CHAPTER XXVITURNING THE TABLES
Evans and Turner, who were making a circumambulating inspection of the prison quarters while Phil engaged in desperate combat with a boche soldier in a dark pocket of the earth, led the way to another sentry post on the east side of the large building and there found a second guard decidedly under the influence of liquor. He was seated on a low concrete fence that marked the dividing line between yard and the cul-de-sac, or little used stub of a street, that ran up to the edge of the thicket which covered the hill adjoining the big sandpit.
The guard was no longer a guard. His gun was lying on the ground and his head hung almost between his knees. He was snoring.
“No need o’ disturbing him,” said Evans, as he picked up the rifle and handed it to Phil. “He’s dreamin’ about the iron cross the kaiser’s about to bestow on him for faithful service.”
They passed on to the next post, but there found a more lively minion of the PrussianWar Lord. He was evidently “under the influence,” but not so much so that he was unable to spring to his feet in alarm as he heard footsteps near him. The next instant he was looking into the muzzles of three rifles and three very determined faces which must have resembled, in his startled imagination, the weapons and merciless countenances of a trio of highwaymen.
“You keep him right where he is,” said Evans, addressing Tim, while the latter took charge of the fellow’s gun and cartridge belt.
Tim did as directed and his companions continued their rounds. They found one more guard dead drunk and still another in a condition similar to that of Tim’s prisoner. They took possession of their guns and then returned with another staggering prisoner to the place where the young corporal stood guard over Semi-Drunk Number 1. The two captives were also relieved of their cartridge belts.
“Now where are the rest of the guards?” Phil inquired.
“They’re lodged snugly in that hotel down on the corner a block over there,” replied Tim, indicating the direction with his hand. “And they’ve got some comfortable quarters, too, believe me. That hotel was hardly scratchedwhen the bodies drove through this place. Everything was left, apparently, in the best of order by the fleeing French, and our prison guards are living like kings there. They’ve found a big store of wine in the basement and tapped several casks.”
“What’s their condition now?” asked Phil.
“About the same as these fellows out here. Tim and I looked in through a window and saw them.”
“Where are their guns?”
“Standing up in a corner right near the door,” said Tim. “We can open the door, seize the weapons and have ’em at our mercy.”
“How about the other prisoners?”
“They’re all in this building, according to my notion,” said Evans. “My guess is that they planned to put us all in there, but it got too full, and, our bunch being the overflow, they put us in the first place available.”
“Let’s go and get several of those fellows to help us,” Phil proposed. “We may not need them, but it isn’t going to do any harm to play safe. You boys wait here while I go and announce what we’ve done and bring some ‘moral reinforcements.’”
“Go ahead,” Evans assented. “Bring ’em all, if you want to. The more that come, the greater will be the moral effect, even if theyhaven’t any guns. But tell ’em to be mighty quiet.”
Phil hastened to the entrance of the building, which opened onto a small pillared portico at the head of half a dozen steps. There was a stout bar across the door holding it firmly in place, and this he lifted away and found that there was no further obstacle to his entering.
It was so dark inside that he could not, at first, see his hand before him. So he closed the door and called out:
“Hello.”
A few moments’ silence followed this greeting; then an echoing response came from a point several feet away:
“Hello.”
“We’ve made prisoners of all the guards around this building and the others are all dead drunk waiting for us to walk in and take their guns,” Phil announced. “There’s a plot on foot to wipe us all out tomorrow by dropping bombs on us from an aeroplane. Some of us overheard the plot. Three of us have handled the job thus far, but we want to play safe. So if a dozen of you fellows will come along we’ll soon make it impossible for those villains to carry out their dastardly plot.”
As this speech was delivered in English, itwas not understood by the French prisoners, and only Americans responded to the call. But before they filed out through the entrance, Phil addressed to the other Americans a request that they remain quietly in the building until notified that the coast was clear, and delegated to several of his compatriots who could speak French the task of explaining the situation to their companion poilus in prison.
Outside, three men were left in charge of the two boche prisoners who had not yielded quite all their senses to intoxication. Then the rest of the party proceeded to the inn where the “bunch of off-duty convivials” seemed to have transferred their interest in the outcome of the war into several casks of “concentrated thirst.” They were lying in all attitudes and aspects of alcoholic abandon. Evidently the last man who had taken a drink was so lost to everything but his last swallow that, after filling the tin cup which all appeared to have used for tipping the fiery liquid into their stomachs, left the cock open and the rest of the liquid in the cask ran out over the floor.
After the soldiers’ guns had been secured and passed around among the men, Evans, who was possessed of a rather ghastly sense of humor, remarked:
“Fellows, I’ve got a scheme for putting these beastly boches into a state of mind and body that will render them harmless so far as we are concerned for a day of two. They’ve drunk all they can pour into themselves; I propose to finish the job by waking them up and filling them full to the guards.”
“But we won’t have time for that,” Phil objected. “We ought to be getting away from here as quickly as possible. It’ll be daylight before very long.”
“We’ll settle that question in a jiffy,” said Evans, lifting a wristwatch of one of the drunken soldiers toward the candle light nearest him. Two of half a dozen candles, which had lighted the latter portion of the thirst orgies, were still burning when the escaping Yanks entered the place.
“It’s only two-fifteen,” Evans continued. “We’ve got time enough at least to make sure that these besotted fools have done a good job of this thing. I insist that we make of this affair the best argument for prohibition in the world. You know prohibition is about the biggest war issue at home today. Why, do you know, when they get wind of this story at home, there’ll be a constant demand for us as Chautauqua speakers until the demon Rum has been put where we’re going to put the kaiser.”