with all sorts of debris. For many square miles there is not a single
tree to be seen which has not been hit and killed. The ground is torn
up to such an extent that there is no grass to be seen, and the only way
I can describe it is to say that it looks like the ocean on a very rough
day. The shell holes run into each other, and are often ten or twelve
feet deep and thirty feet across. This place, which was once a French
village, has been taken from the Germans, and the ground is covered with
unexploded shells, hand-grenades, German helmets, old rifles, and all
sorts of things that would make wonderful souvenirs if we could only get
them home. In every little village around here, there is not a house or
tree standing. I am writing in a room in the wing of what was once a
magnificent old castle. It was evidently saved from destruction by the
Germans, who wished it for the accommodation of their higher officers.
We are using it for that same purpose.
"One of the most interesting things here is to watch the airplanes, both
ours and the Germans. They are very hard to hit, and they usually don't
pay much attention to the firing, but we watch the little bursts of
white smoke from the French shells, and the black smoke from the
Germans. I have often seen twenty-five or thirty little puffs of smoke
at the same time around one machine, but have never seen one hit. The
other day a German came over in a cloud while other German planes
attracted the attention of our guns.
"He went right up to one of our observation balloons and fired his
machine gun into the balloon, setting it on fire. The two men, an
American and a Frenchman, came down in a parachute. They said they
didn't mind it. Perhaps they didn't, but both were about as pale as
they could be. I watched the whole performance. To-day we sent up
another observation balloon with exactly the same result, except that
the balloon didn't burn, but both men jumped out, coming down in two
parachutes.
"It was exciting and a very pretty sight to see the white silk
parachutes open up and glisten in the sun. Both landed safely, and
wanted to go up again immediately, but could not, owing to the damaged
balloon.
"There is some firing going on most of the time, even when there is no
pitched battle, and our guns shake the dugout a bit, but we are supposed
to be safe here underground and, anyway, the Boche shells don't seem to
come this way, though we often hear them. By the way, our machine guns
drove the Boche planes off this afternoon, and the balloon was pulled
down safely.
"Another day, if I remain unhurt, which I have every intention of doing,
I will give you further details of the life and work. As I said in the
beginning, the men are well and happy. Strange as it may seem, there is
much less illness than there in the training camps at home. I can't
make this out unless the men as a general rule reach here greatly
benefited by the sea voyage. Certainly the work is much harder, the
conditions no better, and I guess 'sunny France' is an invention of the
poets. However that may be, our splendid fellows are fit and fine,
trim, and hard. We are going to win!"
The Captain leaned over and clapped Porky on the shoulder. "Kid, you're
a brick!" he said. "That's all, and thank you a thousand times. It
ought to hold 'em for a while, don't you think?"
"I should say it was some letter," said Porky. "And you are perfectly
welcome." He rose and looked at his wrist watch, frowning as he did so.
"Most night again," he said. "Seventeen o'clock by their queer old way
of counting. It's mighty funny where my brother is." He walked
restlessly to the window and with unseeing eyes stared hard at the
ragged uptorn world outside.
*CHAPTER IV*
*WHERE WAS PORKY?*
Where _was_ Beany?
Beany himself, trussed up neatly with many cords and wearing a
scientific gag which made speech or yells impossible, yet which did not
hurt him very much, would have been glad to have been able to answer
that question.
Where was Beany? Beany didn't know where Beany was, and also he felt a
natural and lively curiosity as to where Beany was _going_ to be in the
near future.
He had entered the passage in the wall on the spur of the moment; he had
acted without counting the possible cost or the probable consequences.
Usually the boys acted together; if possible, they always left some clue
for the other to follow. Hence they had hitherto come out of some pretty
dark and serious scrapes with whole skins and a desire for further
adventures. But this time Porky, in the General's office, Porky, sound
asleep with his head on the General's desk, could not know that his twin
brother was faring forth alone on a desperate adventure. If he had
known at the moment what was happening, if any warning could have
pierced his sleep-drugged brain, well, this story would not have been
written.
Beany popped into the secret passage and slid the panel shut behind him
with a careless backward-reaching hand. His eyes and his thoughts were
on the pitchy dark before him. He thought with a sense of relief that
he had a tiny flashlight in his pocket, but whether it would flash when
required to do so was quite another matter.
Beany was bitter on the subject of flashlights, knowing well how apt
they are to respond to every touch when not required particularly to do
so, and having learned by sad experience that it was when the festive
burglar was _in the room_, the pet kitten _down the well_, or the
diamond _in the crack_ that they would not flash at all. So he merely
felt of the pocket where the flash reposed, and stood silent, back
against the panel, waiting to accustom those marvelous eyes of his to
the dense darkness.
Beany Potter had a gift given to few--eyesight that served him almost
equally well by day or by night. There was scarcely a limit to his
strange focus. And at night, like members of the cat family, he was
able to make out not only forms, but in many cases features and colors
as well.
When he had become used to the pitch blackness of the tunnel, he
discovered that he was in an arched stone passage just wide enough for
one person to walk without brushing the sides. It wound forward on an
incline, and ten feet from where Beany stood turned a corner. Still
forgetful of danger, he ran noiselessly forward and gained the turn,
where he stood listening. There was not a sound to guide or warn him,
so he went on, scarcely breathing. His footsteps made not the slightest
sound, and he could feel that there was something soft and deadening
under his feet, either fine sand or bran, or something of that nature,
that had been spread for the purpose of stifling the sound of passing
steps. Now he could clearly hear voices above, and decided that he was
near or right under the room where the General had his office and held
all his staff meetings.
Beany stopped at once and commenced tracing the sound. After a little
he found the source. At one side of the passage a common funnel was set
in the wall. Beany placed his ear to the funnel and was startled by the
clearness with which he was able to distinguish sounds in the General's
office. He could hear the scratching of the pen as the General wrote,
the steady tramp, tramp of Colonel Bright as he paced the room. Even
the steady breathing of his sleeping brother was plainly audible.
Beany seized the edge of the funnel and was about to tear it loose but
decided that it was better to leave it apparently untouched. So he
rammed his handkerchief tightly down the neck of the funnel, and
chuckled to note that the sounds from the room were suddenly silenced.
If any one should come behind him and try to listen, they would get one
good big surprise, but no information, for the handkerchief was packed
well out of sight.
This done, Beany turned and, smiling over his precious information,
started back, when a sound, a far distant sound, rooted him to the spot.
It was a woman crying in a low stifled tone. "Oh, oh, oh!" cried the
voice with choking sobs.
Then another voice spoke, and a sneering, low laugh floated back to
Beany. The sobbing voice cried out again in English.
"Oh, don't! Oh, please! Oh, I can't tell you because I don't know!
Don't hurt him! Don't hurt him!"
Beany forgot that he was alone, unarmed, a boy. He forgot the dark
passage; he forgot caution. Afterwards he wondered why he did not think
to call up the funnel for the help he needed. He just turned and,
trusting to his wonderful eyes to take him safely over the black unknown
path, he ran swiftly in the direction of the voice.
Around a corner, down a short, straight passage, around another corner,
then through a low, narrow door that swung half way open, Beany shot
into a large room or cavern. He did not stop to see where he was, but
continued his chase across the space. There was another door beyond. A
light shone through this door and Beany headed for it. From within the
choked sobbing continued. Half way he smashed into something--a piece
of heavy furniture of some sort. He rebounded as if from a blow, and
staggered. Before he could get his balance again, a form appeared
against the light in the door ahead and another form seemed to take
shape from the dark bulk of the piece of furniture he had stumbled
against. He was seized in a pair of steel-muscled arms, a heavy cloth
was thrown over him and rolled tightly around him.
In the instant he was made helpless, powerless.
He heard rapid orders. Through the thick cloth he could see a dim
glimmer of light. He was laid down on a couch of some sort, and tied,
hands and feet.
Then and only then was the heavy cloth removed, and Beany, blinking in
the glare of half a dozen electric lanterns, stared at the group around
him.
He was lying on a great bed that was occupying the middle of the room.
It seemed a funny place for a bed, but later Beany noticed that the
moisture was thick on the walls and was dripping down the corners. The
middle was about the only dry place. The covers had been
luxurious--soft and silken comfortables padded with feathers, and
delicate blankets, but they were soiled and torn by careless spurs. At
the foot of the bed, staring at him with amazement in her face, was the
old scrubwoman. It was evident that she recognized him. She had seen
him often enough, Beany reflected. He returned her look and nodded. A
big man, the one in the duster, standing close at Beany's side, noted
the nod and rasped out a remark, directing it at the old woman. She did
not condescend to notice him. Two other men were there. From the inner
room the sobbing continued. Beany scowled. He fixed his eyes on the
old woman.
"Somebody is being hurt," he remarked.
No one spoke. Beany did not take his eyes from the woman's face.
"I know you can hear," he informed her, "and I bet my hat you speak
English! I wish you would talk and tell me who is getting hurt. I
can't do any harm just at present."
The woman continued to stare at him for a moment, then bared her
toothless gums in a cackling laugh. She nodded quite gaily.
"No, you can't do much harm either now or later, my little
sparrow-hawk."
She spoke in clear, perfect English, with only the slightest accent to
betray her German blood.
"I liked you two boys, up above. You were always agreeable to the poor
old deaf and dumb woman. No sneers, no jokes about her, always nice and
pleasant. Two nice boys! Made just alike, and such fonny names--Peany
and Borky; so fonny!" She laughed again.
The man in the duster commenced to swear in German. Beany knew it was
swearing, and recognized it as German.
The old woman raised her hand.
"Calm yourself, Excellency!" she said, with the air of royalty. "There
is no need for excitement. Why should I not say what I please to this
foolish child who has made such a great mistake; ah, such a great
mistake?"
"It iss his last!" snarled the man in the duster, breaking into English.
"His last; his last!" he kept repeating.
"Calm yourself," said the old woman, frowning. "We know that; it is all
so easy; why do you annoy yourself? I am only sorry that it is one of
those nice boys. Such pleasant, _polite_ boys! The other will feel the
lonesomeness very much; is it not so, my little sparrow-hawk?"
She smiled in the boy's face. Then she came to the side of the bed, and
with a not ungentle hand arranged him in a more comfortable position.
Then she touched the man in the duster, whom she called Excellency, and
together they went into the farthest corner of the big room and
whispered for a long time, while the two other men stood motionless
beside the bed and watched Beany as closely as though they thought he
might float off through the ceiling. Presently, as though they had come
to a decision, Excellency returned, the old woman, whom he called
Madame, at his side. They too stood and looked long at the boy.
"How did you get here?" asked Madame finally.
"Through the panel," said Beany, who knew there was no use keeping back
anything they could so easily find out for themselves.
The old woman started to ask another question when the low sobbing in
the other room was accented by a moan. With a glance at Beany's cords,
the group beside him all went out of sight through the open doorway. In
a few moments there was silence, with the sound of heavy breathing.
"Drugged!" guessed Beany.
Presently the two men returned. They took Beany from the bed, and sat
him down in a chair, binding his legs tightly and, after searching him
for a pistol, released his arms. A cord cunningly wrapped around his
waist held him firmly in his seat. Beany was glad to have his hands
free.
Hours passed. Beany felt cramped and was furiously hungry. His brain
milled round and round in a ceaseless effort to find some way out of the
situation. He did not feel proud of this last exploit. He had acted
rashly and without the least glimmer of caution. He knew well that he
was doomed. There was no possible finish but death, and if it could be
a swift death without torture, it would only be on account of the ray of
friendship that Madame felt for the two youngsters who had respected her
infirmities and age.
Beany was against a blank wall. Knowing that he had no possible chance
of escape, Madame climbed up on the bed, the three men disappeared in
the inner room, and finally, to his amazement, Beany too dozed off,
although he could not help thinking that it was not at all the thing to
do under the circumstances.
When he woke, he was dazed and stiff. His legs, strapped tightly to the
chair, felt asleep. Madame, fully dressed, as she had lain down hours
before, sat blinking on the side of the bed.
"Well! Wie befinden sie sich?" she said, grinning at the prisoner.
Beany accepted the friendly tone, although he did not understand the
words.
"Morning!" he offered in return.
Madame clapped her wrinkled hands sharply.
The man who had stared through the keyhole appeared.
"Coffee!" said Madame abruptly. It was a command.
The man saluted and withdrew, to return with a tray and a. steaming
cup. Madame sat sipping the boiling draft, gazing at the boy meanwhile.
"It is really too bad," she said finally, in her careful, clear English.
"Such a boyish, _silly_ thing to do! And you see how it is. You are
such a nice boy; I do hate to let them kill you, yet you cannot go back;
you must see that. However, you shall have an easy way. I shall assert
my authority. You look surprised. Do you think it strange that so old
a woman, so _frightful_ an old woman, should still have authority? Even
so, I have plenty of it. I am powerful. If I chose, I could call the
Emperor cousin. What do you say to that?"
She seemed to expect an answer. Beany did not know what to say, but
after a pause in which she stared at him unwinkingly, he managed to
retort, "Some dope!"
"Indeed, yes!" said Madame, to whom the slang was Greek. "Indeed, yes!
Well, your coming has spoiled nothing but your own life. We have the
information that we want, we have two prisoners who are most valuable.
The others will go on to-day, while I, the cousin of an emperor, will
for the time continue to wait on those pigs of officers upstairs. Deaf
and dumb!"
She laughed silently, with queer little cackles. Then setting down the
empty cup, she went into the inner room.
Beany sat thinking the big thoughts that come at hours so filled with
doom. Yet somehow it did not seem possible to him that he was to be
snuffed out so soon; he, Beany Potter! He looked at his wrist watch.
The crystal was broken but the watch was still running. Beany started
to wind it, then stopped. What would be the use?
"Well, it may as well go as long as I do," he reflected, and finished
winding it. It sounded loud as thunder in the quiet room.
He commenced to think of his brother with all his might. His spirit
called to him over and over. He thought again of the time and remembered
that although he had looked at his watch, he had not noticed the time at
all.
Once more he looked. To his amazement it was noon.
Beany commenced idly feeling through his pockets. If he could only find
some way of communicating with Porky before it was too late! All at
once his fingers closed on an object that he knew. His face lighted.....
If there was any way--Oh, if there was _any_ way!
Then Beany's clean boy soul went down upon its knees, while Beany,
lashed to the chair, closed his eyes and prayed. Earnestly, humbly he
prayed for help; and then, feeling that he had done all he could in the
way of asking, opened his eyes and set his whole mind on Porky. He kept
his hand in his pocket closed on the object he had chanced on.
Presently the two men came back, untied the cords that bound Beany to
the massive chair, tied his hands behind his back, untied his ankles and
led him into the inner room. Beany flashed a curious glance around it.
The room was not dark, like the room he had just left. It was well
lighted by grated windows overgrown outside with heavy underbrush. Beany
guessed that they were away from the ruined castle itself and somewhere
out on the grounds. There was more furniture, and another bed like the
one in the room that he had just left.
On this tumbled couch lay a form closely covered with a blanket.
"Dead, whoever he is," said Beany to himself.
Facing him was a straight chair and in it, bound and gagged, was a young
man in the uniform of the French army. He was trussed up until movement
of any sort seemed impossible. Most of his face was covered with the
cloths that formed the gag, but over the bandages a pair of sharp,
intelligent eyes flashed a message to Beany. He had been buffeted and
racked, threatened with all the horrors imaginable and subjected to some
of them, but from out those eyes looked a spirit that blows could never
break and death itself could never quell. Beany returned the look with
a long gaze. He underwent a new agony. Not only was he unable, through
his foolhardy action, to save his own life, but here was another as well
that he could not save. For he knew that the youth before him must be
doomed. His gaze roved to the bed. There was something strangely
graceful and soft about the outlines of the form under the comfortable.
He felt his hair prickle on his head. All at once he knew. It was a
girl! It had been _her_ voice he had heard sobbing. As he looked, he
hoped and prayed that she was indeed dead. He stifled a groan.
Madame gave an order. He was once more fastened securely in a chair and
the old woman came beside him and offered him a paper and pencil.
"You may write a note to that twin brother of yours," she said. "We are
through with this underground hole. It is damp, anyway. I do not need
any further help. But you shall write and tell your brother where to
look for you. I will see that he gets it in good season. Not to-day,
nor yet to-morrow. Little boys in these war-times must be taught not to
meddle. Write what you will."
Beany took the pencil obediently, and wrote:
"Open panel at right of office door by pressing upper left-hand carving.
Send some one else to look for me. Love to Mother and Father. Good-by.
"BEANY."
Madame took the brief note and read it. "That is short, but it will
do," she said. Then she turned to the others. "As soon as it is dark
take your prisoners to the foot of the garden. There will be a French
car there. The girl, as you know, is to be taken unharmed. Go to our
own base. We will make her speak when we get her there. You know what
to do with this other."
She picked up a broom and grinned down at Beany. "I am going up to see
what they are doing above. Don't you wish you had had the sense not to
meddle?"
As she passed him Beany strained forward against his bonds and caught
her by the dress. He clasped her knees in his agony.
"Please, _please_, Madame!" he cried. "_Please_ don't let them kill me!
I promise that I won't tell!" His voice went up in a cry that was
almost a whine. The old woman broke away from him in disgust.
"Bah! You are all alike! live, live, live always! Why don't you learn
to die, you Americans! That is what we have got to teach you!" She
struck him smartly across the face, and moved to the door with a
backward look of command.
"Be ready when I return," she said. "In the meantime _not a sound_!"
She grinned at Porky. "I will see you once more, young man," she
chuckled, and left the room.
As the door hid her from view, Beany drew a long breath. He seemed
strangely excited and relieved. Once more he consulted his watch. It
would be at least an hour before dark. There was a fighting chance.
Death or life? Life or death? His fate was trembling in the balance.
Where was Porky?
*CHAPTER V*
*TO THE RESCUE*
Porky was getting worried. It was growing late, and there was no sign
of Beany.
He asked a couple of the aides when they came in if they had seen
anything of his brother, but no one had any news for him. Porky looked
into the narrow hall at intervals, and twice he went out and wandered
around the grounds that surrounded the castle. But nothing of Beany!
Finally he returned to the office, and took up his station at the window
where he could see far down what had been the drive. The office was in
a room in what had been the wing, and jutted out into the space now
soiled and useless, which had once been a lovely, widespread garden of
lawns and flowers, but which now looked worse than any ploughed field.
Something kept pulling at Porky's heart. He knew the feeling, had had
it often; and it told him, as it always did, that his twin brother, whom
he loved so well, was in trouble and needed him. Usually he felt
something that impelled him to go in a certain direction in search of
Beany; something, a _force_ directing him--he never could tell just what
it was. But he always obeyed it, and so did Beany, to whom the same
feelings came. But now Porky sat irresolutely at the window, baffled
and worried. He felt anchored to the spot, yet knew in his heart that
his brother's need was great. Every time he got to his feet and started
out of the room, something pulled him back. Finally in despair, he
settled down and stared with unseeing eyes into the growing darkness of
the ruined gardens.
His heart beat heavily. His mind and soul called his brother, demanding
an answer from the silence and the night. The officers and aides who
had been in the room left it, and Porky was alone. Presently, as the
waiting grew almost more than the boy could endure, a slight sound
caused him to turn around. It was the old scrubwoman, broom in hand.
"Hullo!" said Porky, and turned back to the window. He was too badly
worried to be polite.
"Hay-loo!" said the old cracked voice in broken English. Porky looked
around again. She was standing at his side, smiling at him, a queer
grinning leer not at all pleasant. Porky felt an insane desire to ask
her if that was the best she could do. But he did not. He simply stared
at her, at the wrinkled face and bright, twinkling, keen eyes. Porky
felt that those eyes were almost too keen, almost too intelligent for
that old peasant woman.
They looked steadily at each other, Porky wondering more and more at the
expression on the old mask of a face. She was little, bent and feeble;
she scarcely came to tall Porky's shoulder; yet to the sensitive,
worried boy as he gazed at her there came a feeling of something wicked,
powerful, and threatening. There seemed to the alert senses of the boy
that there was a knowing twinkle in the old eyes when she looked
questioningly around the room, and said, "Your brodder. Ware iss he?"
"I don't know," said Porky slowly. "You didn't see him outside, did
you?"
"No, I dit not see heem outsite; me, I have seen nozzing outsite."