Read Army Boys on the Firing Line; or, Holding Back the German Drive Page 8

  CHAPTER VIII

  FRYING-PAN TO FIRE

  The third day of Tom's captivity had been more trying than the two thatpreceded it.

  A new piece of woodland had been ordered to be cleared and, as therewas a scarcity of labor, Tom had been taxed to even a greater degreethan usual. By the time night came, he was feeling utterly exhaustedand ready to drop.

  But dusk brought him little relief, for he was told that he must keepon by lantern light until ten o'clock, before he would be permitted tostop.

  His troubles were aggravated by the fact that this afternoon a changeof guards had brought him under the control of an especially brutal onewho made his life a burden by abuse.

  His guard had ordered him into a thick part of the woods where the highunderbrush cut them off from the sight of other working parties ahundred yards away. Here the German had seated himself comfortably ona fallen tree while he watched his prisoner toil, occasionally hurlinga threat or epithet at him.

  The guard's watch was out of order, and he had borrowed a small clockfrom the mess room in order to know when the time came to report withhis prisoner at quarters. He had placed the clock in the light of thelantern and kept looking at it frequently and yawning. It was plainthat he would welcome the hour that released him from his monotonousduty.

  The night was warm and the guard's gun was heavy. He stood it againstthe tree, but within instant reach, and unbuckled his belt.

  In working around the tree, Tom's foot as though by accident knockedagainst the clock and it fell over on its face. The guard thundered acurse against his awkwardness, and stooped down to pick it up.

  Quick as thought Tom picked up the heavy lantern and brought itcrashing down on the German's head. The next instant his hands were onthe German's throat.

  The struggle was brief, for the German at his best would have been nomatch for the young American. Tom had soon choked him intounconsciousness, and when he felt the man become limp beneath him herelaxed his hold.

  He tied the German's hands with his belt and gagged him securely. Thelantern had gone out with the blow and he did not dare to relight it.Darkness was now his best friend.

  His eyes fell on the clock. It had done him good service, but now wasof no further use to him. But a second thought made him pick it up andput it in his blouse.

  He had no compass, but the clock would do in a pinch. His woodcrafthad taught him how the hands of a clock could find for him the cardinalpoints. More than once his watch in more peaceful times had done him asimilar service.

  The first thing necessary was to put as wide a distance as possiblebetween himself and the place where he now was. Afterwards he couldfigure out how to regain his own lines. By ten o'clock at latest hisattack on the guard would be discovered. He must be miles away beforethen, or his life would not be worth a cent.

  His impulse was to take the German's gun, but he discarded the thoughtat once. His only salvation lay in hiding. The gun would count fornothing among the innumerable foes that surrounded him. It was heavyand cumbrous, and would only retard his progress through the woods. Hemust travel light if he would travel fast.

  He gathered up some fragments of food left from the lunch that theguard had been munching and tucked them in his pocket. Then like ashadow he slipped away through the woods.

  From what he had seen and bits of information that he had picked upfrom other prisoners, some of whom were Frenchmen and knew the countrywell, Tom had a pretty good idea of the lay of the land. He knew thatthe country was rolling, with here and there a range of hills that rosealmost to the dignity of mountains. Here there ought to be plenty ofhiding places where he could stay while he planned a way to get acrossthe lines.

  Of course his route would be within the German lines for miles. Butthe inhabitants were in sympathy with the Allied cause, prisoners inalmost as great a degree as he himself had been, and he might findamong them aid and comfort, though such assistance if discovered wouldbe sure to be visited with hard punishment by the German oppressors.

  The way was full of difficulties and almost every step would beattended by danger. But for the present at least he was free. Free!The word had never appealed to him so strongly before. He drew ingreat draughts of the mountain air. They seemed in a way to cleansehis lungs from the prison taint.

  For what seemed to him hours he never slackened his pace. Many timeshe stumbled in the darkness and his body was full of bruises, but inthe joy of his recovered freedom, he scarcely felt the pain. On hewent and on until he felt certain he had placed a safe distance betweenhimself and the scene of his recent captivity.

  To be sure, the German command had other things to rely on than merephysical pursuit. There were the long arms of the telegraph andtelephone, through which every division on the sector might be warnedto be on the lookout for him. But it was wholly unlikely that thiswould be done. On the eve of the great drive, the authorities were toobusy to expend their energies on the recapture of an escaped prisoner.Even if he should fall into the hands of another body of his enemies,it was unlikely that they would know anything of his recent exploit.

  So with body tired after his strenuous exertions, but with his mind asmuch at rest as it could be under the circumstances, Tom threw himselfdown at last to take a brief rest under the shadow of a giant beech.

  The sun streaming through the branches woke him a little later. For amoment he did not know where he was and lay trying to get his thoughtsin order. Then it all came back to him with a rush and he sprang tohis feet and looked about him.

  There was nothing in sight to alarm him. The place seemed to be wildand unvisited. A squirrel sat in the boughs over his head chatteringhis surprise and perhaps his displeasure at the sight of the intruder.A chipmunk slipped along a grassy ridge and vanished in theundergrowth. Birds sang their welcome to a new day. Everything abouthim spoke of peace and serenity. It seemed as though there were nosuch thing as war in the world.

  Yet even while this thought lingered with him there came a discordantnote in the booming of a distant gun. But it seemed far off and thoughother guns soon swelled the menacing chorus there seemed to be noimmediate cause for alarm.

  A little way off from where he had slept, a small brook wound its waythrough the sedge grass. Tom welcomed it with a grin, for he had nothad a bath since he had been captured.

  In a moment he had undressed and plunged into the brook. The water wasscarcely deeper than his waist, but its coolness was like balm to Tom'sbruised and heated body. When he resumed his clothing he feltinfinitely strengthened and refreshed.

  The young soldier worked his way into a dense thicket as a measure ofprecaution, before he ate the remnants of food that he had carried awaywith him the night before. It was a meager breakfast and he could haveeaten four times as much if he had had it. But even crumbs weregrateful to him in his famished condition.

  He had just finished when an ominous sound fell on his ears. Voicesmingled with the tread of feet and the clank of weapons. He lookedthrough the bushes and saw a squad of soldiers wearing helmets comingover a little rise of ground beyond where he lay concealed.

  He counted them as they came into view. There were at least fortyGermans going along in loose marching order. They might have been apatrol out for scout duty or, what was more likely, a foraging party.

  He had scarcely established their numbers when on the other side of thethicket and not more than fifty feet away another squad of Germans cameinto view. They apparently belonged to the same party, but hadseparated somewhat from the others, probably for more ease in marching.

  They seemed to have come from some distance for they were warm andperspiring. The sight of the brook was refreshing, and after a briefconference between the lieutenant in command and a sergeant, the orderwas given to break ranks, and the men threw themselves down insprawling attitudes for a rest under the trees.

  Tom's heart was in his mouth. What kind of a trick was fate playing onhim? Was this to
be the end of his heartbreaking struggle, his wildflight through the woods? Was he to get just a tantalizing glimpse ofliberty to have it immediately snatched from him? At that moment hetasted the bitterness of death.

  How lucky it was, though, that he had sought refuge in that thicketbefore he commenced his breakfast. There was still a chance. The menwere tired and would not be likely to wander about. They were only tooglad of a chance to rest.

  He burrowed deeper and deeper into the recesses of the thicket. He layas close to the ground as possible. What would he have given for thefriendly shelter of a trench!

  The men conversed lazily together while the officer sat some distanceapart. At times the Germans' eyes rested carelessly on Tom's shelter,but without any sign of suspicion.

  At last the order came to resume the march, and Tom drew an immensesigh of relief. A few minutes more and they would be gone.

  The men had formed in loose marching order and the lieutenant liftedhis hand to give the signal.

  Suddenly a loud ringing came from the center of the thicket, whirring,rattling, clanging.

  _The time-piece Tom was carrying was an alarm clock!_