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Page 38
"We can do so now, and the moon is coming out, too. Heavens, Mr. Scott,
it's come too soon, because it shows us to the enemy!"
He pointed with a long and shaking finger. At the far end of the street
a massive German column was emerging into view. John was startled.
"These are no raiders!" he exclaimed. "They must have broken through a
portion of our lines and are attempting to flank other positions! But
Chastel's hospitality for us is ended."
He put on full speed and drove the machine rapidly through the snow
toward the river.
"We've another reason now why we should reach the camp!" he exclaimed.
"Our people must be warned of the presence of the Germans in force in
Chastel!"
There was a crash of rifle fire and bullets struck all about them. Two
or three glanced off the side of the machine itself, which a moment or
two later ran into a deep drift and stuck there, panting.
Weber sprang out and threw himself flat in the snow. John instinctively
did the same, and the second volley fired with better aim riddled the
machine. There was a heavy explosion, it turned on its side, its wheels
revolving for a moment or two, and then it lay still, like a dying
monster.
John sprang to his feet and rushed for the shelter of a building only a
few yards away. He saw Weber's shadow flitting by his side, but when he
reached cover he found that he had lost him. Doubtless in the excitement
of the moment the Alsatian had found hiding elsewhere. He was sorry that
they had become separated, but Weber had a great ability to take care of
himself, and John was quite sure that he would escape. The task that
lay upon him now was to make good his own flight.
The building, the shelter of which he had reached, was a low brick
structure, already much damaged by shells and shrapnel. But the walls
were thick enough to protect him for the moment from bullets, and
flinging himself down in the deep snow he crouched in the shadow until
he could regain sufficient breath for further flight. He heard more
shots fired, but evidently random triggers only had been pulled, as no
bullet struck near him.
The fall of snow ceased almost entirely, and the moon grew brighter and
brighter. Chastel was a vast white ruin, tinted with silver, and as such
it had an uncanny beauty of its own. But John, thankful that the snow
was so deep, lay buried in it, where it had drifted against the wall.
The Germans in a town so near the French lines were not likely to make a
diligent search for a single man, and he felt that he was safe if he did
not freeze to death.
Peeping above the snow he saw about fifty German infantrymen walk down
the road toward the river, their heavy boots crunching in the snow. They
were stalwart, ruddy fellows, boys of twenty-one or two--he knew now
that boys did most of the world's fighting--and he liked their simple,
honest faces. He felt anew that he did not hate the German people;
instead he felt friendship for them, but he did hate more intensely than
ever the medieval emperors and the little group of madmen about them
who, almost without warning, could devote millions to slaughter. An
intense democrat in the beginning and becoming more intense in the
furnace of war, he believed that the young German peasants coming down
the road would have much more chance before the Judgment Seat than the
princes and generals who so lightly sent them there.
The soldiers went on a little distance beyond the edge of the town. The
cessation of the snow and the brilliant moonlight enabled them to see
far into the plain below, where the hospital camp lay. John, looking in
the same direction, saw little wisps of smoke rising above the blur of
the camp, but the distance was too great for him to detect anything
else.
The low note of the trumpet called to the young troops, and they turned
back into the town. John rose from his covert, brushed the snow from his
clothing, beat his chest with his fists, and increased the circulation
which would warm his body anew. Then he stood against the wall
listening. He had no doubt that the Germans would go away
presently--there was nothing to keep them in Chastel--and he made a
sudden shift in his plans. He would go back to the Hotel de l'Europe,
and stay there until day. Lannes would surely come in the morning. He
had no doubt that at daybreak he would see the lithe and sinuous figure
of the _Arrow_ shooting down from the blue depths, and then he and her
brother would go away in search of Julie. Looking down from the air and
traveling at almost unbelievable speed, their chances of finding
Auersperg's party would be a hundred times better than if he merely
prowled along on the ground.
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