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Page 13
"One of whom I liked."
"He looks like a good fellow," said Wharton. "I'm glad you saved him.
Rub his hands while I give him a taste of this."
John and Carstairs rubbed his palms until he opened his eyes, when
Wharton put a flask to his lips and made him drink. He groaned again and
tried to sit up.
"Just you lie still, Herr Katzenellenbogen," said Wharton. "You're in
the hands of your friends, the enemy, but we're saving your life or
rather it's been done already by the man on your left; name, John Scott;
nationality, American; service, French."
Captain Colton appeared and threw a white light with his own electric
torch upon the little group.
"What have you there?" he asked.
"Young German who lay groaning too near the edge of our trench," replied
Carstairs. "Scott couldn't stand it, so he went out and brought him in.
Fancy his name is Katzenellenbogen, Kaiserslautern, Hohenfriedberg, or
something else short and simple."
Captain Colton permitted himself a grim smile.
"Your act of mercy, Scott, does honor to you," he said, "though it's no
part of your business to get yourself killed helping a wounded enemy.
Bring him round, then send him to hospital in rear."
He walked on, continuing his inspection of the Strangers although sure
that no other attack would be made that night, and the three young men
applied themselves with renewed energy to the revival of their injured
captive. Wharton cut the uniform away from his shoulder and, after
announcing that the bullet had gone entirely through, bound up the two
wounds with considerable skill. Then he gave him another but small drink
out of the flask and, as they saw the color come back into his face,
they felt all the pleasure of a surgeon when he sees his efforts
succeed. The boy glanced at his shoulder, and then gave the three a
grateful look.
"You're all right," said Carstairs cheerfully in English. "You're guest
or prisoner, whichever you choose to call it and we three are your
hosts or captors. My name is Carstairs and these two assistants of mine
are Wharton and Scott, distant cousins, that is to say, Yankees. It was
Scott who saved you."
The boy smiled faintly. He was in truth handsome with a delicate
fairness one did not see often among the Germans, who were generally
cast in a sterner mold.
"And I am Leopold Kratzek," he replied in good English.
"Kratzek," said John. "Ah, you're an Austrian. Now I remember there's an
Austrian field-marshal of that name."
"He is my father but he is in the East. My regiment was sent with an
Austrian corp to the western front. It seems that I am in great luck. My
wound is not mortal, but I should certainly have frozen to death out
there if one of you had not come for me."
"Scott went, of course," said Carstairs. "He's an American and naturally
a tuft-hunter. He's been making a long list of princely acquaintances
recently, and he was bound to bring in the son of a field-marshal and
make a friend of him, too."
"Shut up, Carstairs," said John. "You talk this way to hide your own
imperfections. You know that at heart every Englishman is a snob."
"Snobby is as snobby does," laughed Carstairs. "Now, Kratzek, lie back
again and we'll spread these blankets over you."
The young Austrian smiled.
"I've fallen into very good company," he said.
John, whose character was serious, felt some sadness as he looked at
him. He remembered those gay Viennese who had set the torch of the great
war, and how merry they were over it with their visions of quick victory
and glory. Poor, gay, likable, light-headed Austrians! Brave but
short-sighted, they were likely to suffer more than any other nation!
The fair, handsome youth, wrapped now in the blankets, seemed to him to
typify all the Austrian qualities.
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