The twilight was deepening on scenes of stark horror in the streets of
Babylon when Vassar slipped through the field and along the hedgerows
toward the center of the town.
Flames were leaping from a dozen homes along the turnpike. He saw the
brutal soldiery enter a pretty lawn, call out the occupants and as they
emerged fire in volleys on old men, women and children. They fell across
the doorsteps and lay where they fell. A dark figure approached the open
door, hurled a quart of gasoline inside, lighted his fire ball, and
walked away, his black form outlined in the night against the red glare
of hell.
A crowd of panic-stricken women and children with a dozen boys of
fourteen rushed down the streets toward the squad of incendiaries.
Without a word they raised their rifles and fired until the last figure
fell.
A child toddled from the burning home carrying her kitten in one hand
and a toy lamb in another. She was sobbing bitterly in one breath, and
trying to reassure her kitten in the next.
Vassar heard her as she hurried past on the other side of the hedge.
“Don’t you cry, kitty darling, I won’t let them hurt you.”
Her people were dead. She was hurrying into the night alone. From every
street came the shrieks of women dragged to their doom by beasts in
uniform.
Vassar set his jaw and crept along the last hedgerow to the gate of the
Holland home.
The lights were burning brightly. A sentinel stood at the steps of the
porch, his burly figure distinctly outlined against the cluster of
electric lights in the low ceiling.
A sentry was on guard at the gate not ten feet away. A battery of
artillery rolled past, its steel frames rattling and lumbering.
Vassar saw his chance.
As the last caisson wheeled away beyond the flickering street lamps the
guard turned into the hedge out of the wind to light his pipe.
With a tiger spring Vassar leaped on him, gripped his throat, pressed an
automatic to his breast and fired.
He took the chance that the passing battery would drown the muffled
shot. The sentry crumpled in his arms and he held his breath watching
his companion at the house. The steady step showed that he had not
heard.
He drew the dying soldier into the shadows inside the lawn and exchanged
clothes. He threw the body close under the hedge, seized the rifle and
took his place at the gate.
He would side-step the officers, guard the house and make the men who
dared attempt to violate it pay for their crime. It was evident that a
commander had selected the house for his headquarters for the night. He
watched the drunken revelers who passed and wondered what was happening
inside.
So long as the officer of high rank remained and was sober the women
were safe. He would stand guard until daylight and make his escape.
He watched the figures pass the lighted windows with increasing anxiety.
A disturbance had occurred. The sentinel stopped, glanced toward the
house, lowered his gun, watched a moment and resumed his beat.
Vassar crawled on his hands and knees halfway across the lawn, gripped
his rifle, and waited.