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The Boy Allies In The Trenches
OR
Midst Shot and Shell along the Aisne
By CLAIR W. HAYES
AUTHOR OF "The Boy Allies At Liège" "The Boy Allies On the Firing Line"
"The Boy Allies With the Cossacks"
1915
CHAPTER I.
WITH THE ARMY.
"Well! Well! Well! If it isn't Lieutenant Paine and Lieutenant Crawford!"
The speaker, none other than Field Marshal Sir John French, commander-in-chief of the British forces sent to help France hurl back the legions of the German invader, was greatly surprised by the appearance of the two lads before him.
"I thought surely you had been killed," continued General French.
"We are not to be killed so easily, sir," replied Hal Paine.
"And where have you been?" demanded the General.
"In Russia, sir," replied Chester Crawford, "where we were attached to a
Cossack regiment, and where we saw considerable fighting."
General French uttered an exclamation of astonishment.
"How did you get there?" he asked. "And how did you return?"
"Airship," was Hal's brief response, and he related their adventures since they had last seen their commander.
Hal then tendered the General a despatch he carried from the Grand Duke Nicholas, commander-in-chief of all the Russian armies operating against the Germans in the eastern theater of war.
"You shall serve on my staff," said General French finally.
He summoned another officer and ordered that quarters be prepared for the two lads immediately.
And while the two boys are getting themselves comfortably fixed it will be a good time to introduce the lads to such readers as have not made their acquaintance before.
Hal Paine and Chester Crawford, two American lads, their ages being about 18 and 19, had seen considerable service in the great European war—the greatest war of all time. They had been in Berlin when Germany had declared war upon Russia and France and with Hal's mother had attempted to make their way from that country. The mother had been successful; but Hal and Chester got into trouble and had been left behind.
Fortunately, however, two young officers, Major Raoul Derevaux, a Frenchman, and Captain Harry Anderson, an Englishman, had come to their assistance—reciprocating a good turn done them by the two lads a day before—and together, after some difficulties, they succeeded in reaching Liège, Belgium, just in time to take part in its heroic defense against the first German hordes that violated the neutrality of the little buffer country.
Both had distinguished themselves by their coolness and bravery under fire, and had found favor in the eyes of the Belgian commander, as related in "The Boy Allies at Liège." Later they had rendered themselves invaluable in carrying dispatches.
Following their adventures in this campaign they saw service with the British forces on the continent, as told in "The Boy Allies on the Firing Line." In this campaign they had been instrumental in foiling a well-planned German coup, which would have resulted in a severe blow to the British had it been put through.
Also, while scouting in the enemy's domain, Hal and Chester had unearthed a conspiracy that threatened the destruction of a whole French army corps. By prompt action the lads prevented this and won the congratulations of General Joffre, the French commander-in-chief.
It was through information gleaned by the lads that the British army was finally able to surprise the enemy and advance to the east shore of the River Marne, after a struggle that had lasted for two weeks.
In a battle following this decisive engagement—while returning from a successful raid—Captain Harry Anderson, who had accompanied them, was critically wounded and, together with Hal and Chester, taken prisoner. Hal and Chester, with a French army dog they had rescued from the wrath of a German officer, were taken almost immediately to Berlin.
There, while strolling about the street one day in company with the German officer in whose charge they had been placed, they were made, to their surprise, the bearer of an important communication to the Russian commander-in-chief. It happened in this wise:
An English prisoner, recognizing them, made a dash for liberty and succeeded in passing the document to Chester. The lad secreted it. Finally, through their resourcefulness, the lads managed to make their escape from the German capital and reached the Russian lines by means of an airship.
Here they put the document into the hands of Grand Duke Nicholas, who, at their request, assigned them to a regiment of Cossacks.
The lads immediately made a good friend of a huge Cossack, Alexis Verhoff, a man of immense prowess and great strength, and with him saw a world of fighting. In a battle with the enemy, Marquis, the dog who had accompanied them, was killed. Later, while they were making their way back to England by airship, Alexis, who accompanied them, was wounded on the coast of Sweden, where their machine, crippled by the fire of German aviators, had fallen.
While Alexis stood off the foe the lads repaired the damage to the machine, but when they finally succeeded in dragging the huge Cossack aboard and once more headed toward home, they found that their friend was wounded unto death. He died as the aeroplane sped over the North Sea.
In Russia both lads had been decorated with the Cross of St. George by the Czar of Russia himself—this for their bravery and daring.
Hal and Chester were both exponents of the manly art of self-defense, and more than once their skill in the fistic art had stood them to good advantage. They were also proficient in the use of the revolver and sword. They had returned from Russia with a dispatch for Sir John French from the Russian Grand Duke, a message so important that the Russian commander-in-chief would not flash it by wireless for fear that it might be intercepted by the Germans, and the code deciphered.
Hal and Chester went at once to the quarters assigned them, where they immediately threw themselves down to rest. They were tired out, as the journey had occupied days, and they had scarcely closed their eyes during that time. They had remained in England only long enough to have the body of Alexis buried with fitting honors, and had then set out for France immediately.
It was dark when the two lads were aroused by the sound of a bugle blowing the call to arms. Both were quickly on their feet and dashed through the darkness to where they could make out the form of their commander, surrounded by other members of his staff.
"Something up!" cried Hal as they hurried forward.
"Probably a night attack," said Chester. "General French may be planning to carry some of the enemy's trenches by assault."
"Guess you are right," replied Hal briefly.
They took their places among the others of the British leader's staff and were received with nods of welcome and some expressions of astonishment. They had friends among the British officers, many of whom, because of their long absence, had mourned them as dead.
The lads let their eyes roam about. Troops, troops, troops! Nothing but troops, as far as the eye could see. Cavalry, artillery and infantry in solid masses on every side; officers darting hither and thither delivering sharp orders. It was an impressive sight.
An officer on horseback dashed up to General French and the two held a short conversation. As the rider turned and was about to make off again the lads recognized him.
"Major Derevaux!" shouted Hal, taking a step forward.
The officer wheeled in his saddle. He recognized the two lads in an instant, and reined in.
"Hello, boys," he called back. "I heard you were dead. Glad to see you again."
Without further words, but with a wave of his hand, the French officer put spurs to his horse and dashed out of sight in the darkness.
"Wonder what he is doing here?" said Hal. "He was attached to General
Joffre's staff when we left. Remember?"
"Yes," replied Chester. "Must be some momentous move under way."
Other officers now began to appear. They dashed up to the British commander, made their reports and immediately dashed away again.
"Lieutenant Paine! Lieutenant Crawford!"
It was General French summoning them and the boys approached and came to attention. Because of past experience, both lads realized instantly that the General had some ticklish work cut out and that he had selected them to carry it through.
"Take a troop of cavalry," came the command, "and make a reconnoissance of the northeast!"
Quickly two officers nearby sprang from their horses and offered them to the lads, for the latter had not yet had time to find steeds. The lads sprang into the saddle, saluted their commander, and dashed away. To the nearest cavalry force they hurried, where upon repeating General French's order to the commander, they soon had a troop at their disposal.
A troop of cavalry is composed of one hundred men. It is usually commanded by a captain.
Now it is very unusual for a commanding officer to have two lieutenants on his staff, as had General French in the persons of Hal and Chester; but the General had commissioned them as such on the spur of the moment, and when they took command of the troop they consequently, for the time, superseded the captain in command—for they were the personal representatives of the General himself.
The two lads placed themselves at the head of the troop and rode forward at a rapid trot. Past dense masses of infantry, battery after battery of heavy artillery and troop upon troop of cavalry they rode toward the northeast.
They were not yet at the front of the long battle line, for General French had his headquarters well back, but still close enough to be in constant danger from the enemy's artillery fire.
From a trot the troop broke into a gallop, and soon were beyond the farthest trenches. Skirting this at the extreme north—close to the sea—they progressed still further toward the enemy. It was the boys' duty, if possible, to find out the position of the German forces at this point and to determine their numbers; also the strategic positions that could be used by either army.
Now an order was given for the troop to spread out, and, leaving the road, the two lads led their men into the woods, where they could advance with less danger of being seen. They had not been ordered forward to give battle, and there would be no fighting unless it became necessary in order that their mission might be successful.
But, as in most missions upon which the lads had been dispatched, there was to be fighting; and these British were not the men to turn their backs upon the enemy without giving them a warm reception.
From the shelter of the sand dunes there came suddenly a fusillade. Two
British troopers reeled in their saddles and tumbled to the ground.
CHAPTER II.
A BIT OF HISTORY.
While Hal and Chester and their troop of British cavalry are preparing to meet this unexpected attack, it will be well to introduce here a few words relating to the positions of the gigantic armies battling in France and Belgium.
The war had now been in progress for five months. From the time that the
Allies had braced and checked the Germans in their rapid advance upon
Paris, and had assumed the offensive themselves, they had progressed
consistently, if slowly.
The Germans contested every inch of the ground, and all along the great battle line, stretching out for almost four hundred miles, the fighting had been terrific. Day after day, week after week, month after month the terrible struggle had raged incessantly. The losses of all four armies, German, British, French and Belgian, had been enormous, although, up to date, it was admitted that the Germans had suffered the worst.
The conflict raged with advantage first to one side and then to the other. Assaults and counter-assaults were the order of the day. From Ostend, on the North Sea, now in the hands of the Germans, to the southern extremity of Alsace-Lorraine, the mighty hosts were locked in a death grapple; but, in spite of the fearful execution of the weapons of modern warfare, there had been no really decisive engagement. Neither side had suffered a severe blow.
In the North the Allies were being given powerful aid by a strong British fleet, which hurled its shells upon the Germans infesting that region, thus checking at the same time the threatened advance of the Kaiser's legions upon Nieuport and Dunkirk, which the Germans planned to use as naval bases for air raids on England.
The mighty siege and field guns of the Germans—which had been used with such telling effect upon Liège, Brussels, Antwerp and Ostend, battering the fortifications there to bits in practically no time at all—while immense in their power of destruction, were still not a match for the longer range guns mounted by the British battleships. Consequently, long-range artillery duels in the north had been all in favor of British arms.
Terrific charges of the British troops, of whom there were now less than half a million—Scotch, Irish, Canadians and Indians included—on the continent, had driven the Germans from Dixmude, Ypres and Armentières, captured earlier in the war. Ostend had been shelled by the British fleet, and a show of force had been made in that vicinity, causing the Germans to believe that the Allies would attempt to reoccupy this important seaport.
Farther south the French also had met with some success. From within striking distance of Paris the invaders had been driven back to the Marne, and from the Marne to the northern and eastern shores of the Aisne.
But here the German line held.
The fighting along the Aisne, continuing without cessation, already had been the bloodiest in the history of wars; and here, the French on one side of the river, and the Germans on the other, the two great armies had proceeded to intrench, making themselves as comfortable as possible, and constructing huts and other substantial shelters against the icy hand of King Winter, who had come to rule over the battlefield.
The French cabinet, which had fled from Paris to Bordeaux when the German army drew close to Paris, had returned to the former capital, and affairs of state were being conducted as before. With several millions of fighting men at the front, France still had an additional two million to hurl into the thick of the fray at the psychological moment.
Recruiting in England, slow at first, was now beginning to be more satisfactory. Lord Kitchener had in the neighborhood of a million and a half men being trained and prepared for the rigors of war. These, also, would be hurled into the thick of the fight when the time was ripe.
It was plainly evident, however, that the Allies were content to hold their present lines. There was little doubt that it was their plan to let the real fighting be held off till spring, when, by hurling an additional three million men into the field, they believed they could settle German militarism once and for all.
Rumors of other countries joining in the great war grew more rife daily. Portugal already had given assurances that she would throw her army to the support of Great Britain should she be asked to do so. A great diplomatic coup—a great victory for British statesmanship—had cleared the way for the entrance of Rumania and Greece into the war on the side of the Allies. This coup had been to gain from Bulgaria assurances that Bulgaria would not go to the support of Germany should Rumania and Greece take up arms.
The Italian populace, also, was clamoring for war. In Rome demonstrations against Germany had become frequent and violent. It appeared to be only a question of time until Italy also would hurl her millions of trained fighting men into the field in support of the Allies.
From Ostend the great battle line extended due south to Noyen, where it branched off to the southeast. South of Noyen French soil had been almost cleared of the Germans. Alsace had in turn been invaded by the French, who had penetrated to within twelve miles of Strasbourg. The French troops also had progressed to within eight miles of Metz, in Lorraine.
The forward move by the southern army of France had been sudden, and the Germans had been forced to give way under the desperation and courage of the French troops.
Once before, in the earlier days of the war, the French had reached Metz and Strasbourg, but had been hurled back by overwhelming numbers of the enemy and forced to retreat well into France. Then the German line in Alsace and Lorraine had been weakened to hurl denser masses of Germans upon the British and Belgians in the north.
The French had not been slow to take advantage of this weakening of the southern army of the Kaiser, and, immediately bringing great pressure to bear, had cleared French territory of the invader in the south.
But the French commander did not stop with this. Alsace and Lorraine, French soil until after the Franco-Prussian war, when it had been awarded to Prussia as the spoils of war, must be recaptured. The French pressed on and the Germans gave way before them.
Meantime, in the Soissons region the French also had been making progress; but the Kaiser, evidently becoming alarmed by the great pressure being exercised by the French in Alsace-Lorraine—in order to relieve the pressure—immediately made a show of strength near Soissons, seeking thereby to cause the French to withdraw troops from Alsace-Lorraine to reënforce the army of the Soissons to stem the new German advance there.
Taken somewhat unawares by the suddenness of the German assault upon their lines near Soissons, the French were forced to give back. They braced immediately, however, and the succeeding day regained the ground lost in the first German assault.
Then the Germans made another show of strength at Verdun, southeast of Soissons. General Joffre immediately hurled a new force to the support of the French army at that point.
Meanwhile, as the result of the German assaults upon Soissons and
Verdun, in an effort to lessen the pressure being brought to bear by the
French in Alsace-Lorraine, there had been a lull in the fighting in the
latter regions.
Word from the eastern theater of war brought the news that Russia had a new big army advancing upon the Germans in Poland from the east, threatening to outflank the army that had penetrated to within fifty miles of Warsaw, the capital and chief city of Poland. This, it was taken, would mean that Germany would either have to retreat within her own borders into East Prussia, or else that troops would have to be dispatched from the west to reënforce those in the east.
In this event there was little doubt that General French and General Joffre would immediately order another allied advance along the entire front.
News of the utter annihilation of three Turkish army corps in the Caucasus by the Russians also cheered the British, French and Belgian troops, as did news that the Russians had cleared the way for their long-deferred invasion of Hungary, and, ultimately, of Austria.
So far, from the Allies' point of view, the one big disappointment of the war had been the inaction of the British and French fleets. True, several engagements of minor importance had been fought, chief of which was the sinking of a German fleet of five ships by a British squadron in the waters of the Pacific Ocean, off the coast of Argentina.
But the fact that the German fleet, although blockaded, after five months of the war had not been destroyed, was causing considerable adverse criticism in England and France. Several German sea raids—by cruisers and submarines which had successfully run the blockade—had caused condemnation of Great Britain's naval policy.
In spite of the fact that only in one instance had such a raid resulted in any serious damage, the British Admiralty had been roundly censured. Germany's policy of "whittling down" the British fleet, so that the Germans could give battle on even terms, while by no means successful thus far, had nevertheless considerably reduced the size of the English navy. Some of her first-class cruisers, and one formidable dreadnought had been sunk.
The French fleet in the Adriatic and in the Mediterranean had been equally as inactive, although a squadron of British and French ships even now was attempting to destroy the Turkish fortifications along the Dardanelles, that a passage of the straits might be forced. So far this, too, had been unsuccessful.
The fighting in France and Belgium, Alsace and Lorraine had now become a series of battles for the possession of the various trenches that had been dug. True, long-range artillery duels raged almost incessantly, but the mass of both armies lay in the trenches, now attacking and capturing the enemy's trenches, now being attacked and being driven out again.
Besides the artillery duels there were, of course, occasional skirmishes between the cavalry, some growing to the proportions of real battles. But the results of these had never been decisive. The mighty armies were gripped in a deadlock, and indications pointed to this deadlock being maintained until spring, when, with the disappearance of fierce snowstorms and the breaking up of the terrific cold, a decisive battle might be fought.
This was the situation up to date, when Hal and Chester, with the troop of cavalry, set out on a reconnaissance of the enemy's position on the first day of January, 1915.
CHAPTER III.
A SKIRMISH.
Surprised at the sudden fusillade, Hal and Chester drew taut the reins with their left hands, pulling their horses back on their haunches, while with their right hands they drew their revolvers. Behind them the troop came to an abrupt stop.
From the protection of the sand dunes then came a second volley, more deadly than the first, and four more British cavalrymen hit the ground.
Hal and Chester were inactive no longer.
"Forward!" cried Hal, and, setting spurs to his horse, he dashed forward, closely followed by Chester and his men.
As the British charged, the small body of Germans—only slightly larger than the British force—broke from their places of concealment and fled. The British rode rapidly after them with loud cries.
Before the enemy could scatter sufficiently to make good their escape, the British horsemen were upon them. Some turned to fight, and were shot down with revolver bullets, while others, who ran, were cut down by the heavy cavalry swords of the English.
To the right a score of Germans, in a body, turned to fight it out. Toward these dashed Hal and Chester, followed by twenty men. Hal, as he rode, emptied his automatic at this little body of the enemy and Chester did likewise. Then, their weapons empty, they were upon them with drawn swords.
A German revolver bullet struck Hal's horse and the animal fell; but by a quick leap Hal avoided being pinned under it, and hurled himself upon the enemy afoot. Quickly Chester checked his horse and springing to the ground dashed to his chum's side. The men behind them also dismounted and prepared to give battle afoot.
The two lads hurled themselves at the enemy without stopping to think. Hal's sword struck up the weapon of a German officer, and before the latter could recover his poise, the lad had run him through. Chester disposed of a second officer equally as rapidly.
From pursuit of the others, the rest of the troop had now returned and completely surrounded the little band of Germans. Hal lowered his sword, and, stepping back a pace, called upon the enemy to surrender.
"Never!" came the reply, followed by the German battle-cry: "Deutschland über alles!"
A revolver bullet tore a ragged hole through Hal's cap, and a second one passed just under his left arm.
But now the revolvers of the Germans were all empty, and the fighting continued with swords alone.
Into the very midst of the German squad the two lads hurled themselves. Cutting, slashing, parrying and thrusting, the Germans fought on doggedly. Now a man fell, then another, and still another, but still they would not yield until at last there were left but three. From these, at Hal's command, the British drew back to give them one more chance for life; but they would not take it, and the British closed in again.
"Well," said Chester, a few moments later, "it's all over."
"But they fought well and bravely," said Hal, returning his sword to its scabbard.
He looked around and took an account of his losses. Twelve British soldiers lay dead upon the ground, and a score of others were nursing their wounds—some serious, some only scratches. But there was no time to dress these wounds now. There was other work to do.
"Mount!" cried Hal.
The troop obeyed, and Hal sprang into the saddle of a riderless horse.
His sword flashed forth once more.
"Forward!" he cried.
The little troop set off at a gallop.
To the north could be caught occasional glimpses of the North Sea, as the sand dunes now and then permitted an unobstructed view. The party was at the extreme north of the long battle line that stretched away to the south, clear through Belgium and France.
For perhaps half an hour the troop rode rapidly on, but finally Hal called a halt. He listened attentively. There was no sound to break the stillness, other than the faint boom of heavy guns in the distance, telling that the long-range artillery duel, farther south, was still in progress.
But, as Hal was about to give the word for a further advance, from almost directly ahead, though still some distance away, came the sound of a single pistol shot. Just one shot; that was all. In vain did the lads strain their ears to catch a possible reply to the shot. None came.
Hal ordered his men to advance at a slow trot, and the troop moved forward once more.
Now they came to a woods. They advanced rapidly and the woods became less dense, and the darkness caused by the heavy overhanging trees gave way to more light. Hal again called a halt, and himself rode forward to investigate. Twenty yards ahead he came to a clearing in the woods, stretching out for a possible quarter of a mile.
In the very center of this clearing the lad made out a strange sight. His eyes fell upon a detachment of German troops—about fifty all told—dancing about what Hal finally made out to be a barn.
As Hal looked a sheet of flame sprang up. It was plain to the lad in an instant that the enemy had set the wooden structure afire.
"But why?" he muttered to himself.
The answer was not long coming.
From the barn, through a crack between the boards, issued a cloud of smoke, and even above the yells of the dancing Germans Hal made out the report of a revolver. One of the Germans stopped his antics and toppled to the ground to rise no more.
"Great Scott!" cried Hal aloud. "They are burning him up!"
Jerking his horse about, he dashed back to his men and again placed himself at their head. Chester ranged himself alongside.
In a few brief words Hal explained what he had seen, and then cried to his men:
"Forward! Charge!"
At a gallop the British covered the distance to the clearing, and then dashed toward the enemy as fast as their horses could go. As the sound of galloping hoofs was borne to the ears of the enemy, they stopped their dancing about the barn and fell into line to beat back the British.
The first line threw themselves to the ground. The second line fell to their knees, their rifles pointing over their prostrate comrades, while above them protruded the weapons of the third line, standing erect.
At a shouted word of command from Hal the British cavalry scattered, and bore down on the enemy from three directions. Here and there a rider dropped to the ground as a German bullet found its mark; but in spite of these losses and the withering German fire, the rest dashed on.
Right up to the muzzles of the German rifles the British charged, and leaning over their horses did terrible havoc among the enemy with downward sweeps of their heavy swords. They rode their horses right in among them, the hoofs of the chargers trampling the foe to death. Some sprang to their feet and darted toward the rear, only to encounter the British troopers who had ridden around behind them.
The engagement was short and decisive. Soon the majority of the Germans lay dead upon the ground, and at a cry of "Surrender!" from Chester, the rest now threw down their arms.
But the British had not escaped without great loss. Exposed to the fire of the enemy as they had charged upon the solid triple line of rifles, many had fallen. Less than half the original troop now remained, and of these at least half were wounded, though none seriously.
During the fight the flames that had enveloped the barn had gained great headway and were now raging fiercely. Hal looked quickly about for some sign of the man whom he knew had been within. He believed that the man must have come forth, when he was aware that assistance was at hand, for he realized that to remain in the burning structure would have probably meant death.
But in the troop he saw no sign of a stranger; nor had Chester nor any of the men seen anyone leave the barn.
"Great Scott! He'll burn to death in there!" Hal cried.
"Well, why didn't the big chump come out?" said Chester.
"Maybe he was hit by a bullet and killed," said Hal.
"Yes; or perhaps he is wounded, and unable to drag himself out," said Chester.
"By Jove!" said Hal. "I never thought of that!"
Quickly he unstrapped his sword belt and drew off his coat.
"What are you going to do?" cried Chester in alarm.
"I'm going in after him," replied Hal grimly.
"But you'll be killed!" expostulated Chester. "You couldn't live in that seething mass of flame!"
"Nevertheless, I am going to try and bring him out," said Hal quietly.
He drew his handkerchief from his pocket, and quickly wetting it from his canteen, tied it over his mouth and nose. Then, brushing aside the protests of Chester and the men, he plunged through the door of the burning building.
Inside he could dimly make out his surroundings. Quickly he scanned the floor for a sight of the occupant, but saw no sign of him. Then, at one side of the barn he made out a ladder, leading to a loft. He ran to it quickly, and as quickly mounted it to the floor above. Once more he turned his eyes upon the floor and peered about.
The heat was intense, and the lad now got his breath with difficulty, so dense was the smoke. He likewise realized that the floor, already blazing, must give way in a few moments, in which event he would be buried in the fiery ruins.
Glancing quickly about he saw there was no window nor opening from which he could jump. He must go out by the way he had come in.
Suddenly his eye lighted upon an object on the floor at the far end of the barn. Quickly he ran toward it and stooped over. The object was a figure of a man, lying upon his face, apparently unconscious. The lad wasted no time in thought. Exerting his utmost strength, he succeeded in hoisting the limp body across his shoulder.
Carrying his human burden he staggered to the ladder and began his descent. It was slow work, for the lad was near exhaustion. He realized that a slip would probably mean death, and in spite of the fact that he realized the necessity for haste, descended slowly.
At last his feet touched the bottom, and turning toward the open door he staggered on.
As he reached the open door the barn behind him collapsed with a terrible crash; but before he lapsed into unconsciousness he saw the face of the man he carried.
"Anderson!" he cried, and tumbled over in a dead faint.
CHAPTER IV.
CAPTAIN HARRY ANDERSON.
When Hal returned to consciousness he lay upon the hard ground and Chester was bending over him. Shifting his position slightly the lad saw what was left of his troop standing idly about. At the same moment he felt a hand grasp his and heard a well-known voice exclaim:
"I owe my life to you, Hal. It seems that you bob up wherever you are needed most."
Hal turned and gazed at the speaker. He was Captain Harry Anderson, of His British Majesty's Royal Dragoons, whom the lad had last seen in the hands of the Germans. Then the fight, the burning barn, and his recognition of Anderson just before he had lost consciousness, all came back to him in a flash, and he pressed the hand that grasped his.
"Lieutenant—I mean Captain Anderson!" he exclaimed. "I thought you were safe in the hands of the Germans."
The lad arose slowly to his feet, supported by the captain's arm. He staggered a trifle; but, after inhaling a few breaths of the cold, invigorating air, was soon himself again.
"And I," said Captain Anderson, answering Hal's exclamation, "thought you also were safe in the hands of the Germans."
"Well," said Hal, with a faint smile, "it seems that the enemy did wrong to believe they had any of us safely."
"It does, indeed," the captain smiled back; "but come, tell me how you escaped. I have asked Chester, but he has been so worried about you that he has failed to do so."
"We haven't time now," replied Hal. "We are on a reconnaissance, and must proceed immediately."
"It will be unnecessary," replied Anderson dryly. "I have just come from that way and am in a position to tell you, or General French, either, for that matter, all you desire to know."
"Are you sure?" asked Hal.
"Positive," replied the captain briefly.
"In that event," said Hal, "we may as well return, for we shall be wasting time and possibly sacrificing men, to linger here longer."
He turned to his men. "Mount!" he ordered.
The troop sprang to the saddle. Ordering them to face about, the lad commanded:
"Forward!"
The troop set off at a quick trot, Captain Anderson on a spare horse riding between Hal and Chester at their head.
"Now," said the captain, "you can tell me about yourselves as we ride along."
The two lads did so, and when he learned that the lads had seen active service in the eastern theater of war, the captain was greatly surprised.
"And still I shouldn't be surprised at anything you do or may do," he said. "You see I know you well."
"Come now, captain," said Chester, "tell us something of your own experiences."
"Well," said Anderson, "I have had about as strenuous a time as you can imagine, and I have been at the threshold of death more than once."
"Let's hear about it!" exclaimed Hal.
"You remember, of course," began the captain, "how we were captured, and how badly I was wounded? You remember, also, that we were separated in the German camp?"
The lads signified that they did, and the captain continued:
"All right, then. It seems that my wounds were more serious than was at first supposed. A fever set in, and my German physician told me that I was a dead man. I laughed at him. I told him I had too much work to do to die yet awhile. He wanted to know what that work was and I told him it was killing Germans. This made him angry, and—"
"I don't wonder," said Hal dryly.
"It's a wonder he didn't administer a dose of poison right then," said Chester.
"Yes," continued the captain, "it made him mad, and he informed me that I might as well die, because if I didn't I would be shot anyhow."
"Shot!" ejaculated Chester. "What for?"
"That's what I asked him. He replied that I had been declared a spy, and that I was to be put to death as soon as I was well enough to face a firing squad. He said they didn't want to do it while I was so ill."
"Very considerate of them," commented Hal.
"Just what I told the surgeon. Well, naturally, with this sentence hanging over my head I didn't get well any quicker than I had to. Every day I could feel myself getting better, but I pretended to get worse. I contracted all the ailments you ever heard of, and I was a sore puzzle to the surgeon. He had several others look me over, but they couldn't agree on what was the matter with me, although they did agree I was a very sick man and had only a few days to linger on this earth. Yet all this time, mind you, I was shamming and getting better every day."
"You must be a pretty good actor," said Chester.
"Well, I'm not so bad," replied Captain Anderson modestly. "But to continue. I finally became afflicted with St. Vitus' dance, and later with a queer ailment that wouldn't allow me to keep still. I'd hop out of bed and wander about, with the surgeons or nurses on my heels, and then I'd fall down in a fit. This continued for several days, and finally they became tired of following me about, figuring, I suppose, that a man in my condition couldn't go very far, anyhow."
"This was what I had been waiting for, but I didn't put the plan I had decided upon into execution at once. I waited for a good chance. At last, it came. The surgeon was a young chap and smooth shaven, which was lucky for me. Also he was about my build, and there was some slight resemblance between us. This day he was with me alone. Not a soul was present save us two. As he turned his back to look into his medicine case, I struck him heavily in the back of the neck.
"He toppled over without a sound. Quickly I exchanged clothes with him and put his body in my bed, after which I picked up his case and walked boldly out of the hospital."
"Great Scott!" cried Chester. "You had plenty of nerve!"
"Well," continued the captain, "no one interfered with me and I walked about at will. I kept edging closer and closer to the firing line, figuring that I would make a break for liberty at the first opportunity. It came sooner than I expected.
"There had been a big battle, and all surgeons and nurses were rushed to the front to look after the wounded. I went along. The battle was over, and we immediately went forth to attend to the wounded. Again I went along, only this time I didn't stop going. When I figured I was far enough ahead I broke into a run.
"But I wasn't to get away so easily. A surgeon who had been near me saw me take to my heels, and instead of attending to the wounded as he should have done, he raised an alarm. Immediately a troop of horsemen dashed after me. I managed to reach a little woods directly ahead of me in safety and climbed up a tree. The Germans were unable to find me, so when night came I descended from my perch and continued my journey.
"Soon after daylight I came upon a house, where I asked for food. I still wore the German surgeon's uniform, and here this worked to my disadvantage."
"How was that?" asked Chester.
"It seems that the family were Belgians, and I hadn't thought of that. They gave me food and drink all right, but they spilled a little drug of some kind in the drink. The next thing I knew I was bound and gagged and was looking down the muzzle of a revolver held by a ferocious-looking Belgian peasant. He informed me my time had come. I told him I was English, and explained my capture and escape. He listened patiently, but when I finished he informed me that he wasn't going to take any chances. I had just five minutes to live, he said."
"Great Scott!" cried Hal. "That was pretty close. How did you escape?"
"More by good luck than anything else," was the reply. "There was some kind of a noise behind the peasant and he turned to investigate. At that moment I kicked out with my foot and the toe of my boot caught him squarely under the chin. He went down with a thump. I don't know whether I killed him or not."
"But how did you free your hands?" asked Hal.
"Well, I had quite a little trouble, but I managed to drag my chair over to the fire, and held my hands over the blaze until the cord was burned."
"And didn't you burn your hands?"
"A little," was the quiet response; "but it had to be done. Then I untied my legs and removed the gag, after which I took to my heels as fast as I could. I didn't care for any more Belgian hospitality to one who wore a German uniform.
"In the road I came upon a dead British soldier. I took his uniform and discarded that of the German surgeon. I now began to feel that I was reasonably safe, and I lay down at night and slept like a log, in spite of the cold.
"I was awakened a little before daylight by the sounds of approaching footsteps. I saw the marchers before they saw me, but still not quite quick enough. They were the same men from whose hands you rescued me only a short while ago.
"I had been confined in that hospital so long that I was still somewhat weak and I couldn't run fast enough to get away from them. I tried, but it was no use. Then I took a couple of shots at them, and got two or three, I think. I'm not sure, though. Anyhow, I saw this barn ahead, and dashed into it, figuring that I might possibly hold them off.
"When they set fire to the barn, and I realized I couldn't get out, I gave up. I did shoot one through a crack, but a moment later a shot came through and caught me in the side. That's the last I remember until I returned to consciousness and learned that you had saved me."
"Well," said Chester, "you certainly have had an eventful time."
"There is no question about that," Hal agreed. "But how do you feel now, captain?"
"Tip top. And you?"
"First rate."
The troop continued at a trot, and Hal now believed that they were out of danger—that there was no likelihood of encountering a force of the enemy—and turned to his friends, remarking:
"Well, we might as well—Hello!"
He broke off suddenly and checked the pace of his horse.
"What's up?" demanded Chester, doing likewise.
For answer Hal pointed down the road. A man was approaching them at a dead run.
CHAPTER V.
ANTHONY STUBBS, WAR CORRESPONDENT.
"Now, what in the name of all that's wonderful do you suppose is the matter with him?" ejaculated Chester.
Hal shrugged his shoulders expressively.
"You've got me," he admitted; "but by the look of him he's not running for fun."
"Right," agreed Captain Anderson; "but whatever is on his trail will have to travel pretty lively to catch him. Look at him come!"
As the stranger dashed toward them, head hanging and arms working like pistons, the three friends suddenly broke into a loud laugh. A more comical-looking specimen of humanity would be hard to imagine. The friends looked him over carefully as he came on.
Large he was, there could be no mistake about that, but he seemed to be about as wide as he was long. Hal and Chester took in his dimensions with an appraising eye. Stout and chubby, he must have weighed all of 200 pounds, and his height, the lads saw, could not be more than five feet four.
As he tore down the road as fast as his peculiar build would permit, he did not once raise his head, and therefore did not perceive the British troops in his path. The lads could see that his face was red, and that he was puffing and snorting from lack of breath. Not perceiving the men who barred his path, he would have dashed right in among them had not Hal brought him to a sudden stop with a word of command.
"Halt!" he cried.
With a gasp of amazement the man halted and gazed at the British as though bewildered. One look he gave them and then exclaimed in a shrill piping voice, in English:
"You are surrounded! Run, Anthony, run!"
He suited the action to the word, and, turning in his tracks, ran, puffing and blowing, in the direction from which he had come.
In spite of his merriment at this comical sight, Hal put spurs to his horse and dashed after him. The others did likewise. Hearing the sounds of pursuit, the little stout man redoubled his efforts and puffed on like an engine.
Hal ranged his horse alongside of him, and, restraining his laughter, shouted in a stern tone:
"Halt! or you are a dead man!"
The little man needed no further warning. He stopped so quickly that Hal rode on beyond him, while those behind were able to check their horses barely in time to keep from riding over him.
Hal leaped to the ground, and stood over the stranger, who lay panting on the earth where he had fallen the moment he stopped running.
"Who are you?" demanded Hal. "What are you doing here?"
The little man struggled in vain to reply; but he gasped so wildly for breath that for a moment he was unable to utter a word. Then, as he still panted, his eye fell upon the uniforms of the British troopers. He was on his feet in a moment.
"I thought you were Germans!" he exclaimed. "Great Caesar's ghost! I didn't think I could run another step, but I did; and here I was running from you fellows. What do you mean by chasing an American citizen down the road?"
He paused and glared at Hal wrathfully. The latter could control his merriment no longer, and burst into a hearty laugh. The others did likewise.
The little man drew himself up indignantly.
"I say!" he exclaimed, "what are you fellows laughing at me for?"
Hal ceased laughing, and his face took on a stern expression.
"Who are you?" he asked briefly. "A spy, eh?"
"A spy! Me a spy?" exclaimed the man. "Great Caesar's ghost, no;
I'm no spy."
"Who are you, then?" demanded Hal.
The stranger drew himself up to his full height—and he was still almost as broad as he was long, folded his arms and said proudly:
"I am Anthony Stubbs, sir, war correspondent of the New York Gazette, sir; and I am here in search of news."
"News, eh?" said Hal. "It is my belief that you are in search of information to turn over to the Germans."
"You are mistaken, sir," replied Anthony, somewhat uncomfortably, the lads could see. "I assure you on the honor of a Stubbs that I am what I represent myself to he."
Hal could keep a straight face no longer. So comical was the little man in his ruffled dignity that the boy was forced to laugh.
"All right, Mr. Stubbs," he said at last, "I believe you; but tell me, what were you running from when you bumped into us?"
"I wasn't running, sir," was the reply. "I heard a large force of the enemy in a field just out of the woods, and I was merely hurrying to a place where I could get a look at them."
"Well, you were hurrying at a pretty good gait," said Hal. "But tell me, is the enemy in force?"
"I didn't see any of them," said Stubbs, "but by the sounds of their horses' hoofs, I should say they were in force, sir."
"Where?" demanded Hal, somewhat anxiously.
"Straight ahead, sir," replied Stubbs, pointing down the road.
"We thank you, Mr. Stubbs," said Hal, "and we shall now leave you to gather your news while we proceed to reconnoiter."
"And leave me here?" cried Stubbs.
"Why, certainly. You are paid to get the news for your paper, are you not?"
"But I'm not paid to be shot by the Germans," replied Stubbs vehemently.
"Take me with you."
How much truth there was in Stubbs' account of a large force of the enemy approaching, Hal, of course, did not know. But the little man appeared so greatly worried that Hal was moved to motion him to one of the spare horses, which had followed the troop.
Stubbs clambered into the saddle with difficulty, and, once astride the animal, he maneuvered so as to get right in among the British cavalrymen, who smiled tolerantly as they surrounded him. Then, at a word from Hal, the troop moved forward at a slow trot.
They rode for perhaps fifteen minutes, and so far Hal had seen no signs of an enemy, nor was there any evidence that a large force had passed that way recently. He turned to Stubbs.
"I see no sign of the enemy," he said. "Where were they?"
Stubbs motioned to the left.
"Beyond the woods, there, in an open field," he replied. "I didn't see them, but I heard 'em, all right. They are probably lying in ambush, and we shall all be killed."
Hal halted his men, and, dismounting, plunged into the woods to investigate. At the edge of the woods he came upon a field, and there he saw the "enemy" or at least what had caused Stubbs' fright. He broke into a loud laugh, and hurried back.
"I have found the enemy," he said quietly. "Come, men, I shall show them to you."
All dismounted, and Hal led the way, Stubbs following protestingly. At the edge of the woods Hal stopped, and, taking Stubbs by the arm, led him forward.
"There," he said, pointing, "is the enemy; and I don't believe they chased you very far."
Stubbs looked and gasped, then mumbled:
"I wonder, I wonder—"
For the objects upon which his eyes rested, the movements of which had sent him scurrying down the road in fear for his life, were nothing more than a drove of about a dozen sheep, which, thrashing about in the field, had led Stubbs to suspect the presence of the Germans.
Stubbs, after the one look, turned and strode majestically to where the horses had been left. The laughter of the troopers rankled in his ears and his face was a dull red. He was mounted when Hal, Chester and the others returned.
"Stubbs," said Hal, as they rode forward again, "you could have whipped all those fellows yourself."
"Well," replied Stubbs, "they might have been Germans."
He lapsed into silence.
Night was fast falling when the British came in sight of a little house, and Hal decided that they would stop there and commandeer something to eat. Accordingly they rode up to the door, where Hal, before dismounting, hailed those within with a shout.
A woman appeared in the door, and learning what the British required, invited them to dismount and enter. This they did, and soon sat down to a substantial repast, Stubbs with them. The war correspondent now became talkative, and entertained with an account of his adventures.
Upon learning that Hal and Chester were American lads, the little man's pleasure knew no bounds.
"I knew it!" he exclaimed. "I knew it the minute I set eyes on you."
"Perhaps that is why you were in such a hurry to get back down the road," said Chester.
"No, no," was the reply. "I knew you were Americans, but I feared, for the moment, that you might be fighting with the Germans."
"Well," said Chester shortly, "I don't imagine you will find many
Americans in the German ranks."
"I want to tell you boys," said Stubbs, "that I appreciate your saving me from falling into the hands of the enemy, where I might have been kept a prisoner for years."
"We didn't save you from anything," said Hal.
"I know, I know," said Stubbs, "but you might have done so. I want to tell you that I appreciate it and that Anthony Stubbs is your friend for life; and the friendship of such a man is not to be laughed at."