THE VOICE FROM THE DISTANCE
"My idea," said Archer, when Tom returned, "is to break that stick about
in half and prop the doorr just wide enough open so's we can crawl in.
Then we can spread the vines all overr the top just like it was beforre
and overr the opening, too. What d'ye say?"
"That's all right," said Tom, "and we can leave it a little open
tonight. In the morning we'll drop it and be on the safe side."
"Maybe we'd betterr drop it tonight and be on the safe side," said
Archer. "S'pose we should fall asleep."
"We'll take turns sleeping," said Tom decisively. "We can't afford to
take any chances."
"You can bet I'm going to get a sooveneerr of this place, anyway," said
Archer, tugging at a rusty nail.
"Never you mind about souvenirs," Tom said; "let's get this door
camouflaged."
"I could swap that nail for a jack-knife back home," said Archer
regretfully. "A nail right fresh from Alsace!"
But he gave it up and together they pulled the tangled vine this way and
that, until the door and the opening beneath were well covered. Then
they crawled in and while Archer reached up and held the door, Tom broke
the stick so that the opening was reduced to the inch or two necessary
for ventilation. Reaching out, they pulled the vine over this crack
until they felt certain that no vestige of door or opening could be seen
from without, and this done they sat down upon the straw, their backs
against the walls of the vat, enjoying the first real comfort and
freedom from anxiety which they had known since their escape from the
prison camp.
"I guess we're safe herre forr tonight, anyway," said Archer, "but
believe _me_, I think we've got some job on our hands getting out of
this country. It's going to be no churrch sociable----"
"We got this far," said Tom, "and by tomorrow night we ought to have a
good plan doped out. We got nothing to do all day tomorrow but think
about it."
"Gee, I feel sorry for these people," said Archer; "they'rre surre up
against it. Makes me feel as if I'd like to have one good whack at
Kaiser Bill----"
"Well, don't talk so loud and we'll get a whack at him, all right."
"I'd like to get his old double-jointed moustache for a sooveneerr."
"There you go again," said Tom.
Now that the excitement was over, they realized how tired they were and
indeed the strain upon their nerves, added to their bodily fatigue, had
brought them almost to the point of exhaustion.
"I'm all in," said Archer wearily.
"All right, go to sleep," said Tom, "and after a while if you don't wake
up I'll wake you. One of us has got to stay awake and listen. We can't
afford to take any chances."
Archibald Archer needed no urging and in a minute he was sprawled upon
the straw, dead to the world. The daylight was glinting cheerily through
the interstices of tangled vine over the opening when he awoke with the
heedless yawns which he might have given in his own beloved Catskills.
"Don't make a noise," said Tom quickly, by way of caution. "We're in the
wine vat in Leteur's vineyard in Alsace, remember." It took Archer a
moment to realize where they were. They ate an early breakfast, finding
the simple odds and ends grateful enough, and then Tom took his turn at
a nap.
Throughout most of that day they sat with their knees drawn up, leaning
against the inside of the great vat, talking in hushed tones of their
plans. There was nothing else they could do in the half darkness and the
slow hours dragged themselves away monotonously. They had lowered the
door, but still left it open upon the merest crack and out of this one
or the other would peek at intervals, listening, heart in throat, for
the dreaded sound of footfalls. But no one came.
"I thought I hearrd a kind of rustling once," Archer said fearfully.
"There's a couple of cows 'way over in a field," said Tom; "they might
have made some sound."
After what seemed to them an age, the leaves over the opening seemed
bathed in a strange new light and glistened here and there.
"That crack faces the west," said Tom. "The sun's beginning to go down."
"How do you know?" asked Archer.
"I always knew that up at Temple Camp. I don't know _how_ I know. The
morning sun is different from the afternoon sun, that's all. I think
it'll set now in about two hours."
"I wonder when she'll come," Archer said.
"Not till it's good and dark, that's sure. She's got to be careful.
Maybe this place can be seen from the road, for all we know. Remember,
we didn't see it in the daylight."
"Sh-h-h," said Archer. "Listen."
From far, far away there was borne upon the still air a dull, spent,
booming sound at intervals.
"It's the fighting," whispered Tom.
"Wherre do you suppose it is?" Archer asked, sobered by this audible
reminder of their nearness to the seat of war.
"I don't know," Tom said. "I'm kind of mixed up. That feller in the
prison had a map. Let's see. I think Nancy's the nearest place to here.
Toul is near that. That's where our fellers are--around there. Listen!"
Again the rumbling, faint but distinctly audible, almost as if it came
from another world.
"The trenches run right through there--near Nancy," said Tom.
"Maybe it's _ourr_ boys, hey?" Archer asked excitedly.
Tom did not answer immediately. He was thrilled at this thought of his
own country speaking so that he, poor fugitive that he was, could hear
it in this dark, lonesome dungeon in a hostile land, across all those
miles.
"Maybe," he said, his voice catching the least bit. "They're in the Toul
sector. A feller in prison told me. You don't feel so lonesome, kind of,
when you hear that----"
"Gee, I hope we can get to them," said Archer.
"What you _got_ to do, you can do," Tom answered. "I wonder----"
"Sh-h. D'you hearr that?" Archer whispered, clutching Tom's shoulder.
"It was much nearerr--right close----"
They held their breaths as the reverberation of a sharp report died
away.
"What was it?" Archer asked tensely.
"I don't know," Tom whispered, instinctively removing the short stick
and closing the trap door tight. "Don't move--hush!"