"Carstairs, old man," he said, "I don't know what you are, at home, but here you're the greatest chauffeur that ever lived! I believe you could drive a car sixty miles an hour all day long on a single wheel!"
"Thanks, old man," said Carstairs, grasping his hand, "I didn't have time to look back, but I knew from the sounds that you were working a machine gun, as one was never worked before; fast enough by Jove to drive off a whole hostile army."
"You two have organized the greatest log rolling society in existence," said Wharton, "but you've been brave and good boys. Now let's take a look at this glorious car of ours which we had specially built for us in Germany."
The light in the east was increasing, and for the first time they made an examination of their capture. Despite the armor and presence of the machine gun it was upholstered in unusual style, with cushions and padded sides in dark green leather. There were many little lockers and fittings not to be found often in a car intended for war. On a tiny silver plate under the driver's seat a coat of arms was engraved. John, who was the first to catch sight of it, exclaimed:
"This car belongs to some duke or prince. Carstairs, you're a subject and not a citizen, and you ought to be up on all kinds of nobility worship. What coat of arms is this?"
"I don't know," replied Carstairs, "and I'm as free a man as you are, I'd have you to know."
"Breaking the treaty already," chuckled Wharton. "It doesn't matter whether we know the coat of arms or not. It's likely that the man standing in the road, the one whom John hit over the head with the gun was the duke or prince. Oh, if the Germans ever get you, Scott, they'll break you on the wheel for such an extreme case ofMajestätsbeleidigung!"
"And if you pronounce that word again you'll break your jaw," said John. "Let's open all these lockers. We may find spoils of war."
It seemed a good suggestion, and taking the monkey wrench they broke open every locker. They found a pair of splendid field glasses, shaving materials, other articles of the toilet, and a tiny roll of fine tissue paper.
"I've an idea that we have something of value here," said John, as he held up the little roll. "It's in German, which I don't understand. Take it, Wharton."
There were six small sheets, and as Wharton translated them aloud and slowly they realized that in very truth they had made a precious capture. They contained neither address nor signature, but they notified the commander of the extreme German right wing that a British force would shortly appear near the Belgian border, on the extreme allied left, that it would be a small army, and that it could be crushed by a rapid, enveloping movement.
"The prince or duke whom you hit over the head, John," said Wharton, "was carrying this. He did not put it in his pocket, because he never dreamed of such a thing as the one that happened to him. But one thing is sure: our obligation to reach the allied force in the west is doubled and tripled. We three, obscure as we may be, may carry with us the fate of an army."
"He called us two madmen," said John, nudging Carstairs. "Now look at our good sober Wharton going mad with responsibility."
Wharton did not notice them. He was turning over and over the sheets of tissue paper, and his eyes glowed. His hands trembled, too, as he handled the precious document, but he did not let a single page fall.
"Glorious! splendid! magnificent!" he exclaimed. "By our capture, by our own courage and skill, and by ours alone we'll save the allied left wing from destruction."
The timeliness of their exploit, the wonderful chance had gone to Wharton's head. He forgot for the time his comrades, the motor, and the morning sun over the fields and the forest. He thought only of their arrival in the allied camp with those precious documents.
John and Carstairs exchanged glances again. They had come quite back to earth, but there could be no doubt that Wharton was taking an ascension.
"We'll treat him kindly," said Carstairs.
"Of course," said John. "Old friend of ours, you know. Been with us through the wars. But I want to tell you, Carstairs, and I hope I won't hurt your feelings, you being a monarchist, that I'm glad I hit that prince such a solid smash over the head. It will always be a pleasure to me to remember that I knocked out a royalty, and I hope he wasn't any mediatized prince either."
"Don't apologize to me. He was only a German prince, and they're so numerous they don't count British princes are the real thing."
"Stop talking foolishness you two!" exclaimed Wharton. "You ramble on, and we carry the fate of Europe in our hands! My God, we've wasted a quarter of an hour here talking! Carstairs, get back in the driver's seat, and I don't care how fast you drive! Scott, take your place at the machine gun, and shoot down anything that opposes us!"
"Mad! Quite mad!" John and Carstairs said together, but they obeyed with amazing promptness, and in a minute the car was spinning down the road at a great rate. But Wharton leaning forward and looking with red eyes in black rims, saw nothing they passed. He had instead a vision of the three arriving at some point far away with the prince's dispatches, and of English and French generals thanking those who had come in time to save them.
Carstairs drove with a steady hand, but he was his normal self now. He had seen that their supply of gasoline was sufficient to last a while, and he was content for the present with a moderate rate of speed. If they were pursued again then he could make another great burst, but he did not consider it likely that a third force of the foe would appear. They must be getting beyond the vanguard of the German invasion.
John sat beside Wharton. The machine gun was at rest, but he kept his rifle across his knee. Nevertheless he did not anticipate any further danger. He felt an immense satisfaction over their achievements, but the danger and strain had been so great that rest seemed the finest thing in the world. He hoped they would soon come to another of those neat French inns, where they would surely be welcome.
But Wharton was not thinking of inns and rest. He took out the dispatches and read them a second time. Then he folded them up triumphantly and put them back in his pocket again. His soul burned with ardor. Their fights with the aeroplanes and the armored cars were alike forgotten. They must get forward with the prince's dispatches.
The sun came over the slopes, and the day grew fast. John fell asleep in his seat with his rifle across his knees. He was aroused by the stopping of the car and the murmur of many voices. He sat upright and was wide awake all in a moment.
They had come to the village for which they had wished so ardently and they were surrounded by people who looked curiously at the car, the heavy dents in its armor, the machine gun, and, with the most curiosity of all, at the three occupants.
But their looks were friendly. The three in the car wore the French uniform, and while obviously they were not French, it was equally obvious that they were friends of France. John smiled at them and asked the burning question:
"Is there an inn here?"
They pointed across the street. There it was snug and unimpeachable. Carstairs drove slowly to the front of it, and he and John meanwhile answered a torrent of questions. Yes, they had been in a fight with Germans, and, after seizing one of their armored cars, they had escaped in it. But it was true that the Germans were coming into France by all the main roads, and the people must be ready.
There were many exclamations of dismay, and the questions they asked John and Carstairs never ceased. But they said nothing to Wharton. His stern, absent expression did not invite confidences. He was looking over their heads at something far away, and he seemed merely to be going into the inn, because his comrades were doing so.
The three found the breakfast good as usual. Gasoline could be obtained. It was not for civilians, but as they were soldiers serving France they were able to buy a supply. The news that they desired was scarce, although there was a vast crop of rumors which many told as facts. John was learning that war was the mother of lies. He believed only what men had seen with their own eyes, and but little of that. It was incredible how people described in detail things they had witnessed, but which had never occurred.
Had a British army landed? It had. It had not. Where was it? It was in Belgium. It was in France. It was at the training camps in England. There was plenty of information, and one could choose whatever he liked best. John and Carstairs looked at each other in dismay. They had a car, but where were they to go. At least they carried dispatches for a British army which some of the French believed to be in France. But Wharton took no notice of the difficulty. He was silent, and preoccupied with their triumphant arrival that was coming.
John asked the most questions, and at last he found a woman whose words seemed to be based upon fact and not imagination. She had a cousin who was employed in the telegraph, and her cousin told her, that British troops had landed, that some of them at least had reached Paris, and then had gone north toward Belgium, the region of Mons or Charleroi, she believed. She spoke quietly and with much detail, and John believed that she had a mind able to tell the truth without exaggeration.
He held a brief conference with Carstairs, who had now replenished the gasoline, and who had also put stores of food in the car. Carstairs agreed with him that the statement was probably correct, and that at any rate they ought to govern themselves in accordance with it. They did not consult Wharton, who they knew was thinking only of the papers.
John took the wheel. Like Wharton he did not know much about driving, but it was a time when one had to do things. Carstairs soon fell asleep, but Wharton sat rigidly erect, staring before him.
John had felt the emotion of triumph strongly that morning, but now much of it was departing. The country was growing more beautiful than ever. He had never seen any outside his own to match it. This had the advantage of age and youth combined. Buildings were gray and soft with centuries, but the earth itself was fresh and eternal with youth. But he knew beyond any shred of doubt that it would soon be torn to pieces by the fighting millions.
There was no occasion for haste now, as they must feel the way, and they were beyond the German advance. While Carstairs slept and Wharton stared ahead he examined the country. Once they passed near a town of considerable size, and he saw on a hill, in the center of it a great gray cathedral, its fine stonework glittering like tracery.
Then he saw the graybeards, the women, and the young boys and girls coming into the fields to work. All the men of fighting age were gone. He had seen the same in Germany, but it struck him anew with painful force, this turning of millions of workers upon one another, weapons in hand.
John stopped beside the fields once or twice and talked with the peasants. The old men could tell him nothing. They were stolid and stoical. Yes, there was war, but it was not any business of theirs to find where the armies were marching, and his heart went out more strongly than ever to the people, over whom military ambition and the folly of kings were driving the wheels of cannon.
It was well toward midday before he secured any real information. They encountered at the crossing of a brook a small French patrol under a lieutenant, an intelligent man, whom by lucky chance Carstairs had met two weeks before.
He told them that going at a moderate rate they could reach by the next morning a large French army which lay north and west. Some British troops—he did not know how many—had come up, and they were on the extreme left of the allied line. More were expected. In front of them were great masses of the Germans.
They gave him their own news, and then with mutual good wishes they drove on, Carstairs now at the wheel, and their pace increased. It was agreed that they should hasten much more, as soon as they were absolutely sure of the way. Wharton, for the first time, took part in the talk.
"When we have a definite point to aim at," he said, "we must take every risk and race for it. If we don't deliver these documents promptly to the generals we ought to be shot."
"We won't be shot for the lack of trying, Wharton," said John, "but if we go racing along the wrong road we'll be that much farther from our right direction."
"We ought to see more patrols soon," said Carstairs. "They'll surely be watching all through this region."
"Likely enough we'll find 'em in that wood ahead," said John, pointing to a long stretch of forest that clothed a group of hills. "It's just the place for 'em. From the top of that highest hill they can see for miles."
Carstairs increased their speed, and the car shot forward. It was a fine motor, John thought, and the bombardment it had received had not hurt it much. That German prince certainly knew how to select a car, and he had fortified it in a splendid manner.
John was smiling to himself again in satisfaction, as they dipped down the valley and entered the forest, which in that country they would certainly call a great one. Its shade was pleasant, too, as the beams of the sun were now vertical and hot.
"Nice region," said John approvingly. "See that old castle off there to the left."
An ancient castle, decayed and abandoned, crowned a little hill. Around it was a moat dry for generations, and one of the Norman towers had fallen down. It was a somber picture of lonely desolation.
"I suppose some fine old robber of a baron lived in that," said John, "and preyed upon the country, until he reached the hunting grounds of other robbers like himself."
"Deucedly draughty and uncomfortable they must have been," said Carstairs. "We've some of 'em in my country, but they must have been pretty hard living for my lord and my lady."
"I don't see that we have much advantage over those old fellows," said John thoughtfully. "They were little robbers, and here are all the countries of Europe trying to tear one another to pieces. After all, Carstairs, I'm beginning to think the Americans are the only really civilized people."
Carstairs grinned.
"You can't do it, Scott," he said, "you can't take Wharton's place. I'll argue with him about the merits of Briton and Yankee. It's his time-honored right, but I'll have no dispute with you."
Wharton smiled a stern assent.
"Then we'll let it go," said John, "but do you notice that this is a real forest. It must cover a half dozen square miles. I suppose that in your country they would call it the Royal Forest or by some such high-sounding name."
"Never you mind what we'd call it," rejoined Carstairs, "but whatever it is it's evident that something violent is going on within its shades! Listen!"
John started upright in his seat, as he heard the crackle of three or four shots so close together that they were almost in a volley, and then the sound of feet running swiftly. They stopped the machine, and a figure, stained, bleeding and desperate, emerged from the forest.
"A fugitive!" exclaimed John.
"But from what?" said Carstairs.
"The Germans, of course!" said Wharton.
The man, stained with blood, ragged and dirty came at great bounds, and before any one could put out a detaining hand he sprang into the car.
"Help, for God's sake!" he cried. "I'm a spy in the service of France, and the Uhlans are coming down through the wood after me!"
"Help you!" exclaimed Carstairs. "Of course we will! Any friend of France is a friend of ours!"
He bent low over the wheel once more in his old speeding attitude, and the car shot forward like an arrow.
John glanced back toward the point from which the shots had come, but it was already hidden by the curve of the hill. Moreover, the car was going so fast now that the Uhlans would be left as if standing still, and he turned his attention to the man who had crumpled at his very feet.
The stranger lay in a heap on the floor of the car, his breath coming in short gasps from sobbing lungs. There were red stains on the arms and right shoulder of his coat. John felt a great pity and dragged him into one of the seats. Then he uttered a cry of surprise. The features under their mask of blood and dirt were familiar.
"Weber!" he exclaimed.
Weber stared back.
"You, whom I met at the inn!" he said, "and your friends!"
"Yes, we're all here," said John cheerily. "This is indeed a singular chance!"
"A most fortunate one for me," said Weber, straightening himself, and endeavoring to arrange his clothing—it appeared that his pride was returning. "After this I shall think that Providence is watching over me. A man on foot seeking to escape has little chance against horsemen. I saw the automobile moving slowly and I sprang into it, intending to make the appeal which has been successful."
"Look who's here," said John to his comrades. "We've rescued Weber, the Alsatian, from the Uhlans. Battered a bit, but still in the ring and good for many another escape."
"So it is," said Carstairs, reaching back a hand. "We happened along just in time, Weber. It's a way we three have. I've no doubt that we'll rescue you at least a half dozen times more."
Weber grasped the proffered hand and shook it eagerly. Wharton bowed in a friendly manner, but he was still preoccupied. His hand rested on that point in his coat, beneath which the papers lay, and his thoughts were not with the fourth arrival in the car.
"Your wounds!" said John. "This is an automobile of princes, and for the present we are the princes. I've no doubt we can find in these lockers and drawers material of which to make bandages."
"They're slight. They don't matter," said Weber. "Pay no attention to them at a time like this. I know that you must be going toward the main French army, and time is of value. My strength is coming back now, and my courage, too. I will admit I was frightened. I thought my time had come. Perhaps that may seem a disgraceful confession, but it's true."
"Not disgraceful at all," said John sympathetically. "I haven't been a soldier more than a few days, but it's been long enough to teach me that brave men are often scared. What were you doing and how did you happen to come so near to being caught?"
"I've been inside the German lines. Oh, they're not so far away! And I was slipping out I had passed all, but a body of Uhlans, under a captain, von Boehlen, an uncommonly shrewd man. If I had been caught by him I would now be singing with the angels in Paradise."
He smiled faintly.
"I've met von Boehlen," said John, "and if he suspected you, you acted wisely to run with all your might. I saw him in Dresden on the eve of the war, and I've seen him since, though at some distance."
"We'll forget my narrow escape now," said Weber cheerfully.
"One can't remember such things long in these times."
"They're tremendous times."
"So tremendous that as soon as you've made one escape with your life you're due for another."
"You haven't heard of any Germans on this road?"
"No, but they're raiding far and wide, and von Boehlen will attempt anything."
"We've had uncommon luck so far, and I think it will continue. I see you're admiring our automobile. I wasn't jesting, when I told you it belonged to a prince."
"It's rather small for an armored car. They usually have seven or eight men in them."
"Yes, and it's fortunate for us that it's small. I told you luck was running our way. But as it is, it's a pretty heavy strain on the man at the wheel, although Carstairs there is an expert."
"I'm a pretty good chauffeur," said Weber, "and whenever Mr. Carstairs wishes it I'll relieve him at the wheel. Besides I know the country thoroughly, and I can take advantage of every short cut."
"I'll call on you soon," said Carstairs. "A lot of my enthusiasm for speeding has gone out of me. My arms ache all the time, but I'm good for another hour yet."
Weber did not insist. John understood why, as it was patent that he needed rest. He made himself comfortable in the seat, and the others left him in peace. The machine rolled on swiftly and smoothly. It was one of the beautiful roads so common in France, and John felt scarcely a jar. A full sun tinted the green country with gold.
The warmth was penetrating and soothing. John had lost so much sleep and the nervous drain had been so great that his eyelids became heavy. They came to a clear little brook, and decided to stop that all might have a drink. Weber used the chance also to bathe his face and hands and get rid entirely of blood, dirt and dust. He seemed then to John a rather handsome man, having the touch of the scholar in his face.
John walked about a little, stretching his arms, and thumping his chest in order to make himself more wakeful. But when he returned to the automobile, and sat down in the cushioned seat the old sleepiness returned. The effort to keep the eyelids from going down was painful. Carstairs in the driver's seat also yawned prodigiously.
"All my strength has returned now, and my nerve has come with it," said Weber. "Let me take the wheel. I see that you three are exhausted, as well you may be after such tremendous energy and so many dangers. I don't boast, when I say that I'm a good driver."
"Take the wheel, and welcome," said Carstairs, yawning prodigiously and retreating to a seat in the body of the car, beside John.
It was evident that Weber understood automobiles. He handled the wheel with a practised hand, and sent it forward with a skill and delicacy of touch equal to that of Carstairs.
"It is, indeed, a beautiful machine," he said. "Splendid work went into the making of it, and I can well believe as you do that it belonged to a prince."
John's sleepiness increased. The motion was so smooth and pleasant! And the absence of danger and strained effort lulled one to slumber. He fought it off, and then concluded that he was foolish. Why shouldn't he go to sleep? Carstairs was asleep already and Wharton, who felt such a tremendous weight of responsibility, was nodding. His eyelids fell. He raised them with a desperate effort, but they fell again and remained closed.
When John awoke a dimness over the western hills showed that the twilight was advancing. Through sleepy eyes he saw Weber's back as he bent a little over the wheel, steering steadily. The road now led through forest.
"Where are we, Weber?" he asked.
"Ah, awake are you," said the Alsatian, not looking back. "You saved my life, but it was most fortunate that you had the chance of doing it. Otherwise all of you would have perished from lack of sleep."
"Lack of sleep? What's that?" exclaimed Carstairs, waking up and hearing the last words. "Why, I'm always lacking sleep. I believe the greatest hardship of war is the way it deprives you of sleep. When I've helped take Berlin, Hamburg, Munich and other important German cities, and this war's over, I'm going back to England to sleep a month, and if anybody wakes me before the right time there'll be a merry civil war in that blessed isle."
Wharton, who had been somewhat uneasy in his sleep, woke up in turn, and his hand flew to his tightly buttoned coat. But he felt the papers safely there and his heart resumed its natural beat. Yet he was angry with himself. No man who carried perhaps the fate of a continent should ever close his eyes a moment.
"We're crossing a range of hills," said Weber, replying as soon as he could to John's question. "We've been making good time. We ought to strike the French line by midnight and then our journey will be over."
"And I'll be glad when we get there," said Carstairs. "I love automobiles, but I've had enough for the present even of such a fine machine as this. I judge that we slept well, Mr. Weber."
"I never saw two sleep better," replied Weber. "Mr. Wharton was a little troubled in his slumbers though."
"Oh, he's a very grave individual with great responsibilities," said Carstairs.
But he did not add anything about the dispatches.
"A little farther back," said Weber, "I saw a biplane. Although it was high in air I'm quite sure from its make that it was German."
"Scouting," said John. "It was pretty venturesome to come this far west."
"The Germans shun no risks," said Weber, gravely. "The biplane flew back toward the east. It did not alarm me greatly, but I saw another thing that did. Just before you awoke I noticed a gleam in the valley to the right, and I know that it was made by a sunbeam falling on the spiked helmet of a Uhlan."
The three stiffened with alarm, not so much for themselves as for their errand. Wharton's hand moved again toward the pocket, containing the papers, which had transformed him into a man with but a single thought.
"Uhlans here close to this road!" exclaimed John.
"Do you think it can be von Boehlen?"
"It may be. On the whole I think it probable," replied Weber. "Von Boehlen is a most daring man, and to scout along the skirts of the French army would be the most natural thing for him to do. I'm going to speed up a bit—that is, if you gentlemen agree that it's necessary."
"Of course," said John, and the machine sprang forward. He had taken the prince's glasses as his own share of the spoil. They were of great power, and now he searched the forest with them for their enemies. He soon found that Weber was right. He saw steel helmets on the right, and then he saw them on the left. They were surely Uhlans, and evidently they had seen the car.
He quickly put away the glasses and snatched up his rifle.
"You were right, Weber," he exclaimed. "They're German cavalry, and they've begun to pursue us. Faster! Faster! This machine can leave any horsemen behind!"
Weber turned back a despairing face.
"The car is doing its best!" he said. "Something has gone wrong with the machinery!"
He wrenched at the wheel, but he produced no such speed as that which Carstairs had got out of the car, when they were fleeing from the German automobiles. The two forces of Uhlans had now joined and were in the road galloping in swift pursuit. Many of them carried lances, which glittered in the late sun. The sight of the steel points made John shiver. It would be horrible to feel one of them in his back.
He turned to his machine gun. A touch of that old madness returned. The sight of the Uhlans had set his brain on fire.
"I'll teach you not to come too close, my fine lads," he said.
He aimed the gun and undertook to start the mechanism, but nothing moved. No shots came. He jerked at it widly, but it refused to budge. It was jammed, and it would take a long time to put it in order. His heart stood still and a cold perspiration came out on his face. How did it happen? Was it possible that he had left it in such a condition?
"What's the matter, John?" asked Wharton.
"The machine gun's jammed, and I can't fire a shot. The car seems to be breaking down, too. Don't you see that the Uhlans are gaining!"
"So, they are," said Wharton.
He and John snatched up their rifles and fired rapidly at the horsemen. Some of the bullets struck, but did not impede the pursuit. Carstairs pushed Weber out of the driver's seat, and seized the wheel himself. All his pride and confidence were aroused, and he did not have time to be polite. He could get the speed out of that machine and save them.
But it did not obey his hand. It staggered along like a tired man. Weber was right again. Something had gone wrong with the internal organism, and one could not stop to right it with pursuing Uhlans only a few hundred yards away.
"What shall we do?" exclaimed Weber. "Shall we jump for it and run? We may escape in the shelter of the forest?"
"Not yet," replied Carstairs firmly. "Not yet for three of us, though it may be best for you, since you'll be executed as a spy, when you're taken."
"If you don't go, I don't go either," said Weber. "We'll all stay together."
"Brave man!" said Carstairs admiringly. But he had time for no more words. He was wrenching at the machine as a rider for his life would pull at the mouth of a stubborn horse. Crippled as it was he managed to drag a little increase of speed from it. The Uhlans had dropped back somewhat and none of them fired. John believed that they refrained because they were sure of a capture. Wharton suddenly uttered a cry.
"A river," he exclaimed. "It's not more than five hundred yards ahead!"
His cry was echoed by Weber, but its tone was very different. The Alsatian's voice showed despair.
"I had forgotten," he exclaimed. "The river is too deep for fording, and the French have blown up the bridge! We're trapped!"
A deep flush came into the face of Carstairs. As in the case of John a touch of his first madness was returning. The three comrades were now wild together.
"Can you swim?" he shouted back to John.
"Yes!"
"And you?" to Wharton.
"Yes!"
"And you, too?" to Weber.
"Yes, fairly well; but what do you mean?"
"You wait two or three minutes and you'll see something. But when it's time to swim all of you be ready for it!"
A great shout came from the Uhlans, who had begun to gain again, and who could not now keep from seeing the river that cut off the fugitives. But Carstairs wrenched another pound or two of speed out of the automobile, and it shot forward.
"Stop! Stop for God's sake!" cried Weber. "You'll drown us all! It's better to jump out and take to the woods!"
"Never!" cried Carstairs, his daring flaming to the utmost. "We captured the automobile of a prince, and we'll not give it back again! Ah, the machine is returning to life! Look how much faster we're going! On, my beauty! Your last and greatest run is before you!"
The machine seemed to come out of its maimed and crippled condition, its strength flaring up for the last burst of speed. The jarring and jerking ceased and the road flew behind it.
The river came near at an astonishing rate, and John saw that it was wide and deep. He saw, too, the pillars of the ruined bridge, and he heard another cry from Weber, who started to spring out, but drew back.
Carstairs uttered a wild shout, and then the automobile, leaping far out into the stream, where the bridge had been, sank beneath the deep waters. John had prepared himself for the desperate stroke, and before the machine touched the surface he had sprung clear. Then he struck out desperately for the opposite bank, and his heart filled with gladness, when he saw Wharton and Carstairs swimming almost by his side.
They reached the shore before the Uhlans could come up, and darted into the shelter of the forest, where they threw themselves down on the ground and lay panting, every touch of wildness gone.
"Is Weber here?" asked John.
"No," replied Wharton, who felt of his papers again, and saw that they were wet, but safe.
"Did either of you see him?"
"Not after the auto made its jump."
"Then he must have been drowned. Poor fellow! But I'd rather be drowned than be executed as a spy."
It saddened them. They had learned to like Weber, and, having saved him once, they were sorry they could not save him twice. But one could not mourn long at such a time. The more daring of the Uhlans would certainly swim the river and continue the pursuit, and it was for the three to hide their trail as soon as possible. John rose first.
"Come, boys," he said. "Our clothes will dry faster while we're running."
"Put it that way if you like," said Carstairs. "At any rate I'm going to toddle."
They had lost their rifles, but they had their automatic pistols which might be of service in spite of their dips, but they wished to avoid the need of their use. They already heard the splashes as the Uhlans made their horses leap into the river, and they ran at their best speed through the forest, coming presently to a vineyard, which they crossed between the rows of vines, finding a high wire fence on the other side. As they darted between the strands they recognized that they could have no better barrier between them and pursuing horsemen.
Near them on the left was a large château, with a flower garden in front and a kitchen garden behind. They resisted the inevitable temptation of man to run to a roof for shelter and protection, and sped instead into the dense foliage and shrubbery that spread away toward the fields. There they threw themselves down again and panted for the breath that came so hardly through their exhausted lungs.
But they did not hear the sinister tread of the Uhlans, nor did they notice the presence of any human being, a fact which for the present failed to impress them, because the Uhlans filled their minds. Five minutes, ten, fifteen passed and still no sound.
"Perhaps they think we're drowned," whispered John. "They were not near enough to see us swim away from the automobile."
"I hope you're right, and maybe you are," said Wharton. "In any case I don't think they'll hunt for us long. We're not important enough for them to waste time on when they're so near the French lines."
"I'm going to stay where I am until I hear the tread of hoofs," said Carstairs. "I'm drying fast and it's comfortable lying here under the vines. You didn't lose those papers, when we were in the river; did you, Wharton?"
"They're safe in my pocket," replied Wharton, "and I had them wrapped up so thoroughly that they didn't have a chance to get wet."
"If the Uhlans don't find us in the next half hour," said John, "it's quite certain they won't find us at all. They won't spend more time than that on us."
Then they lay quite still, sheltered well under the vines. Their armored car, the car of the prince was now lying at the bottom of the river, but it had served them well. John was sure that they would find some other means of reaching the Franco-British army. He was fast learning that ways nearly always opened to daring and persistence.
The half hour passed, and no Uhlans appeared. They had crossed the river, as the splashes indicated, but, doubtless, finding no trail of the fugitives, they had believed them pinned under the car at the bottom of the river, and had gone away on some other more profitable quest.
But the three waited another half hour for the sake of precaution, and then came from under the vines. Twilight was now at hand, and they realized that they were physically weak after so much excitement and exertion.
"I might be able to limp along through the night," said Wharton, "but I doubt it."
"I know I can't," said Carstairs.
"Why try to go on?" said John. "Here's a house. Being in France it must be inhabited by French sympathizers. They'll shelter us and give us food."
"I think we'd better try it," said Carstairs.
"I agree with you," said Wharton, "but I think it strange that we've seen nobody attached to this place. So large a house and grounds must have at least twenty people about, and an affair like ours would certainly attract their attention. Yet, we see nobody."
"That's so," said John. "Suppose we wait a bit—it's darkening fast—and see what's happened."
They still stood among the vines, and, as the night was coming on and their clothing was only partially dried, they shivered with chill. The tile roof of the château, showing among the trees looked attractive. But no light appeared in any of the windows, and not a sound came from the house itself, nor any of the buildings about it.
The windows glittered like fire with the last rays of the sun, and then the darkness soon swept down, heavy and thick. The three holding their automatics, and shivering in the chill wind of the night, approached the silent château. John felt a little awe, too. Chance certainly was taking him into strange places, and he was devoutly glad that he had two good comrades by his side.
They passed out of the vineyard and entered the grounds, which were large, adorned with ancient trees, several statues, and a fountain, in which the water was still playing. The moonlight, coming out now, gave to the château an appearance of great age.
"I fancy that some old noble family lived here," he said. "It must have been quite a place once."
"Whoever they are, evidently they have no welcome for us," said Carstairs, "but I'm going in, anyhow. Whew, this wind cuts to the bone!"
"I'm just as cold as you are," said John, "and I'm just as much resolved as you are to find shelter here, whether I'm asked in or not. It may belong to a noble family, but I'm a nobleman myself, a king, one of a hundred million American kings."
"Then, king, you lead," said Carstairs. "It's your place. Go right up those steps."
A half dozen marble steps led to the great central door, and John walked up boldly, followed closely by the others. He lifted a huge brass knocker, and beat heavily with it again and again. No sound came back but its echo.
"Push, king," said Carstairs. "Any door will open to royalty. Besides your majesty has been insulted by the refusal to answer your summons."
John pushed hard, and the great door swung back slowly, quivering a little, but with the automatic in his hand, he walked into a hall, the other two at his shoulders. They closed the door behind them and stood there for a little space, accustoming their eyes to the dusk.
It was a long hall with tall windows, through which a faint light filtered. To the right was a stairway, on the first step of which was a figure, of complete medieval armor. Several faded pictures of ancient knights hung on the walls.
"It's old, very old," said Carstairs, "but its owners, whoever they are, have left with all their people. There's nobody to dispute our claim to lodgings, but did you ever see anything more lonesome?"
"There's a double door, leading into the interior of the house," said John. "Let's explore."
They entered a large apartment which John took to be the drawing-room. It was at once splendid and dignified, furnished in a style at least two centuries old. John liked it, and thought what it would be when it was filled with light and people.
A magnificent chandelier hung from the ceiling, and there were ornamented sconces about the walls, all containing many candles. Evidently the owner of this château scorned such modern lights as gas and electricity.
"We might light a candle or two," said Carstairs. "Doubtless we can find matches about."
"No! No!" exclaimed Wharton. "I'm not at all sure that we're safe here from intrusion!"
"Think you're right," said Carstairs. "Let's explore further."
"Then I vote that we go downward," said John. "I've gathered from my reading that in the big European houses the kitchens are below stairs, and just now a kitchen will be much more welcome to me than a drawing-room."
True to John's reading the kitchen and storerooms were in the basement. Nothing had been disturbed, and they found ample food. Carstairs discovered a wine cellar, and he returned with a bottle of champagne.
"It's an old and famous vintage," he said, "and there'll be no harm in taking one."
"Here's a furnace in the cook-room," said John, "and billets of wood. Suppose we make a fire, and dry ourselves thoroughly while we eat and drink. It's too far down for the reflections of the flames to be seen outside."
The others promptly agreed with him. All wanted to get rid of the wet chill which struck so deeply into their bodies. A search disclosed matches, and John built the fire which was soon burning redly in the furnace. What a glorious warmth it threw out! It created them anew, and they realized that light and heat were the great vital elements of the world.
They drew a table before the fire, and put upon it the food and the bottle of champagne.
"We've been made welcome here after all," said John. "The souls of the absent owners have provided these things for us."
"That's dreamy sort of talk, John," said Wharton.
"Maybe, but I'll go further and say that the house itself invited us to come in. I've an idea that a house doesn't like to be abandoned and lonely. It prefers to be filled with people and to hear the sounds of voices and laughter. These old European houses which have sheltered generation after generation must be the happiest houses of all. I'd like to live in a house like this and I'd like for a house like this to like me. It would help life a lot for a house and its occupant to be satisfied with each other."
"We feel that way in England about our old country houses," said Carstairs, "and you'll come to it, too, in America, after a while."
"No doubt, but will you have a little more of this champagne? Only a half glass. I don't believe the owner, who must be a fine French gentleman, would ever begrudge it to us."
"Just a little. We're rather young for champagne, we three, but we've been doing men's work, and we've been through men's dangers. I wonder what they're doing along the Strand, tonight, John!"
"The same that they've been doing every night for the last hundred years. But you listen to me, Carstairs, old England will have to wake up. This war can't be won by dilettantes."
"Oh, she'll wake up. Don't you worry. It's not worth while to get excited."
"To take a serious view of a serious situation is not to grow excited. You Britishers often make me tired. To pretend indifference in the face of everything is obviously an affectation, and becomes more offensive than boasting."
"All right, I won't resent it. Here, John, take another piece of this cold ham. I didn't know they had such fine ham in France."
"They've a lot of splendid things in France," retorted John, in high, good humor, "and we'll find it out fast. I'm thinking the French soldiers will prove a good deal better than some people say they are, and this château is certainly fine. It must have been put here for our especial benefit."
"Now that we've eaten all we want and our clothing is dried thoroughly," said Carstairs, "I suggest that we put out the fire. There isn't much smoke, but it goes up that flue and escapes somewhere. Even in the night the Germans might see it."
"Good advice, Carstairs," said Wharton. "You're as intelligent sometimes as the Americans are all the time."
"Pleasant children you Americans."
"Some day we'll save the aged English from destruction."
"Meanwhile we'll wait."
They extinguished the fire, carefully put away all the dishes they had used, restored everything to its pristine neatness, and then the three yawned prodigiously.
"Bedrooms next," said Carstairs.
"Do you propose that we spend the night here," said Wharton.
"That's my idea. We're worn out. We've got to sleep, somewhere. No use breaking ourselves down, and we've found the château here waiting for us."
"What about the Germans?"
"We'll have to take our chances. War is nothing but a chain of chances, so far as your life is concerned."
The other two wanted to be persuaded, and they yielded readily, but John insisted upon one precaution.
"Old houses like this are likely to have isolated chambers," he said. "Some of them I suppose have their secret rooms, and if we can find such a place, lock the door on ourselves, and go to sleep in it we're not likely to wake up prisoners of the Germans."
Wharton and Carstairs approved of his suggestion, and they examined the house thoroughly. John concluded from the presence of all the furniture and the good order in which they found everything that the departure of its owners had been hasty, perhaps, too, with the expectation of a return on the morrow.
The room that they liked best they found on the third floor, not a secret chamber, but one that chance visitors to the house would not be likely to see. A narrow stairway starting near it led down through the rear of the house, and the door was fastened with a heavy lock in which the key remained.
It contained only some boxes, and John surmised that it was a storeroom. But it seemed to suit their purpose admirably, and, bringing blankets from one of the bedrooms, they made their beds on the floor.
John was the last to go to sleep. The others were slumbering soundly before he lay down, but he stood a little while at the single window, looking out. The window was closed ordinarily with a heavy shutter, which was now sagging open. The boughs of a great tree waved almost against it.
The night was clear, but John saw nothing unusual outside. The château, and all its buildings and grounds were bathed in clear moonlight. The only sound was the soothing murmur of leaves before a light wind. It was hard to realize that a great war was sweeping Europe, and that they were in the thick of it.
But utter exhaustion claimed him, too, and soon three instead of two were sleeping soundly.
John was awakened by the measured thud of heavy boots. It resembled the goosestep of the German army, and he turned over in order to stop the unpleasant dream. But it did not stop, and he sat up. Then it was louder, and it also had an echo.
His heart thumped wildly for a moment or two. The tread was inside the house, and it was made by many men. He slipped to the window, and his heart thumped more wildly than ever. The lawn was covered with German troops, most of them on horseback, the helmets of the Uhlans glittering in the moonlight. Officers stood on the steps at the main door, and at the edge of the vineyard were cannon.
John thought at first that they were lost. Then he remembered their precaution in securing an obscure and isolated room. The Germans might not trouble themselves about ransacking an abandoned house. At least there was hope.
He awoke his comrades in turn, first clasping his hands over their mouths lest they speak aloud.
"We have fellow guests," he said. "The Germans are sharing the house with us."
"Yes, I hear their boots on the steps," said Wharton. "What are we to do?"
John again resumed the leadership.
"Do nothing," he replied. "Do nothing as hard and continuously as we can. Our door is locked. It's natural that it should be so, only we must slip out the key, so it will appear that the owners having locked the door, took the key away with them. Then we'll lie quiet, and see what happens."
"It's the thing to do," said Carstairs, "because we can do nothing else. But I don't believe I can go to sleep, not to the chorus of German boots on the steps."
John slipped the big key from the lock and put it in a corner. Then he lay down again beside the other two. They could hear better with their ears to the floor. It was a solid and heavily built house in the European fashion. Nevertheless they heard the tread from many parts of it, and the sound of voices also.
"It's an invasion," whispered Carstairs. "They're all over the shop."
"Looks like it," said John, "but I've a notion that we're safe here unless they conclude to burn the house. The German advance is so rapid it doesn't seem likely to me they'll stay longer than tonight."
"Still I can't sleep."
John laughed to himself. He was becoming so thoroughly hardened to danger that the complaint of Carstairs amused him.
"They've got an affection for the top of the house," said Wharton, "You can hear them pounding through the upper rooms, and even on the roof."
"But nobody has tried our door yet," said Carstairs, "and it's a consoling thought."
They lay a long time, and heard the continual thump of feet about the place. It suggested at first the thought of plunder, but when John peeped out he did not see anybody bearing things from the house. He beheld instead a sight that caused him to summon the others. A young man had ridden up, and, as he dismounted, all the officers, several of whom were in the uniform of generals, paid him marked deference.
"It's a prince," whispered Carstairs. "It may be the Crown Prince himself, but I can't say, the light isn't good enough."
"And there are other princes behind him," said Wharton. "See the officers still kotowing. I didn't suspect that we had taken a room in a royal residence."
"I'd give a lot to know what they're about," said Carstairs. "Something big must be afoot."
"They're still moving about the house," said John. "We've got to wait. That's all."
They went back to their places on the floor, and waited as best they could, but they heard the sounds for a long time. After an interminable period they went back to the window and saw the prince and the cavalry riding away. The cannon too departed. A dozen Uhlans however remained posted on horseback about the house. The noises inside ceased.
"I can't make it out," whispered Carstairs. "Why should they go away and leave those Uhlans there guarding the house?"
"There must be something inside very precious to them," replied John.
"But what is it? Apparently the house itself is abandoned by all save ourselves."
"I don't know the answer, but my watch tells me it's far in the night. We've had our sleep and rest, and we must try to slip by the Uhlans and get away. Now's the time too."
"Right you are, John," said Wharton, as he felt once more of his precious pocket. "We can't linger, and risk being caught in a trap here."
"But I hear somebody still moving about the château," said Carstairs. "Wait a minute, boys."
He looked through the empty keyhole, and announced that he saw a faint light or the reflection of a light in the hall.
"Something's on foot," he said. "If their officers are sleeping here I should think they'd take the lower rooms, but it seems to me that they're fond of the top of the house, overfond of it."
John who was peeping out at the window once more announced that the Uhlans were still keeping a vigilant watch. They were riding slowly back and forth, and he had no doubt there were others in the rear of the château.
"But I repeat we mustn't linger," said Wharton. "Suppose we hold our automatics ready and slip out."
"Suits me," said John, and he cautiously unlocked the door. The three with their hands on their weapons stepped into the hall, where they noticed the faint glimmer of light, of which Carstairs had spoken. They stood there silently for a moment or two, pressing themselves against the wall, where they would be in the shadow.
"I think the light comes from above," said Carstairs. "You'll notice that the little stairway leads upward, apparently to the roof."
Wharton held up his hand, and the three were so still they scarcely breathed.
"Don't you hear it?" whispered Wharton. "That sound from the roof, the sputtering and crackling."
"I do hear it," said John, listening with all ears. "It's a faint sound, almost like the light crackling of fire. What does it mean Wharton?"
"The wireless."
"The wireless?"
"Yes, while we were sleeping the Germans were installing a wireless outfit on the roof, and it's talking. I tell you, boys, it's talking at a great rate, and it's saying something. You mayn't have noticed it, but the château stands on a hill, with a clear sweep, and our wireless here is having a big talk with distant stations. We've been sleeping, but the Germans never sleep."
"I suppose you know what you're talking about, Wharton, and you're sure it's a wireless outfit," said John.
"It's impossible for me to be wrong. I could never mistake the sound of the wireless for anything else."
"And it's there on the roof of this château, which belongs to us by right of occupancy, chattering away to German forces elsewhere!" said Carstairs in an indignant whisper.
"It's doing a lot more than chattering," said Wharton. "They wouldn't install a wireless on the roof of a house at this time of the night, merely for a little idle summer conversation. You saw that a prince and generals came here, and undoubtedly they ordered it done."
"Whatever they're talking about," said Carstairs, "it's not likely they're talking about us, so now is our chance to slip away."
"I'm not going to leave the château just now," said Wharton.
"Then what are you going to do?"
"I'd like to see the wireless on the roof and the man who is working it."
John glanced at Wharton. The light was very dim, but he noticed a spark in Wharton's eye, and he knew that something unusual was working in the back of his head.
"I think I'd like to have a look at the roof myself," he whispered.
"If you chaps are bent on going up there," said Carstairs, "I'm bound to go with you. But we'd better keep our automatics in our hands."
They emerged from the shadow of the wall, and reached the foot of the stairway that led to the roof. The door at the top was open, as the moonlight was shining down, and Wharton boldly led the way, walking on tiptoe, his automatic in his hand. At the open door John and Carstairs crowded up by his side, and three pairs of eyes peeped out at once.
They saw two men on the roof both with their backs turned to them. One was the operator of the wireless, sitting on a camp stool, working the instrument. The other, in an officer's uniform, was dictating messages. John surmised that they were talking with a station to the eastward, where some lofty ranges of hills ran.
But Wharton was the most deeply stirred of the three. The spark in his eye was enlarging and glowing more brilliant, and a great resolve had formed in his mind.
"There's nothing that we can do here," said Carstairs. "We'd better go at once."
"We're not going," said Wharton in a fierce whisper. "I can use the wireless, and that's just the instrument on which I wish to exercise my skill. I've heard enough to know they're not talking in code."
"Wharton, you are mad!" said John.
"If so, I'm mad in a good cause. Inside of ten minutes some German general will be hearing remarkable news from this station."
"I tell you again you're mad."
"And I tell you again I'm not. I'm a crack wireless operator and this is my chance to prove it. I'm going up there. All who are afraid can turn back."
"You know that if you're resolved to go mad we'll go mad with you. What do you want us to do?"
"John, club your automatic, and hit that officer on the back of the head with it. Hit hard. Don't kill him, but you must knock him unconscious at the first blow. Carstairs and I will choke all but a spark of life out of the operator."
The three emerged from the stairway upon the flat portion of the roof where the wireless plant had been installed not more than four or five feet away. They made not the slightest sound as they stole forward, but even had they made it the two Germans were so deeply absorbed in their talk through the air that they would not have heard it.
John felt compunctions at striking an unsuspecting enemy from behind, but their desperate need put strength in his blow. The officer fell without a cry and lay motionless. At the same instant Wharton and Carstairs seized the operator by the throat, and dragged him down. He was a small spectacled man and he was only a child in the hands of two powerful youths. In a minute or two and almost without noise they bound him with strips of his own coat, and gagged him with a handkerchief. Then they stretched him out on the roof and turned to John's victim.
The man lay on his face. His helmet had fallen off and rolled some distance away, a ray of moonlight tipping the steel spike with silver. A dark red stain appeared in his hair where the pistol butt had descended.
The figure was that of a powerful man, and the set of the shoulders seemed familiar to John. He rolled him over, and disclosed the face of von Boehlen. Again he felt compunction for that blow, not because he liked the captain, but because he knew him.
"It's von Boehlen," he said, "and I hope I haven't killed him."
Carstairs inserted his hand under his head and felt of the wound.
"You haven't killed him," he said, "but you struck hard enough to make him a bitter enemy. The skull isn't fractured at all, and he'll be reviving in a few minutes. He's a powerful fellow, and we'd better truss him up as we have his friend here."
While Carstairs and Wharton were binding and gagging von Boehlen, John went to the railing about five feet in height that surrounded the central or flat part of the roof, the rest sloping away. The railing would hide what was passing there from the Uhlans below, but he wanted to take a look of precaution.
The men were riding up and down with their usual regularity and precision, watching every approach to the house, and making the ring of steel about it complete. This little wheel of the German machine was Working perfectly, guarding with invincible thoroughness against the expected, but taking no account of the unexpected. He came back to his comrades.
"All well below," he said.
Von Boehlen and the operator, the big man and the little man, were lying side by side. Von Boehlen's face was very pale, but his chest was beginning to rise and fall with some regularity. He would become conscious in three or four minutes. The operator was conscious already and he was staring at the three apparitions.
But Wharton was paying no attention to the captives. His soul fairly leaped within him as he took his seat at the instrument which was sputtering and flashing with unanswered questions.
"Is that the Château de Friant?" came the words flashing through the air.
"Yes this is the Château de Friant," replied Wharton, learning for the first time the name of the house, in which they had made themselves at home.
"Then why don't you answer? You broke off suddenly five minutes ago and we couldn't get another word from you."
"Something went wrong with the instrument, but it's all right now. Go ahead."
"Is Captain von Boehlen still there?"
"At my elbow."
"Take from his dictation the answers to the questions I ask you."
"At once, sir. He is ready to dictate."
"Have you seen anything of British troops, Captain von Boehlen?"
"I have sir. I saw them marching northward this afternoon."
"In what direction?"
"Toward Mons."
"What seemed to be their purpose?"
"To effect a junction with the main French army."
Wharton improvised rapidly. His whole soul was still alight. It had seldom been granted to one man, especially one so young as he to have two such opportunities, that of the papers, and that of the wireless, and he felt himself ready and equal to his task.
"Were they in large force?" came the question out of the dark.
"Larger than any of us expected."
"How many do you think?"
"About one hundred and fifty thousand men."
For two or three minutes no other question came, and Wharton laughed silently. "I've created a hostile force of a hundred and fifty thousand men," were his unuttered words, "and they don't like it."
"Is it possible for our advance column to get in between them and the French?" finally came the next question.
"It's too late," went back the winged answer. "The column would be destroyed."
"This is not in accordance with our earlier reports."
"No sir. But both the English and French have shown amazing activity. A French force of more than one hundred thousand men, of which we have had no report before, faces our right. It is prepared to strike our line just where it is thinnest."
Another silence, and Wharton's heart beat hard and fast. John standing near him, did not know what was being said through the dark, but he knew by the look on Wharton's strained face that it must be momentous. The wireless was silent, and now he heard the measured tread of horses' hoofs, as the Uhlans rode back and forth, guarding the wireless station against the coming of any foe.
Wharton listened intently at the receiver. Were they accepting all that he said? Why shouldn't they? He had given them no answer which they could know to be wrong.
"You are entirely sure of what you say?" came the question.
"Entirely sir. My Uhlans and I were able to ride under cover of a forest to a point within a few hundred yards of the enemy. We saw them in great masses."
"And their field artillery?"
"We were not able to count the guns, but they were very numerous."
"Then it seems that we can't drive a wedge between the English and the French."
"I fear that we can't sir."
"Send out a portion of the Uhlans under your best officers and report to me again at daylight."
"They shall go at once sir."
"Then good night. Captain von Boehlen. I congratulate you upon your energy and the great service that you have done."
"Thank you sir."
"We may call you again in the night."
"I shall be here sir."
"But I won't," said Wharton, as he stepped back and smashed the receiver with the butt of his automatic.
Then as he turned away he said:
"Boys, I've been talking with the Emperor himself maybe, and if not with some one very high in command. I'll tell you about it later, as we must waste no time in escaping from this château."
"I hope you told the Emperor that we are here, ready to defeat him," said John.
"I didn't tell him that exactly, but I told him or whoever it was something which may help us. Now, fellows, we must be off."
They crippled the instrument beyond hope of repair and started. As John turned toward the stairway, he glanced at von Boehlen. The Prussian had returned to consciousness and his eyes were wide open. They bent upon John such a look of anger and hatred that the young American shuddered. And yet, John felt von Boehlen had full cause for such feelings. Despite himself he believed that they owed him an apology, and stooping a little he said:
"It's been a cruel necessity, Captain von Boehlen. War is violence."
The Prussian's eyes glared back. A handkerchief in his mouth kept him from speaking, but his eyes said enough.
"I hope that you and your comrade will not suffer," said John. "Your friends will find you here in the morning."
Then he followed his comrades down the narrow stairway.
"What were you saying to him?" asked Carstairs. "I was apologizing for the blow I gave him from behind."
"The decent thing to do."
As they descended into the lower part of the house Wharton told them more fully what he had said over the wireless, and Carstairs patted him on the back.
"Good old chap," he said. "You Yankees do have bright ideas sometimes."
"The next bright idea is open to any one who can furnish it," said Wharton. "It's to tell us how we're to get out of the château."
"I think there's a vineyard just behind the house," said John, "and if we can reach it we're safe. And we should be able to get there as the Uhlans are watching for people who may come to the château, and not for anybody going away."
They explored the rear of the house and found a door opening upon a narrow flagged walk, lined on either side with pines, and leading straight to the vineyard about thirty yards away. They could make a dash for it, and a Uhlan might or might not see them.
"And if they should see us," said Carstairs, "we could probably get away in the garden and the darkness."
"But we don't want 'em to discover what's happened on the roof," said Wharton. "Then they might send a new wireless. If we can slip away without being seen maybe they won't know what's happened to the wireless, until morning."
"I think," said John, "that we'd better resort to the tactics, used long ago by the borderers in the American wilderness, and creep along the walk until we reach the vineyard."
"Go ahead," said Carstairs, "I'm as good a creeper as you are. But, since it's one of your Yankee tricks, you lead."
They stepped outside and instantly dropped to their hands and knees. The grass beside the walk was rather high and John led the way through it, instead of on the walk, whispering to Carstairs who was just behind him to do as he did, Carstairs in turn passing the word to Wharton.
They advanced about ten yards, and then, John lay flat. The others did the same. One of the Uhlans riding on his beat was passing near the vineyard. He was a man of good eyes and he was watchful as became his service, but it was impossible for him to see the three dark figures of his enemies lying in the grass and he rode on. Then John rose to his hands and knees again, and resumed his creeping advance with the others close behind him. He could hear Carstairs muttering against this painful mode of travel, but he would not alter it, and he knew that the Englishman would be true to his word.
Near the vineyard he flattened down a second time in the grass. The Uhlan was riding back again on his beat, and the most critical moment had come. He would certainly pass very near, and although the odds were against it, his eye might catch a glimpse of the three figures in the grass. Even then they might escape through the vineyard and across the wire fence which would impede the horses, but John recognized as fully as Wharton did the importance of the Uhlans believing until morning that all was well on the roof of the château.
The beat of the horse's hoofs came near. The Uhlan was young and blond, a handsome fellow with a kindly face. John hoped that he would never have to shoot at him. But he did not see the three prone figures. It was likely that they blended with the shadows more thoroughly than John had supposed. He passed on and the danger passed on with him.
"Let's get up now and run," whispered Carstairs.
"Not a step until we reach the bushes," replied John. "Not a step, even if your knees and elbows are worn quite away."
But it took only two or three minutes more to reach the vineyard, and they rose to a stooping position, Carstairs expelling his breath in a long sigh of relief.