A RIDE FOR LIFE
It was easy to talk of breaking for liberty but not so easy to see how
it could be done. The room in which they were confined was of stone,
solidly built, and with one slit of a window, three feet high and not
over six inches wide.
“We can’t get through that window, that’s certain,” said Ben, after
measuring the opening.
“Not until we are pretty well starved,” grinned Gilbert.
“And the door is about as solid and as well bolted as one would wish.”
“That’s true, too. But I have a scheme, Ben—that is if you are in the
humor to try something desperate.”
“Well, I’m about in the humor to try anything. That last meal was worse
than anything yet given to us.”
“Yes, and we’ll get worse still—if Captain Barusky has anything to do
with it.”
“What is your scheme?”
“You know the guard is changed about the time supper is brought in,”
whispered Gilbert. “Sometimes the guard doesn’t come up right away—I
mean the new man. The fellow who brings the supper is rather old and
feeble. Why can’t we overpower him and lock him in?”
“And run our chances of getting out of the building in the dark?”
“Exactly.”
“It’s mighty risky. There’s a whole company of soldiers stationed in
this vicinity.”
“If you don’t want to try it, say so.”
“Do you want to run the risk, Gilbert?”
“Yes.”
“Then I am with you. Shall we try it to-night?”
“Yes. Captain Barusky may have us hauled out in the morning.”
From this point they began to lay their plans with care. Gilbert was to
keep in a corner, behind the door, while Ben was to lure the soldier
bringing their supper into the center of the apartment. Then Gilbert
was to leap on the man from behind, and close his mouth, while Ben shut
the door, so that no noise might reach the other parts of the building.
Nature favored them in their undertaking. In the middle of the
afternoon it began to darken down, and by supper time a heavy storm
was in progress, with considerable thunder and lightning.
“I am glad of this,” said Gilbert, as the rattle of thunder ceased for
a moment. “The more noise there is, the better for us.”
Both were a trifle nervous as the time approached for the soldier with
supper to appear. They realized that they were taking their lives in
their hands. A brace of bullets might end all for them.
Presently they heard the bolt shot back, and on the instant Gilbert
leaped behind the opening door. The Russian soldier came in with two
bowls of black coffee and half a loaf of stale bread.
“Look here, somebody is up to something at the window,” cried Ben
pointing to the opening through which the rain was driving.
“Who is there, the guard?” questioned the Russian soldier and stalked
in that direction.
This was Gilbert’s opportunity and like a flash he leaped behind the
man, clasped him around the chest with one arm, and placed a hand over
the fellow’s mouth. As he did this, Ben leaped for the door and shut it
softly.
The Russian soldier struggled and did his best to cry out. But he was
no match for the two young Americans, who did not handle him with as
much care as he might have received had the case been less desperate.
He received a stinging blow in the ear, and another on the chin, and
sank like a log to the floor unconscious.
“Now or never!” cried Gilbert. “Wait till I see if the coast is clear.”
He opened the door a few inches and peered forth. Only one guard was in
sight, and in a moment this fellow had disappeared around an angle of
the passageway.
“Come on!” whispered Gilbert hoarsely.
“Wait—I want this pistol,” answered Ben, and in a trice he had the
weapon from the unconscious soldier and also his box of cartridges.
Then he ran after his chum, who was already outside of the room, and
bolted the door in the usual fashion.
They had made up their mind which way to turn, and now ran at their
best speed to where a flight of stone steps led to a small stone court.
The door to the court was open, so that some fresh air might enter the
prison hallway. Outside all was dark, wet, and apparently deserted.
But they knew some guards must be at hand, and they crawled along close
to some empty boxes and barrels with which the courtyard was littered.
“Bring a box along,” whispered Gilbert, picking up one himself, and Ben
understood and did as requested.
A few minutes more and a flash of lightning showed them where the end
of the courtyard was. This also revealed to them a guard, standing in
the shelter of the wall, trying to keep out of the driving rain. The
guard’s back was toward them, so he did not see the young Americans.
“Here’s as good a spot as any,” whispered Gilbert presently, and placed
his box close to the wall. Ben put the second box on top and both
climbed up. Then over the wall they went, and darted down a lane which
another flash of lightning revealed.
So far no alarm had come from the prison, showing that the attack on
the man with supper had not yet been discovered. It continued to rain
furiously, wetting them to the skin. But they only prayed that the
downpour might continue.
“Where are we getting to now, Gilbert?” questioned Ben, after they had
covered the best part of a mile.
“We’re coming to the outskirts of the town, I reckon. The houses if
you’ll notice, are further apart.”
“Keep your eyes open then, for the Russians may have a picket guard
out.”
“No doubt they have, and I am watching as hard as I can.”
Presently another flash of lightning showed them a small barn, and two
horses inside, saddled and ready for use.
“Wait!” cried Ben, clutching his chum by the arm. “Wait! I have an
idea.”
He led the way into the barn. Nobody was present, and he felt the
animals, to find them thoroughly dry.
“They have not been out and they must, therefore, be fresh,” said
he. “Shall we take them? We can go a good many miles on them before
daybreak.”
“Yes, we’ll take them, Ben. And see, there are some military cloaks on
yonder pegs. Let us take two of them also.”
“And spurs, Gilbert! And a saber. We are truly in luck—if we can get
away undiscovered!”
In feverish haste each threw a military cloak around his shoulders, put
on a pair of spurs, and Gilbert buckled on the saber. Then they untied
the horses, led them outside, and mounted.
“And now to ride for our very lives!” cried Gilbert, and led the way
down a road which the lightning revealed to them. They put spurs to
their steeds, and in a short while An-Ping was left far behind.
“We are not yet out of the woods,” said Ben. “If the picket guard
catches us, we are lost.”
“I shall fight to the last, Ben!”
“Well, I’ll fight, too,—if they give us a chance.”
No more was said. The rain was now letting up a little, and the
lightning was dying away to the southward. They were riding toward the
southeast, for they imagined that in that direction lay the Japanese
camp, although how far off there was no telling.
Half an hour later came an alarm. Out of the darkness leaped a Russian
guard, with a bayonet fixed to his gun.
“Halt!” he shouted. “What is the countersign?”
“Moscow!” yelled Gilbert, on a venture. “Stand aside, fellow! We carry
important dispatches,” and he crowded forward.
“But the countersign,” stammered the Russian soldier. “They said it was
Mukden.”
“Exactly—just what I said,” went on Gilbert hurriedly. “Stand aside,”
and he continued to crowd forward. The next moment he and Ben were
past, on a gallop, the guard staring after them blankly.
“Well, of all the bunco games!” murmured Ben, when the alarm was over.
“He’s a fine guard, isn’t he?”
“A fine guard—for us, Ben. I hope he doesn’t wake up and fire a shot
after us—or tell his superiors.”
No shot came, and soon they felt that they were well outside of the
Russian lines. On a distant hillside they saw a row of camp-fires
burning and were cautious to give them a wide berth.
All through the wet night they rode at the best speed the horses could
command. Both were good steeds,—evidently belonging to officers of the
Siberian cavalry, by the trappings displayed. The cloaks were also
those of cavalry officers, so both looked as if they belonged to the
Russian army.
“Now we have got to look out that some Japanese guard doesn’t shoot us
down!” cried Ben, on the way.
“We’re a long way from any Japanese camp, I’m thinking,” was the answer.
At daybreak they came to an isolated Chinese farmhouse. A careful
investigation showed that nobody was around but two farm-hands well
advanced in years.
“We want some breakfast, and at once,” said Gilbert, to one of the
hands. “Give us the best the place affords.”
The farm-hand was scared, and speedily succeeded in finding a young
chicken and boiling it for them. To this were added some rice cakes and
some fruit, and also a pot of tea, and it is needless to say that the
young Americans ate heartily.
“Let us take turns at resting,” said Gilbert. “I wouldn’t trust these
Chinese.” And so it was arranged, Ben sleeping two hours and then
Gilbert doing likewise. After that they ate a light dinner and rode off
once more. The horses had been fed, and the rest put them in fairly
good condition to continue the journey.