CHAPTER IXD.C.M.The two men had almost reached the clump of trees when they heard the thud of horses' hoofs approaching them from the front. They instantly dropped flat into one of the furrows of the stubble field. Two horsemen galloped round the corner of the clump, and rode down towards the railway, passing within twenty yards of the fugitives.Waiting breathlessly until the horsemen had gone out of hearing, the two got up, and, still bending low, hurried over the few yards between them and the clump and plunged among the trees."We shall have to get back to-night, by hook or crook," whispered Kenneth. "They'll track us down as soon as it is light.... Listen!"From beyond the clump came the steady tramp of a considerable body of men. Was it possible that the Germans were on their track already? For a few moments they were unable to decide in what direction the men were going. The sounds became gradually fainter, receding towards the railway. Apparently a detachment had been dispatched towards the scene of the conflagration.They stole towards the western side of the clump, and, standing within the shadow of the trees, looked out across the country. The moon was still up, obscured at moments by drifting clouds. Far ahead, a little to their left, they could just distinguish the tower of the ruined church. Still farther to the left the moonbeams revealed the roofs of the small village which the church served, and in which, no doubt, German soldiers were billeted. Lying on the eastern slope of a low hill, it was invisible from the British lines, but Kenneth remembered having seen its position marked on the map."It's past two o'clock," said Kenneth, glancing at his watch. "The moon won't go down for hours, and it will be light by six. We simply must get back before sunrise. All we can do is to creep along the shady side of the hedges and take our chance."After a good look round, they left the trees and hurried to the shelter of the nearest hedge. Being now on lower ground, they could no longer see the church: but they judged their general direction by the compass, and made their best speed. Once they found themselves in a field completely surrounded by a hedge. Forcing their way through at the cost of many scratches, they fell some five feet into a ditch that the hedge concealed, and sank over their ankles in slimy mud. They scrambled up the other side, the brambles tearing their skin and clothes, and tramped on again.It was nearly an hour before they came once more in sight of the church, farther to the left than they had expected. Their best course seemed to be to try to find the communication trench by which they had come. Keeping always on the shady side of the hedges, they paused only to glance towards the tower, to see if the light was still showing, then turned their backs on it and hurried on.They came to a stretch of open ground on which there was no cover of any kind, and knew that they were now near the trenches. The most nerve-racking portion of their journey was before them. They dared not go erect, in the moonlight. If they should stumble unawares upon an occupied trench it was all up with them. Throwing themselves on the ground, they crawled forward by painful inches, stopping every few seconds to listen. Once the scurry of some wild creature across their front tightened their hearts and sent a cold thrill along their spines. Presently they heard the murmur of voices on their right, and instantly edged to the left, only to be brought to a check after a few minutes by voices in that direction also. Had the rearmost trenches been manned during their absence?Aching in every limb, they crawled still more slowly over the ground. At last they encountered a ridge of broken earth, and stopped, holding their breath. There was no sound near them; faint murmurs came from a distance. Harry cautiously raised his head, crept forward a few inches, and whispered--"A trench!"They peered over. The trench was empty. Sliding into it, they ran along to the left, and presently struck a trench at right angles. This too was empty. They halted at the corner to listen, then hurried along until they had almost reached the second trench. A man, by his figure an officer, turned from it into the communication trench, and walked rapidly towards the firing line. They pressed themselves against the wall."Making his rounds," whispered Kenneth. "Our best chance is to follow him.""We've come right," said Harry. "There's the water."A bank of cloud veiled the moon. They hoped it would not pass for the few minutes during which darkness would be so precious a boon. They heard the officer splashing through the water at the further end of the trench, and crept after him as rapidly as they dared. He turned into the firing trench. Voices were heard. There was great risk in crossing the trench, and it occurred to Harry that it would be less dangerous to clamber over the embankment on their left and wade through a few yards of the pond, which could not be very deep thereabout. If the moon remained in cloud, they would not be seen from the trench behind the pond. Accordingly, two or three yards from the angle of the trenches, they swarmed up the bank, and began to let themselves down on the other side, clinging to the earth so that they should not drop heavily.Then fortune deserted them. The earth crumbled in Kenneth's grasp, and he fell into the water with a great splash. Harry at once flung himself face downwards, and the two crawled through several inches of water towards the dry land. The light was increasing as the thinner end of the cloud moved slowly across the moon. Crushing their inclination to jump to their feet and sprint over the ground towards their trench, they scampered along on all fours. And then the unveiled moon flooded the scene with light.Shouts came from behind them. Shots rang out, and pattered around them. A bullet carried off the heel of Harry's boot. Still they wriggled on. They were conscious of sounds in front. The trench was alive. A hand grenade fell just behind them, bespattering them with earth. Yard by yard they dragged themselves over the ground; here was the wire entanglement. As they drew themselves under it, a bullet struck one of the tin cans suspended from the top. There were only a few yards now. From right and left a hail of bullets flew from the British trench. They reached the parapet.[image]A LONG WAY BACK"Steady!" whispered Kennedy. "Keep flat for a moment."But the caution was vain. After coming a hundred yards under fire they thought of nothing but the safety of the trench. They crawled on, over into friendly arms. Bullets sang around them."Pipped!" exclaimed Kenneth, as something stung his shoulder.But next moment they were safe, dropping exhausted on to the banquette. And then the air was rent by a storm of cheers hurled defiantly at the Germans."Good men!" said Kennedy, as he helped Kenneth to pull off his coat. "You're a lucky fellow, by George! It's little more than a graze. I didn't expect to see you back. Ah! here's the captain."Captain Adams came up."Amory hurt? A mere scratch, I see. It was a tight moment. You seemed an age crawling up. But come now, have you anything to report?""Ammunition depot blown up, sir.""That was the row we heard, then," the captain interrupted. "We thought it must have been an accident, as no firing was going on at the time.""And to the best of our knowledge and belief, the gun is done for.""You don't say so! Talk, man; a round unvarnished tale deliver. Oh, but this is good!"The captain was evidently excited. Kenneth and Harry between them related the whole sequence of their adventures, to an audience of the captain, two lieutenants, and as many men of the platoon as could come within earshot. When the story was finished, another roar of cheers burst forth, which was taken up along the trench far on both sides, though the most of the shouting men could not have known as yet what they were cheering for."A dashed fine piece of work," said the captain, warmly. "It's a feather in the cap of No. 3 Company, and certain promotion for you two men. You'll have to see the colonel to-morrow, when we get back to billets. Go into the Savoy and sleep; you deserve a day's rest, and you shall have it."When they reappeared among their comrades next day a broad grin welcomed them."You do look uncommon pretty," said Ginger. "I never see anyone like you except once, and that was when a chap I knew got drunk at the fair, had a fight with another chap, tumbled into a blackberry bush on the way home, and was found by a copper in the ditch after it had been raining all night. Your best gals would fair scream at the sight of you. 'Oh George, dear, where did you get them scratches? You've been a-fighting, you horrid creature, you!' 'No, Sally, I've had a little bit of misfortune.' 'Rats! You won't get over me. I'd be ashamed to be seen along of you, with a face like that. I'll walk out with Bill next Sunday, so there!' And off she goes, and on Monday morning you get hold of Bill and spoil his beauty for him, and then there's a pair of you."Everybody laughed, and the two dirty and disfigured objects concerned understood that that was Ginger's way of paying a compliment.On returning to the village at the close of the day, they had only just washed and got rid of some of the mud from their clothes when the colonel sent for them. They had to repeat their story."I don't happen to have any Iron Crosses," said the colonel, "but I'm going to recommend you for commissions. Officers are badly wanted still, and you've got over that nonsense of a few months back?""Not at all, sir," said Kenneth. "We're bound by our promise.""Ridiculous! I don't mean that you are ridiculous to keep your word, but to give such a promise was a piece of confounded stupidity. Why, goodness alive! after what you've done the men would follow you anywhere.""It's very good of you, sir," Kenneth replied, "but really we must stick to what we said.""Not that I want to lose you from my regiment. Well, I shall have to get Captain Adams to give you your stripes. You won't object to that?""I'm afraid we must, sir. You see, anything that gave us a lift over the other men would be a breach of the understanding.""Well, you're a couple of young jackasses. I hope I'm a man of my word, but---- Oh well, have it your own way! Virtue shall be its own reward. You've relieved the whole battalion of a great worry and danger, and I'm uncommonly obliged to you."It was not until some weeks later that the two friends learnt that their names had appeared in theGazetteamong a list of men recommended for the distinguished conduct medal. Their refusal of promotion had become known to their comrades, and it was observed that Ginger and some of his friends often had their heads together, and appeared to be conducting delicate negotiations with the men of the other platoons.CHAPTER XHOT WORKKenneth had not omitted to report the signalling from the church tower. The light had not been seen from the trenches of his own battalion, and it was guessed that the receiver of the messages was at some other point behind the long British front. But on the first night of their return to billets it occurred to Harry that the light might possibly be visible from some post of equal height with the tower in which it shone, and he suggested to Kenneth that they should go up into the belfry of the church in their village. In order to give no excuse for a German bombardment the colonel had refrained from making use of this as an observation post, which some of his officers regarded as an excess of scrupulousness. It would be necessary to get permission now before Harry's suggestion could be acted upon.Harry put the question to Captain Adams. He saw the colonel, who in view of the fact that the Germans were certainly using a church tower a few miles away gave his consent. Finding, therefore, the sacristan, Harry and Kenneth got him to take them up the belfry at about the same hour as they had seen the Germans' lamp.Furnished with Captain Adams' field-glasses, they scanned the country in turns. For a long time they had no reward, and they were indeed on the point of quitting the spot when Kenneth caught sight of a twinkle far away to the south-east. It vanished and reappeared at irregular intervals, just as the light from the tower had done."We are not getting the full rays here," said Kenneth, after Harry had taken a look. "But it is clear that they are signalling to someone in this direction, more or less.""Let us go half way down the tower, and see if the light is visible there," suggested Harry.But they found that only at the foot of the belfry itself could they catch sight of the twinkling light."It's very cleverly arranged," Harry remarked. "They are not signalling to this village, that's clear. There's certainly no observer but ourselves here, and no other place is high enough to catch the rays.""Except Obernai's house," said Kenneth, looking round over the village. Most of the roofs were considerably lower than the spot on which they stood. Only the attics of the Alsatian philanthropist's house rose above that level. That large building in its extensive grounds was about sixty yards to their left. There was a light in one of the lower rooms, where Captain Adams and several other officers were billeted: the rest was dark."It's not very likely, after that spy business, that any of Obernai's servants is in German pay," Kenneth continued. "Still I'll tell the captain what we have seen."He made his report to Captain Adams next morning. Later in the day the captain said to him:"There's nothing in that matter, Amory. I asked Monsieur Obernai whether his servants were trustworthy, and he assured me that he had had them for years, and could answer for them all. I didn't tell him why I had made the enquiry; it's best to keep these things as quiet as possible; we don't want to make people uneasy. I've no doubt the signals are directed to some place farther away on our left, and the colonel is sending word along the front, asking them to keep a look-out."Nothing more was heard of the signalling for a long time.When they returned to the trenches, their position was somewhat altered. The Rutlands were moved a little to the right, and Kennedy's platoon occupied a portion of the trench which had formerly been held by another platoon.Kenneth was making himself comfortable in a dug-out with Harry and Ginger when he picked up, among the various articles left by its former occupants, a piece of ruled music paper dotted with notes."A relic of your friend Stoneway, Ginger," he said with a laugh. "He's the only musician in the company.""Is he, by George!" cried Harry. "You forget I was in the school choir, old chap.""So you were! I remember how the mothers used to admire your pretty little cherub face when you let off your songs on the platform. 'Isn't he sweet, mother?' I heard a girl say once. You remember how we rotted you.""Yes, confound it! I was jolly glad when my voice broke, and I got out of all that. I haven't sung a note since; if I try, my voice is like a nutmeg grater.""You've lost your cherubic mug too, old man. But look here; whistle over this tune; let's hear what it is."Harry took the paper, scanned it for a moment or two, then said:"It's no tune at all. The notes go up and down all anyhow."He whistled a few notes."Oh, for any sake stop it!" implored Ginger. "It's Stoneway's exercises, by the sound of it. Call that music! It's enough to make a cat ill.""I'll give it back to Stoneway next time I see him," said Harry."Tear it up," said Ginger. "If he hasn't got it, perhaps he can't----"A shout interrupted him."Stand to! Here they come!"They seized their rifles and rushed out into the trench, Harry stuffing the paper into his pocket. The men were posting themselves a yard apart on the banquette, looking excitedly through the loopholes. Across the open ground in front the Germans were advancing in a serried mass. It was a surprise attack, not heralded, in the customary way, by a bombardment. The testing moment had come for the Rutlands at last.They stood at their posts, tense, quiet with excitement. Ginger's features twitched; Harry's lips were parted. With their fingers at the triggers they awaited breathlessly the order to fire. On came the dense grey lines. The Germans did not fire; with fixed bayonets they swarmed forward rapidly. They came to the wire entanglement; with clock-work precision every man in the first rank plied his nippers, and then, in the trench, Kennedy cried in a hoarse whisper:"Three rounds, rapid!"All along the line sounded the crackle of rifles. On the right a machine-gun rattled; on the left another. Three times the rifles spoke. Men were shouting, they knew not what. Other sounds mingled with the din: yells, groans, guttural orders from the German officers; and at the wire entanglement lay a long swathe of fallen men.But behind them another multitude was dashing on. They leapt over their stricken comrades, only to drop in their turn before the withering volley from their unseen enemy in the trench. Through the gaps poured an unending torrent; the grey-clad men were drawing nearer to the trench. The rifle-fire was now continuous, but it was of no avail to repel this close-packed horde. There was no longer question of taking cover. The Rutlands leapt up to meet the charge. They fired as fast as they could, until their rifles were hot. In spite of their losses the Germans pressed on until sheer weight of numbers carried them to the edge of the trench.It is not for us to describe the scene of carnage there--the hideous work of the bayonets, the cries of the wounded, the hoarse shouts of defenders and assailants. The Germans fell back. Kennedy's clear voice shouted the order for volley-firing. And now came a fierce reply from the German ranks. Then they fell on their knees and crawled forward again. Again they were driven back. They began to retreat. And then Kennedy leapt on the parapet and gave the command to charge. The men responded with alacrity. Up they scrambled, over the fallen men, and dashed forward with exultant shouts. There was a whizz and boom overhead. The British artillery behind was coming into play. From the front came deafening crashes; columns of earth and smoke rose into the air. The Rutlands lay on the ground until the guns had ceased fire; then dashed on. They plunged into the reek about the German trench; they sprang over the parapet and drove the Germans out; and a storm of cheers acclaimed their victory.They were preparing to hold the ground they had won when word was brought that strong reinforcements were hurrying up to the Germans from the east. They had no reserve strong enough to hold the new line in face of a superior force. The colonel ordered them to evacuate the trench, after doing as much damage as was possible in the short time available.The men set to work with their own trenching tools and with those abandoned by the Germans to hack down the walls of the trench. Kenneth caught up a pick, and remembering the pond at the right of the communicating trench, he began to cut a hole through the three or four feet of intervening earth. Ginger joined him. In a few minutes the water burst through in spate, flooding the trenches, and driving the Englishmen out pell-mell.Laughing, singing, throwing jokes one to another, they returned to their own trenches. They picked up swords, rifles, helmets, and other articles of equipment that were scattered over the ground, threaded their way among the fallen men, stopping here and there to assist wounded comrades. Meanwhile the British artillery was pounding the German lines to discourage a renewed attack, and the Red Cross men moved swiftly and silently over the field.Kenneth had not seen Harry for some time, and was anxious about him. But the friends met at the edge of their trench. Each ran his eyes rapidly over the other; their set faces cleared when they recognised that neither was hurt.Settled down once more in their dug-out, the three men talked over their experiences."I felt my blood run cold," said Harry, "but I hadn't time to be afraid. I feel worse now. Look at my hand shaking."Ginger, very pale, was mechanically cleaning his rifle. He flung it down with a curse."What have they done to me?" he cried. "What have they done to me? I killed an officer, a nice young chap as might have been your brother. What for? What about his mother? And all those poor chaps yonder: why can't them as make wars let us alone? Men ain't made to kill each other. What's the good of it all? When the war's over, millions dead, millions crippled, millions miserable. It didn't ought to be.""We're serving our country, Ginger," said Kenneth. "It's not a question of just the present moment. We've got to think of the future. What would life be worth to our people at home if the Germans had their way? You can get nothing good without paying the price, and it will be good if we can teach the Germans and the world that force isn't everything, that people have a right to live their own lives without being bullied. For every man that dies, whether English or German, perhaps thousands may have a better time in days to come. That's worth fighting for, and dying for, if need be. We've all got our little part to play. It's not a thing you can argue about: you feel it. Look at what Sir Edward Grey said: he'd rather cut the old country altogether than be obliged to give up our good English ways and to put up with German tyranny. Don't you feel like that too? Well, that's why we are fighting; we're fighting to call our souls our own, and, please God, we'll win."CHAPTER XITHE DISAPPEARANCE OF GINGERIt was when the battalion next returned to billets that the meaning of Ginger's confabulations with the men of other platoons came out.One evening after supper Kenneth and Harry were smoking in the Bonnards' kitchen. They were alone. Ginger and the other members of their billet had left them some little while before, and the men's faces had worn the sly, conscious look of those who are meditating a secret design."If I didn't know Ginger, I should think they were up to some mischief," Harry had said.Presently the door opened, and Ginger reappeared, at the head of eight or ten men from other platoons of No. 3 Company. They all looked a little sheepish and uncomfortable as they filed into the room. Some hung back and were pushed forward by their mates. Ginger moved to the rear, and was instantly seized by several hands and expostulated with in fierce whispers."Keep your wool on; I'm only going to shut the door," said Ginger."What's in the wind, you fellows?" said Kenneth. "Why are you hanging about the door? Come round the fire and light up: we'll have a smoking concert or something."There were mutterings among the group. Some words reached the ears of the two men at the fire-place."It's your job: you're a sergeant.""No fear; you don't catch me...""Ginger's the man...""Spouts like a M.P...."At last Ginger was pushed through to the front. He grinned, half turned to protest, was swung round again; then he drew his hand across his mouth."Mr. Harry, and Mr. Amory," he began."Oh, come now, no misters here," Harry broke in."Not in the ordinary way, of course," said Ginger, "but this ain't an ordinary occasion. The fact is, we're a deputation, that's what we are; a deputation from No. 3 Company, and the other chaps have made me foreman of the jury. Not as I want to push myself; not me. I consider it's a job for a three-stripe man; but Sergeant Colpus here is a very bashful and retiring man, though you'd never think it to look at him.""Dry up!" growled the sergeant, turning fiery red as the other men sniggered."Well, youwouldput it on to me," Ginger went on, "and I must do it my own way, always respecting my superior officer, of course. Being foreman of the jury, I speak for 'em all, got to give the verdict, as you may say. The fact of it is, we men of No. 3 Company, what you may call the Randall Company, ain't easy in our minds at the idea of being dogs in the manger like. We know as the colonel wants to make you officers, and we think it ain't fair to you or the army to keep you in the ranks 'cause of us. A promise is all right, and we take it very kind that you've stuck to your guns, in a manner of putting it, all these months. Speaking for myself, I didn't expect nothing else. But we think it 'ud be a dirty shame if we held you to your promise now, specially when every man of us knows you ought to be officers, and there's not a man of us but would be proud to follow your lead anywhere. And so we've come to say that the promise is off, and we don't stand in the way of your getting your rights."There was a chorus of approval as Ginger wiped his mouth again and stepped back among his comrades."It's very good of you, Ginger," said Harry, "but I'm sure neither Amory nor myself want to leave the ranks.""Not at all," said Kenneth: "thanks all the same.""But it ain't right," said Ginger, coming forward again. "We've learnt a thing or two since we started being soldiers, and we've lost a lot of the bally nonsense that used to fill our heads, about all men being equal and such like. Mind you, I'm a Socialist, as strong as ever I was. I say now, as I've said afore, that there's no call for a man to stick himself up and think himself mighty superior 'cos he's got a quid for every penny I've got. And I don't say but what, if we'd had your eddication and chances and all that, we wouldn't be as good as you. But that ain't the point. We've got to look at things as they are, and be honest about it, and what I say is that you've had the training that makes officers and we haven't; and besides, you were born one way and we were born another, and it's no good trying to make out that chalk's as good as cheese. And there's another thing. When we've got a tough job afore us like licking the Germans we're bound to consider what's best for the company and the regiment, and if a man is cut out for an officer it's simply silly to keep him a private: he ain't in his right place, doing his right job. So we think it's only right for us and the army that you should do what the colonel wants, and that's the size of it.""Is that what you all think?" asked Kenneth."Well, I can't say that; all but one or two, and they're a disgrace to the company. There's----""I don't want to know who they are," said Kenneth, interrupting. "We're both immensely obliged to you for your good-will, but we enlisted on certain terms, and I feel for my part that we can't break our contract without the unanimous consent of the company.""I agree," said Harry. "The men enlisted on the faith of our promise, and it wouldn't be fair to break it without the consent of all. So we'll drop it, Ginger, and go on as before.""It's for you to say, sir," said Ginger. "There! 'Sir,' says I. A slip of the tongue, mates; you can't get out of bad habits all of a sudden. Well, I'll say for No. 3 Company that we'd be sorry to lose such good pals, and as there's no chance that St---- that the pigheaded members of the jury will come round to the opinion of the sensible ones, we may reckon it as certain that the defendants will be condemned to serve as Tommies for three years or the duration of the war.""And now we'll discharge the jury," said Kenneth, "and have a sing-song until 'lights out.' Come on, Ginger; start off with 'Dolly Grey.'"Next afternoon Kenneth was summoned to the captain."I've a little job for you, Amory. You know how to drive a motor; do you know anything about the mechanism?""Not much; but Ginger--that is, Murgatroyd, sir--is a bit of a mechanic. Of course I'll have a shot at whatever is required.""Add Randall, and we have the Three Musketeers complete. You didn't know that's our name for you, I suppose? Well, it's this. A motor cyclist came in just now with a despatch for the colonel, and reported that on the way he had passed a man who'd had an accident of some sort with a motor lorry, and wanted help. Just go and see what you can do, the three of you. I don't know whether the load is for us; if it is, so much the better. Take my map; the breakdown is thereabouts"--he pointed to a spot some three miles away--"and be as quick as you can."The three men set out, Ginger carrying a bag of tools he had borrowed from the village smith. The place where the accident had happened was apparently on a by-road about halfway between the village and the headquarters of the next regiment on the left of the Rutlands. They followed footpaths across the fields, some of which had been sown by the inhabitants. The air was very misty, and but for the map they could hardly have found their way. But presently they caught sight of a man in khaki sitting on the grass at the corner of the main road and by-road. The man bore the badge of the Army Service Corps on his sleeve."What's wrong?" asked Kenneth, going up to him."Are you the Wessex?" said the man."No, the Rutlands. You've had a spill by the look of you.""You're right," said the driver with an oath. "And I owe that there parson one. It's his fault. Did that cyclist send you along?""No, but the capting did," said Ginger. "Where's your lorry? We'll have a go at it.""Well, if you two chaps 'll be a pair of crutches I'll take you to it. I'm bruised all over, and my ankle's got a twist so that I can't hardly walk. It's about a mile away."Supported by Kenneth on one side and Harry on the other, the man led them slowly along the by-road."I only came out a week ago, a Carter Paterson man I am," he said. "I was driving up a load of grub for the Wessexes, and somehow took the wrong turning away back there. I'd drive over London blindfold, but I'm new to this job, see. It came over misty, and I got a sort of notion I was on the wrong road, and there was nobody about to ask the way of, even supposing I could have made 'em understand me. However, at last I happened to catch sight of a fat parson in a long cloak just ahead of me. I pulled up, and pointed to the name of the village on my map, for twist my tongue to it I couldn't. 'All right, my man,' says he, speaking English like a countryman. 'You take the first turning on the right': that's this road we're on now. That seemed about the right direction. 'Good road?' says I: 'not too soft for a heavy load?' 'Capital road,' says he. 'Go as fast as you like, straight through to the road you've left.'"Well, it seemed all right. Wasn't a bad road for a bit, and I put on speed to make up for lost time. Then, just as I was going through an avenue of trees, and what with the mist and the shade couldn't see more than a few yards ahead, the road took a sharp dip, and I throttled down and screwed on the brakes; but the road made a sudden bend, and before I knew where I was, I was chucked in the ditch by the roadside. I was dazed for a bit, and when I come to, there was the lorry in the field. I crawled to it; it was stuck fast, and even it if hadn't been I couldn't have driven it in the mashed state I was in. A pretty fix to be in, in a strange country, with no garage handy. I didn't know what to do. When I'd recovered a bit, I crawled back to see if I could find that parson. It was all his fault, not warning me, and he ought to get me out of the mess. But I couldn't find him, so all I could do was to crawl to the main road, on the chance of seeing some of our chaps. It was hours before any one came along; just my luck; another time the road would very likely have been crowded. But presently that cyclist came up at forty miles an hour. He would have gone past if I hadn't bellowed like a bull. He wouldn't get off his machine to take a look at the lorry, but he said he'd send help if he could. And all I want is to get hold of that parson; I'd know him again in a minute by his size and the wart on his nose. Why, a German couldn't have served me a dirtier trick; and he said he knew the road.... There's the lorry; I doubt whether you'll get it up; and the Wessexes howling for their grub, I expect."The lorry was tilted over to one side, with the near front wheel embedded nearly up to the axle in the soft earth of the field."Got a jack?" asked Ginger."You'll find it under the seat."Ginger fetched it, and with his companions tried to jack the wheel up; but the tool sank into the earth."Let's unload and then see," suggested Kenneth.It took them half an hour to unload the car, working so hard that they were all bathed in perspiration. Again they plied the jack, but in vain."The only chance is to get something solid to put under it," said Ginger. "There's nothing handy hereabouts. Any houses about here?" he asked the driver."Hanged if I know. It was too misty to see when I came along. The parson lives somewhere, I suppose.""I'll run up the hill and take a look round," said Harry."Take your rifle, man," Kenneth called, as Harry was starting without it."All right; but we're miles away from the German front. You might have a look at the engine while I'm gone."All this time there had been sounds of firing in the distance eastward, with reports of British guns at intervals nearer at hand. But they were now so familiar with such sounds that they scarcely heeded them. Guns and gunners were alike out of sight. There were few signs of war immediately around them; but for the absence of human activity on the fields the country might have been at peace.Harry went up the hill and for some distance along the road before he discovered anything that promised assistance. A slight breeze was dispersing the mist; but the sun was already far down in the western sky; in an hour or two it would be dark. At length, on his right he noticed a rough cart track leading to a small farm building half hidden in a hollow about half a mile away. He hurried towards it across the fields, soon regretting that he had not gone by the beaten track, for the soil was soft and heavy.Approaching the building at an angle, he saw a man pottering about in the yard. While he was still at some distance the man happened to glance towards him, then went into the house. Harry quickened his pace, and entering the yard, was met at the house door by a burly individual who gave a somewhat surly response to his salutation. In his best French Harry explained the circumstances, and asked for the loan of a stout board."You'll find one in the shed yonder," said the man. "You'll bring it back?""Oh yes," Harry replied, thinking that the farmer might at least have offered to help. "By the way, could you lend us a horse to pull the lorry on to the roadway when we get it up?""I haven't got one; all my horses are requisitioned.""That's hard luck. I hope we'll soon clear the country, and there'll be better times. Many thanks: I'll return the board presently."Reflecting on the hardships war inflicted on honest country people, Harry trudged back with the plank, this time taking the cart track."Good man!" said Kenneth. "Where did you get it?""At a small farm. The farmer's rather a bear, but I suppose the war has pretty well ruined him. Now, Ginger, let's see what we can do."Placing the plank by the embedded wheel, they set the jack on it and screwed up the axle until they finally succeeded in releasing the wheel."The lorry isn't damaged, luckily," said Kenneth. "We'll get the wheel on to the plank, then I'll start the engine and we'll back on to the road. You fellows shove."In a few more minutes the lorry stood on the road, facing towards its original destination."Now for loading up," said Harry. "This is back-aching work; I shouldn't care to be a docker."The three men started to carry the boxes and baskets from the field to the lorry, the driver sitting on the grass by the roadside. They were about halfway through the work when they heard the hum of an aeroplane. Like the reports of artillery it was so common a sound that they paid little attention to it. But Kenneth, glancing up as the sound grew louder, exclaimed:"It's a Taube, about 5000 feet up. I fancy. There'll be a pretty chase presently. By Jove! it's dropping. Something must have gone wrong with the engine. I'll try a pot shot at it if you fellows will go on loading."Seizing his rifle, he stood watching the aeroplane as it circled above them, gradually coming lower."Look out!" he cried suddenly.Almost as soon as he had spoken there was a terrific crash on the road about thirty yards away, and a shower of earth and stones bespattered the lorry and the men. Kenneth fired as the Taube made another sweep round, still lower."Here's another!" he called. "Down with you."They all threw themselves flat on their faces. The second bomb exploded farther away than the first, doing no damage. They sprang to their feet, and all three fired at the aeroplane, which was now making a vol plané, and would come to earth apparently about half a mile away."We'll nab them," cried Ginger. "Come on."They ran up the hill. The aeroplane was descending on the far side of the farm, near a clump of trees. They rushed across the fields, and were just in time to see a man leap from the aeroplane and dive into the copse. The farmer joined them as they ran past. They came to the aeroplane. The pilot wasin extremis. After the shot had struck him he had managed to control the machine until it reached earth; he would never fly again."We must catch the other fellow," said Kenneth.All three ran into the copse, the farmer following them. Separating, they scoured the plantation in all directions without finding the fugitive. After about half an hour Kenneth called the others together."He seems to have got away," he said. "We must give it up. It'll soon be dark, and we've got to get the lorry home. Ginger, will you mount guard over the aeroplane? Our fellows are sure to have seen it, and will no doubt be coming up shortly. We'll motor back if we can borrow a car.""Right you are," said Ginger. "I'll wait for you, in any case."The others left him, returned to the lorry, and lifting the driver on to it, drove off rapidly towards its destination. There they told their story, and the colonel at once sent off a motor omnibus with a number of men to secure the aeroplane. When they approached the spot where they had left it the machine was gone."Somebody must have fetched it already," said Kenneth. "It's a pity you fellows are too late."They drew up at the rear of the farm. Kenneth and Harry sprang out, surprised that Ginger was not awaiting them."He's inside, perhaps," said Harry. "He makes friends of most people; perhaps he has got over the farmer's surliness."They went through the yard to the house door. The farmer met them on the threshold."Ah, messieurs," he said, "this is lamentable.""What do you mean?" asked Harry."Your comrade, messieurs, he is gone. I fear he is a prisoner. He made signs that he was thirsty, and I left him there at the aeroplane while I returned here to fetch him some little refreshment. Ma foi! I was just uncorking the bottle when I heard a whirr. I rushed out with the bottle in one hand and the corkscrew in the other, and voila! there was the aeroplane already in the air.""But how?--what...""I do not know," said the farmer, with a shrug. "I only guess. The man who ran away must have hidden until your backs were turned, then come back and overpowered your comrade and flown away with him.""That's very rummy," said Kenneth to Harry. "Ginger isn't a man to be caught napping easily. What do you make of it, sir?" he asked the lieutenant in charge of the omnibus party, who had followed them.Kenneth repeated the farmer's story."Very curious," said the officer quietly. "The man wasn't himself a flier, I suppose?""No.""Well, I think we'll run your farmer back to headquarters. It looks rather fishy: there are spies all over the place. You speak French? I don't, more's the pity. Just tell this fellow he's to come with me."The farmer protested volubly, but the officer was inexorable. The omnibus party returned with their prisoner, and Kenneth and Harry tramped back in the twilight to their village.
CHAPTER IX
D.C.M.
The two men had almost reached the clump of trees when they heard the thud of horses' hoofs approaching them from the front. They instantly dropped flat into one of the furrows of the stubble field. Two horsemen galloped round the corner of the clump, and rode down towards the railway, passing within twenty yards of the fugitives.
Waiting breathlessly until the horsemen had gone out of hearing, the two got up, and, still bending low, hurried over the few yards between them and the clump and plunged among the trees.
"We shall have to get back to-night, by hook or crook," whispered Kenneth. "They'll track us down as soon as it is light.... Listen!"
From beyond the clump came the steady tramp of a considerable body of men. Was it possible that the Germans were on their track already? For a few moments they were unable to decide in what direction the men were going. The sounds became gradually fainter, receding towards the railway. Apparently a detachment had been dispatched towards the scene of the conflagration.
They stole towards the western side of the clump, and, standing within the shadow of the trees, looked out across the country. The moon was still up, obscured at moments by drifting clouds. Far ahead, a little to their left, they could just distinguish the tower of the ruined church. Still farther to the left the moonbeams revealed the roofs of the small village which the church served, and in which, no doubt, German soldiers were billeted. Lying on the eastern slope of a low hill, it was invisible from the British lines, but Kenneth remembered having seen its position marked on the map.
"It's past two o'clock," said Kenneth, glancing at his watch. "The moon won't go down for hours, and it will be light by six. We simply must get back before sunrise. All we can do is to creep along the shady side of the hedges and take our chance."
After a good look round, they left the trees and hurried to the shelter of the nearest hedge. Being now on lower ground, they could no longer see the church: but they judged their general direction by the compass, and made their best speed. Once they found themselves in a field completely surrounded by a hedge. Forcing their way through at the cost of many scratches, they fell some five feet into a ditch that the hedge concealed, and sank over their ankles in slimy mud. They scrambled up the other side, the brambles tearing their skin and clothes, and tramped on again.
It was nearly an hour before they came once more in sight of the church, farther to the left than they had expected. Their best course seemed to be to try to find the communication trench by which they had come. Keeping always on the shady side of the hedges, they paused only to glance towards the tower, to see if the light was still showing, then turned their backs on it and hurried on.
They came to a stretch of open ground on which there was no cover of any kind, and knew that they were now near the trenches. The most nerve-racking portion of their journey was before them. They dared not go erect, in the moonlight. If they should stumble unawares upon an occupied trench it was all up with them. Throwing themselves on the ground, they crawled forward by painful inches, stopping every few seconds to listen. Once the scurry of some wild creature across their front tightened their hearts and sent a cold thrill along their spines. Presently they heard the murmur of voices on their right, and instantly edged to the left, only to be brought to a check after a few minutes by voices in that direction also. Had the rearmost trenches been manned during their absence?
Aching in every limb, they crawled still more slowly over the ground. At last they encountered a ridge of broken earth, and stopped, holding their breath. There was no sound near them; faint murmurs came from a distance. Harry cautiously raised his head, crept forward a few inches, and whispered--
"A trench!"
They peered over. The trench was empty. Sliding into it, they ran along to the left, and presently struck a trench at right angles. This too was empty. They halted at the corner to listen, then hurried along until they had almost reached the second trench. A man, by his figure an officer, turned from it into the communication trench, and walked rapidly towards the firing line. They pressed themselves against the wall.
"Making his rounds," whispered Kenneth. "Our best chance is to follow him."
"We've come right," said Harry. "There's the water."
A bank of cloud veiled the moon. They hoped it would not pass for the few minutes during which darkness would be so precious a boon. They heard the officer splashing through the water at the further end of the trench, and crept after him as rapidly as they dared. He turned into the firing trench. Voices were heard. There was great risk in crossing the trench, and it occurred to Harry that it would be less dangerous to clamber over the embankment on their left and wade through a few yards of the pond, which could not be very deep thereabout. If the moon remained in cloud, they would not be seen from the trench behind the pond. Accordingly, two or three yards from the angle of the trenches, they swarmed up the bank, and began to let themselves down on the other side, clinging to the earth so that they should not drop heavily.
Then fortune deserted them. The earth crumbled in Kenneth's grasp, and he fell into the water with a great splash. Harry at once flung himself face downwards, and the two crawled through several inches of water towards the dry land. The light was increasing as the thinner end of the cloud moved slowly across the moon. Crushing their inclination to jump to their feet and sprint over the ground towards their trench, they scampered along on all fours. And then the unveiled moon flooded the scene with light.
Shouts came from behind them. Shots rang out, and pattered around them. A bullet carried off the heel of Harry's boot. Still they wriggled on. They were conscious of sounds in front. The trench was alive. A hand grenade fell just behind them, bespattering them with earth. Yard by yard they dragged themselves over the ground; here was the wire entanglement. As they drew themselves under it, a bullet struck one of the tin cans suspended from the top. There were only a few yards now. From right and left a hail of bullets flew from the British trench. They reached the parapet.
[image]A LONG WAY BACK
[image]
[image]
A LONG WAY BACK
"Steady!" whispered Kennedy. "Keep flat for a moment."
But the caution was vain. After coming a hundred yards under fire they thought of nothing but the safety of the trench. They crawled on, over into friendly arms. Bullets sang around them.
"Pipped!" exclaimed Kenneth, as something stung his shoulder.
But next moment they were safe, dropping exhausted on to the banquette. And then the air was rent by a storm of cheers hurled defiantly at the Germans.
"Good men!" said Kennedy, as he helped Kenneth to pull off his coat. "You're a lucky fellow, by George! It's little more than a graze. I didn't expect to see you back. Ah! here's the captain."
Captain Adams came up.
"Amory hurt? A mere scratch, I see. It was a tight moment. You seemed an age crawling up. But come now, have you anything to report?"
"Ammunition depot blown up, sir."
"That was the row we heard, then," the captain interrupted. "We thought it must have been an accident, as no firing was going on at the time."
"And to the best of our knowledge and belief, the gun is done for."
"You don't say so! Talk, man; a round unvarnished tale deliver. Oh, but this is good!"
The captain was evidently excited. Kenneth and Harry between them related the whole sequence of their adventures, to an audience of the captain, two lieutenants, and as many men of the platoon as could come within earshot. When the story was finished, another roar of cheers burst forth, which was taken up along the trench far on both sides, though the most of the shouting men could not have known as yet what they were cheering for.
"A dashed fine piece of work," said the captain, warmly. "It's a feather in the cap of No. 3 Company, and certain promotion for you two men. You'll have to see the colonel to-morrow, when we get back to billets. Go into the Savoy and sleep; you deserve a day's rest, and you shall have it."
When they reappeared among their comrades next day a broad grin welcomed them.
"You do look uncommon pretty," said Ginger. "I never see anyone like you except once, and that was when a chap I knew got drunk at the fair, had a fight with another chap, tumbled into a blackberry bush on the way home, and was found by a copper in the ditch after it had been raining all night. Your best gals would fair scream at the sight of you. 'Oh George, dear, where did you get them scratches? You've been a-fighting, you horrid creature, you!' 'No, Sally, I've had a little bit of misfortune.' 'Rats! You won't get over me. I'd be ashamed to be seen along of you, with a face like that. I'll walk out with Bill next Sunday, so there!' And off she goes, and on Monday morning you get hold of Bill and spoil his beauty for him, and then there's a pair of you."
Everybody laughed, and the two dirty and disfigured objects concerned understood that that was Ginger's way of paying a compliment.
On returning to the village at the close of the day, they had only just washed and got rid of some of the mud from their clothes when the colonel sent for them. They had to repeat their story.
"I don't happen to have any Iron Crosses," said the colonel, "but I'm going to recommend you for commissions. Officers are badly wanted still, and you've got over that nonsense of a few months back?"
"Not at all, sir," said Kenneth. "We're bound by our promise."
"Ridiculous! I don't mean that you are ridiculous to keep your word, but to give such a promise was a piece of confounded stupidity. Why, goodness alive! after what you've done the men would follow you anywhere."
"It's very good of you, sir," Kenneth replied, "but really we must stick to what we said."
"Not that I want to lose you from my regiment. Well, I shall have to get Captain Adams to give you your stripes. You won't object to that?"
"I'm afraid we must, sir. You see, anything that gave us a lift over the other men would be a breach of the understanding."
"Well, you're a couple of young jackasses. I hope I'm a man of my word, but---- Oh well, have it your own way! Virtue shall be its own reward. You've relieved the whole battalion of a great worry and danger, and I'm uncommonly obliged to you."
It was not until some weeks later that the two friends learnt that their names had appeared in theGazetteamong a list of men recommended for the distinguished conduct medal. Their refusal of promotion had become known to their comrades, and it was observed that Ginger and some of his friends often had their heads together, and appeared to be conducting delicate negotiations with the men of the other platoons.
CHAPTER X
HOT WORK
Kenneth had not omitted to report the signalling from the church tower. The light had not been seen from the trenches of his own battalion, and it was guessed that the receiver of the messages was at some other point behind the long British front. But on the first night of their return to billets it occurred to Harry that the light might possibly be visible from some post of equal height with the tower in which it shone, and he suggested to Kenneth that they should go up into the belfry of the church in their village. In order to give no excuse for a German bombardment the colonel had refrained from making use of this as an observation post, which some of his officers regarded as an excess of scrupulousness. It would be necessary to get permission now before Harry's suggestion could be acted upon.
Harry put the question to Captain Adams. He saw the colonel, who in view of the fact that the Germans were certainly using a church tower a few miles away gave his consent. Finding, therefore, the sacristan, Harry and Kenneth got him to take them up the belfry at about the same hour as they had seen the Germans' lamp.
Furnished with Captain Adams' field-glasses, they scanned the country in turns. For a long time they had no reward, and they were indeed on the point of quitting the spot when Kenneth caught sight of a twinkle far away to the south-east. It vanished and reappeared at irregular intervals, just as the light from the tower had done.
"We are not getting the full rays here," said Kenneth, after Harry had taken a look. "But it is clear that they are signalling to someone in this direction, more or less."
"Let us go half way down the tower, and see if the light is visible there," suggested Harry.
But they found that only at the foot of the belfry itself could they catch sight of the twinkling light.
"It's very cleverly arranged," Harry remarked. "They are not signalling to this village, that's clear. There's certainly no observer but ourselves here, and no other place is high enough to catch the rays."
"Except Obernai's house," said Kenneth, looking round over the village. Most of the roofs were considerably lower than the spot on which they stood. Only the attics of the Alsatian philanthropist's house rose above that level. That large building in its extensive grounds was about sixty yards to their left. There was a light in one of the lower rooms, where Captain Adams and several other officers were billeted: the rest was dark.
"It's not very likely, after that spy business, that any of Obernai's servants is in German pay," Kenneth continued. "Still I'll tell the captain what we have seen."
He made his report to Captain Adams next morning. Later in the day the captain said to him:
"There's nothing in that matter, Amory. I asked Monsieur Obernai whether his servants were trustworthy, and he assured me that he had had them for years, and could answer for them all. I didn't tell him why I had made the enquiry; it's best to keep these things as quiet as possible; we don't want to make people uneasy. I've no doubt the signals are directed to some place farther away on our left, and the colonel is sending word along the front, asking them to keep a look-out."
Nothing more was heard of the signalling for a long time.
When they returned to the trenches, their position was somewhat altered. The Rutlands were moved a little to the right, and Kennedy's platoon occupied a portion of the trench which had formerly been held by another platoon.
Kenneth was making himself comfortable in a dug-out with Harry and Ginger when he picked up, among the various articles left by its former occupants, a piece of ruled music paper dotted with notes.
"A relic of your friend Stoneway, Ginger," he said with a laugh. "He's the only musician in the company."
"Is he, by George!" cried Harry. "You forget I was in the school choir, old chap."
"So you were! I remember how the mothers used to admire your pretty little cherub face when you let off your songs on the platform. 'Isn't he sweet, mother?' I heard a girl say once. You remember how we rotted you."
"Yes, confound it! I was jolly glad when my voice broke, and I got out of all that. I haven't sung a note since; if I try, my voice is like a nutmeg grater."
"You've lost your cherubic mug too, old man. But look here; whistle over this tune; let's hear what it is."
Harry took the paper, scanned it for a moment or two, then said:
"It's no tune at all. The notes go up and down all anyhow."
He whistled a few notes.
"Oh, for any sake stop it!" implored Ginger. "It's Stoneway's exercises, by the sound of it. Call that music! It's enough to make a cat ill."
"I'll give it back to Stoneway next time I see him," said Harry.
"Tear it up," said Ginger. "If he hasn't got it, perhaps he can't----"
A shout interrupted him.
"Stand to! Here they come!"
They seized their rifles and rushed out into the trench, Harry stuffing the paper into his pocket. The men were posting themselves a yard apart on the banquette, looking excitedly through the loopholes. Across the open ground in front the Germans were advancing in a serried mass. It was a surprise attack, not heralded, in the customary way, by a bombardment. The testing moment had come for the Rutlands at last.
They stood at their posts, tense, quiet with excitement. Ginger's features twitched; Harry's lips were parted. With their fingers at the triggers they awaited breathlessly the order to fire. On came the dense grey lines. The Germans did not fire; with fixed bayonets they swarmed forward rapidly. They came to the wire entanglement; with clock-work precision every man in the first rank plied his nippers, and then, in the trench, Kennedy cried in a hoarse whisper:
"Three rounds, rapid!"
All along the line sounded the crackle of rifles. On the right a machine-gun rattled; on the left another. Three times the rifles spoke. Men were shouting, they knew not what. Other sounds mingled with the din: yells, groans, guttural orders from the German officers; and at the wire entanglement lay a long swathe of fallen men.
But behind them another multitude was dashing on. They leapt over their stricken comrades, only to drop in their turn before the withering volley from their unseen enemy in the trench. Through the gaps poured an unending torrent; the grey-clad men were drawing nearer to the trench. The rifle-fire was now continuous, but it was of no avail to repel this close-packed horde. There was no longer question of taking cover. The Rutlands leapt up to meet the charge. They fired as fast as they could, until their rifles were hot. In spite of their losses the Germans pressed on until sheer weight of numbers carried them to the edge of the trench.
It is not for us to describe the scene of carnage there--the hideous work of the bayonets, the cries of the wounded, the hoarse shouts of defenders and assailants. The Germans fell back. Kennedy's clear voice shouted the order for volley-firing. And now came a fierce reply from the German ranks. Then they fell on their knees and crawled forward again. Again they were driven back. They began to retreat. And then Kennedy leapt on the parapet and gave the command to charge. The men responded with alacrity. Up they scrambled, over the fallen men, and dashed forward with exultant shouts. There was a whizz and boom overhead. The British artillery behind was coming into play. From the front came deafening crashes; columns of earth and smoke rose into the air. The Rutlands lay on the ground until the guns had ceased fire; then dashed on. They plunged into the reek about the German trench; they sprang over the parapet and drove the Germans out; and a storm of cheers acclaimed their victory.
They were preparing to hold the ground they had won when word was brought that strong reinforcements were hurrying up to the Germans from the east. They had no reserve strong enough to hold the new line in face of a superior force. The colonel ordered them to evacuate the trench, after doing as much damage as was possible in the short time available.
The men set to work with their own trenching tools and with those abandoned by the Germans to hack down the walls of the trench. Kenneth caught up a pick, and remembering the pond at the right of the communicating trench, he began to cut a hole through the three or four feet of intervening earth. Ginger joined him. In a few minutes the water burst through in spate, flooding the trenches, and driving the Englishmen out pell-mell.
Laughing, singing, throwing jokes one to another, they returned to their own trenches. They picked up swords, rifles, helmets, and other articles of equipment that were scattered over the ground, threaded their way among the fallen men, stopping here and there to assist wounded comrades. Meanwhile the British artillery was pounding the German lines to discourage a renewed attack, and the Red Cross men moved swiftly and silently over the field.
Kenneth had not seen Harry for some time, and was anxious about him. But the friends met at the edge of their trench. Each ran his eyes rapidly over the other; their set faces cleared when they recognised that neither was hurt.
Settled down once more in their dug-out, the three men talked over their experiences.
"I felt my blood run cold," said Harry, "but I hadn't time to be afraid. I feel worse now. Look at my hand shaking."
Ginger, very pale, was mechanically cleaning his rifle. He flung it down with a curse.
"What have they done to me?" he cried. "What have they done to me? I killed an officer, a nice young chap as might have been your brother. What for? What about his mother? And all those poor chaps yonder: why can't them as make wars let us alone? Men ain't made to kill each other. What's the good of it all? When the war's over, millions dead, millions crippled, millions miserable. It didn't ought to be."
"We're serving our country, Ginger," said Kenneth. "It's not a question of just the present moment. We've got to think of the future. What would life be worth to our people at home if the Germans had their way? You can get nothing good without paying the price, and it will be good if we can teach the Germans and the world that force isn't everything, that people have a right to live their own lives without being bullied. For every man that dies, whether English or German, perhaps thousands may have a better time in days to come. That's worth fighting for, and dying for, if need be. We've all got our little part to play. It's not a thing you can argue about: you feel it. Look at what Sir Edward Grey said: he'd rather cut the old country altogether than be obliged to give up our good English ways and to put up with German tyranny. Don't you feel like that too? Well, that's why we are fighting; we're fighting to call our souls our own, and, please God, we'll win."
CHAPTER XI
THE DISAPPEARANCE OF GINGER
It was when the battalion next returned to billets that the meaning of Ginger's confabulations with the men of other platoons came out.
One evening after supper Kenneth and Harry were smoking in the Bonnards' kitchen. They were alone. Ginger and the other members of their billet had left them some little while before, and the men's faces had worn the sly, conscious look of those who are meditating a secret design.
"If I didn't know Ginger, I should think they were up to some mischief," Harry had said.
Presently the door opened, and Ginger reappeared, at the head of eight or ten men from other platoons of No. 3 Company. They all looked a little sheepish and uncomfortable as they filed into the room. Some hung back and were pushed forward by their mates. Ginger moved to the rear, and was instantly seized by several hands and expostulated with in fierce whispers.
"Keep your wool on; I'm only going to shut the door," said Ginger.
"What's in the wind, you fellows?" said Kenneth. "Why are you hanging about the door? Come round the fire and light up: we'll have a smoking concert or something."
There were mutterings among the group. Some words reached the ears of the two men at the fire-place.
"It's your job: you're a sergeant."
"No fear; you don't catch me..."
"Ginger's the man..."
"Spouts like a M.P...."
At last Ginger was pushed through to the front. He grinned, half turned to protest, was swung round again; then he drew his hand across his mouth.
"Mr. Harry, and Mr. Amory," he began.
"Oh, come now, no misters here," Harry broke in.
"Not in the ordinary way, of course," said Ginger, "but this ain't an ordinary occasion. The fact is, we're a deputation, that's what we are; a deputation from No. 3 Company, and the other chaps have made me foreman of the jury. Not as I want to push myself; not me. I consider it's a job for a three-stripe man; but Sergeant Colpus here is a very bashful and retiring man, though you'd never think it to look at him."
"Dry up!" growled the sergeant, turning fiery red as the other men sniggered.
"Well, youwouldput it on to me," Ginger went on, "and I must do it my own way, always respecting my superior officer, of course. Being foreman of the jury, I speak for 'em all, got to give the verdict, as you may say. The fact of it is, we men of No. 3 Company, what you may call the Randall Company, ain't easy in our minds at the idea of being dogs in the manger like. We know as the colonel wants to make you officers, and we think it ain't fair to you or the army to keep you in the ranks 'cause of us. A promise is all right, and we take it very kind that you've stuck to your guns, in a manner of putting it, all these months. Speaking for myself, I didn't expect nothing else. But we think it 'ud be a dirty shame if we held you to your promise now, specially when every man of us knows you ought to be officers, and there's not a man of us but would be proud to follow your lead anywhere. And so we've come to say that the promise is off, and we don't stand in the way of your getting your rights."
There was a chorus of approval as Ginger wiped his mouth again and stepped back among his comrades.
"It's very good of you, Ginger," said Harry, "but I'm sure neither Amory nor myself want to leave the ranks."
"Not at all," said Kenneth: "thanks all the same."
"But it ain't right," said Ginger, coming forward again. "We've learnt a thing or two since we started being soldiers, and we've lost a lot of the bally nonsense that used to fill our heads, about all men being equal and such like. Mind you, I'm a Socialist, as strong as ever I was. I say now, as I've said afore, that there's no call for a man to stick himself up and think himself mighty superior 'cos he's got a quid for every penny I've got. And I don't say but what, if we'd had your eddication and chances and all that, we wouldn't be as good as you. But that ain't the point. We've got to look at things as they are, and be honest about it, and what I say is that you've had the training that makes officers and we haven't; and besides, you were born one way and we were born another, and it's no good trying to make out that chalk's as good as cheese. And there's another thing. When we've got a tough job afore us like licking the Germans we're bound to consider what's best for the company and the regiment, and if a man is cut out for an officer it's simply silly to keep him a private: he ain't in his right place, doing his right job. So we think it's only right for us and the army that you should do what the colonel wants, and that's the size of it."
"Is that what you all think?" asked Kenneth.
"Well, I can't say that; all but one or two, and they're a disgrace to the company. There's----"
"I don't want to know who they are," said Kenneth, interrupting. "We're both immensely obliged to you for your good-will, but we enlisted on certain terms, and I feel for my part that we can't break our contract without the unanimous consent of the company."
"I agree," said Harry. "The men enlisted on the faith of our promise, and it wouldn't be fair to break it without the consent of all. So we'll drop it, Ginger, and go on as before."
"It's for you to say, sir," said Ginger. "There! 'Sir,' says I. A slip of the tongue, mates; you can't get out of bad habits all of a sudden. Well, I'll say for No. 3 Company that we'd be sorry to lose such good pals, and as there's no chance that St---- that the pigheaded members of the jury will come round to the opinion of the sensible ones, we may reckon it as certain that the defendants will be condemned to serve as Tommies for three years or the duration of the war."
"And now we'll discharge the jury," said Kenneth, "and have a sing-song until 'lights out.' Come on, Ginger; start off with 'Dolly Grey.'"
Next afternoon Kenneth was summoned to the captain.
"I've a little job for you, Amory. You know how to drive a motor; do you know anything about the mechanism?"
"Not much; but Ginger--that is, Murgatroyd, sir--is a bit of a mechanic. Of course I'll have a shot at whatever is required."
"Add Randall, and we have the Three Musketeers complete. You didn't know that's our name for you, I suppose? Well, it's this. A motor cyclist came in just now with a despatch for the colonel, and reported that on the way he had passed a man who'd had an accident of some sort with a motor lorry, and wanted help. Just go and see what you can do, the three of you. I don't know whether the load is for us; if it is, so much the better. Take my map; the breakdown is thereabouts"--he pointed to a spot some three miles away--"and be as quick as you can."
The three men set out, Ginger carrying a bag of tools he had borrowed from the village smith. The place where the accident had happened was apparently on a by-road about halfway between the village and the headquarters of the next regiment on the left of the Rutlands. They followed footpaths across the fields, some of which had been sown by the inhabitants. The air was very misty, and but for the map they could hardly have found their way. But presently they caught sight of a man in khaki sitting on the grass at the corner of the main road and by-road. The man bore the badge of the Army Service Corps on his sleeve.
"What's wrong?" asked Kenneth, going up to him.
"Are you the Wessex?" said the man.
"No, the Rutlands. You've had a spill by the look of you."
"You're right," said the driver with an oath. "And I owe that there parson one. It's his fault. Did that cyclist send you along?"
"No, but the capting did," said Ginger. "Where's your lorry? We'll have a go at it."
"Well, if you two chaps 'll be a pair of crutches I'll take you to it. I'm bruised all over, and my ankle's got a twist so that I can't hardly walk. It's about a mile away."
Supported by Kenneth on one side and Harry on the other, the man led them slowly along the by-road.
"I only came out a week ago, a Carter Paterson man I am," he said. "I was driving up a load of grub for the Wessexes, and somehow took the wrong turning away back there. I'd drive over London blindfold, but I'm new to this job, see. It came over misty, and I got a sort of notion I was on the wrong road, and there was nobody about to ask the way of, even supposing I could have made 'em understand me. However, at last I happened to catch sight of a fat parson in a long cloak just ahead of me. I pulled up, and pointed to the name of the village on my map, for twist my tongue to it I couldn't. 'All right, my man,' says he, speaking English like a countryman. 'You take the first turning on the right': that's this road we're on now. That seemed about the right direction. 'Good road?' says I: 'not too soft for a heavy load?' 'Capital road,' says he. 'Go as fast as you like, straight through to the road you've left.'
"Well, it seemed all right. Wasn't a bad road for a bit, and I put on speed to make up for lost time. Then, just as I was going through an avenue of trees, and what with the mist and the shade couldn't see more than a few yards ahead, the road took a sharp dip, and I throttled down and screwed on the brakes; but the road made a sudden bend, and before I knew where I was, I was chucked in the ditch by the roadside. I was dazed for a bit, and when I come to, there was the lorry in the field. I crawled to it; it was stuck fast, and even it if hadn't been I couldn't have driven it in the mashed state I was in. A pretty fix to be in, in a strange country, with no garage handy. I didn't know what to do. When I'd recovered a bit, I crawled back to see if I could find that parson. It was all his fault, not warning me, and he ought to get me out of the mess. But I couldn't find him, so all I could do was to crawl to the main road, on the chance of seeing some of our chaps. It was hours before any one came along; just my luck; another time the road would very likely have been crowded. But presently that cyclist came up at forty miles an hour. He would have gone past if I hadn't bellowed like a bull. He wouldn't get off his machine to take a look at the lorry, but he said he'd send help if he could. And all I want is to get hold of that parson; I'd know him again in a minute by his size and the wart on his nose. Why, a German couldn't have served me a dirtier trick; and he said he knew the road.... There's the lorry; I doubt whether you'll get it up; and the Wessexes howling for their grub, I expect."
The lorry was tilted over to one side, with the near front wheel embedded nearly up to the axle in the soft earth of the field.
"Got a jack?" asked Ginger.
"You'll find it under the seat."
Ginger fetched it, and with his companions tried to jack the wheel up; but the tool sank into the earth.
"Let's unload and then see," suggested Kenneth.
It took them half an hour to unload the car, working so hard that they were all bathed in perspiration. Again they plied the jack, but in vain.
"The only chance is to get something solid to put under it," said Ginger. "There's nothing handy hereabouts. Any houses about here?" he asked the driver.
"Hanged if I know. It was too misty to see when I came along. The parson lives somewhere, I suppose."
"I'll run up the hill and take a look round," said Harry.
"Take your rifle, man," Kenneth called, as Harry was starting without it.
"All right; but we're miles away from the German front. You might have a look at the engine while I'm gone."
All this time there had been sounds of firing in the distance eastward, with reports of British guns at intervals nearer at hand. But they were now so familiar with such sounds that they scarcely heeded them. Guns and gunners were alike out of sight. There were few signs of war immediately around them; but for the absence of human activity on the fields the country might have been at peace.
Harry went up the hill and for some distance along the road before he discovered anything that promised assistance. A slight breeze was dispersing the mist; but the sun was already far down in the western sky; in an hour or two it would be dark. At length, on his right he noticed a rough cart track leading to a small farm building half hidden in a hollow about half a mile away. He hurried towards it across the fields, soon regretting that he had not gone by the beaten track, for the soil was soft and heavy.
Approaching the building at an angle, he saw a man pottering about in the yard. While he was still at some distance the man happened to glance towards him, then went into the house. Harry quickened his pace, and entering the yard, was met at the house door by a burly individual who gave a somewhat surly response to his salutation. In his best French Harry explained the circumstances, and asked for the loan of a stout board.
"You'll find one in the shed yonder," said the man. "You'll bring it back?"
"Oh yes," Harry replied, thinking that the farmer might at least have offered to help. "By the way, could you lend us a horse to pull the lorry on to the roadway when we get it up?"
"I haven't got one; all my horses are requisitioned."
"That's hard luck. I hope we'll soon clear the country, and there'll be better times. Many thanks: I'll return the board presently."
Reflecting on the hardships war inflicted on honest country people, Harry trudged back with the plank, this time taking the cart track.
"Good man!" said Kenneth. "Where did you get it?"
"At a small farm. The farmer's rather a bear, but I suppose the war has pretty well ruined him. Now, Ginger, let's see what we can do."
Placing the plank by the embedded wheel, they set the jack on it and screwed up the axle until they finally succeeded in releasing the wheel.
"The lorry isn't damaged, luckily," said Kenneth. "We'll get the wheel on to the plank, then I'll start the engine and we'll back on to the road. You fellows shove."
In a few more minutes the lorry stood on the road, facing towards its original destination.
"Now for loading up," said Harry. "This is back-aching work; I shouldn't care to be a docker."
The three men started to carry the boxes and baskets from the field to the lorry, the driver sitting on the grass by the roadside. They were about halfway through the work when they heard the hum of an aeroplane. Like the reports of artillery it was so common a sound that they paid little attention to it. But Kenneth, glancing up as the sound grew louder, exclaimed:
"It's a Taube, about 5000 feet up. I fancy. There'll be a pretty chase presently. By Jove! it's dropping. Something must have gone wrong with the engine. I'll try a pot shot at it if you fellows will go on loading."
Seizing his rifle, he stood watching the aeroplane as it circled above them, gradually coming lower.
"Look out!" he cried suddenly.
Almost as soon as he had spoken there was a terrific crash on the road about thirty yards away, and a shower of earth and stones bespattered the lorry and the men. Kenneth fired as the Taube made another sweep round, still lower.
"Here's another!" he called. "Down with you."
They all threw themselves flat on their faces. The second bomb exploded farther away than the first, doing no damage. They sprang to their feet, and all three fired at the aeroplane, which was now making a vol plané, and would come to earth apparently about half a mile away.
"We'll nab them," cried Ginger. "Come on."
They ran up the hill. The aeroplane was descending on the far side of the farm, near a clump of trees. They rushed across the fields, and were just in time to see a man leap from the aeroplane and dive into the copse. The farmer joined them as they ran past. They came to the aeroplane. The pilot wasin extremis. After the shot had struck him he had managed to control the machine until it reached earth; he would never fly again.
"We must catch the other fellow," said Kenneth.
All three ran into the copse, the farmer following them. Separating, they scoured the plantation in all directions without finding the fugitive. After about half an hour Kenneth called the others together.
"He seems to have got away," he said. "We must give it up. It'll soon be dark, and we've got to get the lorry home. Ginger, will you mount guard over the aeroplane? Our fellows are sure to have seen it, and will no doubt be coming up shortly. We'll motor back if we can borrow a car."
"Right you are," said Ginger. "I'll wait for you, in any case."
The others left him, returned to the lorry, and lifting the driver on to it, drove off rapidly towards its destination. There they told their story, and the colonel at once sent off a motor omnibus with a number of men to secure the aeroplane. When they approached the spot where they had left it the machine was gone.
"Somebody must have fetched it already," said Kenneth. "It's a pity you fellows are too late."
They drew up at the rear of the farm. Kenneth and Harry sprang out, surprised that Ginger was not awaiting them.
"He's inside, perhaps," said Harry. "He makes friends of most people; perhaps he has got over the farmer's surliness."
They went through the yard to the house door. The farmer met them on the threshold.
"Ah, messieurs," he said, "this is lamentable."
"What do you mean?" asked Harry.
"Your comrade, messieurs, he is gone. I fear he is a prisoner. He made signs that he was thirsty, and I left him there at the aeroplane while I returned here to fetch him some little refreshment. Ma foi! I was just uncorking the bottle when I heard a whirr. I rushed out with the bottle in one hand and the corkscrew in the other, and voila! there was the aeroplane already in the air."
"But how?--what..."
"I do not know," said the farmer, with a shrug. "I only guess. The man who ran away must have hidden until your backs were turned, then come back and overpowered your comrade and flown away with him."
"That's very rummy," said Kenneth to Harry. "Ginger isn't a man to be caught napping easily. What do you make of it, sir?" he asked the lieutenant in charge of the omnibus party, who had followed them.
Kenneth repeated the farmer's story.
"Very curious," said the officer quietly. "The man wasn't himself a flier, I suppose?"
"No."
"Well, I think we'll run your farmer back to headquarters. It looks rather fishy: there are spies all over the place. You speak French? I don't, more's the pity. Just tell this fellow he's to come with me."
The farmer protested volubly, but the officer was inexorable. The omnibus party returned with their prisoner, and Kenneth and Harry tramped back in the twilight to their village.