“There’s nothing to do but lie here until nightfall,” said Henri. “A
try for camp now would be almost a sure shot that we would be gobbled
up. They’re fighting all around us.”
“Held up, you mean, don’t you?”
Billy could see only one fate for walking jewelry shops.
Reddy was in favor of a night move. He favored darkness for this kind
of adventure, except in tunnels. He told Henri that if given half a
chance he (Reddy) could get them back to their friends with the same
ease that he had conducted the excursion to the mouth of the tunnel.
“Billy mustn’t step on any sticks, though,” he added with a twinkle in
his eye.
Billy knew that his name had mixed in the conversation, but he was not
sure just what the little Frenchman was joking about. Besides, he was
too thirsty to care.
“My throat is as dry as a bone,” he complained.
“I’m a little husky myself,” admitted Henri, “and wouldn’t mind
spending a few franc pieces for a pitcher of lemonade”--jingling the
gold in his pockets.
“That reminds me,” he continued, “that I’m thinking that it would be a
good plan to bury this stuff right where we are. There is no telling
what kind of a chase we will have getting back to camp, and it would be
rough luck to chance losing that for which we have risked so much.”
“But that means another trip here,” argued Billy, “and it’s me for one
with no wish to haunt this territory.”
Reddy turned a torrent of French loose on Henri.
“He says,” Henri translating to Billy, “that to-night he will take to
the woods alone, reach Colonel Bainbridge and tell him of our troubles,
and it may be that sufficient force could be sent to pull us lambkins
and the treasure out of the hole.”
“Bet the colonel will do it!”
Billy enthusiastically approved the scheme.
“Come to think of it, though,” he amended, “if it isn’t unfair to Reddy
I think it is a great idea.”
“Don’t you worry about Reddy,” assured Henri, “he is better off around
here without us than we would be without him.”
“Then the only thing on my mind now is one big drink of cold water.”
Billy drew a long breath at the thought.
But thirst and hunger the boys must endure for a while; they dared not
risk all until actually forced to do so.
Billy looked at his watch at least twenty times that afternoon. He was
not quite sure that it was right, for the little silver ticker had been
badly dented during the struggle for life in the tunnel, but the works
were still merrily moving, and so continued worthy of confidence.
The watch, on the twentieth inspection, showed seven o’clock. The time
for Reddy’s departure was drawing nigh.
No longer a rich prize for would-be captors, Reddy put himself in trim
for swift and silent mission. His jewel-laden knapsack he laid aside.
He shed gold, indeed, from every pore, and stood erect and smiling, as
poor in purse as when he fled from his ruined home into the hills.
The watch ticked away another hour. Then Reddy was hoisted aloft on
Billy’s shoulders, and turned the palms of his hands upward against
the slab. A vigorous shove that almost cost Reddy his balance raised
the stone and turned it to one side. Reddy did not fall backward, he
leaped upward, dug his elbows into the earth, and wriggled out upon
solid ground.
Pushing the slab back into place, and without another word, he bounded
away in the darkness toward the familiar path in the ravine.
Nine--ten--eleven--midnight were counted by Billy’s watch.
After that the two comrades ceased to mark time. They were too drowsy
to mark anything.
They would not have attempted to resist a rat had one attacked them.
There was coming from the tier of hills, from the terraced slopes
rising above the valley of the Meuse, armed aid, but of the good
tidings there was yet no sign to the weary, hungry, thirsty boys in the
far-off cave.
Reddy had gone straight as a homing pigeon to the army headquarters,
had pleaded his way through every sentry post, and to the presence of
Colonel Bainbridge.
The mainspring of the military machinery was quick to act, and it was a
gallant array that the little red-headed Frenchman guided to the rescue
of the treasure guards he had left in the tunnel.
There was yet a bayonet charge to be resisted before the slab was
lifted. There had been fierce combat, hand-to-hand, as well as
artillery practice at Château Trouville. A company in gray had fallen
back from the main body in the night in the direction of the ruined
fort. The rescue party came as a surprise out of the ravine, and “point
of rocks” was made the scene of a brief but desperate encounter. The
German force, outnumbered, gave way.
Reddy, who had been viewing the clash from behind a screen of stones,
jumped from the slab when danger had ceased to threaten, and in his
excitement plumped down into the pit like a football.
Billy and Henri, now very much awake, were jointly seized by the hands,
and Reddy, who had alighted flat-footed, pulled his comrades about in a
sort of circular war dance.
This came to a sudden stop when a deep, commanding voice hurled these
words downward:
“You kids come up and report!”
The speaker was Sergeant Scott.