THE CELLAR'S SECRET
Porky and Beany were too tired to care what happened next and, taking quick advantage of a brief smile and nod of dismissal from the General, they made their way to their quarters and soon were as sound asleep as though they were lying on the softest down. They slept and slept, losing all track of time, and by the General's orders were undisturbed. When they finally woke, really wide awake, they found that a whole day and a night had passed since the early dawn when they had staggered off to bed.
They woke at the same instant, as was their habit, and sitting bolt upright, stared unblinkingly at the young officer sitting at the window writing.
"Morning, Lieutenant," said Porky, rubbing his eyes.
"What's the time, sir?" said Beany, looking curiously at his wrist watch.
"Yours stopped too?" asked Porky. "Mine has. Funny!"
"Not so very funny," said Lieutenant Parker, closing his writing tablet. "You have been asleep since yesterday morning, and I imagine the watches ran down."
"Yesterday morning!" gasped Porky. "Why didn't some one call us?"
"General's orders," said the Lieutenant. He laughed, "Gee, I wish he would order me to bed for a week. You can bet I would go!"
"Well, it makes me mad to sleep like this," said Porky in irritation. "What all have we missed, anyhow?"
"Nothing much," said the Lieutenant. "The biggest drive of the war is on and to-morrow General Pershing with his staff will make the trip along the front line trenches. I hope he counts me in on that."
"You liked to be in the trenches, didn't you?" asked Porky, stooping to lace his puttees.
"You are right I did," said Lieutenant Parker, wrinkling his smooth young forehead. "I came over to fight, and it was just my luck to get this measly scratch on my head, and blamed if they didn't put me here in this office doing paper work!"
"Well, you got to give your skull time to get well, haven't you?" asked Beany. "It was cracked, wasn't it?"
"No, just a piece scooped out of it," said the Lieutenant in a bored tone.
The boys grinned. Lieutenant Parker was one of the best friends they had, and they had learned that nothing teased him like being quizzed about the deep, palpitating scar that creased his dark head, the truth being that he had received the wound in an encounter that had won him the coveted French war cross with the palms. Porky and Beany considered modesty in others little less than a sin. They were always so thirsty for tales of blood and glory that they could not see why any one should hesitate to tell every possible detail of any adventure. It happened, strangely enough, that they did not apply the same rule to their own conduct. To get details out of the Potter twins was, as their own father said, like drawing nails out of a green oak board, accompanied by screeches of protest. The boys had had the Lieutenant's story, however, and they harked back to the news of the day.
"I am going on that hike," said Porky, standing up and stamping himself comfortably into his clothes.
"So'm I," said his brother, likewise stamping.
"Try for something else, kid," said the Lieutenant. "You can't get in on this. It is strictly staff."
"Watch me!" said young Porky, the cocksure. He hurried to the door and disappeared, while Beany, a trifle slower in his dressing, roared, "Wait for me!"
A muttered response of some sort was the only satisfaction given.
Beany grinned. "He is always so sudden!" he complained, addressing the Lieutenant.
"Might as well stay here until he comes back. I never like to butt in on Porky's talky-talks. He most generally knows what he wants to say, and he don't need any help in getting it out of his system. I certainly hope we can go with the General. You are always yelling about that old silver plate you have on your topknot. Look at us: seems like we just can't get into a trench. Honest Injun, I'm so sick of this old chateau—"
"I never did see such a pair!" said Lieutenant Parker. "Didn't you have enough of an adventure the other night to last you two or three days?"
He was going on, when Porky burst into the room. He threw up his hat.
"Better, much better than I ever hoped," he crowed.
"Hand it out!" demanded Beany anxiously.
"Why, I was going to give the General a great line of talk, and I didn't have a chance to do a thing but salute. He was talking to a French officer and the minute he went out, the General just said, 'All right to-day, young man?' I said, 'Yes, sir,' and he said, 'No time to talk! Report in the courtyard to-morrow morning five-thirty, field equipment, for special duty with my staff.'
"I saluted again and turned to come out, and the General said, 'Potter, this is in the way of a reward for that little affair in the dungeons,' and I said, 'Thank you, sir, but the pleasure was all ours, sir,' and he said, 'No, not quite all; because some of the papers you unearthed WILL HELP TO TURN THE TIDE.' How's that, old Beans, will help to turn the tide. Gosh! you did it with your little penknife, didn't you?"
"Well, never mind that," said Beany, wriggling. "Don't you know anything about this trip to-morrow?"
"Nary word," said Porky, "but why should we worry? Main fact is clear, we are going to be among those present."
The boys spent a restless day getting their traveling equipment in order and taking it apart again to put it together in some way they fancied would make an eighth of an inch difference in some of its dimensions. They strutted a little perhaps. It was truly a wonderful thing to go with General Pershing on a trip of that sort. They marveled at their good luck.
That good luck had hinged entirely on their ability to keep their own counsel. That desire some have to tell all they know, a lot that they guess, and a few things that they fear, did not exist in the Potter twins. They could keep a secret without being told to, and that's some test. Whatever they overheard was safe. When they saw things that were not intended for their eyes, they ignored them, or made an effort to forget all about them. This high sense of what was honorable and right was noticed immediately by the General as well as by others whom they met daily.
So they spent the long day patting each other on the back, and wondering at their great good fortune.
They kept closely to the rooms frequented by the officers. As Porky pointed out to his brother, there was one old lady at least who was not wasting any love on them, and they didn't want to give her a chance to turn a key on them and spoil all their fun. They had at least gained a little caution, but how very little the trip was going to show.
It was barely five next morning when Porky and Beany, like two shadows, slipped from their quarters and went silently down to the courtyard. Several automobiles stood ready, heavily guarded, and a couple of mechanics were busily tightening nuts and testing various parts of the machinery. No one spoke. The boys crossed the open space, and in accordance with an agreement made previously, sat down back to back on a ledge of the broken fountain. They were taking no risks of surprise or attack from the rear. Silently the minutes passed. The steady tramp of the sentries and the grating of metal on metal as the mechanics worked quietly on the cars made so little sound that distant noises were loud and acute.
The guns of the enemy had been silent for twelve hours. Even Porky and Beany sensed something big and terrible in the air.
"Want to bet something!" asked Porky, poking his brother with a backhand jab in the ribs.
He never found out whether Beany was game to bet or not for the door of the chateau opened and a group of officers came out. General Pershing led the group. The boys leaped to salute, the sentries stopped and presented arms. Even the mechanics straightened to their feet. There was perfect quiet, however, and five minutes later they started away full speed in the darkness. On and on they went, passing first through a country which showed very little of the effects of war. It was a sort of spur that had escaped the enemy's assaults in the beginning of the struggle, and which, since the arrival of millions of Americans, had been lying too far behind the lines to suffer.
The sun rose: it was day. They stopped in the shelter of a dense grove and breakfasted on the provisions put up for them by the cooks back at headquarters. While they ate the drivers of the cars watched the clear morning skies for airplanes. The sandwiches and coffee, boiling hot in big thermos bottles, tasted good to the hungry boys, although they were eaten in silence, and in silence the journey was continued. Now they commenced to see signs of the frightful struggle. First great shell craters, then trees uprooted or hacked down, and village after village lying a mere mass of wreckage. There were worse things too; sad reminders that made the boys turn pale with horror.
The stop for dinner was made the occasion of a careful examination of all the parts of the cars, as any accident in the next few miles might be most dangerous and disastrous. One of the aides announced to the several groups of officers that a start would not be made under two hours so the boys wandered about, looking at the ruined landscape and picking up here and there sad little mementoes of friend and foe. Buttons, scraps of jewelry, mostly cheap rings that girls might have worn and given to their departing sweethearts. There were dozens of crushed and stained pictures too, so many that the boys did not bother to pick them up after the first dozen or so. Pinned to one picture of a chubby child was a little sock. Across the back of the picture was written, "A year old to-day. My son. Wish I could see him."
"Gosh," said Beany, "I sure do hope he didn't get his! Perhaps this just fell out of his pocket."
"Why didn't he sign it?" demanded the practical Porky.
"Well, I suppose he didn't have a hunch we would want his address," said Beany. "I'm going to keep this and send it back home to one of the papers. They will be glad to copy the picture of the fat little geezer, and p'raps it will get back to his folks."
The boys wandered on. Coming from a country rich in magnificent old maples and elms, the ruin, so cowardly and so ruthless, of the great trees seemed one of the most terrible aspects of the war. Not only were they torn by shells, but mile after mile stood dead and dying from the effects of the gas attacks of the enemy. The gas seemed to be as fatal to the trees as it was to human beings. Not only had the leaves curled up and fallen, but the trunks themselves were blackened and dead looking. It was like a country in a nightmare, everything in the way of buildings flat on the ground, literally not one stone left on another. The dead and dying trees, leafless and twisted, let the sunshine down upon it all with scarce a shadow.
The boys reached the site of what had evidently once been a fine farm. It was a total ruin. They went clambering over the loose heaped-up stones of what had once been a fine old dwelling, and sat down for a moment on a flat block that had made the broad and generous doorstep.
"Gee, this must have been an old place," said Porky. "See the way the edge of this stone is worn—and it is granite at that."
"Look at the size of it, too," said Beany.
They sat studying the stone when a faint feeble wail was heard. They looked at each other, startled.
"Aw, gee, there's a kitten shut up some place," said Beany, jumping up. "Let's find it."
"Sure we will," said Porky, "but we can't take it along. I don't suppose General Pershing would want to add a cat to his traveling party."
"It sounded most dead," said Porky. "Kitty, kitty! Here, kitty," he called in his most persuasive, voice.
Another little cry answered him and gave them the direction. "It's the cellar," said both boys together, and with one accord they seized a couple of stout timbers and commenced to pry away part of the wreckage in what seemed the likeliest entrance to the pitch black: hollow under the bent and broken floor timbers, on which still rested masses of stone.
Suddenly, in response to their efforts, a huge stone, mate to the one they had been sitting on, tipped sidewise and slowly slid down into the darkness, followed by a shaft of light.
There was a sharp cry from below, and the boys looked at each other, a sort of horror on each face.
"That's no kitten!" gasped Beany.
For answer Porky slid feet first in the wake of the big stone, landed on it, and stepped off into a gloomy chamber now feebly lighted from above. In a moment his eyes were accustomed to the dim light, and he stepped aside, making way for Beany, who came helter-skeltering down behind him.
What they saw was a room that had been used as a store-room for the farmhouse. By some trick of fate the falling walls, while they had made a tight prison of it, had spared the most of the shelves of provisions, and rows of preserves and tins of fruit still stood safely in their places.
A thin, emaciated figure lay in the corner on a pile of dirt over which a cloak had been spread. The sunken eyes fixed themselves on the two boys, but there was no recognition in their glassy depths. What looked like two little piles of rags were huddled close, and as the boys came nearer, the dying woman, for it was a woman and she was close to death, clutched them convulsively. The bundles stirred, and a couple of small heads were raised. Two children, tousled and covered with dirt, lifted frightened eyes and clung frantically to the prostrate figure.
Porky crossed swiftly and dropped on his knees by the dying woman. Very gently he slipped an arm under her heavy head and lifted her a little on his strong young arm.
"Get a move on!" he flung at Beany, and that young man scrambled up the pile of debris where the big stone had fallen and instantly disappeared. Porky, left alone with the woman and the two terrified children, who tried frantically to burrow out of sight under the mother's nerveless arm, could think of nothing better to do than clasp the woman closely to him in an effort to give her some of his own heat and vitality. She seemed already stone cold.
Almost at once Beany returned with some of the officers. They came down and with tender hands lifted the sufferer out of the chilly dampness of the cellar, and laid her on a pile of coats and cushions. Some one carefully fed her a few drops of the hot coffee still left in the thermos bottles. It was very evident, however, that her moments were numbered.
One of the French officers in the party knelt beside her. Softly, tenderly, pityingly, he spoke to her in her native tongue.
The weary eyes opened, and rested on his face.