The Boy Scouts to the Rescue by George Durston - HTML preview

CHAPTER XIV

ORDERS ARE ORDERS

Night fell dark and stormy. As soon as it was dusk Fritz begged to be released and, receiving the General's permission, slipped away.

"I doubt if he comes back," said the General, "but it will spread the news at least. No, it is too much to expect that a man will persuade a couple of men, to say nothing of twenty, to give themselves into the hands of an enemy they have been taught to believe is ruthless, but if he does, we will know that the conditions in the German army are worse than we dream."

Time dragged away. The boys, still believing in Fritz, sat at the head of the only trail, watching. They almost wore their watches out looking at them, and trying them to see if they were wound. Time seemed to stand still and yet, somehow, ten o'clock came, and eleven and a quarter past. At half past the drivers prepared the cars for their silent night journey to the next sector. The tents were down, all but the screen of blankets behind which, with a closely shaded light, the General sat.

Ten minutes and the boys looked once more at the illuminated dials, and sighed.

"I'd have bet on that duck, if I was a betting man," said Porky sadly. "I bet he meant to come."

"Hark!" said Beany, listening.

Porky listened too. He could always hear what Beany heard, if Beany called his attention to it. A soft tramp of feet could be heard. The boys leaped to their feet. Tramp, tramp, scuffle, scuffle, up the hill in the darkness!

"They are coming!" gasped Beany.

They were.

A flash of lightning preceding the storm that had hung off all day split the sky, and in its momentary glare the boys saw a small squad of American soldiers come out into the little clearing. The boys stood aside as they passed. Another squad brought up the rear, and between them—yes, between them marched, or rather staggered, a dismal company of twenty haggard skeletons headed by Fritz!

He had kept his word. The men were evidently frightened badly and Fritz kept talking to them as they advanced. The General came out of his shelter and surveyed them by the light of his flash.

"Here they are, sir," said Fritz. "Ask them what you like."

The General spoke to the weary men and they replied rapidly in harsh, hoarse voices. Porky and Beany stood in an agony of curiosity, wishing that they had studied German instead of Latin in high school.

Finally the General took time to explain to the officers who did not understand.

He gave orders to have the prisoners fed, and soon the strange little company wound off down the hill again on its way to the prison camp. Fritz, as a sort of trusty, was given special privileges.

"It is quite true, gentlemen," said the General. "The conditions in the enemy's army are most serious. They are only half fed, poorly clothed and letters occasionally smuggled from home report a frightful state of affairs—famine, disease and intense suffering among the families of the soldiers. This alone you know will break the morale of their troops.

"And Fritz said he could have brought five hundred men as well as this twenty, but they are taught that we torture them and always shoot our prisoners sooner or later. That is why they fight so desperately.

"They think death awaits them in any case, and that death on the battlefield is far preferable to that which we will mete out to them if taken prisoners.

"Fritz assured me that he had set the ball rolling, however, the news of our millions of men in the field. This has been a surprising experience but we are already late. We must be off!"

Rapidly the party took their seats in the automobiles. The first was about to start when a motor was heard in the darkness. It was approaching, apparently from headquarters.

"Word for the General!" was the whispered word, and sure enough, the driver of the swift, low car had a letter for the General. He read it and called the boys.

"News for you, young men," he said regretfully. "General Bright has been recalled to the States, and you are to return with him. This cuts your stay several weeks and, I regret to say, makes it impossible for you to continue with us. You are to return in this car."

The boys, desperately disappointed, hopped out, found their field kits, and advanced to say good-by to the General.

He shook hands heartily and patted each on the shoulder.

"I shall miss you, boys," he said. "You have certainly done your bit! Some day, when we are all back in America, I shall expect you to come and see how real apples grow on a ranch in Oregon."

The boys thanked him. They could not say much. It was a great disappointment.

They settled back in the car which was to take them back to General Bright. They heard the other cars glide quietly and swiftly away in the distance. They too shot out at high speed.

Soberly they stared into the darkness. Their thoughts flew forward to the tiresome trip to the port of embarkation, the long ocean voyage with its deadly inaction. They had been living in confusion, danger, and uncertainty. They commenced to see before them their home, their father and mother, the familiar fellows.

"We have to get Bill and Peggy," said Beany.

"Yep!" said Porky briefly.

They could just see their mother, with oceans of love for them and plenty for the two orphans beside.

For the first time a great wave of homesickness swept over the boys. That they were to have a pleasant, safe trip would not have interested them if they could have been told of it. They were homesick. Silently they rolled on and on in the dark. Presently Beany slipped an arm around the hunched up shoulders of his twin.

"Wish we were home now!" he said huskily.

"Gosh!" said Porky.

FINIS