Jack hesitated a short time before replying. It was plain that he
hardly knew just what their proper course should be, and wanted to be
sure he was right before attempting to sway his companion.
What Amos had said must have had an influence upon him, because as
American-born boys they nearly always felt alike in such matters. Yes,
they meant to be as neutral as they could. Yet there were some crimes
that must prevent them from holding out against taking sides. One of
these concerned the condoning of treachery.
“Amos,” he finally said, in the other’s ear, “I reckon we’re as one
about that. We can’t stand by and see the cause of the Allies suffer
through the work of any renegade Belgian, no matter if he is an old
man.”
“Good for you, Jack! I like to hear you say that. Now tell me the next
step we must take, for talking without deeds isn’t worth a snap.”
“We must go down there, Amos!”
“Yes, and face the old folks, you mean, of course?” ventured the other
lad, fervently.
“We’ll tell them what we chanced to see, and then force them to explain
this mystery,” Jack continued. “Perhaps they can do it; perhaps there
is something about this queer happening we don’t understand. They’ve
got to tell us!”
“Yes, that’s so, Jack, we’ll put the law straight down to them; but
say, what if they choose to defy us? Suppose they say it’s none of our
business if we’re what we claim to be,--from across the sea,--because
America isn’t in this scrap. What then, Jack, old fellow?”
There was no longer any hesitation on the part of the ranch boy. Once
he had made up his mind to do a thing, he could see his whole course
clear before him.
“Leave that to me, Amos,” he said, firmly. “I’ll find a way to keep the
spy fast down in that cellar until we can summon help. He must not be
allowed to escape unless his claws are first of all well trimmed.”
“Now by that I guess you mean we’ll see that he isn’t carrying any
information in the shape of a map or news about the Allies’ reserves?”
Amos ventured to say.
“Just about that,” added Jack. “Come, let’s get our shoes on, and then
open the trap to go down.”
“They’ll be some surprised to see us so soon again,” suggested Amos, as
he started to get a foot in a shoe.
“Perhaps fairly stunned as well, if, as we believe, they’re guilty of
such a foul trick against their kind,” added Jack.
“Do you think the old couple would show fight, and try to get us in a
hole when they found that we were on to their game?” asked Amos.
“They didn’t strike me as fighters, either one of them,” he was told.
“All the same it will pay us to keep our eyes fixed on them pretty much
all the time.”
They managed to get their shoes and coats on. To facilitate progress,
Jack lighted the fragment of tallow candle which had been left in their
charge at the time they were conducted to the loft.
“I’m all ready,” announced Amos, finally. Somehow, he did not take
quite as much pains to moderate his voice as before; perhaps he fancied
that since they meant to drop down upon the old couple it might be
as well to give them a little warning to the effect that their young
guests were moving about.
So Jack bent over and lifting the trap opened the path to the lower
part of the Belgian domicile. It was characteristic of Jack that he
should with his other arm bar the way, so that Amos could not have
preceded him even though he attempted to do the same.
As the two lads came down the steep stairs from the loft they found the
man and woman staring at them. Their whole demeanor expressed alarm,
yes, bordering on a panic. It was as though they had suddenly realized
that those above must be aware of what was going on under that
supposed to be friendly roof covering a Belgian family.
When the boys advanced toward them the man arose to his feet. He held
on to the table as if for support, showing that in his fright his limbs
threatened to give way under him.
Amos again felt that twinge of pity for the two. He shut his teeth
firmly together in order to fight against any weakness. In that moment
Amos felt doubly glad it was Jack rather than himself who would
engineer matters, for he had much more confidence in his chum than he
could ever feel in himself.
Jack faced the two old people, for the woman had also managed to gain
her feet, looking as white as chalk, and with a drawn expression about
her eyes, as though she anticipated receiving a terrible blow.
“W-w-what does this mean, young messieurs; does not the bed suit you?”
stammered the peasant, trying to appear natural though the attempt was
a farce.
“It was better than we had any right to expect,” said Jack. “But by
chance we found you had entertained a visitor down here, and we have
come to ask a few questions of you. It is suspicious that he should
come in the night, and also while it storms. You did not want any eye
to see him, so you covered the windows and fastened the door. We may be
Americans, but the cause of the Allies is more to our liking than that
of the Kaiser; and we can’t stand idly by if there is any treacherous
work going on.”
The man raised his arms and let them fall again, while his wife hid her
face in her hands and seemed to be weeping, for her shoulders heaved
convulsively.
“M’sieu, I do not understand!” muttered the peasant, helplessly.
“Then I will try to explain better,” continued the boy, firmly. “A
stranger comes to your door and you let him in secretly. You hold a
conversation with him. We overhear a few words spoken, and they are
in German. That looks bad, Monsieur. It makes us believe you are in
league with the enemy of your country, the same Germany that has made
Belgium a wilderness because her sons dared oppose the passage of
the Kaiser’s great army to strike a mortal blow at France. Are you
following what I say?”
Amos could see that the old man, greatly moved, had to wet his lips
before he was able to speak. It was as though his emotions almost
overpowered him; and when he did manage to find his voice his words
came as from a distance.
“Yes, but, M’sieu, I do not understand. Do you mean that I, François
Bart, would inform the enemy of things that must cause the death of
Belgian soldiers?”
“Do you deny it then?” demanded Jack, frowning so as to impress the
other with the fact that he and his companion were serious in all they
said and did.
“But, M’sieu, that would make me a traitor, you see, and surely I would
sooner have my right hand burned off than lift it against my king, whom
we madly worship. You cannot mean that, young M’sieu?”
“Listen,” Jack continued, “all these things which we have seen are
suspicious. It is none of our business which army wins in a square
stand-up fight; but it does concern us when treachery is employed to
stab in the back. You deny that you mean anything that is wicked and
wrong. Then convince us of your innocence, and we will be only too glad
to go back again to our bed and sleep.”
The man exchanged pitiful looks with his wife. They conferred together
in whispers and Amos knew they were speaking in French, as most
Belgians in the lower tier of towns did, while those toward Holland
and Germany were as a rule accustomed to talking in German when not in
Flemish.
“Tell me what you want me to do, young M’sieu?” implored the old man,
turning once again toward the chums.
“You have secreted a stranger down below. Even now I can hear him
knocking with his knuckles on the floor, as though he has heard what we
are saying, and wants you to move the heavy table so as to allow him
to come up; but you will, of course, not think of trying anything like
that.”
“But--who do you suspect him of being?” faltered the man, still
wringing his hands as though greatly stirred up.
“He spoke German words,” said Jack, sternly, “and it made us believe he
might be a German spy!”
At that the woman gave vent to a gasp. She threw herself forward on her
knees and held up her clasped hands to Jack.
“Not that, it is not that, I say to you!” she moaned. “It is bad
enough, Heaven knows, but nothing could tempt us to have communication
with the hated enemies of our country. Our hearts are sore, almost
breaking with the shame; but if my man was younger and had his sight he
would be there in the line, with a gun in his hands. It is not as bad
as that, oh! M’sieu, believe me!”
Amos had been deeply stirred by all this. He readily saw that the pair
were in deadly earnest, and he awaited the summing up of the whole
matter with the most intense eagerness.
“Then you must tell us just who that stranger is we saw come in here,
and who is now hidden under the floor. If not a German spy what is he,
François Bart?”
The peasant turned to the woman, as though he dared not take the
responsibility of disclosing their great secret on his own shoulders.
“Shall I tell them?” he asked, hoarsely.
She nodded her head, and at that he burst out with a torrent of words:
“He is our only son, young M’sieu, who has been given a faint heart.
Deserting from the brave army of the king, he has come secretly to us
to hide. That is our shame, our grief.”