IN CLOSE QUARTERS
The four Camport boys greeted Stone joyfully and gladly made room for
him.
"It's another German atrocity," grinned Billy. "They were sore at us for
swiping their grub and they sent our kettle to smithereens."
"I'm glad they don't know about it anyway," said Tom. "I don't want any
Boche to have the laugh on me."
"I guess they're not doing much laughing this morning," remarked Will
Stone, as he dropped down on the ground beside them. "Or if they are,
it's on the wrong side of their mouths."
"We've certainly waxed them good and plenty," said Bart
enthusiastically.
"Jumbo was all to the good this morning," exulted Frank. "It did my
heart good to see the way he ploughed along. There was nothing to it
after he got started."
"He certainly scattered the Huns good and plenty," chortled Billy. "They
ran like hares."
"He does for 'em all right," agreed Stone, glad to have his pride in his
giant pet justified. "And the best of it is that, although the bullets
came against his hide like hail on a tin roof, he came through
practically without a scratch. He sure is a tough old fellow."
"The tanks are wonders," chimed in Tom. "They've won this fight. It was
scrumptious the way they tore those entanglements up by the roots.
Without 'em we'd have lost ten times as many men as we did."
"So far we've gotten off pretty easily," agreed Stone, "but the hardest
part of the fighting is coming. The Boches have got their second wind by
this time, and there can't be any more surprises. You fellows would
better fill up now, for you'll have to have plenty to stand up on."
"Trust us," laughed Billy. "We may be slow in some things, but when it
comes to filling up, we're some pumpkins. But I certainly do feel sore
about that stew."
"Billy'll never get over that," laughed Bart. "He had his mouth all
fixed for it. No other stew in all his life will ever taste so good to
him as this one that he didn't get."
"It's always the biggest fish that gets away," laughed Stone, as he fell
to with the rest.
While they were eating, there was a thunder of hoofs along the road.
This had been such an unusual occurrence up to date that they sprang to
their feet with eager interest.
Then the cavalry swept by.
Fine fellows the cavalrymen were on splendid mounts, which they bestrode
as though they had never done anything else in all their lives. For
months past they had chafed under restraint, for since the struggle had
settled down to trench warfare they had seldom seen service except on
foot. But now their turn had come, for with the broken line of the enemy
had come a call for the cavalry to pursue and complete the
demoralization of the foe.
"Some class to that bunch," remarked Tom, as he watched the flying
column with an appraising eye.
"A little faster than your tanks, old scout?" remarked Bart, giving
Stone a nudge in the ribs.
"They sure are," admitted Stone. "But don't forget that though we may be
slow we get there just the same."
After a brief resting spell the lines were reformed and the fighting was
resumed. The space between the second and the third lines was a wide
one, and the country was hilly, with numerous lanes and ravines. These
were being held in greater or less force by enemy troops posted in
advantageous positions supported by machine guns, while beyond them
their big guns kept up a heavy fire to prevent the Allied advance.
To clean these up and get ready for an attack upon the third line was a
work of hours, as every foot of advance was bitterly contested by the
Germans, who had now recovered from their surprise and fought
desperately to stem the tide that had overwhelmed their first position.
There were two or three villages in the fighting zone and one town of
considerable size. Not that it was a town now in any real sense of the
word. What had once been houses were now mere pitiful heaps of wood and
stone and mortar, and their inhabitants had long since been dispossessed
or slain. It stood gaunt and desolate and forbidding in its mute protest
against the pitiless storm of war to which it had fallen a victim.
In cleaning out a particularly obnoxious nest of machine gun positions
Frank and his friends had been kept busy until nearly noon. But at last
the guns were silenced and the crews wiped out or captured.
The boys started to regain their main force, but the country was
unfamiliar and they took a turning in the road which led toward the
German lines instead of toward their own.
"Gee!" remarked Tom as they trudged along, "maybe I'm not tired. My feet
feel as though they weighed a ton."
"Perhaps they do," gibed Billy unfeelingly. "Considering the size of
them, I should say a ton was just about right."
"I notice your hoofs are not so small," retorted Tom. "But how much
longer is this hike going to take?"
"Search me," responded Frank. "To tell the truth, I'm twisted up about
the direction. Seems to me we ought to strike some of our troops soon."
"It would be funny if we walked straight into the German lines,"
observed Billy.
"Funny!" snorted Tom. "Yes, as funny as a funeral. Some people have a
queer sense of humor."
They were passing a hedge that walled off an orchard from the road when
Frank, who was ahead, saw before him a great wave of gray uniforms
coming around a bend in the road.
"Quick, fellows," he whispered. "Over the hedge and down on the ground."
Like a flash the boys were out of sight, and not one instant too soon,
for a moment later they could see through the hedge what seemed to be an
endless line of gray uniforms going past at the double quick. They were
evidently hurrying forward to reinforce their hard-pressed comrades
farther down the road.
The boys lay still as death until the troops had passed, and then looked
at each other ruefully.
"We're cut off," ejaculated Frank. "Those fellows are between us and our
line."
"Looks pretty bad," said Bart.
"This is a pretty kettle of fish," grumbled Tom. "Let's cut across the
orchard and see if we can find some of our boys."
They acted on the suggestion, but found to their dismay that the Germans
were everywhere. In whatever direction they looked the only uniforms
they saw were the detested field gray. The Germans had rallied and the
boys had been caught in the swirl of the returning tide.
"We'll have to hide somewhere until our men drive back the Huns and get
as far as this orchard," said Billy.
"We're up against it for fair," growled Tom disconsolately.
"It's easy enough to talk of hiding, but where shall we hide?" asked
Bart. "If we stay here above ground we're bound to be spotted before
long."
"Let's make our way toward the town," suggested Frank. "There wasn't a
soul in sight there a few minutes ago. It seemed to be wholly deserted.
There must be plenty of hiding places in those heaps of stones, or
perhaps we can stow ourselves away in a cellar. Let's get a hustle on,
too, or we'll know sooner than we want to what a prison camp looks
like."
As quickly as they dared they crept along, using every bit of cover that
offered itself until they reached the outskirts of what had been the
town. As Frank had said, it appeared to be wholly deserted at the
moment. It was clear that all available forces had been summoned away to
stem the great drive.
Having satisfied themselves that there was no one about they moved
cautiously from one street to another seeking some place of refuge. The
prospect was not hopeful, for there was scarcely a room in a single
house that was not gaping wide open. Doors were gone and windows had
vanished. There was hardly a place where anything as large as a cat
could be free from detection.
"A mighty slim outlook," grumbled Tom, as they crouched close to a pile
of masonry near the corner of a street.
"Stop grouching," counseled Frank. "We may stumble across something at
any minute."
"Stumble is right," said Bart, as he rubbed a barked shin. "I've been
doing nothing else since we got in among these rock piles."
"That house over the way there seems in a little better condition than
the rest of these heaps," suggested Billy, pointing a little way down
the street.
"We'll try our luck there," said Frank, and again their cautious journey
was resumed.
They reached the place and squeezed themselves in through a narrow
opening on a side that had faced a tiny yard bordered by a wall about
eight feet in height.
There had been three rooms on the ground floor of the house, but all
three had been knocked into one by the visitation of shells. The boys
picked their way over the uneven masses of plaster, and Frank gave an
exclamation as he perceived an opening that seemed to lead down into a
cellar.
"This way, fellows," he said as he looked down into the darkness. "I
don't see any stairs here but we can take a chance and drop. It doesn't
seem very deep. One of you hold this gun of mine and I'll go first."
There was a chance of spraining an ankle if nothing worse, but luckily
he landed safely.
"All serene," he called up in a low tone. "Hand me down your guns and
then come along."
They did so, and the four found themselves in a cluttered cellar that by
feeling around with their hands they found to be about thirty feet long
by twenty in width. There was a furnace which had been broken into a
pile of junk and a little light filtering down showed where a pipe had
formerly gone through to the upper floor. There were a number of barrels
in one corner, but apart from these the cellar seemed to hold nothing
but rubbish.
"It's as dark as Egypt down here," grumbled Tom.
"So much the better," replied Bart. "There'll be that much less chance
of a Heinie seeing us if he takes the trouble to look down here."
"So this is where we've got to hang out until our boys get here,"
remarked Billy, grinning. "It reminds me of the Waldorf-Astoria--it's so
different."
"Never mind," said Frank cheerfully, "it's a thousand per cent. better
than a Hun prison camp, and don't you forget it!"
"You said a mouthful that time," replied the irrepressible Billy, with
more force than elegance.