The Boy Allies in the Trenches Part 4

"I don't wonder," said Hal dryly.

"It's a wonder he didn't administer a dose of poison right then,"

said Chester.

"Yes," continued the captain, "it made him mad, and he informed me that I might as well die, because if I didn't I would be shot anyhow."

"Shot!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Chester. "What for?"

"That's what I asked him. He replied that I had been declared a spy, and that I was to be put to death as soon as I was well enough to face a firing squad. He said they didn't want to do it while I was so ill."

"Very considerate of them," commented Hal.

"Just what I told the surgeon. Well, naturally, with this sentence hanging over my head I didn't get well any quicker than I had to. Every day I could feel myself getting better, but I pretended to get worse. I contracted all the ailments you ever heard of, and I was a sore puzzle to the surgeon. He had several others look me over, but they couldn't agree on what was the matter with me, although they did agree I was a very sick man and had only a few days to linger on this earth. Yet all this time, mind you, I was shamming and getting better every day."

"You must be a pretty good actor," said Chester.

"Well, I'm not so bad," replied Captain Anderson modestly. "But to continue. I finally became afflicted with St. Vitus' dance, and later with a queer ailment that wouldn't allow me to keep still. I'd hop out of bed and wander about, with the surgeons or nurses on my heels, and then I'd fall down in a fit. This continued for several days, and finally they became tired of following me about, figuring, I suppose, that a man in my condition couldn't go very far, anyhow."

"This was what I had been waiting for, but I didn't put the plan I had decided upon into execution at once. I waited for a good chance. At last, it came. The surgeon was a young chap and smooth shaven, which was lucky for me. Also he was about my build, and there was some slight resemblance between us. This day he was with me alone. Not a soul was present save us two. As he turned his back to look into his medicine case, I struck him heavily in the back of the neck.

"He toppled over without a sound. Quickly I exchanged clothes with him and put his body in my bed, after which I picked up his case and walked boldly out of the hospital."

"Great Scott!" cried Chester. "You had plenty of nerve!"

"Well," continued the captain, "no one interfered with me and I walked about at will. I kept edging closer and closer to the firing line, figuring that I would make a break for liberty at the first opportunity.

It came sooner than I expected.

"There had been a big battle, and all surgeons and nurses were rushed to the front to look after the wounded. I went along. The battle was over, and we immediately went forth to attend to the wounded. Again I went along, only this time I didn't stop going. When I figured I was far enough ahead I broke into a run.

"But I wasn't to get away so easily. A surgeon who had been near me saw me take to my heels, and instead of attending to the wounded as he should have done, he raised an alarm. Immediately a troop of hors.e.m.e.n dashed after me. I managed to reach a little woods directly ahead of me in safety and climbed up a tree. The Germans were unable to find me, so when night came I descended from my perch and continued my journey.

"Soon after daylight I came upon a house, where I asked for food. I still wore the German surgeon's uniform, and here this worked to my disadvantage."

"How was that?" asked Chester.

"It seems that the family were Belgians, and I hadn't thought of that.

They gave me food and drink all right, but they spilled a little drug of some kind in the drink. The next thing I knew I was bound and gagged and was looking down the muzzle of a revolver held by a ferocious-looking Belgian peasant. He informed me my time had come. I told him I was English, and explained my capture and escape. He listened patiently, but when I finished he informed me that he wasn't going to take any chances.

I had just five minutes to live, he said."

"Great Scott!" cried Hal. "That was pretty close. How did you escape?"

"More by good luck than anything else," was the reply. "There was some kind of a noise behind the peasant and he turned to investigate. At that moment I kicked out with my foot and the toe of my boot caught him squarely under the chin. He went down with a thump. I don't know whether I killed him or not."

"But how did you free your hands?" asked Hal.

"Well, I had quite a little trouble, but I managed to drag my chair over to the fire, and held my hands over the blaze until the cord was burned."

"And didn't you burn your hands?"

"A little," was the quiet response; "but it had to be done. Then I untied my legs and removed the gag, after which I took to my heels as fast as I could. I didn't care for any more Belgian hospitality to one who wore a German uniform.

"In the road I came upon a dead British soldier. I took his uniform and discarded that of the German surgeon. I now began to feel that I was reasonably safe, and I lay down at night and slept like a log, in spite of the cold.

"I was awakened a little before daylight by the sounds of approaching footsteps. I saw the marchers before they saw me, but still not quite quick enough. They were the same men from whose hands you rescued me only a short while ago.

"I had been confined in that hospital so long that I was still somewhat weak and I couldn't run fast enough to get away from them. I tried, but it was no use. Then I took a couple of shots at them, and got two or three, I think. I'm not sure, though. Anyhow, I saw this barn ahead, and dashed into it, figuring that I might possibly hold them off.

"When they set fire to the barn, and I realized I couldn't get out, I gave up. I did shoot one through a crack, but a moment later a shot came through and caught me in the side. That's the last I remember until I returned to consciousness and learned that you had saved me."

"Well," said Chester, "you certainly have had an eventful time."

"There is no question about that," Hal agreed. "But how do you feel now, captain?"

"Tip top. And you?"

"First rate."

The troop continued at a trot, and Hal now believed that they were out of danger--that there was no likelihood of encountering a force of the enemy--and turned to his friends, remarking:

"Well, we might as well--h.e.l.lo!"

He broke off suddenly and checked the pace of his horse.

"What's up?" demanded Chester, doing likewise.

For answer Hal pointed down the road. A man was approaching them at a dead run.

CHAPTER V.

ANTHONY STUBBS, WAR CORRESPONDENT.

"Now, what in the name of all that's wonderful do you suppose is the matter with him?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Chester.

Hal shrugged his shoulders expressively.

"You've got me," he admitted; "but by the look of him he's not running for fun."

"Right," agreed Captain Anderson; "but whatever is on his trail will have to travel pretty lively to catch him. Look at him come!"

As the stranger dashed toward them, head hanging and arms working like pistons, the three friends suddenly broke into a loud laugh. A more comical-looking specimen of humanity would be hard to imagine. The friends looked him over carefully as he came on.

Large he was, there could be no mistake about that, but he seemed to be about as wide as he was long. Hal and Chester took in his dimensions with an appraising eye. Stout and chubby, he must have weighed all of 200 pounds, and his height, the lads saw, could not be more than five feet four.

As he tore down the road as fast as his peculiar build would permit, he did not once raise his head, and therefore did not perceive the British troops in his path. The lads could see that his face was red, and that he was puffing and snorting from lack of breath. Not perceiving the men who barred his path, he would have dashed right in among them had not Hal brought him to a sudden stop with a word of command.