THE ESCAPE
"Yes," replied Colonel Pavet, "your mother, Madame Sheldon,--it seems
strange for me to name her thus, for I never think of her except as
Lucie De Latour, as I knew her in her girlhood--has a very excellent
prospect of coming into the property that was willed to her."
"I'm very glad to hear that!" exclaimed Frank. "And I know that my
mother will be pleased too. I have told her in my letters about my
meeting with you, and I gave her the remembrances that you were kind
enough to send her. She was delighted to know that I had met one of her
old neighbors in Auvergne, and she asked me to thank you most heartily
for your kindness in promising to look after her interests."
The colonel smiled genially.
"She is too good," he responded. "The obligation is all on my side. My
humble services would have been at her disposal in any event simply for
the sake of old friendship. But how much more ought they to be wholly
hers, now that her son has saved my life."
"I am afraid you put too much value on what I did, Colonel," said Frank
deprecatingly.
"It was something that not one in ten thousand would have done," replied
the colonel warmly. "When I found myself helpless and wounded on that
field of death I thought my life was over, and I had commended my soul
to God."
"I'm glad that you have lived to strike another blow for France," said
Frank.
"Ah, for France!" repeated the colonel fervently, as he lifted his cap
reverently.
"As I started to say," he resumed after a moment, "your mother's
prospects for coming into her own are excellent. After my wound I was
sent home, and for some time it was doubtful whether I would live or
die. But God was good and I recovered. While I was gradually mending I
had ample time to look into that matter of the contested will. And,
fortunately, just at that time my brother André, who is one of the
leading lawyers of Paris, came to the chateau to see and cheer me up
while I was convalescing. I laid the whole matter before him, and he
went into it thoroughly. He has gone over all the proceedings in the
case, and he tells me that there is no doubt that your mother has the
law as well as right--unfortunately they are not always the same thing--
on her side. He says that the testimony of those who are contesting the
will smacks strongly of perjury. It is too bad that your mother cannot
be here, for then André thinks the whole thing could be straightened out
at once."
"It is too bad," agreed Frank; "but in the present state of things, and
the danger on the Atlantic from submarines, I would not want her to take
the risk. But what you say delights me, as I am sure it will her, and I
can't thank you enough for all the trouble you have taken."
"Not trouble, but pleasure," corrected the colonel. "And you can be
assured that the matter will not be allowed to lag now that André has
taken it up. When he starts a case he can be depended on to carry it
through to a finish. I will keep in close touch with him and will let
you know from time to time how the matter is progressing. But now tell
me about yourself."
"There's not much to tell," replied Frank. "I'm well and have been lucky
enough so far not to have stopped a bullet."
The colonel's eyes twinkled.
"Not much to tell," he repeated. "No, not if Monsieur Sheldon does the
telling. But there are others who speak more freely. Your captain, for
instance."
Frank flushed uncomfortably and Colonel Pavet laughed outright.
"Bravery and modesty usually go together," he went on. "How about that
machine gun episode yesterday, when an American soldier cut down its
crew, turned it on the enemy trench and compelled the men in it to
surrender? How about the raiding party where five men accounted for
fourteen of the Huns? You see, _mon ami_, that I have a good memory for
details. Ah, you are blushing. I wonder if you, too, could recall these
things if you tried."
"There were a lot of us in on them," parried Frank, "and one did as much
as another."
"Well," rejoined the colonel, "I'm proud that a French woman is your
mother. You have a glorious heritage in the traditions of two gallant
countries. And I rejoice to see the way you Americans are throwing
yourselves into the fighting. We were sorely pressed by the Hun hordes
and were fighting with our backs against the wall."
"And such fighting!" returned Frank enthusiastically. "The world has
never seen anything finer. The spirit of France is unconquerable."
"Yes," replied the colonel proudly. "As one of our great orators has
said: 'If the men are all killed the women will rise up; if the women
are killed the children will rise; if the children are killed the very
dead will rise and fight--fight for France."
"But I must go on," he continued, motioning to his orderly to bring up
his horse. "I have a long journey yet before I reach the headquarters of
my division. I am more delighted than I can tell that I met you as I
did. May we meet again soon."
"In Berlin, if not sooner," interjected Frank with a smile.
"Ah, that is it," said the colonel delightedly. "In Berlin! That is the
way to speak. It may be a long time, but sooner or later the Stars and
Stripes and the Tricolor will wave together _Unter den Linden_. May
Heaven speed the day!"
The French officer wrung Frank's hand warmly, sprang into the saddle,
and with Frank's "_bon voyage_" ringing in his ears, galloped rapidly
away.
Twilight was coming on as Frank set out to rejoin his comrades, who were
waiting for him at a little distance down the road. His heart was light,
for he had news to write his mother that he knew would bring her
pleasure.
"Some swell," chaffed Tom, as Frank came up to his friends. "Talking to
a colonel as though he were a pal. I wonder that you condescend to talk
to us common privates."
"It is a comedown," grinned Frank; "but I'll try to tolerate you for a
while longer. But say, fellows, that colonel is a brick! Not a bit of
side about him. And he's doing a lot for us in the matter of my mother's
property that I've told you about."
"That's bully!" exclaimed Bart heartily.
"I'll forgive him," conceded Tom magnanimously, "even if he does talk in
a lingo that I can't understand."
"Why, I thought you were a finished French scholar by this time,"
chaffed Bart.
"Do you remember the day Tom tried to ask for soup and got his tongue
twisted around 'bouillon'?" gibed Billy, with a broad grin.
"Well, I got the soup anyway, didn't I?" defended Tom.
"Sure you got it," agreed Billy. "I could hear you getting it."
Tom made a pass at him that Billy ducked.
"Talking about soup makes me hungry," remarked Bart. "If you fellows
stand talking here much longer we'll be late at chow."
"I'd like to have one more look at that hut Rabig's guarding," said
Frank a little uneasily.
"We might stroll down this way again after supper if you like,"
suggested Billy, "but just at present a little knife and fork exercise
seems the most pressing business I have to attend to."
Just then their talk was interrupted by a single shot, followed by a
volley of them, and looking back in the direction from which they had
come, they saw men running in the direction of the hut that Rabig had
been guarding.
They turned and ran at full speed and were soon in the midst of an
excited group gathered about the hut.
"What's up?" asked Frank of one of the soldiers.
"Prisoner escaped," replied the other briefly.
"What prisoner?"
"The fellow that Rabig was guarding. Some way or other he got out,
managed to strike Rabig down and skipped. Poor Rabig's pretty badly
messed up."
The boys looked at each other.
"_Poor_ Rabig," repeated Tom, and there was a world of meaning in his
tone.