OUT OF THE FLAMES
When the soldier who had been holding his rifle at Jimmie's back
lowered the weapon and the ceremony of administering the oath of
allegiance to the Kaiser had been completed, the red-headed Boy Scout
who had been masquerading under a Cossack uniform breathed a deep sigh
of relief that but faintly expressed his sentiments.
In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Jimmie maintained a
mental reservation that little less than contradicted his words so
recently spoken. He felt that it would be only policy to obey the
orders of those in superior force, since he could see no advantage to
be gained by a flat refusal. His thoughts rapidly compassed the
situation, and he recognized the fact that the invading horde of
Germans were in no mood to consider dispassionately the matter of a boy
more or less who was found under the circumstances in which they had
discovered Jimmie.
Reluctantly, therefore, but because he thought it by far the better
plan, the lad had submitted to the course insisted upon.
During all the time that he had been repeating the words after the
officer the boy had been mentally conjecturing a means of escape
whereby he might rejoin his chums and be fairly sure of the escape of
the entire party from the hands of the army that had so recently
captured Peremysl and who were now engaged in bringing order out of the
apparent chaos that reigned.
Not until the searching party returned and reported to the Captain
their unsuccessful quest after his three comrades did Jimmie realize
that an effort was being made to apprehend them.
Then he began to believe that it was not the intention of the German
Captain to allow the boys to leave the country. The thought was a very
disquieting one. In entertaining it, Jimmie felt himself fully
justified in taking any possible course of escape.
"Well, my lad," began the Captain, addressing Jimmie in a not unkindly
tone, the while his blue eyes regarded the lad with an amused glance,
"now that you are a full-fledged Uhlan and your comrades are on their
way home, you will be fitted out with a new uniform by the proper
department. See that you select a good strong one, for we have plenty
of rough work ahead of us. Yes?"
"Very good, sir!" replied Jimmie with outward politeness, although his
heart was filled with rage at the thought of donning the German
uniform. "I shall try to do well whatever I undertake."
"Spoken like a man!" declared the officer with a short laugh.
A brief order spoken in the German language to an orderly nearby
resulted in that individual signing to Jimmie. Obediently the lad
followed his new guide. Past groups of soldiers who were, by their
fair hair, round cheeks, blue eyes and general stocky build, members of
the German army, the boy and his conductor took their way.
Not far down the street they came upon several wagons in charge of a
commissioned officer, before whom the guide stopped with a very formal
salute. After receiving a recognition of his salute the guide
explained his errand. A laughing response greeted his explanation of
circumstances. The officer called one of his aides, and the work of
outfitting the erstwhile Cossack began.
Jimmie discovered that the wagons were veritable stores on wheels, and
was greatly surprised at the neatness and order with which the large
assortment of goods were disposed. No difficulty was experienced in
securing clothing of the proper dimensions, and Jimmie soon stood forth
to all external appearances as loyal and brave a Uhlan as ever followed
the banner of the Emperor or stuck a lance into a dummy at riding
exercise. He could not restrain a laugh at the peculiar round cap that
was fitted to his head.
"Now I'm hungry!" he declared as he surveyed himself in his new
regalia. "Where's the eats?" he asked of the guide.
A stare from a pair of pale blue eyes was the only response.
"I say," began Jimmie in a louder tone, "I haven't had anything to eat
for a long time. I'm hungry!" he finished in a shout.
Another stare and a nod of the head greeted this outburst.
"Aw, come off!" was Jimmied disgusted sally. "Where are your ears?
Wake up! It's six bells and the cook has struck. Here--"
Seizing the guide by the sleeve, Jimmie shook his finger under the
other's nose for attention. Then he repeated his old-time universal
sign language denoting hunger.
The guide followed with great interest Jimmie's motion of pointing into
his open mouth and gazed delightedly at the patting of the stomach.
Apparently, however, he could discover nothing amiss with the belt
buckle or any of the accoutrements that adorned the person of the
new-found recruit. He shook his head in a negative way.
"Oh, you mutton-head!" scorned Jimmie. Then, recalling the few words
of German he had learned in haphazard fashion, he began again, pausing
between each word to give emphasis to his request.
"Ach, Ich say, old scout," he stated, "Ich would like some brodt haben,
und sauer kraut, und wiener wurst, and kaffee, and pumpernickel, und
kaffekuchen, und Kolbfleisch, und--oh, whatever you have handy."
A smile slowly spread over the face of the guide as he began to
comprehend Jimmie's meaning. He nodded vigorously.
"And I say, dumbhead, Heute Ganse Braten!" Jimmie added vigorously.
"There!" he declared in an undertone, "I know I saw that sign in Dick
Stein's restaurant on the north side in Chicago one time when I was
there, and I asked the man what it meant. He said it was German for
'We have roast goose to-day,' and I'd like a little of that, too."
"So-o," drawled the guide. "Und you haf been by Stein's restaurant?
Yes? Vell, I vas waiter dere for two, tree year. It is a nice blace."
"You rascal!" shouted Jimmie. "You understood me all the time. Why
didn't you let me know you understood English at first?"
"Maype I didn't understand," the other stated simply.
"Maybe you didn't, and again maybe you did," retorted the lad rather
tartly. "If you keep on playing your monkey shines on me, you'll get
me sore pretty soon, and I'll be tempted to cloud up and rain all over
you. And there'll be considerable dunder und blitzen along with the
cyclonic disturbance in the atmosphere," he added.
"All right," was the calm response. "You iss hungry. Maybe you vant
someding to eat. Yes? Or maybe not?"
"Great frozen hot boxes!" cried Jimmie in a despairing tone. "I don't
see how, with all the scarcity of ivory in the market, the billiard
ball makers let you roam about at large so long. Why," he added with
rising indignation, "you're giving the exact symptoms of a chap who is
ossified from the shoulders to the sky! Of course I want to eat, and
I'd be de-lighted to perform that simple operation now."
"But to eat before mess, it is verboten," declared the guide.
"Say," retorted Jimmie, "just let me have your name and the address of
any relatives you want notified in case of accident. Something is
going to blow up pretty soon, and when the explosion is over they'll go
around with a sponge to gather up the pieces of the innocent
bystanders. Among those present was a former waiter at Dick Stein's."
"Ach, yes," slowly replied the other. "My name iss Otto von
Freundlich. In America I am called Friendly Otto. It iss so in der
telephone book. Names iss backwards put down."
"Well, if you'll just be good enough to get me one of those nice large
German pancakes that we used to get at Stein's, with a couple of cups
of coffee and a little 'T' bone steak well done, with some fried
potatoes and a side order of cauliflower in cream, some cold slaw, a
little lettuce, some lentils, and a small platter of sauer kraut, I'll
try to worry along until mess time. Can't we eat at all?"
"No, not all of dot," soberly responded Otto seriously, evidently
believing that Jimmie intended to eat everything he had mentioned.
"Then for pity's sake tell me what I can have. I'm getting so hungry I
could almost eat the wheels off this wagon."
"Maybe a little soup und some rye bread?" replied Otto inquiringly.
"That listens good to your Uncle Dudley," was Jimmie's response in a
somewhat mollified tone. "Lead me to it and I'll do the rest."
"Come," directed Otto, starting away and beckoning the lad to follow.
"Come; der cook maybe has something good for hungry soldiers."
Jimmie followed with much interest, taking note of everything as he
went along. Here he saw a group of soldiers resting after some
evidently heavy work. There another group were arranging their
accoutrements and polishing their weapons as they rested in the shade
of a broken wall that had withstood the heavy hammering of the immense
German guns during the days of bombardment of the city.
Wagons were drawn up along the side of the street, gasoline trucks were
darting hither and thither on various errands, while small groups of
horsemen were constantly passing to and fro about the town.
Everywhere was activity, indicating to Jimmie that not only were the
Germans investing the city and preparing it for their occupation, but
that other preparations were under way. This could only mean to the
lad that the commander of the invading forces was preparing to press
the advantage he had gained by following the Russian army he had driven
from Peremysl and attempt to administer a crushing blow.
"What is all this bustle about, Otto?" he asked presently.
"Ach, I know not," was the reply. "Und if I should know, it is
verboten that I should say. You will discover in good time."
"That's all right, but I'll bet my last year's hat that you know pretty
well what's going on if you'd only talk a bit."
"That is perhaps so and perhaps not so," replied Otto.
"All right; I vote yes on the amendment," persisted Jimmie, feeling
that by a little maneuvering he could learn something from his guide.
"From what the Captain said while we were in the house and you were on
the street, I understand that your regiment will be one of the first to
be tolled off to pursue the Russians. Maybe he'll send me with them.
I do hope so, for that will give me a chance to get a whack at them in
payment for the hard treatment I received."
"Ach, nein!" protested Otto, evidently endeavoring to set Jimmie right.
"My regiment is to return. We have done our work here."
"I thought so all the time," muttered Jimmie. "You may have been in
America a while, but you haven't got wise to the great game of 'bluff'
the Americans pull off once in a while. You're easy."
"What is dot?" inquired Otto. "I did not hear what you say."
"I say," replied Jimmie in a louder tone, "I'm hungry. I want
something to eat, and I'm curious to know what is in that bundle you
are carrying so carefully. Is it dynamite or something?"
"Nein; it is the Russian Cossack uniform you wore. I shall burn it
when we arrive at the kitchen you see ahead of us."
"Oh, so you don't like Cossack uniforms any better than I do."
"It is orders," was the German's simple statement.
"Well, here we are at the cook's place," announced Jimmie as the two
drew near a movable kitchen equipment in the street.
A few words addressed to the person in charge of the kitchen brought
forth a smiling response. In a moment Jimmie was supplied with a small
dish of nourishing stew of cabbages and beans.
He devoured the contents of the dish with an appetite, and gladly
accepted the cup of black unsweetened coffee that was tendered.
"Thank you! That was just like mother used to make!" he said as he
returned the empty dish and cup. "I'll see you again."
Jimmie stepped back a pace, preparing to follow Otto, presuming that he
would lead the way to regimental headquarters.
As he glanced about in search of his guide he discovered the German
stuffing the discarded Cossack uniform into the furnace underneath a
huge kettle. With a startled cry Jimmie grasped frantically at his
breast. Then he darted forward and snatched the clothing from the fire.