BEHIND THE BARRICADE.
"Such tough luck, and just when supper was going to be called, too!"
groaned Josh, though possibly he did not mean to be at all humorous, but
was only expressing the first natural feeling of bitter disappointment
that beset him.
Rod realized that it was a time for quick thinking, and rapid action as
well. No matter if the raiding Uhlans proved to be only a small
detachment bent on striking terror to the hearts of the French, while
their main army was still retreating toward the Aisne, they would be in
numbers sufficient to awe the village, where only women and boys and
aged men were to be found.
He also knew that the three fine motorcycles owned by himself and chums
would be either confiscated or destroyed by the German cavalrymen.
Uhlans have always been accredited with bold and reckless deeds whenever
engaged in warfare in the enemy's country. They would find incriminating
papers, too, upon the boys, and might even take it in their hands to
treat them as spies.
"Get busy, fellows; we must fetch our machines indoors and close shop to
keep the enemy out, if we can!" was what Rod called, as he hastened to
run from the room.
Just then a bell tinkled somewhere near by, apparently to summon them to
the supper table; but much to the deep regret of Josh they were hardly
in a condition to respond to the alluring call.
Each of them came staggering in, trundling a heavy machine. These they
stacked in a room, after which the outer door was shut and secured in
the best way possible, though not before a number of people had crowded
in with them.
Out on the village street the greatest excitement prevailed. Children
cried, women called to one another as they hurried their innocent
charges homeward; even the stray dogs started barking again, just as
they had done when Rod and his friends hit the place with their buzzing
motorcycles.
Above other sounds they could hear loud and heavy voices, as of men bent
on terrorizing the peaceful little community. Of course the words they
heard were German ones, showing that the speakers must indeed be the
dreaded Uhlans.
They were undoubtedly galloping hither and thither, ransacking houses in
search of food or anything else worth carrying off. It might be that
presently some of them would even be found putting the torch to any
building that failed to meet with their approval, after a hasty search.
Rod suddenly remembered something just then. It struck him forcibly, and
the more he considered it the stronger did it seem to appeal to him.
He recollected that they had come upon a regiment of French zouaves
making a temporary bivouac alongside the road about two miles back. If
only they could be communicated with and informed of the presence of the
hated Uhlans in the little French village, he felt positive they would
not let the grass grow under their feet in hastening to the rescue of
the small terrorized community.
But how could it be done? Rod would have given considerable for a chance
to use his speedy motorcycle in this work, but there was no use thinking
of such a thing, because it could never be carried out.
Perhaps from the roof of the house he might manage to attract the
attention of some sentry at the camp, and by means of the Signal Corps
code, which he knew very well, communicate their sad condition to the
commander of the troops, and thus procure help for the frightened
villagers.
"Stay here, and try to keep them out if they make an effort to break
in," he told Josh. "I'm going up to the roof and see if I can send a
signal for help to that zouave regiment we noticed camping by the
roadside. Here, take this, Josh, and remember that you're defending
women and children when you use it."
"Bully for you!" cried Josh, as his hand closed upon the revolver which
had been taken from the fraudulent Oscar William Tell.
Rod hurried away, and ran upon the woman of the house close by. She was
looking greatly alarmed at the sudden coming of the enemy, but for all
that Rod believed she would prove true grit.
"I want to get up on the roof if it's possible," was what he said to
her; "there is a regiment of French troops camped not two miles away on
the side of the hill, and if I could get in touch with them they'd come
to our help. Show me the way to the trapdoor, if there is one."
She must have grasped his idea without trouble, for she immediately
started up the stairs. The confusion outside was growing worse than
ever, and served to spur the boy on to renewed exertions.
The good woman of the house was soon pointing at the trap, and Rod
quickly had it open. As he clambered out on the roof he saw to his
satisfaction that it was situated on the side away from the village
street. In this fashion he believed he might be able to accomplish what
he had determined to attempt, at least without being interrupted by any
passing Uhlan lancers.
One look in the direction of the hillside gave him cause for further
delight, since he found that he could easily see the camp of the tired
zouaves, who had marched many miles since sun-up in hopes of
participating in the day's battle, only to arrive when the action was
all over.
Rod immediately began to wave his handkerchief wildly, though carrying
out a certain program, and hoping to thus attract the attention of some
sentry who may have been posted on that side of the camp.
Almost immediately he realized that this was just what had been
accomplished, for he saw men running, and then a signal flag was waved
in reply to his frantic appeals.
"What do you want to communicate?" was what he made out to be fashioned
through the regular wigwag work of the flag.
"Village at mercy of Uhlans--come and help us at once!"
That was the message which Rod sent waving back. How glad he was at that
minute he had picked up his knowledge of Signal Corps work, and could
both send and receive so accurately.
That the man in the zouave camp had grasped the meaning of his dispatch
Rod quickly understood, for almost immediately there was waved back an
answer calculated to reassure him:
"Hold on! Relief coming! O. K."
All this of course took a little time in transmission. Seconds had
passed into minutes, and about the time he was through Rod realized that
things were getting pretty warm close by. In fact some of the raiders
had discovered that the most pretentious house in the entire little
village was barred against them. They had leaned from their saddles and
pounded heavily on the door. When no one opened up they had given vent
to their anger and even threatened to smash their way in, doubtless
promising all sorts of terrible things for the inmates if forced to go
to this trouble.
Still there had been no response. Josh, who was in charge below, did not
mean to risk the loss of the precious motorcycles, as well as take
chances of being shot as a spy, just because those lordly Uhlan
cavalrymen demanded that he unbar the heavy door and let them enter.
The threatening voices, accompanied by louder blows, continued to sound
as Rod hastened downstairs again. He realized that they must do
everything possible to keep those rough raiders out until the French
zouaves had a chance to arrive on the field.
There were several old men among those who, in the first excitement, had
sought refuge in the house that temporarily sheltered the young
Americans whom the simple French peasants and villagers considered real
heroes. Although far from sturdy in build, and with trembling,
half-palsied hands, these old chaps had proceeded to arm themselves as
best they could.
One had found a big carving knife which he brandished as though it were
a sword, and he a captain leading a charge; a second was swinging a
cudgel, as though filled with a hope that it might yet be laid up
against a German head; while the last of the trio had taken down a gun
of the vintage of '71, which, together with its glistening sabre
bayonet, had hung on the wall in memory of the good man of the house,
who doubtless made the right kind of use of it in other days.
Altogether they presented quite a curious collection as they gathered
there by the door, and waited to see if the enemy would carry out those
loud threats to break in. Rod was reminded of accounts he had read about
the patchwork army gathered together by one Falstaff in early English
days, which consisted of the lame, the halt and the blind. All the same,
those old fellows had the right sort of spirit, and acted as though
quite willing to yield up their own lives in defense of the village.
Things were going from bad to worse outside. Smoke could easily be
detected now, as if to prove that those awful threats made by the Uhlans
were not idle ones; and that some cottage was already in flames.
Rod was almost counting the seconds. He found himself wondering whether
the oncoming zouaves could possibly reach there before the door was
broken from its hinges and the wolves without rush in to use their heavy
sabres against the defenders. How long could they hold the aggressors in
check? Those weak old men would be swept aside as though they were
pigmies; and what could he and his two chums do against half a dozen big
cavalrymen, bent on pillage?
The very first thing Rod did do was to possess himself once more of that
revolver. He believed he could make better and more judicious use of
such a dangerous weapon than Josh might--Josh was so rash and
headstrong, once he found himself up against a dangerous situation.
The door, being very heavy, was resisting the attack of the soldiers
successfully, though Rod did not plume himself on this account. He
feared there were many other ways by means of which the Uhlans could
accomplish their purpose and enter the house did they care to bother
about looking.
Just then there arose a new cause for alarm. The good woman came crying
from the other part of the building. Rod heard what she said and was
able to understand, although the other two were left in the dark.
"What's happened next, Rod?" demanded Josh, with the air of a veteran;
for Josh often affected to liken himself to those old worthies who, when
sorely beset, never asked about the number of their foes, but where they
could be found, so that they might attack them hip and thigh.
"She says they've set fire to the house, and that the whole rear of the
same is already blazing fiercely," Rod explained.
Hanky Panky's face was a study. Of course it was not really _fear_
that gripped him so fiercely; but nevertheless the boy had a peaked look
about the eyes, and watched Rod eagerly, as though hoping the other
would eventually find some way of extricating them from this new
predicament.
"Now here's a pretty kettle of fish," growled Josh; "house afire, and we
can't even rush out to throw water on the flames, just because there's a
lot of cowardly skunks waiting to spit us like we were fowls. Whee!
what're we going to do about it, Rod, tell me? I'll sally out and try to
create a diversion, if you say the word."
Perhaps Josh honestly meant it, but Rod only laughed at him.
"Don't be silly, Josh," was what the other said; "you'd have about as
much chance against those half-dozen Uhlans as a baby might. All we can
do is to hold tight, and hope the zouaves will get along before it's too
late. But if they do try to smash their way in we're going to fight;
hear that?"
"You just bet we are; every time," said Josh, who had found a heavy
poker and was swinging it around in a way that made poor Hanky Panky
duck every time it barely missed his devoted head.
He had hardly finished saying those few expressive words than there was
an awful crash, and the front door, struck by some sort of battering
ram, seemed to be partly knocked from its hinges. The Uhlans were
apparently determined to enter; and the more opposition they met the
greater their desire seemed to become.