that it was altered from the old Calais, where the most
exciting events of the day used to be the docking of the over-Channel
steamer from London and the arrival and departure of the Paris trains.
It was well along in the afternoon. All sorts of whistles could be
heard, as if an unusual number of motors on the railway might be
switching and making up extra trains for transporting the troops and
batteries and munitions that kept arriving from across the Channel in
increasing quantities.
They were soon in the bustle, and it thrilled them to actually see the
khaki uniforms of the British “Tommies” everywhere. Up to now, in their
wanderings over a part of Belgium, they had never happened to come
across any of King George’s soldiers, for the very good reason that none
were to be found in that region. But apparently a constant stream must
be coming over to join hands with the French in trying to save Paris
from the invading host.
Of course all the boys were intensely interested in the wonderful sights
they saw on every hand. They drank them in eagerly, and Bumpus was
round-eyed with a greedy avidity as he tried to watch both sides of the
street while they were going to find a hotel.
At the same time, Thad did not mean to neglect their own mission,
although realizing more than ever the stupendous difficulties that were
bound to confront them as soon as they tried to find a means for
reaching Paris.
Of course every train that pulled out would be filled to overflowing
with troops, and if there chanced to be room for any regular passengers
those who lived in the French capital would be favored first of all.
Excitement filled the air. Music could be heard, for soldiers will show
a certain amount of gaiety even though facing a terrible battle on the
morrow. And whichever way one looked it was to see marching men in
khaki. Bumpus reckoned that there must be thousands of them in Calais.
“They’ll need to be many times over what the British army boasts, to
stand up before the millions of the Kaiser,” Giraffe told him; for, as
may be remembered, he had a strain of that same Teuton blood in his
veins himself, though claiming to be American to the backbone.
They were fortunate enough to find lodging in a private house, for the
hotels could not accommodate another person, being filled to
overflowing. When this had been finally accomplished Thad and Allan left
the others and sauntered out to discover what chance there was of the
journey to Paris being carried through.
They were not long in determining that nothing could be done, that day
at least. Bumpus would be grievously disappointed, but it could not be
helped. Lots of other folks besides the four chums were being held up
there and unable to reach their intended destinations, and Thad soon
learned that many of these people were burning with anxiety, since their
homes lay directly along the path taken by the German army in making for
Paris. Of course they pictured the most terrible things as coming to
pass, so the two boys agreed that at least they had something to be
thankful for.
They did manage to find a little encouragement, and this led them to
hope they might get away on the following morning. A train would be
pulling out, and unless another boat came in meanwhile, laden with fresh
troops, there might be room for them.
That was a very long night to poor Bumpus. And what made it even worse
was the fact that they heard how many thousands of people were quitting
the French capital by every sort of conveyance, anticipating that the
Germans would soon be surrounding Paris, and another terrible siege
would be on like that of ’71. Even the official headquarters and members
of the National Legislature had gone south so as to prepare for the
worst. And there would always be a possibility that Mrs. Hawtree might
have accompanied the staff of the sanitarium to some city in the south
of France.
With the coming of morning the boys were astir. Hardly waiting to devour
a hasty breakfast, Thad and Allan, together with Giraffe this time, set
out to ascertain what the chances might be for an early departure. Luck
was with them, since they managed to book for the capital, though duly
warned that the train might have to be abandoned long before it reached
its intended destination, since one of the three great tidal waves of
invaders was said to be threatening communications by way of that very
line.
A little thing like that could not deter the boys, and, accordingly,
when the train pulled out on schedule time, they were aboard, with
Bumpus exceedingly hopeful, though at times also given to serious
doubts.
Every mile passed over they knew was taking them closer to where the two
hostile armies were maneuvring, each trying to flank the other and gain
some decided advantage. At every stop on the way Giraffe could be seen
thrusting his head out of the window and evidently straining his
hearing.
“I’m almost dead sure I could catch a queer distant rumbling sound when
the little wind there is came from out of the southeast,” he remarked
after one of these occasions.
“You mean it may have been thunder or big guns working, don’t you,
Giraffe?” asked Bumpus, deeply interested himself.
“There’s some sort of a battle on, as sure as you live!” declared the
other.
Thad knew he spoke the truth, for he, too, had caught that same low
mutter that could mean only one thing, for there was not a cloud in the
sky to tell of rain. From the hour the Kaiser’s hosts had crossed the
French border there had started a series of earth quakings that would
never cease as long as one invader’s foot remained on French soil, no
matter if it took years to eject them.
Some time later the train came to a small village and stopped. The boys
quickly realized that something had happened, for the guards came along
telling the passengers to alight.
“We dare go no further,” Thad told his comrades after listening to what
was being said by the chattering throng. “It seems that they’ve got word
a portion of one of the great divisions of the German army is
overrunning the line ahead of us. It is no longer possible to get to
Paris this way. We are just a day too late!”
Bumpus was tugging at Thad’s sleeve immediately.
“But do we have to give it up altogether, Thad?” he asked in a quivering
voice. “Isn’t there some sort of way in which we might get around the
Germans and come in on Paris from the southwest?”
“Well, we can do our level best and try,” the other assured him. “You
know we’ve never been the fellows to give up anything easily, Bumpus. So
let’s hustle around to see what sort of conveyance we can strike. And as
beggars shouldn’t be choosers we’ll be glad to take whatever comes
along.”
CHAPTER VI
CAUGHT BETWEEN THE LINES
Concerning one thing, at least, there was no longer any doubt. They
could plainly hear the deep grumble of big guns, while the very earth
under them trembled perceptibly with the tremendous shock of the
explosions that were miles away.
Undoubtedly the battle was on that must decide the fate of the gay
French capital. Von Kluck and those other daring Teuton commanders were
converging in toward Paris just as the spokes of a giant wheel draw
closer as they approach the hub. If General Joffre, the veteran French
leader, could manage through strategy to baffle their designs he would
win such immortal fame as no man short of Napoleon had ever attained in
the estimation of the French nation.
The boys hunted high and low for some means of transportation. Others
were doing the same thing, white of face, as they listened to those
dreadful sounds. For aught some of these people knew tens of thousands
of Germans might be covering the roads in that section of the country
where their beloved homes lay, and their hearts were filled with dire
forebodings whenever they thought of the innocent ones toward whom they
were endeavoring to hasten.
“We’re mighty lucky to get even this ricketty old rig!” Allan declared
as Bumpus and Giraffe were mounting to seats in the wagon. “It’ll help
us on our way some miles, and when the horse lays down on us, why we’ll
be that much closer to Paris. Then walking is good in the bargain, you
know.”
“Oh, I’ll agree to try anything you say, fellows!” Bumpus groaned, “if
only it promises to help things along. We must manage to get there by
hook or by crook.”
They were duly warned concerning the chances of meeting with detachments
of the enemy while on the road; since it must be taken for granted that
the moving army would have skirmishers and cavalry forces guarding its
flanks, so that the French might not execute a brilliant flank attack
and throw the main line into temporary confusion.
It was all very thrilling, especially when they could constantly hear
the rumble of artillery far in the distance. The battle that this marked
was being fought many miles away; but even at that, they had no reason
to believe the country lying between would be free from the invaders.
To Bumpus their progress was terribly slow. True, the poor horse did his
best under the lash that the peasant boy in the wooden sabots
administered almost without cessation; but at that it seemed a snail’s
pace to the impatient boy.
Giraffe advised him to get out and run ahead if he felt that way.
“Time enough to do that when I have to,” Bumpus retorted. “I’m saving
myself for an emergency. And from the way this crowbait keeps stumbling
along I reckon it’s going to come to a case of shank’s mare right soon
with us.”
Thad, however, was bent on keeping their seats just as long as they
could. There would be plenty of time for walking when they were forced
to that extremity. And he had found other things to attract his
attention in the bargain.
Once, when they chanced to be passing over a little rise, he discovered
a moving mass of men a couple of miles away. The sun glinted from their
accoutrements and disclosed the fact that they must be marching
soldiers. When he called the attention of the others to that particular
quarter Giraffe, who had extra strong eyesight, immediately declared
they were German soldiers without doubt.
“I could tell the French blue right away if I saw it,” he said. “Those
men are wearing a sort of greenish-gray uniform, the same as we saw on
the Germans up in Belgium when we were trying to make Antwerp. Yes, and
they’ve got those odd spiked helmets on that only the Germans fancy.”
The alarming fact that they were now so very close to the oncoming
invading army gave them all a new thrill. Even the peasant boy stared at
the vision, and looked as though almost heart-broken; for he had
doubtless heard terrible stories connected with that other raid through
his beloved France, long before he was born, and, of course, he could
only fear the worst.
As their road seemed to turn somewhat toward the south just there the
boys determined to go on, trusting to luck to see them through. At the
worst, if they did come in contact with any troop of raiding Uhlans,
they could fall back on the fact of being Americans, and perhaps manage
to pass muster.
Among themselves they talked it over as the boy continued to beat the
horse and cause him to keep jogging along the winding road. It was soon
decided that the moving stream of men they had glimpsed could not belong
to the corps that was engaged so fiercely in battle with the Allies
defending the approaches to Paris. They must be another section
entirely, heading so as to attack the forts around Paris from the west.
And it turned out later on just as they had figured, so that the boys
could plume themselves on their sagacity.
Just a quarter of an hour afterward Giraffe uttered a cry.
“What’s this I see away over yonder, fellows?” he called out, pointing
as he spoke. “Another army in motion and heading so as to come smack up
against those chaps in the gray-green uniforms. But say, these troops
are in the French blue. Bully for them, they are meaning to make it hot
for the Kaiser when he tries to sneak into Paris by the back door. It’s
true some of my folks did come from that same Rhine country a long while
ago, but now I’m backing the under dog in the fight, and somehow my
sympathies seem to be with poor France.”
“But see here, how about us?” ejaculated Bumpus. “Suppose those two
armies get to smashing away at each other and with four boys caught
between the lines? If that happens, wouldn’t we be apt to find ourselves
in a pickle enough? I guess we’d better be looking around for a hiding
place. And a deep cyclone cellar’d just about suit me right now.”
“We couldn’t go back if we wanted to,” announced Thad, decisively,
“because the Germans must have swarmed across the road a few miles over
there where we came from. And so far as I can see, there isn’t much
chance of our hiding around here.”
The horse was showing positive signs of giving out. Indeed, the peasant
boy had used his whip up in urging the beast on, and, moreover, he could
hardly lift his own arm to ply it any longer.
Seeing this, Thad decided that the critical moment had come. They must
abandon the wagon and most of their luggage, which latter happened to be
exceedingly limited, for by degrees they had gotten rid of most of their
things ere this.
When necessity drives there is no use complaining, and these scouts had
been through so much in the time they were comrades that by now they
could meet an emergency without a grumble. Even Bumpus refrained from
complaining. He knew Thad could be depended on to do the very best for
them. There must always be a way out of a difficulty if only a fellow
was smart enough to find it; and Thad had that happy faculty highly
developed.
So they paid off the peasant boy and advised him to start back toward
home, even though he might be detained a long time on the road. Once
they found themselves afoot again the four boys started off bravely,
each carrying a share of what luggage they wished to keep, if it could
be managed.
The one hope they hugged to their hearts was that they might come in
contact with the advancing French forces rather than be overwhelmed by
the Germans. In case the former came about they had arranged their plan
of action, meaning to ask only the liberty of keeping on toward Paris,
skirting the crowded road and making progress toward their destination.
It struck Thad that the noise of the cannon had grown much louder. This
would appear to indicate that the range of the battle must be spreading;
also, that it was coming nearer and nearer all the time as fresh
detachments took up the fight.
Giraffe sniffed now and then, very much like a war-horse scenting
battle-smoke.
“And it certainly does smell like burnt powder, believe me, fellows,” he
told his chums. “You can see that the breeze sets from that direction,
which is why we hear the guns so plainly. Whee! but there must be heaps
of exciting events happening right now, and I’d give something to be
able to glimpse the same.”
Strange to say, the others were feeling more or less in the same mood.
It must be in the blood for human beings to wish to gaze upon terrible
scenes of carnage and valor; for no one had before this ever accused
either Thad or Allan of being the possessor of a blood-thirsty spirit.
They just realized that history was being made close to them, and that
scenes were being enacted every hour that would in future days be
immortalized by some skilful painter with his brush. And they were,
after all, boys with inquiring minds, as well as having a fair amount of
curiosity in their make-up.
It must have been a great temptation, and they surrendered to its wiles.
Besides, there was really nothing for them but to either go on or stand
still; and no matter which they decided to do, the end would likely be
the same. If they were caught between the lines they could hardly expect
to get out of the jaws of the trap without seeing something of the
conflict that hung in the balance.
“Oh!” suddenly exclaimed Bumpus when there came a peculiarly sharp crash
not more than half a mile away from them; “was that an exploding shell,
do you think?”
“Just what it was,” asserted Giraffe promptly. “Which shows that things
are closing in on us right smart, as our Southern chum, Bob White Quail,
would say if he was along now. And, what’s more, we’ll be hearing a lot
of the same before we get out of this neck of the woods.”
Bumpus had reason for looking worried. He knew what a terrible amount of
damage an exploding shell might accomplish, even when it came from only
an ordinary field battery, and he had no wish to offer his pudgy form as
a target for the gunner.
They hurried along the road, hoping every minute that a turn would
disclose the presence of men in the French blue. A second crash did not
make Bumpus feel any more cheerful, especially since this detonation
came from still another quarter.
“Do you suppose they’ve glimpsed us and are trying to drop one of those
horrible shells right in our midst?” he asked Thad.
Before the scout leader could make any reply there was a sudden wild
burst of cannonading from a point close by. Thad guessed the truth at
once as if by some instinct. Evidently there must be an advanced French
field battery secreted in the region, where it commanded the road over
which the Germans were thronging, and this had commenced action. Those
several German shells had been dropped just to disclose the position of
this battery; its presence being suspected, thanks to some air scout who
had passed over previously and communicated the facts to the invading
general.
A tremendous din quickly broke out. Guns were fired by the dozen, and
the crash of bursting bombs almost deafened the four hurrying boys.
They had good reason to hasten their steps, for to the right and to the
left the shells exploded. One tore a great hole in the roadway not a
hundred yards in front of them, causing the stones and dirt to fly in
every direction.
It was almost impossible to know which way to turn, and as for finding a
place of refuge, that was utterly out of the question. There did not
seem to be a rod of territory that those searching shells might not fall
upon. One place was just as safe as another, since it was all a matter
of luck. So Thad kept them on the move, huddled in as small a compass as
possible, with the idea of presenting as minute a target to the rain of
bombs as they could.
“Listen!” yelled Giraffe as they ran along, with Bumpus puffing like a
winded horse dragging a load up hill, “they’re coming right now—the
French battery, I mean. Got too hot for ’em where they were, and they’re
on the jump for safer quarters. Thad, if we get half a chance, let’s try
to hook on to some ammunition caisson! Anything to give those shells the
slip! And there the guns come with a whirl!”
CHAPTER VII
A NARROW ESCAPE
It was an inspiring spectacle. The French field battery had done its
utmost to inflict more or less damage upon the advancing German hosts,
but evidently the time had come for discretion to take the part of
desperate valor.
They had no orders to stick it out until every gun was smashed or the
enemy had come swarming up to bayonet each reckless gunner. “Those who
fight and run away may live to fight another day”; and the policy of
these clever Frenchmen was to pester and annoy the oncoming invaders as
much as possible in order to delay their progress, since every hour
counted in the gathering of a force to defend Paris.
The boys hastened to step aside in order to let the galloping horses and
the swinging guns and caissons sweep past. Bumpus looked at the wild way
in which they were hastening along the dusty road and gave it up. It
would take a much better athlete than he professed to be to manage such
a thing as boarding one of those hurrying guns, even though they were
invited to climb aboard. If the others tried it he, Bumpus, would have
to keep going afoot, that was all.
But of course Thad had no such scheme in his mind.... Far in the rear he
had sighted a caisson on which there was but a lone Frenchman. Doubtless
his companion must have met with some catastrophe, one of the bursting
shells having “got him” in the wild flight.
The horses drawing this caisson did not seem capable of equalling the
speed displayed by the other animals. Perhaps they, too, had suffered
from particles of a bursting bomb, and, being sorely wounded, they could
not exert their customary strength.
The man was using a whip vigorously. Apparently he did not fancy being
left in the lurch by his mates, nor could it be pleasant to have all
those explosions taking place so near by.
Thad believed he saw a small chance, if only the driver displayed heart
enough to stop and allow poor Bumpus to climb aboard. He meant to do all
in his power to influence the man, and for that purpose commenced making
motions with his hands as the other drew near.
Of course it did not require any wonderful degree of sagacity to enable
the driver to understand what was wanted. Anybody would wish to get away
from that region if such a thing were at all possible. And, being a
Frenchman, and a gallant fellow in the bargain, what did he do but hold
his frightened horses in as he reached the spot where the four boys
stood in a bunch.
He also shouted something at them in French. They may not have known
just what the exact meaning of the few words were, but understood his
generous act. He was inviting them to get up beside him and have a ride.
Bumpus almost frantically climbed aboard amidst much grunting, which,
however, could not be heard, such was the terrific din all around them.
And hardly had he managed to get a seat than the driver whipped his
horses into another mad gallop.
Those boys would never forget that furious race. It was impressed on
their memories after a fashion that time could not efface. The straining
horses, speeding through the cloud of dust raised by the other units of
the field battery; the detonations of exploding shells, which still
continued to drop around them as though the unseen German gunners had
the range down to a fraction; the difficulty of keeping their seats on
the jumping caisson—all these things conspired to form a species of
excitement that kept their nerves tingling with a constant dread lest
something would suddenly happen to bring about disaster.
Once only through a miracle did they escape from death. A shell dropped
upon the road back of them not ten seconds after they had passed. Had
they been delayed just that length of time it must have blown caisson
and all aboard into atoms; for, of course, the ammunition in the chest
would also have exploded.
No one tried to talk, which was somewhat strange on the part of Giraffe,
who always wanted to be heard. With all that fierce jolting knocking the
wind out of them, even he realized the folly of wasting any breath.
Besides, it could do no good. They were in a position where the utmost
that was possible would be to grimly hold on and trust to good fortune
to presently carry them out of range of the German guns. Perhaps
presently, too, they might reach the advance line of the French army,
where they could hope to find shelter behind the bristling defense guns.
Down along the dusty road Thad stared. He fancied that he could see what
looked like a covered bridge crossing some branch of the river. Yes, now
the first gun was starting to pass over it, with the others, as well as
the caissons, following swiftly behind. And higher rose that billow of
dust, betraying their location to the eyes of the enemy doubtless
through field-glasses and by means of aerial scouts hovering aloft.
Thad saw that one gun was missing, and he discovered it alongside the
road almost at the same moment. Horses lay there with the shattered
carriage supporting the gun and a human leg protruding from underneath
the mass told of the terrible fate that had overwhelmed the driver. The
second man was not in sight, and Thad had a suspicion that he might have
been picked up by one of the other teams in passing.
Bumpus, too, caught a passing glimpse of this terrible sight, and his
face was lacking its customary rosy hue; still he had as much grit as
the next one when it came down to a showing, and uttered no sound to
indicate his dismay, only clinched his jaws together and set the muscles
of his fat cheeks as if summoning all his resolution to the fore.
They were now approaching the bridge.
Once across it and there was some hope that they might find themselves
in less peril. Surely there must be a limit to the range of the guns
that were sending all those bombs around them, and the stream might mark
this. Thad hoped so most certainly, as he mentally counted the seconds
that must elapse before they could gain the bridge.
The horses did not run as they should, and Thad knew they had been
injured, for there was a perceptible limp to the gait of both animals.
Only that constant lashing on the part of the driver caused them to keep
going; and even that must fail before a great while.
What would happen then he knew not. At the most, they would find
themselves no worse off than before they were taken aboard the caisson
by the obliging driver. Afoot they would have to seek some sort of
shelter and try to hide until that rain of shells had ceased.
Several times they had other narrow escapes. Once Giraffe gave a
perceptible start, and Thad saw him clap a hand to his shoulder. It gave
the scout leader a chill, for he, of course, believed the tall chum must
have received a wound that might prove more or less serious.
“Are you hit, Giraffe?” he shouted in the other’s ear, for the din made
talking in ordinary tones utterly out of the question.
“Oh, I guess it didn’t amount to much,” came the reply; “but something
struck me on the arm. Still, I can’t see any sign of blood.”
Thad himself took a look.
“Your coat sleeve is torn, Giraffe,” he told the other, “and I expect
you’ve had a wonderfully close shave of it. You’re in great luck, let me
tell you!”
Indeed, it even seemed as if the German gunners far away were
concentrating all their fire upon the vicinity of that covered bridge
across the stream, for the bursting shells were more numerous than ever.
It would be next door to a miracle if they were allowed to run the
gantlet unscathed. At any second something might happen, and Thad did
not like to imagine what this was apt to be like.
It would be only natural if all of the boys realized just then that they
had been overbold in trying to reach Paris from the northwest instead of
going on down the coast to Boulogne and approaching from the rear, where
they might only have met swarm of fugitives fleeing from the capital and
no German armies closing in.
Now they were drawing close to the bridge. The balance of the battery
had vanished beyond somewhere. No doubt they had a place in view where
another stand was likely to be made, with the idea of again opening fire
upon the enemy should he come within range of their guns.
Looking closely, Thad could see no sign of life around the bridge, and
yet somehow he seemed to have a queer suspicion that there was something
wrong about it, though if asked he could not have explained his feeling.
They were so close that in another minute the staggering horses must
have pounded upon the planks with their hoofs. Then came a staggering
blow. It seemed to stop the advance of the tired team as though they had
suddenly dashed against a barrier, such was the impact of air.
The bridge, where was it? A bewildering sweep of smoke and fitful
flashes of dimly seen flame; a rending of planks and beams, many of
which rose high in the air; a terrific din of crashing wood, and then,
only a great gap remained.
The bridge was gone!
CHAPTER VIII
THE DANGEROUS CROSSING
The boys and the driver of the caisson cowered there and waited until
the last fragment had fallen, either in the water or else ashore. They
no longer had a way open for reaching the opposite bank of the stream,
where possible safety awaited them.
“Oh! what did it, Thad?” broke in Bumpus, when he was able to find his
tongue and lift his shrill voice to a shriek. “Could it have been a
shell, do you think?”
Thad had his suspicions. He found it hard to believe that a bursting
bomb would do all that damage. It might injure the bridge in one section
and render it unfit for safe passage; but some unseen powerful force had
apparently lifted the whole structure and scattered the remnants all
around.
“No, I believe it was blown up by a planted mine!” he called out in
reply to the question Bumpus had asked.
“By the French, do you mean, Thad?” demanded Giraffe, looking
incredulous; “but why should they want to do that, when one of their own
batteries was using the bridge to escape by?”
“I don’t know,” Thad went on to say hurriedly, as he looked around him;
“like as not they had it fixed to destroy the bridge when the enemy came
along, and after the battery got across the men in charge of the
electric switch, hidden somewhere across there, thought the Germans must
be in close pursuit, so they let her go.”
“And now we’re in a hole!” cried Bumpus, involuntarily ducking his head
upon his fat shoulders as another shell burst not far distant.
“We’ve just got to get across, that’s all!” declared the energetic
Giraffe. “If there isn’t any ford we’ll have to duck and run along the
water’s edge to look for some sort of a boat, because swimming would be
a tough job for Bumpus, anyhow.”
“And no matter what we decide to do,” added Allan just then, “we’d
better be getting a move on in a hurry, because I can see mounted men
coming away back there where the road rises a bit, and I guess they’re
some of those hard-riding German cavalrymen they call Uhlans.”
All of them jumped to the ground. Even the driver knew that he could not
hope to save his caisson with its contents, and, like the discreet
soldier that he was, he immediately commenced to throw the ammunition
into the stream. If France might not have the benefit of those shells,
he meant to keep her enemies from profiting through his misfortune, even
though he lingered so long that he put his own life in peril.
Thad had turned an envious eye upon the stream. He saw instantly that it
was of considerable dimensions, far too wide to be crossed without a
boat of some sort. It had the looks of a deep river in the bargain,
which fact would prevent such a thing as their wading to the opposite
bank.
On both sides bushes grew, together with scrubby willows. At a pinch,
possibly, the boys might manage to find some sort of shelter amidst
these; but if anything of a hunt was inaugurated by the German
cavalrymen they must be routed out in short order. And perhaps the very
fact of their being in the company of the obliging French caisson driver
might cause the Uhlans to consider them foes.
Thad did not like to think of what might follow. Sometimes rough-riding
Uhlans act first and investigate afterward. Plainly, then, it was much
to their advantage to get across that stream one way or another, if it
could be managed.
“Look for a boat, fellows!” was what he snapped out with his
characteristic energy; “above, below, no matter where you can find one.
It’s our best move, for we ought to get across here, you know!”
His words gave the others the clue. They commenced using their eyes,
following the short up and down, and carefully scrutinizing every yard
of the bank. Never before in all their existence had a boat seemed such
a desirable commodity as just then; new or old, big or small,
round-bottom or flat, little they cared if only it would accommodate
four boys and hold water long enough for them to urge it to the opposite
bank before the dreaded Uhlans arrived.
Of course Giraffe had the advantage of his three chums in such a
rivalry. That eagle eye of his was without its peer among the members of
the Silver Fox Patrol, and it did not fail its owner now.
“Thad, I see one!” he whooped joyously. “Come on, everybody, follow me.
It’s close by, in the bargain. I only hope and pray it isn’t a
knocked-out affair with a big hole punched in the bottom, that’s what.”
“And—some—oars handy, too!” gasped Bumpus, already a little short of
breath after all that riotous jolting while riding on the bouncing
caisson.
While they were racing toward the spot the determined Frenchman was
continuing to carry the contents of the abandoned caisson toward the
water. He had to go a little distance each time, and this must have
bothered him, for possibly he could not manage to empty the reservoir
before the Uhlans arrived, which fact would break his heart.
Meanwhile, Giraffe, being the lightest of foot and most eager, had
managed to reach the spot where the boat lay, partly visible in the
weeds and rushes. Bumpus, trailing in the rear, listened with his heart
almost in his throat, for he knew that the tall scout would immediately
announce the condition of his find. Nor was he mistaken in the least
with regard to this, for Giraffe had let out a whoop that had a ring of
exultation in it.
“It’s all right, boys!” he shouted, “and here’s an oar and a push-pole
all handy in the bargain. Now let’s get the old thing afloat!”
There was certainly no time to lose. Those hard-riding Uhlans must be
bearing down on the spot with a swoop and apt to arrive within shooting
distance before the boys could manage to make the opposite side of the
stream.
Thad and Allan swooped down, and with Giraffe handling at least half the
burden, they made a combined rush for the border of the river. Little
did they care that their feet got wet, or that they stepped in almost to
their knees in the endeavor to launch the boat.
With a great splash it dropped and floated! Giraffe was in the act of
turning so as to speed back after the oar and pole when he discovered
Bumpus tottering along, bearing them under his arm, while with the other
hand he clutched his grip, as though he did not mean to let that get
away from him if he could help it.
“Bully for you, Bumpus; you’re the goods, and a whole yard wide!” yelped
the excited Giraffe, as he convoyed the fat chum to the end of the boat
and almost lifted him aboard.
They embarked in a regular scramble. It was no time for ceremony. The
danger was too menacing to allow of anything but actions based on
intuition rather than careful figuring.
Thad seized the oar and commenced using it with desperate energy.
Giraffe refused to relinquish the push-pole, although Allan had held out
his hand for the same and gave every evidence of being ready to devote
his surplus energy to the task of finding the bottom of the river.
So they were actually off at last, and perhaps the whole effort took
much less time than it has required to tell it. Whether the Uhlans were
getting close or not could only be guessed, because the low bank of the
river prevented them from seeing this fact for themselves.
Bumpus lay in the stern, just as he had fallen into the craft. Once
Giraffe called out sharply to the stout comrade and asked him to “trim
the boat” a little by rolling more to the right, which, of course,
Bumpus only too willingly did. He was ever an obliging boy and ready to
accommodate his friends on all occasions. Besides, Bumpus realized that
he was having the easy end of the game, just lying there and letting the
others do all the work.
Allan was in the bow and had his face turned toward the shore from which
they had just started. Hence he was in a position to see all that went
on there.
“Tell us when you glimpse ’em, Allan!” wheezed Giraffe between furious
pushes with his pole, while Thad kept pace by rapid urgings with the
oar, which he was of course using in the nature of a paddle, since it is
impossible to row with only half a pair.
“Can’t see yet awhile, on account of that bank,” Allan called out; “but
I seem to _hear_ something like the pounding of horses’ hoofs, now that
the shells have about stopped coming!”
Just then his attention was taken up with something else. The excited
Frenchman at the caisson had changed his mind evidently. He saw that he
could never empty the ammunition cart of all its contents before the
coming of the cavalrymen, and apparently a new scheme had struck him.
Even as Allan glanced that way he saw the horses running down along the
stream as though they had been cut free from the caisson by a sharp
knife and then jabbed with the same pointed blade more or less painfully
in order to cause them to dash off. And there was the driver unwinding
something that looked like a thick black cord, backing away from the
stranded ammunition chest at the same time.
Allan guessed what was in the wind. He did not need any one to tell him
that it was a fuse the driver handled, and that he meant to lay a trap
so as to blow up the caisson with its valuable contents before suffering
it to fall into the hands of the enemy.
Well, that was no affair of the boys, so long as they were not struck by
any fragment of the exploding ammunition depot. Allan felt a further
touch of sincere admiration for the valiant French driver and then
turned his attention to their own condition, which was getting rather
desperate, it seemed.
Despite all that Thad could do with his paddle, supplemented by the
energetic use of the push-pole in the hands of Giraffe, also working
like a hero, the boat did not move along as fast as they would have
liked. It was a clumsy, flat-bottom contraption and never built for
speed. Water was oozing in through a number of small cracks, and while
this did not threaten them with immediate disaster, at the same time
every gallon that the boat took in added so much to the weight and
delayed their progress a fraction of time.
Then Allan sighted the oncoming Uhlans. The spectacle did not add to his
hopes, for he could see that they were scores in number, and that those
in the lead promised to actually reach the shore of the stream before
the boat, at their present rate of progress, could ever attain the
opposite bank.
Allan shivered to think what would happen. His feelings grew even more
intense when he discovered, as he did just then, that some of the hard
riders were already reaching back for the guns they carried alongside
their thighs. He knew from this that they would commence firing in short
order. There was no time for any explanations, and even throwing up
their arms in token of surrender might not count for anything.
What could be done? Allan was at his wits’ ends to know. His heart
seemed to be in his throat as he surveyed the galloping soldiers, and
then, twisting his head around, contemplated the shore haven, still some
little distance away.
Suddenly the water splashed up in a little jet not five feet on one side
of the clumsy boat. Bumpus gave a squeal.
“Oh! they’re shooting at us, as sure as anything!” he exclaimed in
dismay.
Allan knew this even before the other called out, for had he not seen
the little puff of smoke break out of the oncoming squad of Uhlans?
Others would also be following suit just as soon as they found a chance,
he knew very well.
Only one thing favored them, and this was the fact that it is a most
difficult feat for any one mounted on a madly running horse to do
accurate shooting, no matter how much he may have practiced. Still, if a
number of the men started to give them a volley there must always be a
chance of a bullet striking home. Besides, at the present rate of
advance the cavalrymen would be on the very brink of the river by the
time the boys reached the other shore, and then what could save them?
Allan wondered whether it would be of any use for them to jump overboard
and dive. They might manage to make the bank, but only to be picked off
by the Uhlan marksmen a minute later.
It was while he was worrying in this fashion that there came a quick
explosion close by that gave them all a rude shock, followed by minor
crashes, plainly the discharge of shells. The desperate driver had fired
his fuse and blown up the caisson with its contents.
Although there was considerable splashing in the water around them, as
certain portions of the wrecked wagon fell in the river, in some way or
other the inmates of the boat escaped injury. Allan believed they were
partly protected by the jutting foundation of the destroyed bridge,
which fortunately came between the exploding ammunition wagon and the
boat.
Still Giraffe and Thad strove to reach the further bank, though just
what they could do to save themselves after that had been accomplished
was a conundrum for every one. Bumpus was turning his head to look
behind now, consumed by a terrible curiosity that seemed to gnaw into
his very vitals. He stared at the oncoming riders and wondered whether
the next volley they might fire would bring disaster to himself and
comrades. He could see that they were dead in earnest, and that while
this fighting spirit moved them they were not inclined to show mercy to
those they believed to be their enemies.
Bumpus could not tear his eyes away from the terrible spectacle. Those
galloping soldiers began to assume gigantic appearance to his wondering
and horrified eyes. And then, even as he looked again, he heard a loud
roaring sound as if other caissons had taken up the challenge and were
also exploding in one, two, three order.
To his amazement he suddenly realized that the leading Uhlans had
vanished in a cloud of smoke—men and horses seemed to have been
enveloped in destruction, and those behind, panic-stricken, were driving
their animals this way and that, wild to get off the road. But Allan
knew what it meant, and that the French battery had taken up a position
where the gunners could command the bridgehead!
CHAPTER IX
WITH THE FRENCH AT THE FRONT
“It’s all over but the shouting, fellows!” cried Giraffe, holding the
boat steady in the current by means of his push-pole, while with his
companions he watched to see what was transpiring over on the further
shore.
The shells from the French battery continued to burst amidst the rapidly
scattering Uhlans, showing the wonderful accuracy of the gunners’ aim.
Knowing that it would be simple madness to attempt a further advance in
the face of such a raking fire, the Germans had done the only possible
thing under the circumstances. This was to scatter like a flock of sheep
into the midst of which a wolf has suddenly leaped.
The four scouts no longer found any reason to fear those riders; in
fact, the shoe was on the other foot now, and the Uhlans were fleeing
from the peril that lay in French shells.
Giraffe clapped his hands excitedly and indulged in some of his
characteristic sayings as he applauded the fine work of their friends a
quarter of a mile away, it might be.
“Oh! look!” cried Bumpus, “there’s some one swimming across the river
below us!”
“It’s our friend, the driver of the caisson!” snapped Giraffe
immediately. “Glad he escaped being hit with any of his own shells when
he let her go bang. Say, this is something like it now. It makes a heap
of difference whose ox is gored, they tell us. And mebbe those Uhlan
lancers don’t feel so stuck up, with all that chasing across fields to
get away from the shells. Oh! did you see that one burst right alongside
a rider—and he’s down, sure he is!”
“Isn’t it frightful, though?” exclaimed Bumpus, whose face had as usual
lost all its customary color.
“Let’s get ashore,” suggested Thad, for there might always be a chance
that one of the fugitive riders would appear on the bank, determined to
get even with the boys in the boat, under the impression that they had
served as stalking horses to lure himself and his mates into a trap.
Giraffe started to make use of his pole again, and as Thad also
manipulated the oar they quickly made land. Allan was the first to jump
ashore. He immediately began to draw the bow of the flat-bottom boat up
on the little shelving beach they fortunately found waiting for them.
Then the others tumbled out, Bumpus and his bag being the last to
debark.
About this time the firing ceased as abruptly as it had commenced.
Evidently the one in charge of the field battery considered that it was
useless to expend any more valuable ammunition on such a scattered
detachment on the enemy, especially since the demoralized remnant of the
large Uhlan force was fleeing madly and no longer to be feared.
The driver of the destroyed caisson had by this time managed to crawl
out of the water. He shook himself much after the manner of a big dog
after a swim, and then came toward the boys, who happened to be near the
road leading away from the former bridge.
They met him in a spirit of genuine boyish enthusiasm, each fellow
insisting on shaking hands with the Frenchman, which act caused him to
smile with pleasure. Then the little party started along the road,
hoping to come in contact with the battery before fresh orders caused it
to change positions again.
In this they were successful, and before long they found themselves
surrounded by men in the French blue, who acted in a most friendly
fashion. The one in command exchanged a few sentences with the driver.
Thad, listening, had reason to believe that he was commending the
discretion of the man in destroying his charge rather than take chances
of having it fall into the hands of the enemy.
Then came their turn. In a few short sentences Thad managed to explain
who they were and how they happened to be there. It was fortunate that
the French captain of the guns could speak English.
“We would be under great obligations to you, M’sieu the Captain, if we
were allowed to ride on one of the caissons further, in case you may be
going on,” Thad wound up with.
He must have made a very pronounced impression on the soldier, for it
was really an unusual request, and one that under normal conditions
could not very well be granted. But after a brief period of
consideration the officer nodded his head in the affirmative, much to
the secret delight of Bumpus in particular.
“We are about to start for a new position,” was what the captain said,
briefly; “and no doubt room may be found for you on a couple of the
caissons. You must be good friends to France to be made a target for
Uhlan guns. Yes, after all, it is but a little thing, and no harm can
come of it. So find your seats, young Messieurs, for we are off
immediately.”
The gunners and the drivers of ammunition carts were eager to
accommodate. Somehow it seemed as though they looked on Thad and his
three chums as allies. Possibly this came of their having shared dangers
of the driver who blew up his store of ammunition lest it fall into the
hands of the invading foe.
Thad and Bumpus were given seats on one caisson while the other boys
found room on a second. The driver who had no longer a charge also
secured a lift, for it turned out there was another seat vacant on a
gun; and the fact that one of the other men had a bloody bandage wrapped
around his left arm told the story of the shrapnel that had burst
overhead.
So they were soon on the road, the horses again galloping under the
incentive of both voices and lashes. Thad took note of the fact that
their progress was in a southerly direction. From this he knew that by
degrees the battery would manage to swing around until it reached a
location much nearer the spot where that furious boom of great guns told
of a battle in progress.
The boys all knew that they were yielding to the great temptation that
had waylaid them. By rights they should be heading directly for Paris
instead of allowing themselves to be tempted to follow along the course
of the French army. Bumpus, if given the opportunity, might have taken
that course, but it was a case of three against one, and he had no
choice in the matter but to keep right along with the balance of the
company.
In fact, to tell the truth, much as Thad and Allan and Giraffe would
like to please such a beloved chum as Bumpus, they just could not resist
the yearning to try and see more of the tremendous historical events
that were transpiring on those battlefields of France, so near the
capital that the boom of the big guns might almost be faintly heard
there, if the wind proved favorable.
Discretion was thrown to the winds. Such a grand chance to witness the
making of history came but once in a life-time, and they would be silly
to deliberately cast it aside when it was offered to them for the
taking.
All they had to do was to sit there and allow themselves to be carried
along to the new location of the fast-moving field battery, evidently
now scheduled to take a more active part in the day’s engagement.
Thad knew that he was doing a very rash thing. His conscience also
reproached him whenever he thought of poor Bumpus, for it was really a
pity that the stout chum, who did not have much stomach for fighting and
exciting adventures, should be dragged into their midst. Thad tried to
salve his conscience by telling himself that they might run across a
chance whereby they could make themselves useful in some capacity,
perhaps by assisting the ambulance corps connected with the Red Cross.
Sooner or later he knew there would be many Americans enlisted in this
humane work, and it would at least give them a valid excuse for being
there on the field of battle.
Now they came on other detachments of the French army, men working big
guns that seemed to fairly shatter the surrounding atmosphere each time
they were fired. The enormous missiles that they sent for a distance of
miles must have torn terrible holes in whatever they struck.
The enemy could not be seen at all, which the boys considered most
remarkable. But Thad knew how the commanders made use of artificial eyes
in the shape of powerful field-glasses; and besides, there were several
aeroplanes darting back and forth above in the blue heavens, the
operators of which doubtless continued to send valuable information down
by means of a prearranged system of signals.
Still they kept moving on along the encircling road. Evidently they had
not yet come to their appointed station, where an attack was expected,
and scores of field guns would be needed to mow down the grayish-green
clad lines of the Germans before they came within reach of the
rapid-fire pieces.
All the time the boys noticed that they were passing through heavy
masses of troops eager for action. Temporary trenches had been thrown
up, a mere shadow of an excuse when compared with the wonderful concrete
creations that later on became such a part of warfare along the Aisne.
Behind these ridges of earth the soldiers in blue lay, watching and
waiting for the coming of their enemies, and ready to do their duty with
gun and bayonet after the customary gallant French style.
Many curious glances were cast in the direction of the four boys in
khaki who sat with the drivers of the caissons. Perhaps they were taken
for English lads, as had happened more than once before, and in some
fashion connected with the new alliance that was being formed between
France and her neighbor across the Channel.
Then the battery came to a pause. Thad guessed what it meant, so that he
hardly had need to discover the captain making motions to him. They must
jump down now and take care of themselves.
According, Thad left his seat, in which action he was speedily followed
by the other three boys. Bumpus even grinned a little, as though
pleased. It had been a regular nightmare for a time for the fat boy,
clinging desperately to some frail support alongside, as the ammunition
wagon bowled recklessly along the rutty road, and jolting the breath
from his body with fits and starts.
So they saw their good friends leave them, still heading for their
appointed position in the long line that waited for the coming of the
gray hosts of the Kaiser. The boys discovered the driver waving his hand
back to them, and as one they sent an answering signal. They never set
eyes on him, or any of his comrades again; and if they actually survived
the horrors of the amazing Battle of the Marne the fact remained a
mystery to Thad and his comrades. Still, in times to come, they would
often delight to recall their adventure of the road and the river, and
wonder what became of the French caisson driver who blew up his
ammunition wagon rather than yield his charge to the foe.
What they should do now was a question. No doubt their presence on the
firing line would not long be tolerated. Thad expected some officer to
come along at almost any minute and demand to know who they were and by
what right they were at the front, when all boys of their age should be
far in the rear. He was also prepared to do anything that military
authority might decree, though cherishing a vague hope that by some
means they might be able to secure glimpses of the battle destined to
decide the fate of Paris.
Men were around them chattering in French and looking curiously at the
cluster of lads in khaki. Had it been a German camp they would very
likely have been under a volley of gruff questions as to the reason of
their presence; but the French are by nature exceedingly polite, and so
far no one had ventured to question their right to be there.
All about them could be heard the thunderous discharge of the big guns
that were shelling depots of the enemy and trying to delay the
inevitable advance of the German army corps threatening the capital from
the northwest. The air at all times throbbed with these mighty shocks.
Shells, too, from enemy guns could be heard exploding here and there,
showing that it was a game of “give and take” on both sides.
About this time Thad noticed that they were beginning to be the centre
of a considerable crowd. Men passing by stopped to observe the four lads
and comment in their voluble way. Still, there were no unfriendly
glances cast upon them, which was one comfort. In good time, no doubt,
an officer would bustle up and proceed to ply them with questions. Thad
hoped he could satisfy the demands that would be made upon them. Bumpus,
on his part, was secretly wishing that the French commander might be so
taken with their looks that he would be pleased to invite them to join
him in a jolly little dinner shortly, for Bumpus had lately become aware
of the fact that he was decidedly hungry.
“Here he comes now, Thad,” remarked Giraffe, noticing a sudden movement
further along, where the soldiers hastened to fall back and make way for
a number of advancing men in uniform.
Yes, Thad could himself see that one of these bore the insignia of rank
that stamped him at least a colonel. He had made up his mind just what
to say in order not to bore the officer, and at the same time create a
favorable impression on his mind.
Another look caused Thad to begin to feel some uneasiness. He fancied
that the old officer with the white imperial, who had such a decidedly
military air about him, also looked very severe. And that other party at
his side, who was doing considerable talking it seemed, why did he take
it upon himself to point his finger toward the four boys in that
aggressive manner?
Straight up to where the scouts stood came the little party. Thad raised
his hand in respectful salute, in which act he was copied by his mates.
To the astonishment of them all, at a word of command from the officer,
two soldiers stepped forward and laid rough hands on poor, astounded
Giraffe, who stood there with his mouth open, simply staring at the
stern colonel.
Thad, listening, heard a word that gave him a nasty shock. It was spoken
by the man in the company of the officer, and had been hissed with much
vehemence.
“Spy!”
CHAPTER X
GIRAFFE FACES A SERIOUS CHARGE
Consternation seized upon the boys when Giraffe was thus summarily
arrested, and, in so many words, charged with aiding the enemy in the
guise of a spy. Such a serious accusation is enough to frighten even the
most valiant heart; for in many cases it means a short shrift and a file
of soldiers, with a kneeling figure against a dead wall.
Thad managed to recover the use of his tongue. He faced the grim soldier
who wore the marks of a colonel, which he probably had won over in
Algiers or Morocco battling with dark-faced Moors or the tribes of the
desert.
“Pardon, M’sieu,” Thad had started to say, “there must be some terrible
mistake about this. We are all American boys, as we can prove without
any trouble. Please give us a chance to explain how we happen to come
here.”
The colonel frowned at first. Evidently he had it on the tip of his
tongue to say gruffly that there was no time to bother with
explanations, when at any moment his regiment might be engaged in a life
and death struggle with the invading foe, and that all of them must be
put in confinement until later on, when they could be placed on trial.
Just then it happened that the old soldier came under the magical
influence of Thad’s winning smile. He set his teeth harder together, as
though resisting the evident blandishment of that frank, eager, boyish
look; but it was no use. Perhaps memories rushed into his mind of some
favorite son or grandson at home. He shrugged his square shoulders,
nodded his head, and went on to say, in excellent English:
“I will give you a very brief opportunity to explain, as you call it,
young m’sieu. Lead them all to my temporary quarters!”
Several minutes later the four boys found themselves confronting the
colonel and several of his officers. A number of armed privates stood
alongside, where they could seize the boys should occasion arise. The
commanding officer looked at Thad, and he was still frowning as though
not sure that he should go to all this bother for just a quartette of
fairly grown lads in khaki, who could just as well be sent to the rear
under guard, to await his pleasure when he had less weighty affairs on
his mind.
“Please tell me of what my comrade is accused, M. le Colonel?” asked
Thad.
“It is all very simple,” replied the soldier, shortly. “This gentleman,
whom you see with me, happens to be a confidential agent of my
government. He has declared to me most positively that he certainly saw
yonder boy in close conversation with a notorious spy of the German
Government, and who has since been apprehended. This, he says, was just
two days before war was declared by Germany on France and while Paris
was feverish with excitement, for it was on the streets of the capital
he tells me this meeting took place. That justifies me in making an
arrest.”
Thad looked relieved. Grave as the accusation might be reckoned, he felt
sure of being able to clear Giraffe, if only the colonel showed any
inclination to be reasonable.
“I do not in the least doubt the intentions of the gentleman,” Thad went
on to say; “and, of course, he believes all he states to you; but at the
same time he has mistaken some other party for my chum here. In the
first place, we were away up on the Rhine when war was declared. We had
left the mother of this other chum at a famous sanitarium in Antwerp to
be treated, and we were making a trip down the Rhine in a small cruising
boat when we heard the thrilling news.”
Then Thad went on in a graphic fashion to narrate how they determined to
hasten to the Belgian seaport as fast as they could go; with what
perplexing difficulties their passage through that section of Belgium
had been attended, and how in the end they had been compelled to turn
back so as to go through the friendly Netherlands to Rotterdam in order
to get a boat that would take them to the city on the schedule.
Step by step he explained how they found that Mrs. Hawtree had hurriedly
left the city of Antwerp in the company of the doctors and nurses
connected with the sanitarium and started overland to Paris, where a
branch hospital existed; and also how they had followed.
Somehow Thad seemed to tell all this in such an interesting way that he
had the colonel spell-bound. Minutes were passing; the boom of bursting
shells could be heard all around them; the Germans were undoubtedly
coming closer and closer all the time, yet he stood there and let the
boy proceed to the very end, where he told of the chase along the road,
the destruction of the bridge, the coming of the Uhlans, the blowing up
of the ammunition wagon by the driver, and last, but not least, how the
field battery shelled the cavalrymen and saved the boys from a premature
end.
It certainly made a thrilling story, and small blame to the colonel for
allowing himself to stand there and drink it in. A Frenchman loves to
hear of daring, because he himself is by nature adventurous. When Thad,
in addition, showed him various letters they had received, which all
went to prove his declaration to the effect that Giraffe would sooner
cut off his right hand than do anything to betray the interests of
France, evidently the colonel had made his mind up.
Turning to the secret agent, he conversed with him in low tones for a
brief time. Then he once more faced Thad and held out his hand.
“The gentleman is himself now convinced that he must have made a
mistake, though he still says it was a boy resembling your friend in a
remarkable degree whom he saw talking with the seized German spy. Let us
then forget it. What can I do to show you how French soldiers appreciate
their American cousins across the sea and also to make amends to you in
a measure for having put you to this trouble?”
Bumpus thereupon gave Thad an eager thump with his elbow, and managed to
say, half aloud:
“Don’t forget it’s nearly dinner-time, Thad, and we haven’t had hardly a
bite since last night in the bargain!”
“M’sieu le Colonel,” said Thad, paying no attention to this imperative
demand from the rear, “all we can hope for is that if we are sent back
at least allow us to see something of the battle from some friendly
hilltop. And, believe me, that all the while we watch from a distance we
shall be hoping that victory comes to those who are defending their
capital against the invaders. Our sympathies are with the lilies of
France!”
That quite completed the conquest of the doughty colonel. He gave Thad’s
hand an extra squeeze and hastened to say:
“I shall simply insist that you retire from the firing-line. After that
I wash my hands of you, young messieurs from our sister republic. You
shall see how my brave _enfants_ meet the rush of the army that has
broken its sacred treaties and swept across a neutral country thinking
to catch us asleep. Ah! and you will never forget what glorious deeds
the defenders of Paris expect to accomplish this day, and the next, and
the next, until the invader has been chased back to his strongholds
beyond the Rhine. I am from Alsace, and our hour has struck for revenge.
Yes, and I shall give orders also that you dine with my men in the
field. That is all. Adieu!”
Of course, all of them were greatly pleased with the outcome of the
affair. It had looked rather gloomy for Giraffe at one time, but, thanks
to the clever way in which Thad had managed, as well as his insinuating
manner of speech, they had come out of the trouble with honor. And to
Bumpus, one of the most pleasing features of the situation was that they
stood a good show now to break their fast.
Shortly afterward the boys were allowed to sit down with several minor
officers, who prepared to make a “short dinner” under fire. Soldiers can
show a contempt for danger on occasion; and the fact that an occasional
shell threw up the earth now and then within a hundred yards of where
they sat did not seem to interfere at all with the appetites of the
diners.
The boys had all they wanted of such food as the rations consisted. Two
of the Frenchmen could speak English, and so many questions were asked
and answered during the progress of the meal, Thad taking pleasure in
telling more concerning the adventures that had fallen to the lot of
himself and three comrades since they first learned that war had been
declared.
Afterward they were informed that they must start at once toward the
rear, as at any time that section of the front might witness a terribly
fierce charge on the part of the oncoming German hosts, so that unarmed
boys really had no business to be loitering there.
Recognizing that this was sound logic, Thad led his companions along
another road, that he had learned had its other terminus in Paris
itself. They might expect to meet many detachments of French recruits
hastening toward the front, fresh batteries on their way, together with
innumerable motor lorries, tractors drawing loads, ambulances, and other
petrol-driven army vehicles laden with stores or ammunition, all heading
toward the line where those men in the French blue waited calmly for a
new phase of the fight to open.
All of the boys were feeling fairly fresh now, and evidently that meal
had put new spirit in Bumpus for one, since he did not utter the
slightest complaint as he trudged valiantly along in the wake of his
more energetic chums.
Thad, after a while, began to keep his eyes about him, meaning to call a
halt if they should happen to come upon a knoll where a view might be
obtained of the lower country where those new trenches had been thrown
up so hurriedly. What he wanted to be able to say was that he and the
rest had actually seen with their own eyes some of the movements of the
two rival armies at this battle for the possession of Paris.
The early September sun was more than half way down toward the horizon
when the scout leader believed he had found the place he was looking
for. True, the elevation did not amount to a great deal, for which,
incidentally, Bumpus was grateful, because he did hate the worst kind to
climb hills; but it seemed to offer them what Thad called a “coign of
vantage.” Possibly his chums had only a dim idea as to just what that
wonderful expression meant; but nevertheless, they asked no questions;
accepting things as they found them.
Really, it was quite a fine view that opened around them. The line of
vision was not obstructed to any extent, particularly toward the north.
Here and there, to be sure, lay fields of drifting smoke, showing where
a battery was at work. Smaller patches of the same might indicate the
explosion of great shells; while higher in the air shrapnel patches
could be seen, looking strangely white in comparison with the rest.
“Just the place for us to spend the rest of the afternoon,” Bumpus
hastened to remark, fearful lest his silence might be misconstrued, and
that the others would figure on looking further.
No one contradicted him, and so it seemed settled that they would remain
there until toward nightfall, at any rate.
The road was far from deserted, because any number of vehicles kept
coming forward and ascending the rise with accelerated speed. Often at
the crown the deeply interested drivers would pause, not to rest their
motors, but to stare across that stretch of country to where the roar of
guns was ever increasing.
Then, as though some high sense of duty urged them on, they would
suddenly start down the descent and speed away for the front. Perhaps
for aught they knew much of the success or failure of the French in
holding the oncoming Teuton hosts in check might depend on the prompt
delivery of the cargo of ammunition which their particular van was
fetching up for the big guns.
Just then Thad would have given a great deal for a good field-glass, but
since they lacked such an aid to vision, owing to a robbery some time
back, they must get on the best they could without. Giraffe would suffer
less than any of the best because of his extraordinary sight; and he
promptly promised to pass along any startling discoveries his advantage
in that line might give him.
It may have been half an hour after the four chums located on the crown
of that low hill when a sudden increase in the near-by thunder told them
a new phase of the operations must have broken out.
Giraffe had been down at a spring they had noticed at the foot of the
hill in order to quench his thirst, for the day was pretty warm; and so
many vehicles passing along the road caused considerable dust to float
in the air, all of which seemed to irritate that long throat of the tall
scout.
He came leaping up to the lookout, his face filled with eagerness. The
others were already straining their eyes to discover what this uproar
meant; but after all it was the sharp vision of Giraffe that first made
an important discovery.
“Sure as you live, the battle is on, fellows!” he exclaimed, excitedly.
“Look over there near that ridge and you’ll see what resembles a running
torrent pouring over the crowd. Well, instead of water, that’s made up
of a never-ending stream of men, all in the Kaiser’s gray uniforms.
Whee! they’re beginning to show in three other places, too. The woods
are full of ’em, seems like, tens and tens of thousands, and every man
of ’em pushing right on through shot and shell!”
Almost stunned by the thrilling spectacle, the four lads stood there and
watched while, doubtless, their hearts pounded like mad against their
ribs. Indeed, it would have to be a strange sort of a boy who could
witness such a wonderful sight without unusual emotion.
Presently Giraffe again broke out. It was as if he could not restrain
himself, and this way of telling his mates what he saw served as an
escape valve for his surcharged feelings.
“Now you can see that the French have got busy and are sending every
kind of missile right into the midst of the masses of Germans. Every
time a shell breaks it leaves a horrible gap, but only for a second,
because the living close it up like magic. Oh! what madness for them to
charge in such mass formations in these days of machine guns and
shrapnel and big shells. But that’s the way they’ve been taught, to go
forward shoulder to shoulder; and Germans couldn’t fight like our men
do, each on his own initiative. Oh! just see them coming on still, will
you? I believe there must be a million of ’em pouring over that ridge.
But the French don’t seem to be giving way a yard, do they?” And then,
overcome by his emotions, Giraffe fell silent, though never for a second
did he take his eyes off the thrilling drama that was being enacted not
more than two miles away.
CHAPTER XI
THE BATTLE
When the vast German army smashed a way through Belgium and commenced
that historic rush toward apparently doomed Paris, few there were who
were bold enough to believe the French capital could be saved. History
would repeat itself, Paris fall to the invading hosts, and, having
subdued poor France, the Kaiser’s victorious legions could next turn on
Russia and repeat the lesson in preparedness.
Once across the French border, and following out long-since-made plans
of campaign, the Germans separated into four tremendous streams of men
and guns, all sweeping along prearranged lines and heading for Paris.
One of these was held up before Verdun, which fortress was fated to
stand in the way of German success to the end of time, even as Gibraltar
towers at the entrance of the Mediterranean. Three other living streams
forged ahead, pushing aside all opposition on the part of the French
forces, as well as the comparatively small British army that fought them
gallantly, though unsuccessfully, at Mons and other places.
As these immense masses of armed troops approached the region of the
French capital, the desperation of the defenders increased. But,
fortunately for them, there was a man who kept his head through the
near-panic and never lost faith. This man was Joffre, the same
commander-in-chief who, in after days, continuously baffled the efforts
of the most astute German generals to again take the initiative in their
hands, after they lost it at the great five-day battle of the Marne.
It was to fall to the lot of General Von Kluck, more than any of his
fellows, to break through the line of French defense and start the siege
of Paris. Those wonderful mortars that had smashed the steel-domed forts
of Liege and Namur in Belgium would most likely have made short work of
the outlying defences of the French capital, once they came within long
range.
But something happened.
It may never be fully known to the outside world just how the
wonderfully well-arranged plans of the Germans met with a hitch, or why
the army of Von Kluck, after getting so close to Paris, suddenly veered
aside toward the west and commenced to pass by on another tack. Depend
upon it, he had good reasons for so doing.
This, then, was the situation on that September afternoon when Thad and
his three chums stood on the low hill and watched the invading army
coiling over the ridge like a never-ending nest of writhing serpents.
The Germans had no other choice save to attack. Unless they could break
through the cordon that Joffre had managed to stretch before the city
they must continue their great cart-wheel sweep around toward the Marne,
and with the French pushing them on, keep going back toward the border
again, perhaps in what would be next door to a rout.
On the other hand, could they only thrust the French aside here, a gap
would open in the defences through which access could be obtained to the
inner lines; and a glorious victory loom up before them.
Gradually the battle spread before the eyes of the little audience of
scouts on that isolated pinnacle two miles away. They could see charging
masses flung back by the fierceness of the fire from hundreds of machine
guns, together with others of larger bore. The ground must be covered
with dead and wounded, still the human tide continued to pour over the
low ridge like the water passing down the sluice leading to the wheel of
a grist mill.
“I never dreamed men could be so reckless of life and death,” Allan
shouted in Thad’s ear, for ordinary talking was of course next to
impossible in all that horrid din. “They seem bent on breaking through
at all costs. I think it must be they mean to tire the French out in
this one spot by continuous fighting. Then again perhaps the ammunition
may run low, and that will give them the chance they want.”
“Oh! it’s just awful, awful!” declared Bumpus, putting a hand before his
eyes as if to shut out the sight; though a short time later found him
staring as hard as ever, such was the dreadful fascination of the
ever-changing war picture.
The German guns were trying to blast a way through at the same time.
Here, there and everywhere the boys could see shells bursting. Often
these threw up geysers of earth and stones as they exploded after
burying themselves in the ground; and no doubt vast craters began to
appear all along the French front, to remind those who saw them at a
later date how terribly the modern machinery of war worked.
As time passed it became plainly evident that the French line was
holding sturdily. Somehow this apparent fact seemed to give Thad and his
chums a feeling as of relief. While they were none of them as yet wholly
committed to the cause of the enemies of the Teuton race, at the same
time they felt a deep sympathy for the French. Besides, most American
boys always feel for the under dog in a fight, and that was what France
seemed when pitted against the enormous resources of men and munitions
and guns controlled by the Germans.
“I guess it’s going to be a sort of draw for today, after all,”
suggested Giraffe, as the sun sank lower, and the battle still
continued, with neither side seeming to make any perceptible advance
worth mentioning.
“But since it was the Kaiser who attacked,” Allan went on to say
positively, “it must be set down as a defeat for the Germans that they
failed to carry their point. And depend on it, the French will be nerved
for greater things tomorrow. They have proved that they can hold the
enemy up; and that will give them courage to attack in turn. Am I right,
Thad?”
All of the boys were tired under the strain, but already they could
detect signs telling them that the fighting would soon be discontinued,
for that day at least. The Germans had been beaten back again and again,
no matter how they varied the form of attack. If they gained small
advantages in some sectors it was to lose in others. During the night
doubtless hurried councils of war would be held, and by the time another
dawn broke the battle, if continued at all, would develop upon some new
basis.
Gradually the firing dwindled down until as the sun sank out of sight,
save for the regular booming of certain guns that had been given a
special mission to carry out, the myriad batteries had ceased
operations.
Night would soon be falling on that dreadful field. The boys could
easily picture some of the scenes that must be taking place there, as
Red Cross attendants with stretchers stumbled among the piles of dead
and wounded, seeking those most in need of succor, while all around them
arose groans and calls for water.
However, about this time their own condition demanded attention. They
had been given a small extra portion of food while with the French,
enough to stave off hunger to some degree. Thad proposed that they leave
their elevated post and seek a spot further down in the valley, where
they might stay until day came again.
The necessity of passing a night in the open had little terror for any
of those scouts. Many times in the past had they camped out when the
conditions were not half as favorable as now. Fortunately the weather
was quite warm, and consequently they would not miss the blankets to
which they were accustomed when in camp.
Once down on the level, they entered a patch of woods and looked for a
place to throw themselves on the ground before the night closed in
fully. The moon was just past the full stage, and would rise after a
short interval, though clouds had gathered overhead, and a condition of
semi-darkness might be looked for.
Finding what promised to afford them a fairly comfortable camping place
for the night, they commenced to eat the food that their friends in the
French camp had so kindly provided. Sitting there they could
occasionally hear some belated motor working its passage up the hill not
far distant. Then every little while would come a savage burst of firing
from some quarter. Possibly a belated movement of troops on one side or
the other suggested a surprise attack, and this caused the outburst from
quick-firing guns.
Bumpus had managed to choke down the dry food. He remembered about that
spring, and was haunted by thoughts of cold clear water trickling down
his parched throat.
“Guess I’ll go along over and get a drink,” he remarked; “anybody else
want to keep me company?”
It turned out that all the rest of them had been ahead of him, and were
not in need of a fresh supply just then.
“Keep your wits about you, Bumpus,” warned Allan; “it’s getting dark,
you see, and of old we know what a great fellow you always were to lose
yourself when there was half a chance.”
“Yes, _please_ don’t stray away, Bumpus,” urged Giraffe indolently, as
he sprawled there at his ease on the turf; “it’d be rough on the lot of
us now if after a hard day’s tramp we had to start out and scour the
woods around here to find you.”
Bumpus snorted with disdain.
“Huh! don’t you worry about me, Giraffe,” he remarked cuttingly. “I
wasn’t hatched yesterday. I’ve picked up a _little_ intelligence since
we were up in Maine, you must remember. And I’m not going to get lost;
just put that in your pipe and smoke it, will you?”
With that he stalked off, and started toward the quarter where Thad had
told him he would find the spring. Bumpus was never more sure of
anything in his whole life than that he could never lose himself under
such simple conditions as existed; and yet, strange as it may seem, that
was just what he did manage to do.
CHAPTER XII
THE WANDERINGS OF BUMPUS
Bumpus managed to find the spring all right, for he kept on the alert.
After satisfying his thirst, and starting back, he must have lost his
bearings in some manner; perhaps on account of lying down on the side of
the water that appealed most to him, and then making a mistake in
commencing his return trip.
He did not realize this until he had been following what seemed to be
the winding path for fully five minutes without coming to anything that
looked familiar.
Then Bumpus was overwhelmed with chagrin. He could already picture
Giraffe laughing at him if he raised his voice and called to the others
to let him know where the camp lay. So he grimly determined to keep
still, and find it for himself.
“Sure, I can do that without much trouble,” he told himself in a
confident tone. “I know now where I made the mistake; and by turning to
the right sharply I’ll come in on them from the other side. If Giraffe
asks me why I did that I’ll give him to understand I was only scouting
around a bit to see what the ground looked like.”
So with his mind temporarily relieved Bumpus once more commenced to push
on. He found it harder going, now that he had abandoned what he had
believed to be the trail to and from the spring. But Bumpus was very
persevering, as most stout fellows seem to be, once they get going. He
labored on until another ten minutes had slipped past. Still there was
no sign of the spot where he had left his three comrades.
Again did he try to figure out where he had made a blunder. Why, this
thing was really getting to be a big joke, and Bumpus feared he would
have to face the music of Giraffe’s scorn after he did manage to find
the rest. For even then his confidence in ultimate success had not been
wholly chilled; it was only a matter of time, and figuring things out.
He tried to determine if he could find the location of the road. This he
might easily have done had there been any travel over it just then; but
unfortunately the guns were growling almost continuously, so that try as
he would he failed to discover any sound of moving vans or advancing
batteries going to the front, it might be Red Cross hospital ambulances
rapidly speeding toward Paris with their loads of grievously wounded
partisans.
When a full half hour had slipped by, as near as Bumpus could gauge
time, he began to realize that after all he had actually lost himself, a
thing he had so loudly boasted could never happen again.
Bumpus was thoroughly disgusted. He hated to lift his voice and try to
attract the attention of his friends. It would make him feel like one of
the helpless babes in the woods to cry for help, and wait there until
one of his chums came out to pilot him into camp.
“Well,” he was saying to himself in a bitter vein, “of all the chumps
you certainly take the cake, Bumpus Hawtree. Now if this were out there
among the Rockies, or in one of the big Maine woods, there might be a
little excuse for your getting mixed in your bearings; but to think of
doing it over here in a silly little French forest! After this I’d
better get them to attach a horn to my neck, so I can blow a blast
whenever I step out of camp, and let them know where I’m at.”
Although heartily ashamed at being compelled to do so, he even throttled
his chagrin enough to raise his voice and try to shout. Somehow or other
the effort did not seem to be much of a success. His voice was husky, so
that he could not do himself justice; and then again those rival guns
kept up such a constant booming sound that it muffled his cries to a
great extent.
At any rate, after keeping this up for a stretch, Bumpus grew
disconsolate and determined not to bother any more.
“I’ll just paddle around a while longer, hoping that something may turn
up to give me a pointer,” he told himself, trying to appear careless as
to results. “But if in the end I fail, why, me to curl up and put in the
rest of the night here. I guess it won’t rain on me; and once morning
comes I’ll find a road that’ll take me somewhere.”
After that he pushed on again, trying a new tack, which seemed to
promise better results. He could tell where the north lay easily enough;
on account of all the firing that was going on; yes, and doubtless Paris
was in the opposite quarter, although he failed to discover signs in the
sky to indicate this fact, such as may usually be found where there is a
big electric-lighted city. The trouble with Bumpus was he could not tell
for the life of him whether his three chums might be found to the north,
east, or west; and that made two chances to one that he was going wrong.
He figured that much more than an hour must have elapsed since he
became—he was going to say “bewildered,” but on second thoughts
pronounced that disagreeable word, “lost.” For aught he knew his chums
might be a mile or two away from him by that time. Bumpus was also
getting pretty tired. His feet felt like clogs, since he was never an
extra good walker.
“Well, I’ve got to come to it, I guess,” he finally observed, as he
wiped his streaming brow with his big red bandanna. “I’ll just push on
about five minutes longer, for it strikes me the woods seem lighter
ahead there. Now it would be a fine thing if after all I ran onto the
road.”
Breaking his way through a jungle of creepers, he presently made a
discovery that started his heart to beating faster than its wont. Sure
enough he had come upon a road. It did not seem to run from north to
south, as that one had upon which they stood at the time they watched
the fluctuations of the terrible battle. However, a road of any kind
encouraged Bumpus.
“I may find some sort of house on it,” he conjectured, sucking in fresh
hope; “where the folks would consent to take me in, give me a royal
feed, and even supply me with a cot for the night.”
That delightful thought buoyed up his drooping spirits wonderfully, so
that he started along the road filled with high hopes. Ten minutes
afterwards he made another pleasant discovery. There was a building to
one side of the road. True, he failed to discover the first sign of any
light about it, but entering the lane leading amidst shrubs and trees,
he approached the structure.
His surprise increased as he drew closer. It was a very large building,
and made of stone at that, as most houses in France seem to be, for wood
is seldom ever used, being too expensive and not lasting enough.
“Say, looks a heap like it might be some queer old rookery, with a tower
up there in the centre,” Bumpus observed, as he stopped to stare again,
having come close to the structure by this time. “I wonder if this is
some sort of sanitarium like the one up there in Antwerp where mother
stayed? Anyway, I guess it’s deserted, all right. Mebbe the military
authorities have ordered the folks to clear out, because it happens to
interfere with gun range. Now, I wonder had I better try to find a bed
in here, or go on further?”
His tired condition forced him to make a decision in favor of a stop.
And once he had really decided, Bumpus lost no time in putting his plan
into execution.
There was no trouble about getting into the building, for the door stood
invitingly open as though hospitality might be a leading feature
connected with the people who had formerly lived here.
Bumpus had some matches with him, and once he found himself in a broad
hall he struck one. This showed him that beyond lay a flight of stairs
leading to the upper story. Still not a sign of anything moving. Bumpus
was more convinced than ever that he had the whole building to himself.
“I’m too dead tired and sleepy now to prowl around looking for any
grub,” he observed, with a sigh; “and a bed is about the best thing I
can think of. When morning comes along, why, I’ll skirmish about, and
see if I can’t pick up a few bites; for sure there must be a kitchen
connected with such a big old establishment; and the cook may have
forgotten to clean it out entirely.”
He dragged his heavy feet up the stone stairs. At the time he vaguely
wondered why everything about him was so severe and cold and plain; and
made up his mind that living in such a sanitarium would be almost like
being in prison. A tired boy, however, could hardly be expected to
bother his head very much over such things. If only he could find some
sort of bed, he would not be so very particular, for Bumpus believed he
did not “care whether school kept or not.”
Once above and he found that there was a long narrow, gloomy corridor,
with numerous open doors on either side, all exactly alike. Other
matches were used to show him what lay inside the rooms.
“Why!” he exclaimed, after he had investigated several of these
apartments, “I declare if they don’t look like regular prison cells. But
each has got an iron cot in it, and I’m bound to keel over right soon if
I don’t find rest somewhere. So here goes.”
There was really little choice when it came to selecting one of the
“cells” for sleeping purposes. Bumpus tried the cot, and found that
while it was a bit hard he could easily accommodate himself to that.
The last the tired boy remembered was chuckling over the thought of
Giraffe saying, “I knew he’d get lost.” Time passed away, and then
suddenly Bumpus sat up on the cot, awakened by a strange, thrilling and
most astonishing sound.
CHAPTER XIII
A THRILLING SPECTACLE
When Bumpus opened his eyes he saw a weird flickering light reflected on
the wall of the small cell-like room in which he had lain down to sleep.
Of course for the moment he did not know where he was. Then the
recollection rushed over him like a wave, and it was all plain.
But had he been passing through a horrible dream to cause that creepy
sensation which boys describe as “goose-flesh” to grip him? No, there
came that strange sound again, causing another spasm of shivering. It
monotonously rose and fell in the queerest way imaginable, and somehow
made Bumpus remember a ghostly chant that he had once heard on the
stage, when his folks visiting in New York City took him to the opera,
and the grave-diggers were discovered at work throwing up the earth in
preparation for a funeral.
Bumpus slid off his cot. The awe-inspiring sounds certainly came in at
the narrow window, and although still trembling with excitement closely
bordering on fear, he found himself creeping toward that opening.
When he reached it and looked out he saw a most amazing sight indeed,
and one that riveted his attention. It seemed that the window opened on
a garden that was enclosed on three sides by the walls of the long
building. There were trees and shrubs in this enclosure, also winding
walks that had been laid out for a purpose.
Half a dozen flickering lights could be seen trailing along, the glow
rising and falling intermittently. These he immediately discovered were
some sort of torches held in the hands of strangely garbed men, who
walked slowly, and as they proceeded chanted that solemn requiem in
deep, hoarse voices.
Bumpus rubbed his eyes. Was he indeed really awake, or could this only
be a part of a most realistic dream? Still, as he continued to look he
saw the ghostly procession, for every figure was garbed in white,
passing slowly along the serpentine path below.
Then the staring scout received another shock. His eyes, following back
the line, rested on a group that seemed to be bearing a muffled form on
a stretcher. With war in the land it was only natural for Bumpus to jump
to the conclusion that this might be a wounded soldier, though hardly
had he come to this conviction than he changed his mind.
These odd-appearing figures were not at all martial looking. Indeed,
they were intoning some Latin hymn, he concluded, and the solemn
character gave him his clue.
Yes, they must be monks, or members of some religious order that had
escaped the general eviction when the French Government ousted most of
their kind from the monasteries and convents. One of their number had
died, perhaps sacrificing his life for France; and the Brothers were now
engaged in giving him a midnight burial, after some rule of the order.
Bumpus felt a whole lot better after coming to this conclusion, though
he still continued to keep his eyes glued on what was passing below, and
did not mean to miss the least portion of the ceremony.
That rising and falling chant thrilled him strangely. He would never
forget it as long as he lived. Still it was a relief to know that he was
watching real flesh and blood people, and not visitors from the other
world; for to tell the truth Bumpus had in the beginning suspected
something of that sort. Indeed, considering the circumstances
surrounding him, who could blame the boy for giving way to a deep-seated
fear of the supernatural, half dormant in the hearts of every human
being?
Now they were all in view. He counted just seventeen of the figures in
white slowly moving along at stated intervals and holding the burning
torches above their muffled heads.
The chant continued without a break, rising and falling again and again
as they wound in and out among the bushes and the low-lying trees. Then
Bumpus saw that they had evidently arrived at the spot where an open
grave yawned, for the solemn procession no longer progressed, the
figures gathering in a circle instead.
The torches formed a weird circle, and the deep-toned voices rose and
fell with increased fervor. Though the watcher in the little window of
the cell could not see all that was going on because of intervening
branches, he knew that the body of the dead monk must have been lowered,
for while the singing continued he could see men busily at work with
shovels.
Bumpus was feeling somewhat easier in his mind. He knew now what manner
of building he had come across. It was not a sanitarium, such as he had
imagined, but a retreat of some kind, where benevolent Brothers had
their home away from the cares and anxieties of the wicked world.
When war broke upon the land possibly some of their number had
volunteered to work with the Red Cross units who looked after the
wounded. While their vows would forbid that they take an active part in
the fighting, still they could labor to relieve human distress.
It might be the younger and more active members thus offered their
services to the sanitary corps for this purpose, while the older
Brothers remained in the sanctuary. And perhaps one of those who had
gone forth had been cut down by some hostile shot, for when the air was
filled with bursting shells the field hospitals did not always escape
serious damage, though they might be located far back of the
firing-line.
They had brought the dead hero home to be buried according to the quaint
rules of the Order; and accident had allowed Bumpus to be a deeply
interested spectator of the midnight funeral.
He considered the situation, and decided that he surely could not have
anything to fear from these good Brothers of the cowl and robe. The
night air was chill, which was the only reason why he continued to
shiver now, and not because he entertained anything like fear, for he
indignantly spurned the idea.
So he had better go back to his cot and try to finish his sleep, for he
was in great need of further rest. A scout should not give way to such a
feeling as timidity, Bumpus stoutly told himself several times. In the
morning he could show himself to the monks and beg a breakfast, perhaps.
Even then it can be seen that Bumpus had an eye to the future, and
remembered how he was in the habit of expecting a hearty meal when he
woke up.
The chant was dying down by degrees, and he supposed it would soon cease
altogether, as the last shovel of earth was placed over the Brother who
had gone to his reward. So with his teeth firmly set and his mind made
up, Bumpus crept back to his cot, upon which he spread himself.
Long he lay there, his thoughts taking many curious twists and turns,
due to the fact of his recent alarm and the remarkable sight he had
witnessed. Well, for one thing, he would have a startling story to tell
Giraffe and the others when he joined them again. Somehow this seemed to
afford him a wonderful amount of satisfaction. But the droning chant
outside finally acted upon his mind as a sedative, and finally Bumpus
lost all recollection of time, for he slept.
Not once did the tired boy awaken during the balance of that night. When
he finally opened his eyes it was because he heard some one utter a loud
cry of amazement. Bumpus, staring upward, found himself looking into the
fat face of one of the older Brothers, evidently astounded to discover a
stranger, and a boy at that, calmly sleeping on the cot, which, Bumpus
afterward learned, actually belonged to the one whose midnight funeral
he had witnessed.
Bumpus smiled blandly. Somehow he seemed to grasp the essential facts
this time without any beating around the bush. And he meant to do
everything in his power to make friends of these recluse members of the
monastery.
The man in the rough robe asked him something. Bumpus knew that
undoubtedly he must be inquiring as to his identity and how he came
there; but, alas! the questions being in French, he could not make a
suitable reply.
“I am an American boy; can’t you talk English?” he asked.
Of course that last word gave the Brother the cue. He shook his head in
the negative, and then made gestures to indicate that Bumpus should
remain where he was, after which he hobbled from the cell.
“Anyway, he _looked_ friendly,” Bumpus was telling himself, with
considerable satisfaction; “and a man as big and round as he is
generally does turn out kindly in his ways. I guess I’m in clover, and
mebbe I’ll get that breakfast after all.”
Shortly afterward he heard shuffling footsteps approaching. Then his
former interlocutor appeared once more, this time accompanied by another
Brother, a tall, thin man with a leathery face, upon which could be seen
more or less surprise, as though the news communicated by the fat monk
might be almost unbelievable.
“Can you speak English, sir?” Bumpus immediately asked, as this latter
Brother came up to where he was standing.
“Yes,” came the reply; “but who are you, and how do you come here?”
Bumpus gave an audible sigh of relief. His troubles were probably at an
end. It would be all right now, and he could explain the situation from
the start. Yes, and surely they would understand how a growing boy had
to have his breakfast regularly. So he began by telling his name, and
how it happened that he and three chums were over in Europe at the time
the mad war so suddenly broke out. From that point Bumpus went on to
relate in a brief way how they had struggled to reach Antwerp so as to
join his invalid mother. Then came the discovery that Mrs. Hawtree had
gone on to the French capital when the Germans broke into Belgium.
Bumpus described how the four scouts had decided to reach Paris, and
then found themselves cast adrift between the lines of the hostile
armies.
All this time the tall, thin monk listened intently. Whenever Bumpus
would pause for breath he turned to the big fat Brother and said
something in French.
At last Bumpus reached the point where, after becoming lost, he happened
upon a building he thought might be some abandoned sanitarium, and,
tired almost to death, had sought a place to rest. He also told of
witnessing the burial of the patriot Brother at midnight, and his firm
belief that he had nothing to fear from these benevolent monks whose
refuge he had invaded without meaning any harm.
“You are welcome, boy,” said the other, when Bumpus finished his story.
“It is not often that we have a guest from the outside world; but in
war-times ordinary customs and habits are no longer possible. The
Brother whom you saw buried with all the honors of our Order did give
his life for his beloved country. He was killed while carrying the
wounded to the field hospital. And we have a score of other members who
this day are serving France as best they may, under the sacred vows. But
you must be hungry, I fear.”
Bumpus smiled broadly. It gave him a thrill to know that this grim monk
understood the weakness of boys so well.
“Not so very, sir,” he hastened to say; “though I was just wondering
whether I’d get any breakfast this morning. It’s awful kind of you to
mention it, and I think I’ll accept the invitation, if you don’t mind.”
“Come with us,” said the tall Brother; “our fare is simple, but there is
always plenty for any wayfarer who may happen along. And afterwards, I
myself will set you on the right road that perhaps may take you once
more to your comrades.”
Cheerfully did Bumpus trail along after the two monks to the
“refrectory,” where the members of the Order gathered to partake of
their simple repast. He mentally shook hands with himself because of the
wonderful luck that seemed to have taken charge of his fortunes; for
surely things could hardly have come about more happily if he had
personally shaped his destiny.
CHAPTER XIV
BACK TO THE FIRING LINE
Gathered in a long, low-ceilinged room Bumpus found the other monks
assembled. Upon a long deal table, destitute of cloth and other
garnishings such as he was accustomed to seeing in his own well-ordered
home of plenty, the American lad discovered a number of bowls of
steaming gruel. There was bread in plenty, besides, and his friend who
could speak English bade him take a vacant seat, where he could partake
of the humble fare to his heart’s content.
It was simple enough, but, to a hungry boy, quite appetizing; and Bumpus
showed no hesitation about “pitching in.” Meanwhile, as the other
Brothers were fairly consumed with curiosity concerning the appearance
of a strange lad in their midst, the tall monk commenced to repeat the
story told by Bumpus.
Evidently all of the Brothers were intensely interested. The devotion
which the boy had shown with regard to his invalid mother made them cast
many benevolent glances toward Bumpus as the story proceeded. And a
little later, when the edge had been taken off the guest’s appetite, he
was asked further questions.
To the surprise and delight of Bumpus these touched upon the meaning of
the uniform he wore; and presently he found that considerable interest
was taken in the calling of the Boy Scouts of America.
It was true they had scouts in France, as in England and Germany, but
always in these European countries the organization hinged upon military
necessities. And when these men of peace learned how such is not the
case over in America, and that scouts there only strive to be of use to
their fellows, as well as build up their own moral characters, they were
wonderfully pleased.
They talked among themselves when all this was explained through the
medium of the interpreter, and it was evident from the smiles upon their
faces that the idea appealed powerfully to their belief in universal
service to mankind. It was a startling fact for them to learn that in
this newer country across the sea even boys were uniting to raise the
standard of living, to help those in need of assistance, and to build
up, rather than tear down.
Bumpus told lots of interesting things. He did not bother relating how
he and some of his intimate chums had passed through certain amazing
adventures, but rather confined himself to explaining how scouts in
general went about their work; how every member of the organization had
to keep his badge turned upside down of a morning until he had done some
kind act for another; how they were taught to succor those in peril of
their lives; to forgive enemies when the chance came; to play the part
of amateur surgeons in cases of necessity, and in innumerable other ways
prove themselves useful members of society.
Evidently those retired men of the monastery learned many things that
pleased them during that hour Bumpus sat at their board and talked from
the fulness of his heart, for the subject was very dear to him, and it
is to most genuine scouts.
Finally he bethought himself of the fact that unless he got started soon
he was likely to have a difficult time finding his three comrades. They
might leave some sort of communication for him at the place where they
spent the night, should it happen that they felt called upon to move
their quarters. Bumpus knew that Giraffe, as well as Allan, had
considerable knowledge concerning Indian methods of sign writing, and he
rather anticipated that if any message was found it would be along those
lines.
Another thing caused him to consider it wise that he hasten his
departure. Even as he sat there in that peaceful dining room of the
monastery, with those earnest Brothers gathered about the long table,
leaning on their elbows and listening to the answers he made to the many
questions, Bumpus could hear an increasing uproar outside.
The heavy reverberation of great guns shook the massive walls of the
building; those insistent sounds of cruel warfare invaded the peaceful
dwelling, where strife was not supposed to ever come. Half a million men
in uniform were about inaugurating another day of buffeting and killing
in the struggle for the mastery. And it behooved him to get started on
his way.
So he arose from the table, his appetite thoroughly satisfied with the
humble but abundant fare of the monks.
“If you feel that you must go, my son,” said the tall Brother, once
again at his side, “allow me to set you on your way. In the name of
myself and the rest of those assembled here, I wish to thank you for
giving us such pleasing news concerning your noble order across the sea.
With such sentiments governing your actions we can see a glorious future
opening up before you. Take, then, our blessing with you, my son. And we
hope and pray that some time, when peace shall have fallen on our own
beloved France; when swords shall be beaten into pruning hooks, then,
too, our loyal Boy Scouts may forget all aspirations for military glory
and live only to be a helping force in the world.”
So Bumpus gravely went around and shook hands with each of the monks in
turn. He never felt prouder in all his life than just then, as they
beamed on him; and more than one placed a trembling hand on his head as
though invoking a blessing for the comforting message this boy from
America had brought them.
Once outside and Bumpus became deeply interested in what was going on.
He could hardly have been otherwise, for already it was plainly evident
from the terrific pounding of cannon that the battle had broken out more
furiously than on the preceding day.
As he walked along by the side of the tall monk in his coarse gray gown
Bumpus talked of the war and its possible end in a general limitation of
armies and navies all over the world.
“It is the one great result we hope and pray for,” said the other,
soberly; “and toward that end we are ready to devote everything that we
possess, property and life, too, if need be. ‘Whom the gods would
destroy they first make mad,’ and certainly that is what is happening in
these dark days. But we have faith to believe great good will surely
come out of all this terrible destruction.”
Bumpus was sorry to say good-bye to the friendly monk when the latter
had placed him on another road, which, he said, was the thoroughfare
leading to Paris in one direction and the field of battle in the other.
“I’ll never forget all I’ve seen and heard while your guest, sir,” he
told the other, whom he now knew as Brother Ambrose; “and perhaps some
time or other I may write to you from my home over the sea.”
“We seldom receive letters from the outside world,” the grave man
replied, “but under the unusual conditions I can promise to reply should
you think to send me word. I would like to learn if you found your
mother safe, and that with your brave comrades you had again reached
that wonderful land of promise, America.”
So they shook hands earnestly and parted. It must have been a wonderful
experience to this recluse, who had for so many years kept away from the
bustling world to meet a lively American boy and learn so many
surprising facts concerning the new spirit of usefulness that had taken
hold of the rising generation across the sea.
Bumpus strode on, with his mind filled with the things he had just
passed through. As he progressed he could notice that the dreadful roar
was constantly increasing as new batteries took up the refrain and
belched out their noisy defiance. Von Kluck evidently could not give up
all idea of keeping on in the direction of the coveted prize in the
shape of the French capital, now only ten miles more or less distant.
Visions of that other successful occasion, when Paris was taken by
siege, doubtless spurred him on to further strenuous efforts; and if the
French eventually prevented a breach in their lines, wonderful
generalship would be necessary.
The road was far from deserted now. With the break of day fresh streams
of vehicles of every description had commenced moving, generally toward
the front, as new supplies of ammunition and food were being constantly
required to keep the army up to top-notch fighting pitch.
And those motor trucks and other moving vans that came _from_ the front
were never empty, Bumpus saw. Every one carried wounded Frenchmen, brave
fellows, who doubtless had already received first aid at the field
hospitals, and were now being taken to other institutions around Paris,
where they could in time possibly recover from their grievous injuries
and once more join their regiments.
Bumpus heard few groans as these vehicles, with their ghastly freight,
passed him on the road. How his heart beat in sympathy with the gallant
occupants. Many times did he snatch his old campaign hat off to wave it
around his head in vigorous salute as he let out a lusty cheer. This was
in answer to some waving hand that even pain and weakness could not
wholly subdue.
Naturally, these things affected a fellow built along the lines of
sensitive Bumpus. He wished he had a chance to be of some use while
there so close to the battle front; and as he trudged along a resolution
began to form in his mind.
At first the boy had stopped several times on the road and looked long
and wistfully back of him. To tell the truth, he was sorely tempted to
turn “right about face” and go the other way. Paris lay in that quarter,
and there he was likely to find his invalid mother. Bumpus hardly knew
what his proper course should be. He did not believe she really needed
him, because at last accounts she had been feeling very much better. Of
course, like all mothers, she would be greatly worried concerning his
safety. On that account he wished he might communicate with her; but
since his three chums had decided to remain there and see the end of the
great battle he really had no other choice.
So in spite of these pullings at his heart-strings the boy each time
kept on as he had started. His resolution to be of some use to those in
need grew stronger all the while. The procession of ambulances and vans
filled with stricken humanity kept that determination fresh in his mind.
While Bumpus of course did not pretend to know a quarter of the things
connected with surgery that Thad, for instance, was able to practice, at
the same time he had been drilled in the rudiments of the art, and could
act as an assistant when called upon, bind up ordinary cuts, stop the
flow of blood, fetch cool water to parched throats, and in many similar
ways prove of service about a field hospital.
Well, he was getting along toward the spot where that low hill stood
from which he and his three chums had lately watched the progress of the
terrible fight on that never-to-be-forgotten afternoon in early
September. Bumpus recognized it in the near distance by certain
formations of trees at its base, which he, as a true scout, had
impressed upon his memory at the time he stood there.
Then a new inspiration came to him. Why not stop one of these drivers
and find out if the man knew anything about Thad and the rest—always
providing he, Bumpus, could manage to make him understand English.
The idea impressed itself upon his mind as worth trying. Supposing the
other fellows had been upon the road, their presence would be noticed by
an observing driver, who could easily tell the boys in khaki were not
natives.
With this scheme in view Bumpus waited for another van or ambulance to
approach, when he meant to throw up his hand and signal for a stop. His
opportunity was not long in coming; indeed, somewhat to his surprise,
the motor ambulance marked with the significant Red Cross began to pull
up even before he made motions.
Imagine the amazement of Bumpus when in the khaki-clad driver at the
wheel he recognized a familiar form—no other, in fact, than his own
chum, Giraffe, grinning at him as though greatly pleased over the
unexpected meeting.
CHAPTER XV
IN THE SERVICE OF THE RED CROSS
“What’s this mean, Giraffe?”
That was the natural way in which Bumpus greeted his chum as he stared
up into the smiling face of the ambulance driver.
“Where’ve you been, Bumpus?” demanded the other.
“Oh! it’s too long a story for me to try to spin right now, Giraffe,
except to say I’ve had a truly _won_derful experience since I lost my
way in the dark last night. But please tell me what you’re doing on this
ambulance; and I declare if you haven’t got a Red Cross band around your
sleeve in the bargain! Whee! this beats anything I’ve struck yet. Tell
me about it, and are the other fellows working this same way too,
Giraffe?”
“Nixey, Bumpus, I’m the only driver of the lot just now,” the other
replied; “but all the same they’re doing something to help out. You see,
while we were trudging along the road a bit ago this ambulance caught up
with us. The driver had been struck with a piece of flying shell and was
bleeding terribly, one of his arms being badly torn. He was getting
white about the gills, too, from loss of blood, though gamely sticking
to his job.”
“Oh! my stars!” commented the eager listener, filled with sympathy for
the valiant man who had refused to leave his post on account of a wound.
“Well, he nearly fell from the seat when he brought the ambulance to a
stop in front of us. Fact is, Thad and myself just managed to catch him
in our arms as he toppled over. Here, you can see the mess he left.
Well, Thad and Allan got busy right away. They’re fixing him up right
now alongside the road a little ways on there. I knew it was up to me to
get these poor chaps to the city, so I jumped at the chance. And now I
oughtn’t to spend another second jawing here while they need so much
attention. I’m coming back again, and Thad said to look for them at the
field hospital. So-long, Bumpus; keep going straight on and you’ll find
the boys.”
With that the energetic Giraffe once more started the ambulance ahead at
a rapid pace. Fortunately he knew more or less about motors and
doubtless would be able to handle the machine as well as the next one.
And once in Paris he could easily find his way to a hospital by
following some other vehicle that also carried wounded French heroes
from the field of battle.
Bumpus, left there on the road, looked after him for a full minute.
“Shucks!” he was muttering to himself in evident bitter disappointment,
“why didn’t I think quick enough to ask Giraffe to try and look my
mother up while in the city so as to tell her I was safe? Just like my
slow-moving wits, after all. But then that would be selfish in me, I
guess, because think of the poor chaps who’d have to wait so much longer
before they could receive proper medical attention. It’s just as well I
didn’t ask him.”
With that conclusion Bumpus wheeled and once more started along the
road. He increased his pace almost to a run, so eager was he to come
upon Thad and Allan before they finished dressing the wounds of the
unfortunate ambulance driver and put him aboard some passing van.
Shortly afterward Bumpus believed he glimpsed those whom he was yearning
to see. At least he discovered figures at one side of the dusty road
when passing vehicles allowed him the opportunity, and they seemed to be
bending over some object which he could easily believe might be the
driver. Yes, and now he made sure of it, because who else would be
wearing that well-known khaki uniform with the equally familiar battered
campaign hats?
It was with a lively sense of gratification that Bumpus hurried along,
and presently saw Allan wave his hand in a way to testify that he had
recognized the stout chum. Thad, too, looked up and gave him a welcoming
smile.
“Well, stranger, where have you sprung from?” asked Allan, as the
wheezing Bumpus joined them.
Apparently the scouts had managed to stop the flow of blood and had
bound the injured arm of the driver with more or less skill. The poor
chap looked white and weak, yet his eyes glowed with fire, and Bumpus
believed there could be no doubt about his getting over his accidental
wounding. It might have proven a fatal injury, though, if not taken just
in time, for the man had lost a great deal of blood.
“Oh! I got lost, all right, just as Giraffe said I would,” replied
Bumpus cheerfully, “and I’ve had a whole lot of queer adventures which
I’ll tell you about later on. What are you meaning to do with this poor
chap, fellows? I met Giraffe down the road and he told me how I’d find
you here, so I hurried along.”
“Here’s a van coming,” explained Thad, “and we’ll put him aboard if
they’ll make a little room. He can explain who he is and how one of our
crowd has taken his place on the ambulance.”
Allan stopped the motor truck. It was a large affair which had probably
carried ammunition to the front; now it was taking back the fruits of
that sort of deadly business in the shape of grievously wounded
soldiers; as Allan put it, “cause and effect.”
The man in charge happened to understand enough English to grasp what
Allan attempted to tell him about the wounded driver. Upon examination
it was found that there was not an inch of room inside the truck, for
the injured men lay as thickly as they could be placed. But the driver
told them he had a seat that might accommodate two in a pinch, and
moreover, he could part of the time keep an arm around the other.
So they hastened to help the wounded Red Cross driver to climb aboard.
He vainly tried to thank them for what they had done for him, but his
smile was enough to satisfy those scouts. Then the big van pulled out
and the three boys were left on the road.
“Come, tell us what you’ve been doing, Bumpus,” urged Allan, doubtless
fairly consumed with boyish curiosity, after hearing the returned
wanderer say what he had about meeting with strange adventures.
“First, what about yourselves—from what Giraffe flung at me as he was
starting off again I reckon you’ve got some plan or other afoot, and
that it’s connected with this same field-hospital work.”
“Oh! well, that’s about the size of it,” returned Allan, seeing that
Bumpus, who was very stubborn, would not budge an inch until he had
complied with this reasonable request. “We’re here and want to see more
of what’s going on, and as scouts always expect to make themselves
useful as well as ornamental, why we fixed it up to offer our services
to the Red Cross, if so be they’d take us on.”
“Oh! then that accounts for Giraffe taking the place of the injured
driver, eh?” Bumpus went on to say. “Well, it’s a funny coincidence, but
do you know as I walked along the road even before I met Giraffe I was
thinking of that very same thing. I guess it must have struck me because
those old monks were so benevolent, and, as I understand it, spend most
all their time trying to help suffering humanity along.”
“Monks!” ejaculated Allan in astonishment, “what under the sun do you
mean by saying that, Bumpus? Is it apes or men you’re talking about?”
“Oh! that’s part of my story, you see,” came the quick reply; “and while
we’re on our way toward the front in search of a field hospital I’ll
tell you all that happened to me since we separated last night.”
This he proceeded to do, and the boys were of course deeply interested
in the recital. On the whole, they considered that Bumpus had a very
remarkable experience. And no doubt they could appreciate his feelings
when, upon being awakened by that weird chant in the courtyard below, he
looked from his window and witnessed the strange burial procession of
the departed monk.
“I’m glad you found a chance to tell those good Brothers something about
the success of the scout movement over in America,” Thad observed after
the other had come to where he met Giraffe so unexpectedly on the road
driving an ambulance in the direction of distant Paris. “I say this,
because from what I’ve heard, the people over on this side of the water
don’t understand what we’re doing along the lines of our work. In my
mind it goes away ahead of anything they dream of here, where the scouts
are only a minor military organization.”
“Still, the movement was started in England, we’ve got to remember, by
Baden-Powell, the hero of the Boer war,” suggested Allan. “And then
again, conditions are altogether different over here. We have no cause
to fear our neighbors north or south, and two oceans separate us from
other really powerful nations. If we had near neighbors who envied us
our wealth, perhaps scouts in our country would have a connection with
the military authorities too.”
Talking in this strain they continued to push on. And all the while that
stream of laden vehicles kept going and coming, for no van was allowed
to speed back to the city without its full quota of injured soldiers
aboard.
“I wonder where in the wide world they’ll ever find room to accommodate
them in the hospital beds of Paris?” Bumpus exclaimed, appalled by this
never-ceasing string of ambulances and vans and lorries of every
description that passed them by.
“Oh! they’ve been opening up temporary hospitals in lots of places, I
should say,” Thad explained. “And, besides, many will go beyond Paris.
The trains for the south of France that have carried troops to the
capital to assist in its defense will take wounded men back to Boulogne,
Lyons and all those places.”
It was no easy task talking with all that clamor going on; and, really,
as the minutes passed it seemed to be growing steadily in volume with
fresh batallions and batteries coming into action. Never in any known
war were such monster guns used, and as to number, they outclassed all
previous records by ten or twenty to one. Even at that this was but the
beginning. Two years later, when the struggle along the trenches of the
Aisne carried through a whole summer, this number was destined to be
multiplied many times over.
No wonder, then, that the very air throbbed and pulsated under the
almost continuous blasts. No wonder that a strange halo surrounded the
sun the live-long day as sulphurous fumes continued to rise in
ever-increasing volume.
There did not seem to be five seconds at a stretch when they could not
observe some monster shell bursting over the entrenchments of the French
or throwing up those dirt geysers where it lodged in the earth before
exploding. And all the while the French batteries were also sending out
their compliments toward the German lines, trying to ferret out the
places where the Teuton regiments were lying in wait for the order to
attack.
Thad knew just where he was going. He was not the one to enter into a
thing blindly, and doubtless before the injured driver of the ambulance
was sent on his way he had told the scout leader just where to come upon
the field hospital from which he had taken his load.
“We must turn off the road here,” Thad informed the others. “You can see
that only the vans from Paris keep on beyond this point with their loads
of ammunition and supplies. The ambulances and those vehicles used as
such are coming out of this lane. It leads to the hospital, so come on,
and we’ll soon be there.”
Both Allan and Bumpus increased their pace. They looked deeply
interested, but at the same time there was a sort of peaked expression
about the face of the stout boy which Thad, noticing, caused him to say,
as he smiled into the eyes of Bumpus:
“Now be sure and keep a stiff upper lip, old chum, because like as not
we’ll run across some pretty gruesome sights here.”
“Oh, that’s all right, Thad,” Bumpus hastened to tell him; “I’ve got
considerable grit when it comes down to standing things, and I mean to
go through with this business no matter how it pulls. You’ll find me
game, all right, boys, I promise you.”
CHAPTER XVI
AT THE FRENCH HOSPITAL
They were soon at the border of the French field hospital. It was only
natural that Thad and his comrades should survey the scene with a wonder
closely approaching awe. They had passed through a good many strange
experiences during the past two years, as we happen to know, but never
before had their eyes taken in such a remarkable picture as that now
spread out before them.
The French Red Cross Corps had picked out this position for the
emergency hospital with an eye both to convenience and safety. While it
was close enough to the battle line to prove of vast service, and
wounded men could be carried to the operating tables without much loss
of precious minutes; at the same time it was at an angle where the
numerous white flags with the sacred Red Cross might easily be seen from
the German lines.
No cannon were allowed near by, so that every excuse for shells dropping
in that sector had apparently been avoided.
It was a busy scene that the boys gazed upon. Streams of men with
stretchers passed back and forth, those coming in bearing burdens and
those going out after others.
Ambulances, vans and all manner of wheeled vehicles were moving this way
and that, loading up with their human freight that was to be transported
forthwith to the hospitals of Paris and beyond.
Bustling surgeons could be seen. Bumpus quailed at the sight of their
stained aprons. He felt as though he were in close touch with a butcher
shop; but not by a word or a whimper did he disclose the dreadful
feeling that so nearly overwhelmed his rapidly beating heart.
In the midst of all this apparent confusion haste seemed to be the only
predominant requisite. The wounded were streaming in so fast that only
superficial attention could be paid to individual cases. Machine-like
work was the order of the day. Army surgeons, when the battle is on,
cannot appear humane. They must do their necessary work methodically,
for they are engaged in a wholesale business where sympathy can have
little part.
But the boys did not mean to stand there gaping for long. Thad and Allan
were resolved to find some part in the great work of serving suffering
humanity. This was a task that even neutrals could engage in. They would
just as readily assist in binding up the wounds of a German prisoner as
a French hero; it made no difference.
So Thad led the way into the midst of those grewsome sights, dodging
several moving vans that were coming or going, their drivers shouting at
the top of their voices, for even here the roar of the raging battle was
strenuous.
Perhaps Bumpus would have liked to stand a bit and cast his eyes far
across the open country to where the smoky pall was hovering and the
opposing armies struggled in a death grip; but Thad meant business, and
the time for watching stirring events had temporarily passed.
The field hospital had been laid out on rising ground. This was to allow
the enemy a full chance to mark the spot, so that their guns might not
drop shells in that particular quarter.
“Listen!” exclaimed Allen just then, “some one is talking good old
United States over yonder, Thad! Think of our running across an American
here of all places, will you?”
“It must be one of the surgeons!” the scout leader declared. “Perhaps he
was in Paris at the time and volunteered to come out and work under the
Red Cross. That is always permissible, you know. Even neutrals can help
the wounded, which is why we’re here right now. There, I’ve placed the
party, and from the way others consult him I guess he’s the head
surgeon, in this section of the hospital, anyway.”
Of course it was the sensible thing for Thad to do to try and get in
touch with the English-speaking operator, who would much more readily
understand their desire to do something than a French doctor could.
The busy surgeon looked up at their approach. He was, of course,
considerably surprised at seeing three lads clad in faded khaki; a
bustling field hospital did not seem to be just the place for youngsters
of this type. His astonishment jumped to a still higher notch, however,
when the foremost boy spoke to him in English.
“We are American Boy Scouts, sir, who by accident happen to be caught
over here between the two armies. One of our number has even now taken
an ambulance on to Paris, for the regular driver was sorely wounded. The
rest of us fixed up his hurts and sent him on board a loaded van. That
gave us the idea we might make ourselves useful while trapped here
between the lines. We’ve been trained as Scouts to give first aid, you
see, sir, and if you could tell us what to do we’d be ready to start in
right away.”
There happened to be a temporary lull in business. The hard-worked head
surgeon could afford to give these remarkable boys a minute or two of
his precious time. His grim face broke into a half-smile, as though
their coming had been in the nature of a breath of fresh air.
“Good for you, my boy,” he said energetically. “I’m also an American,
from New York City. Just now I’m devoting my whole energies to looking
after these poor fellows who come out of the shambles; no matter on
which side they fought, it is all the same to me. A surgeon has no right
to be partisan at a time like this. To be sure I can make you useful,
for we are suffering from a lack of attendants.”
He immediately assigned them to a certain work that he expected they
could attend to, and which in a measure would relieve his assistants. A
sudden fresh rush of new patients caused the head surgeon to leave the
three scouts to their work; but ever and anon as he labored feverishly
he found occasion to glance toward where Thad, ably backed by Allan and
Bumpus, was bandaging less severe wounds, and from the gleam in the
surgeon’s eye and the faint smile on his face it looked as though he
felt highly pleased with their methods of procedure.
Thad put his whole soul into his work. His previous experience profited
him now to a certain extent, and by the time half an hour had passed he
felt as though he were a veteran along the line of wrapping up cuts and
abrasions.
Even Bumpus no longer felt that horrid squeamishness such as had
attacked him at first. They say “familiarity breeds contempt,” but while
this would hardly apply in the present case, at least it hardened the
stout boy’s nerves to a wonderful extent, so that he could even do some
of the bandaging himself.
The battle meanwhile ebbed and flowed by turns. They could not tell how
things were going, though at times loud yellings came floating to their
ears, as though one side or the other might have found cause for
rejoicing. Thad had some reason for believing that the French must be
holding their ground wonderfully well; at least he had seen no direct
signs of a retreat.
Batteries now and then swept past to take fresh positions. They
respected that magical flag flying there on the rise, though doubtless
many a captain of a gun thought what a splendid position that would be
to shell the distant lines of the enemy. Such an act, though, would have
been contrary to all recognized rules of civilized warfare. They must
scrupulously observe these so as to avoid giving the German batteries
the slightest excuse for turning their guns in this quarter and raining
fresh ruin and death upon the inmates of the emergency field hospital.
Once during another little lull in the almost constant succession of
patients the noted American surgeon stepped over to where the three
scouts were busily engaged. He gave them what he undoubtedly meant to be
a smile of encouragement, although his face was so grim with his
terrible work that it seemed almost out of place.
“I want to commend you boys for your ability in care of ordinary
wounds,” he told Thad as he came up after glancing at the splendid way
in which the bandage had been placed around a torn arm. “It does great
credit to the organization to which you belong. I never dreamed it could
be doing such a grand work among our boys over in America. After this I
shall have only words of commendation for the Boy Scout movement. It has
come to stay as the greatest uplift ever devised for the rising
generation.”
Thad reddened under this eloquent praise. It was certainly worth all the
trouble they had endured just to hear this splendid professional man
utter such words.
“I only wish,” continued the tired surgeon, after Thad had thanked him
as best he was able, “that I had the time to hear your story, for I’m
very sure it must be worth listening to; perhaps later on I may do so
while resting. But here comes another batch of poor fellows needing
attention. Keep right on doing as you are, my boys. Grateful France will
thank you for every wound you bind up.”
With that he left them and resumed his grewsome labors. Other cases came
to the three chums from time to time; in fact, they were kept constantly
employed, for a constant stream of injured continued to flow to the
field hospital. Those German guns wrought terrific damage with their
accurately placed fire, and when batallions of the blue came in contact
with others wearing the Kaiser’s gray and the machine guns spat out
their deadly hail the list of casualties mounted higher and higher as
the day wore on.
Bumpus, in the midst of his work, found occasion to wonder how Giraffe
might be coming on. Had he managed to reach the hospital in Paris and
deliver his human freight, and would he start back again toward the
front along that congested road to once more receive an allotment of the
freshly wounded?
And then Bumpus indulged in rainbow chasing or building air castles when
he allowed himself to imagine an accidental meeting on the streets of
Paris between Giraffe and his sick mother, Mrs. Hawtree.
“Course that’d be next door to a miracle,” Bumpus admitted to himself
candidly: “but then it’s possible at that. And it’d be fine for Giraffe
to let Ma know her darling boy was safe and sound and just now as busy
as a beaver, helping poor chaps along! Oh! well, before a great while I
hope to be in Paris myself, when I can look her up. Sooner or later
there’ll come along a chance to ride with a driver, and if Thad thinks
it’s all right I guess I’ll go.”
Then he started in to labor with more vim than ever, as though
determined to “make hay while the sun shone.” Truth to tell, few fellows
could put their whole soul into any work of mercy better than Bumpus,
who was known among his mates as an exceedingly tender-hearted chap.
It was while these things were going on with the momentum and precision
of a great machine, the wounded coming and going in constant streams,
that a sudden and startling interruption occurred.
Thad at the time had just finished bandaging the leg of a young French
soldier, who bore the excruciating pain with the stoicism of a hero. He
had made an especially decent job of the operation, according to his way
of looking at it, and the patient thanked him in voluble French, which,
of course, Thad could only partly understand.
Thinking to get him in one of the vans that were loading, Thad had just
turned and half-risen to his feet when he experienced a rude shock.
Close by there came a most terrific explosion. The earth flew high in
the air in a shower that resembled a miniature geyser. No doubt
considerable damage was done and a number of men either killed or
maimed, while several horses immediately tried to run away, adding to
the confusion.
Thad knew what this meant without being told. A German shell, the first
that had been sent anywhere near the field hospital, had fallen in their
midst and wrought much ruin. That was not the worst. For some reason
unknown the German gunfire had been suddenly raised, and there was a
strong likelihood that other terrible shells would follow that leader,
rendering the position untenable!
No wonder, then, that consternation filled the hearts of the working
surgeons as they held their breath while waiting to see if the blow
would be repeated.
CHAPTER XVII
THE SCOUTS UNDER FIRE
“Oh! there comes another shell! Duck; fellows; duck, quick!” almost
shrieked Bumpus, as a strange and terrifying sound was heard in the air
above them.
Then followed a second frightful crash. The very ground seemed quaking
under the feet of the boys. They could see the havoc this German missile
had wrought almost alongside one of the operating tables. Bumpus turned
as white as a ghost and looked as though ready to collapse.
Immediately consternation bordering on a panic took possession of all in
that unlucky field hospital. No one could understand why the German
gunfire had been so suddenly raised and sent in this quarter. Thad
glanced hurriedly toward the little rise. The big white flag with its
crimson cross still floated there, and each successive waft of the
passing breeze opened its folds, so that surely it could be readily seen
miles away when glasses were used.
Whether it came about through some misunderstanding or confusion of
orders on the part of the enemy mattered little to those who were thus
exposed to death by the change in the bombardment.
The head surgeon grasped the situation at once. He knew that to remain
there longer was simple folly. The field hospital must move back half a
mile or so to the second position that had been selected, and that while
under fire.
Meanwhile, even as he was trying to give orders to this effect, other
shells continued to drop all around them. Some of them fell outside the
confines of the camp, which was a most fortunate thing; but there were
others not so merciful, and again and again did terrible damage follow.
All was excitement and apparent confusion. In vain did the surgeons try
to assuage the wild fear that possessed the attendants. More than a few
had already been mowed down by those mighty engines of destruction that
in bursting knew neither friend nor foe, patient, doctor or nurse.
Vans were being hastily loaded and driven away in mad haste, as if the
ruling passion in each and every heart just then was to get beyond range
of those constantly falling shells. There were several French female
nurses in the camp. These brave women seemed ready to sacrifice their
own lives in order to leave room in some of the vans for the wounded.
But they were not allowed to thus immolate themselves on the altar of
duty. French chivalry could not stand for such a sacrifice, and,
accordingly, they were actually seized, and struggling still against
going, thrust into a van that was just starting. The last the wondering
boys saw of them those nurses of the Red Cross were still endeavoring to
make their captors let them get out of the van so as to make room for
poor wounded privates of the line. Certainly Thad and his mates would
never be able to get that wonderful picture out of their minds, for it
seemed the crowning act of fidelity, well worth mentioning in history.
Of course the three boys were not unmindful of the fact that it behooved
them to depart from that dangerous section as fast as they were able.
Thad could not find the heart to try to take up room aboard any of the
struggling vehicles, where every bit of space was needed for others far
less able to get on than themselves. So long as their legs were
serviceable he believed it to be their duty to make use of them. Surely
they would have about as much chance of escaping those dropping shells
as any who took to the road in vehicles.
Already many had gone, the surgeons lingering despite the increasing
peril, so as to see the very last of their patients on the way before
they would consent to departing. Some of them might stay too long, for
at any moment a shell was apt to explode directly over headquarters and
annihilate the entire staff.
“We had better be on the jump!” was what Thad shouted in the ear of
Allan, after they had watched these thrilling sights for several minutes
and twice narrowly escaped dire injuries when explosions occurred close
by.
“That’s right,” echoed the other, also plainly unnerved by what he was
witnessing; “but where is Bumpus?”
His words gave Thad a strange sinking in the region of his heart. True
enough, their stout chum had mysteriously vanished; and yet he could
remember seeing Bumpus near by only a brief time before.
Had some cruel missile from one of the bursting shells cut him down?
Look as he might, this way and that, Thad failed to discover any sign of
the corpulent figure of his most beloved chum. It was always possible,
he figured, that poor Bumpus might have been hurled far to one side by
the shock, but though he strained his eyes to the utmost to discover his
form he met with no success whatever.
It was a mystery. Surrounded by such a mad clamor, with men dashing this
way and that as though temporarily out of their minds, it was not
strange that Thad should feel faint with apprehension. He seemed to see
himself telling the poor mother how her gallant boy had yielded up his
young life in the effort to alleviate suffering on the part of others.
“What ought we do, Thad, go, or stick it out and hunt for Bumpus?” Allan
was calling close to his ear.
Thad hardly knew at first what to answer. He despised himself for even
allowing a thought to come into his mind as to deserting a comrade in
time of peril, and yet in a measure it seemed sheer madness to remain
while that tempest of iron was being hurled upon the spot.
As in a dream he saw the American surgeon up there on the rise gathering
the Red Cross flag in his arms, as though he meant to carry it away with
him to the new quarters. It was an act of daring that gave Thad a little
thrill; but then at that moment so much was going on that bordered along
the heroic that he could only take passing notice of this particular
deed.
As a last resort, which perhaps might be called an inspiration on his
part, Thad raised his voice and shouted as loud as he could:
“Bumpus! Bumpus! Bumpus!”
Three separate times did he launch that name, and then both Thad and
Allan were thrilled to catch a reply.
“Here I am, Thad!” shouted a high-pitched voice, and with the words a
head appeared above the edge of a deep shell crater not thirty feet
away, as Bumpus commenced to laboriously crawl on hands and knees out of
the hole.
Of course it looked as though he had dropped down there with the idea
that by so doing he might better escape the danger of being caught in
the rain of iron splinters following each explosion. Really it was not
such a bad scheme on the part of Bumpus, and had they been compelled to
stay there longer the others might have copied his example with profit
to themselves.
Thad hurriedly beckoned in order to hasten the coming of the other
scout.
“We’re going to cut and run for it, don’t you see?” he bellowed.
That nerved Bumpus to new exertions, so that he speedily emerged from
the pit, little the worse for his experience. Later on he candidly
admitted that it had not been wholly a clever idea of his own. In fact,
he had been blasted into the hole by the sudden concussion of air when a
shell burst near by, and, finding himself prone at the bottom, hugged
the ground until he could feel himself all over and ascertain whether he
were still sound of body and limb.
By that time the field hospital was pretty well deserted, of the living,
that is to say. Looking around for the last time Thad could see numerous
still forms on the ground, and he knew that death had reaped a heavy
harvest. Just then he hated the German gunners most violently, although
later on, when he cooled down, he realized that it must have all been a
terrible mistake, for surely they would never think of bom
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