"We must first loosen the ground," said a petty officer. "If the soil is
too hard, then the action will drag. And quick action and a brisk finish
always make for a better picture."
"Hey, you!" commanded the Captain. "Go get another shovel and help dig."
While two soldiers stood digging in a rectangular plot in the
market-place, the camera-men had set up and were adjusting a motion
picture apparatus. Twenty-five feet away stood six soldiers leaning on
their rifles talking and laughing.
"Enough digging!" shouted the Captain. "Turn the loose earth back into
the pit." The soldiers obeyed.
"Are you ready?" he said as he turned to the camera-men.
"All ready," came the reply.
"Now," said the Captain winking maliciously to two of his men. "You run
around and pick me up a beggar."
The soldiers started off, pushing their way through the sheepish crowd
and into a side street. After walking a few hundred paces one remarked
to the other: "When you don't need them, a hundred are upon you. When
you want them--the devil take it."
At last they came upon Silly Peter and decided that he would answer.
"Come along, boy; the Captain wants you," they said, taking hold of his
arms.
"Let me go!" The boy struggled. "I did nothing."
"Come along, you fool!"
They brought Silly Peter to the square, placed him on the spot that
smelled fresh with upturned earth, placed a shovel in his hands and told
him to dig his grave.
When they stepped aside, the terrified boy could see the camera before
him and the six soldiers standing at attention a few paces away. Already
the clicking handles started turning.
"Dig!" shouted the Captain.
"I don't want a grave," whimpered the frightened creature as several
pigeons approached. "I don't want a grave," as he turned up the loose
earth with trembling shovel-strokes. "I don't want a grave," and tears
ran in trickling rivulets down his silly face.
Even an idiot could understand. At one side of him he was confronted
with death for no apparent reason at all. And on the other side of him
flew his pigeons.
Suddenly the signal was given; the six rifles were raised, and a volley
of blank cartridges shot at the boy. The frightened birds flew into the
air as the twisted frame of Silly Peter sank into the soft, upturned
earth.
When the smoke had cleared, a soldier came up and shouted: "Hey fool?
Get up!--You're not dead." But the boy only sobbed, with his face beside
the shovel in the fresh earth.
The soldiers were dismissed, and the Captain climbed into his carriage
and drove away. The sheep-like inhabitants of the village of M----
feared to venture near the spot of military manoeuvre.
Presently an old farmer, driving his horse across the square, stopped,
lifted the boy, and said: "Don't cry, Peter. It is only a little joke.
See, you're not dead--here, pick up your hat. See all the pigeons are
around us--you're not dead."
The boy seemed numb and twisted like the limb of a tree as the old man
following his horse helped him across the market-place and through the
lane.
"Don't be foolish, Peter. You're not dead. See the pigeons; see the
sky. Look, here is Luba--she will bring us soup."
But the boy squinted at the sun through a film of tears and with his
one-sided mouth mumbled: "I don't want a grave."