FOOD FOR PROHIBITION
Such an argument as this could hardly be controverted and Evans had his
way. This mischievous Marine of vengeful imagination opened another cask
of wine, which stood ready to be tapped, and “treated” those who had
less than their capacity to the “amount they had cheated themselves out
of.”
The boches who had “stood” guard outside were all carried or conducted
in and given the “third degree test.” At this Evans proved himself a
master. If there was any “wake” in them, he discovered it. He behaved
like a sailor on a lark in a nest of cornered and cowed pirates, and
most of the other fellows caught the spirit and took a hand in the
sport. By the time the job was finished most of the cask just tapped had
been poured down the throats of six or eight rousable “soaks” and they
rolled over actually “running over at the brim.”
“Now come on, fellows,” said Evans enthusiastically. “We’ve done our
deed well. We’re off now for home, after a little more fighting, and the
Chautauqua platform. But I want the testimony of every one of you that
not one of us drunk a drop. Am I right?”
“Right,” was the chorused response.
There was no need of further delay. The boys had taken possession of
twenty Mauser rifles, a dozen pistols, and a good supply of cartridges
for all these weapons. If they had felt it would be of any advantage to
them to do so, they would have stripped the drunken guards of their
uniforms and passed them around among themselves. But these, it was
decided, were hardly likely to be of service to them, inasmuch as they
could not pass for Prussian soldiers unless they separated from the
other Americans and French who were unable to obtain uniforms. Phil was
the first one to advance this idea, at the same time doffing the suit
that he had stripped from the guard with whom he fought a deadly combat
and expressing the opinion that the entire body of escaping prisoners
ought to “stick together for common protection.”
“We have guns and pistols now for more than thirty of us, and a good
supply of ammunition,” he said. “It wouldn’t be fair for those of us who
are armed to leave those who are unarmed.”
“You wouldn’t have us fight the whole German army in the rear, would
you?” one of the Marines inquired.
“We sha’n’t have to,” Phil replied. “In the first place, they’ll never
suspect that so many of us are armed. The main command of the German
forces will have a hard time getting a clear statement of our escape
from these drunken guards. They’re not going to admit that they were
drunk and they’ll dodge as long as possible every question that will
tend to show they were under the influence of liquor. Meanwhile we’ll
keep away from the main traveled highways over which the enemy truck
lines run between the armies and the supply stations. Evidently they
haven’t been able to repair the French railroads as fast as they
advanced. In a few days they probably will have them in running order
and that will make conditions better for us, for the better rail service
they have, the less they’ll have to use the highways, and the freer the
roads’ll be for us. To tell you the truth, everything is remarkably in
our favor, and all we have to do is keep out of sight in the daytime
and—and—work out our own salvation at night.”
“And forage for something to eat,” Tim added, slapping his middle
significantly.
“Oh, yes, that reminds me,” Phil said quickly. “While one of us goes and
invites our comrades in yonder prison to join us, the rest of us will
load ourselves with provender from the truck where Tim cooked stew for
us yesterday.”
“That’s just what I was goin’ to suggest,” the bullet-headed corporal
put in.
“All right,” Sergeant Speed continued, in a well satisfied tone of
voice. “You go ahead and engineer that business and I’ll bring out the
other prisoners.”