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Page 62
The Marne is not a wide river, and a few powerful pulls at the oars sent
them near to the landing. But at that moment a shell whistled through
the air, plunged into the water and exploded practically beneath the
boat.
John was hurled upward in a gush of foam and water, and then, when he
dropped back, the Marne received him in its bosom.
CHAPTER VIII
THE SPORT OF KINGS
John Scott, who was suffering from his second immersion in a French
river, came up with mouth, eyes and nose full of water. The stream
around him was crowded with men swimming or with those who had reached
water shallow enough to permit of wading. As well as he could see, the
shell had done no damage besides giving them a huge bath, of which every
one stood in much need.
But he had a keen and active mind and it never worked quicker than it
did now. He had thought his chance for escape might come in the
confusion of a hurried crossing, and here it was. He dived and swam down
the stream toward the willows that lined the bank. When he could hold
his breath no longer he came up in one of the thickest clumps. The water
reached to his waist there, and standing on the bottom in all the
density of willows and bushes he was hidden thoroughly from all except
watchful searchers. And who would miss him at such a time, and who, if
missing, would take the trouble to look for him while the French cannon
were thundering upon them and a perilous crossing was to be made?
It was all so ridiculously easy. He knew that he had nothing to do but
stand close while the men pulled themselves out of the river and the
remaining boats made their passage. For further protection he moved into
water deep enough to reach to his neck, while he still retained the
cover of the willows and bushes. Here he watched the German troops pass
over, and listened to the heavy cannonade. He soon noted that the
Germans, after crossing, were taking up strong positions on the other
side. He could tell it from the tremendous artillery fire that came from
their side of the Marne.
John now found that his position, while safe from observation, was far
from comfortable. The chill of the water began to creep into his bones
and more shells struck unpleasantly near. Another fell into the river
and he was blinded for a moment by the violent showers of foam and
spray. He began to feel uneasy. If the German and French armies were
going to fight each other from the opposing sides of the Marne he would
be held there indefinitely, either to be killed by a shell or bullet or
to drown from cramp.
But time passed and he saw no chance of leaving his watery lair. The
chill went further into his bones. He was lonesome too. He longed for
the companionship of Fleury, and he wondered what had become of him. He
sincerely hoped that he too had reached a covert and that they should
meet again.
No rumbling came from the bridge below, and, glancing down the stream,
John saw that it was empty. There must be many other bridges over the
Marne, but he believed that the German armies had now crossed it, and
would devote their energy to a new attack. He was squarely between the
lines and he did not see any chance to escape until darkness.
He looked up and saw a bright sun and blue skies. Night was distant, and
so far as he was concerned it might be a year away. If two armies were
firing shells directly at a man they must hit him in an hour or two, and
if not, a polar stream such as the Marne had now become would certainly
freeze him to death. He had no idea French rivers could be so cold. The
Marne must be fed by a whole flock of glaciers.
His teeth began to chatter violently, and then he took stern hold of
himself. He felt that he was allowing his imagination to run away with
him, and he rebuked John Scott sternly and often for such foolishness.
He tried to get some warmth into his veins by jumping up and down in the
water, but it was of little avail. Yet he stood it another hour. Then he
made one more long and critical examination of the ground.
Shells were now screaming high overhead, but nobody was in sight. He
judged that it was now an artillery battle, with the foes perhaps three
or four miles apart, and, leaving the willows, he crept out upon the
bank. It was the side held by the Germans, but he knew that if he
attempted to swim the river to the other bank he would be taken with
cramps and would drown.
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