IV
"Milosh Nikovich, this is a good day, old friend," said old Marco, as hereleased the prisoner.
"A good day indeed, Marco Kralevich. But I am amazed. Who is he thatdealt with the German?"
"Hand me that rope, if you please," came from Burton in French. "Claspyour hands behind, sir," he added to the German, in English.
"You shpeak to me!" spluttered that irate officer. "Know you zat I aman officer, a captain of ze 59th Brandenburger Regiment? It is not fitzat I haf my hands bounden."
"You must allow me to judge of that, sir," remarked Burton, with a quietsmile.
"No, I protest. I refuse; it is insolence. You captivate me, zat istrue; you seize me ven I look ze ozer vay; zat is not vat you callshport. But I gif you my parole----"
"I can't accept it, sir."
"Ze parole of a German officer----"
"It's no good talking, captain," Burton interposed, bluntly. "The wordof a German has no value just now. If you do not submit quietly I shallhave to use force. No doubt you will be released when you are safe inthe British lines. Come now!"
Amid a copious flow of guttural protestation the captain allowed hishands to be tied behind him.
"I felt rather sorry for the chap," said Burton to Enderby afterwards."He looked a decent fellow as Germans go, and perhaps I did him aninjustice. But, being a German, we can't trust him; and we can't affordto take risks."
While he was engaged in securing his prisoner, the two Serbs had beenconversing rapidly. Old Marco came up to him, and took him apart.
"We have gained time at least, monsieur," he said. "My friend MiloshNikovich tells me that the others are remaining in the tower for thenight; the main body is not expected until the morning."
"That will give us a chance to slip past in the darkness--if only yourwheels didn't groan so. Stay! I have some vaseline in my wallet, Ithink; we can grease them with that. It's nearly four o'clock, I see;the mist is rising; that will help us. I suppose, by the way, theBulgars in the tower will not expect this German to return?"
The old man spoke to his compatriot.
"He does not know," he said.
"Then we shall have to look out. Luckily the sun is going down; theycan't heliograph any more; and it will be impossible for the peopleabove to see the track through the mist, so they won't know that thehorsemen have been checked. If the air had been clear they wouldcertainly have become suspicious on failing to catch sight of the partyon open stretches behind us. With luck we shall get through. What werethey doing with your friend?"
The old Serb repeated what Milosh had told him during their colloquy.His village had been raided; most of the inhabitants had been massacredby the Bulgars; he himself had been impressed as guide, and forced tolead the patrol to the tower, which they knew by hearsay, thoughignorant of the hill-track that led directly to it.
"I reproached him for his weakness," added the old man apologetically."He ought to have refused to act as guide. Better that a Serb shouldhave allowed himself to be shot. But a man does not always see clearly;he has a family--who are safe, praise to the Highest!"
"But why did they wish to reach the tower?"
"It commands the country for many miles. They could see from it theforces of your brave countrymen. Without doubt they signalled what theyhad discovered, and I suspect that to-morrow a force of light cavalrywill come this way to fall on their flank at the cross-roads below."
"That is one reason the more for getting through. We must do itto-night. You know the country, my friend; we must act on your advice."
Since no move could be made until it was quite dark, they sat down onthe rocks and took a meal, eating sparingly of their provisions as amatter of prudence. Who could tell what the night and the morrow wouldbring forth?
The Englishmen were amused at young Marco, who, munching a wheat-cake,solemnly watched their every movement, and eyed longingly the sandwichesthey took from their tin. Burton beckoned him forward and gave him asandwich. The boy took it, hesitated a moment, then shyly offered hiswheat-cake in exchange, and ran back to his mother.
"I'm afraid you're in great pain, poor old chap!" said Burton, noticingthe pallor and drawn expression of Enderby's features.
"Oh, that's all right. I can stick it out. I rather fancy our Germanfriend feels worse. It must be horribly galling to his nobility.What's his name'?"
The German was sitting apart, moodily gnawing his moustache. Burtonwent over to him, loosed his hands, and offered him a sandwich and hisflask. The former he accepted with a sort of unwilling graciousness;the latter he declined.
"Your visky I drink not; I haf in my own flask goot German vine. Youpermit me?" he asked, ironically.
"Of course. It isn't whisky, by the way. May I ask your name?"
"It is Captain von Hildenheim. I am not pleased. Zis is not zehandling zat is vorth a German officer. Vunce more--
"Sorry. We can't have it all over again. You must make the best of it.It won't be for long."
"No, zat is true; it vill not be for long," returned the German with aslight smile.
"He evidently thinks we shall be collared to-night or to-morrow," saidBurton, when, having bound his prisoner again, he returned to Enderby."Have you got a cigarette in your case? Mine's empty."
He sat by his friend, smoking in silence, meditating as he watched thewreaths mingling with the mist in the growing darkness. Presently he gotup, and went to the spot where the Serbs were grouped. Young Marco,wrapped in a rug, was already asleep on the cart.
"What about this tower?" he asked the grandfather. "How is it placed?What is its strength and its state of repair? I don't ask idly; an ideaoccurred to me just now."
"I know it well," answered the old man. "Twenty years ago I held itduring a Bulgar comitadji raid. It stands on a spur on the hill-top.The track passes not far beneath it. On two sides the ground forms asort of glacis. The tower is solidly built of stone; it has twostoreys. What is its condition, Milosh Nikovich? It is twenty yearssince I was there."
"It is strong and sound, Marco Kralevich, except inside. They took meonly into the lower room. The woodwork was rotted away, or perhaps someof it has been removed."
"Yes, it may be so. In the last war the Greeks held it for a timeagainst the Turks. The place is well chosen for a watch-tower. From thetop you see for many miles, most freely towards the north-east, whencewe have come; less freely, but still a great way, towards thesouth-west, in which direction the British Army is retreating, monsieur.Tchk! Why did not your country and France allow us to fall on theBulgars before they were ready? Serbia pays a heavy price."
Burton felt he had nothing to say to this, and after a few condolingwords returned to his place by Enderby's side. The information he hadgathered had caused his half-formed idea to crystallise.
"I say!" he began, seating himself on the edge of the cart.
"Say on," returned Enderby, smiling at his friend's solemn face.
"Well, there are only ten or eleven in the tower above there."
"What is the precise force of your adverb?"
"What adverb? Oh, 'only.' Well, ten or eleven's not a great crowd.There are four of us, without counting you and the woman----"
"Three men and a boy! We'll assume for the moment that one Englishmanis worth four of any other nation; but are your two and a half Serbsequal to the other six or seven? Of course I see what you are drivingat."
"Well, isn't it worth trying? There's no doubt that a Bulgarian columnintends to cut off our men's retreat, and if we could seize the tower,and hold them up even for an hour or two, it might make all thedifference."
"But they're in possession; and remember, the attack needs more men thanthe defence. The odds are dead against you, Ted."
"Not altogether. You must allow for the darkness, surprise, and thecocksureness of the enemy. Didn't a corporal carry off twelve prisonerssingle-handed at Loos the other day? With a lit
tle luck----"
"We've a way of assuming that the luck is going to be on our side!Well, see what the old Serb says. I must be out of it, unfortunately;but you needn't consider me."
"That's very good of you, but, of course, I do consider you. If itwasn't for you I'd not hesitate a moment."
"Don't let that trouble you. At the worst they'll only collar me. Therisks will be wholly yours."
Burton returned to the Serbs, sat down beside them, and talked to themuntil the dusk had deepened into night.
The upshot of their conversation was presently disclosed. While youngMarco was thoroughly greasing the axle-trees, Burton inflicted a stilldeeper wound on the dignity of Captain von Hildenheim by gagging him.Milosh was already in possession of his revolver.
Then the little party started quietly on the upward track.
A cold wind had set in from the north-east, dispersing the mist, andcarrying with it an occasional shower of powdery snow. Except duringthese brief showers the sky was clear and brilliant with starlight. Aglance behind showed the red camp-fires of the enemy far in the plainbelow. Ahead, the tower, when they caught sight of it, loomed blacklike a sentinel against the indigo background. A faint glow shone fromone of its shutterless windows, half-way up the wall.
The track was so well shadowed by its rocky banks that there was littlerisk of the party being seen. Yet, when they were still some distancefrom the tower, Burton deemed it prudent to call a halt. There was awhispered consultation, then Milosh went forward alone to reconnoitre.
Creeping up with every precaution, eyes and ears alert, he came withinsight of a low wall some forty or fifty paces from the tower, pierced bya single aperture where at one time had been a gate. This wall shut offthe tower and the crag on which it stood from the narrow bridle-paththat mounted the hill to the north, and fell away to the south towardsthe valley.
In the gap in the wall a sentry stood, finding such shelter from thebiting wind as the thickness of the stonework afforded. He blew uponhis hands, stamped his feet, murmured his discomfort. At one moment hetook out a watch, and seemed to caress it with his fingers. He did notlift it towards his eyes; he could not have seen the time in thestarlight; and the shiver which visibly shook him as he returned it tohis pocket was the shudder of physical cold; he had forgotten theruthless butchery of the Serb who had, not long before, been the ownerof the watch.
MILOSH WAITS.]
All was quiet around. Only the feeble ray high up in the tower showedthat the place was occupied. The sentry's faculties were numbed by thecold, or he might have noticed that the even contour of the wall, somefew paces from him to the north, was broken by a dark protuberance whichhad not been there in daylight. It might have been a buttress, exceptthat there were no buttresses on the outside of the wall. Astonished ashe must have been if he had observed it, he would have been still moreamazed had he been tramping his beat before the gate instead of coweringfrom the icy blast. For the dark shape moved, imperceptibly, like thehour hand of a clock, yet surely, and always towards him.
Within two paces of the gateway it suddenly stopped. The line of thewall was no longer broken. There was nothing now for the sentry to see.
A few minutes passed. The sentry muttered, growled, stamped on theground. After all, he could not keep warm. He had sheltered his noseand ears at the expense of his feet. Only movement could restore thecirculation of those chilled members. He picked up his rifle, came outthrough the gateway, swung round to the right, and tramped along closeto the wall.
No sooner was his back turned than the dark shape that had remainedmotionless at the foot of the wall glided swiftly up to and into thegateway. The sentry turned at the end of his beat, and butted withquick step against the bitter wind, approaching the gateway--and hisdoom. He had just passed the opening when a few inches of steel glintedin the starlight. There was a stifled groan, a sigh. The rightfulowner of the watch was avenged.
Three minutes later Milosh rejoined the little group that was waiting acouple of hundred yards below.
"Well?" old Marco inquired in a whisper.
"It is well, old friend. The way is clear."