MORE GERMAN CRUELTY
True to Harding's prediction, there was no let-up in the work until two
o'clock that afternoon. At that hour the German guards passed the word
and the prisoners dropped their tools and wiped moist brows. Hal and
Chester found themselves beside Harding, the Englishman, and Mercer, the
Frenchman, once more.
"Now what?" asked Chester.
"Back to our holes," replied Harding. "I mean," he added, catching the
question in Chester's face, "back to the filthy little shacks where we
sleep and spend our leisure hours."
Several cars now appeared along the little track in the mine and the
prisoners clambered aboard. These then proceeded to the main shaft,
where the men were carried aloft a few at a time.
Not for a moment did the German guards relax their vigilance. Rifles
were held ready for instant use. More than once they had been caught
unprepared and several times batches of prisoners had succeeded in
making their escape. Some had been recaptured, but others had found
their way back to their own lines.
Hal and Chester were carried up in the car with Harding and Mercer and
two other British prisoners. For some reason, both lads had decided
unconsciously to stick as close as possible to the big Englishman, and
he appeared glad of their company.
Under the guns of the guards, the prisoners were marched across the open
to a row of shacks in the distance.
"Wonder where they'll put us, Chester?" said Hal.
"Don't know," replied Chester, "but I can't see that it makes any
difference."
"There is room for a couple of more in my shack," said Harding. "You
boys just walk in with me as though you belonged there. Maybe they'll
let you stay."
The lads acted on this advice and a few moments later were in the little
hovel that Harding called home. Hal took in his surroundings with a
calculating eye.
There was only one window, through which the sun now streamed. There was
no door beside the one through which they had entered. Hal gave a start
of surprise when he saw that the window was not barred.
"I thought of course they'd have bars there," he said, pointing. "Looks
to me like a fellow might crawl out in the middle of the night."
"So you could," returned Harding, "but that wouldn't help anything.
There are thousands of armed guards around this place. You wouldn't have
much of a chance getting through."
"It's been tried, though, I suppose?" queried Chester.
"Yes; and there's a graveyard behind us that has more occupants as a
result. I believe that several men have succeeded in getting through,
but I can't say positively. It's only talk among the prisoners."
"Haven't you ever thought of making a break for liberty, Harding?"
demanded Hal.
The Englishman looked at the lad curiously. He was silent for some
moments.
"Let me tell you something," he said at last. "There isn't a prisoner in
this camp who is not thinking of escape every waking minute. Why, we
even dream about it. As a matter of fact, we scarcely think of anything
else. Every now and then conditions become so intolerable that a man, or
a batch of men, makes the attempt. Mostly, they have some plan in their
minds, but sometimes they simply act on the spur of the moment."
Harding mused a moment in silence. Hal and Chester did not interrupt
him.
"I have in mind a man named Judson," continued Harding at last. "He had
been working in the mines for months. He was a big, husky chap--an
Englishman. One of the guards below found particular delight in annoying
him. He was safe enough in this, for it was apparent that Judson could
not thrash his tormentor and the other guards as well. For days Judson
bore the torment in silence and then he could stand it no longer."
"What did he do?" demanded Chester eagerly.
"Why," said Harding, "he simply diverted a blow of his pick to the guard
and that settled the German. Then, before the remaining guards, who were
stunned momentarily by the suddenness of the act, could even think,
Judson was among them swinging his pick right and left. You know," he
broke off, "it's funny what a little thing will raise the hopes of every
prisoner in the camp. Every man sees in each little breach of
discipline--each little mutinous act--the opportunity for which he
thinks he has been waiting. It was so in Judson's case.
"As the guards sprang in to seize Judson, every prisoner in sight
entered the conflict. Picks and shovels and drills were our weapons. For
a moment we made headway, the attack was so sudden. But we didn't have a
chance. The guards turned their rifles on us and it only took a few
minutes to quell the disorder. Five prisoners were killed."
"And Judson, what happened to him?"
Again Harding was silent for a few moments. Then he said:
"Frankly, I'd rather not talk about that. But having heard so much of
the story, I guess you are entitled to the rest. You see, Judson did
considerable damage with that pick before he was overcome. Besides the
first guard, he felled three more of the Germans before they could
subdue him. They couldn't have done it then except that a guard closed
in from behind and shot him through the head."
"And killed him?" asked Hal.
"No," said Harding, "the bullet didn't kill him, worse luck. It would
have been better if it had. Now comes the part I don't like to talk
about." The lads saw the Englishman's great hands clench and unclench as
he talked and they knew that a terrible anger was raging within him.
"What happened?" asked Hal in a low voice.
"Why," said Harding, "they took Judson to the surgeon, had his wound
dressed and gave him some clean clothes. Then, the next day, right at
the mouth of the mine as the shafts changed and practically every
prisoner in the camp was there, they killed him."
Hal and Chester shuddered.
"How?" asked Hal softly.
"That's the horrible part of it," said Harding in a choking voice. "They
tied him to a post stuck in the ground for that purpose. Then a score of
guards drew off twenty paces and unslung their lances. These they then
began to use as spears, hurling them from that distance. It was plain,
of course, that they did not mean to kill Judson instantly--from that
distance there are few men who can launch a death throw--particularly
with a lance. The first weapon struck Judson a glancing blow in the
side--he had been stripped to the waist--it was a terrible sight."
Harding broke off again.
"Why did you stay?" demanded Hal, who was raging furiously within as
Harding proceeded with his story.
"There was no help for it," the man replied. "We were herded there under
the guns of a hundred or more guards. Well, every lance thrown brought
cheers and jeers from the guards--but there came never so much as a
groan from Judson. I don't know how long it lasted--it seemed like
hours, though I suppose it was only a matter of minutes. Pierced in
scores of places, Judson at last found eternal peace."
Harding dropped suddenly into a little chair and buried his face in his
hands. For the moment, Hal and Chester were too greatly shocked by this
tale of barbarism to utter a word. Chester's hand clutched Hal's arm.
"Isn't it terrible?" he whispered. "And to think that these men call
themselves Christians!"
Harding overheard the remark and looked up.
"Christians!" he echoed. "Let me tell you something. The atrocities of
the Turks in Armenia that we have heard so much about pale into
insignificance alongside the cruelties of the Germans. Not for nothing
have they won the name 'Hun.'
"Poor Judson!" he continued. "He was my pal. Never shall I forget that
sight. Sometimes in my dreams I see it now, and I awake with a scream.
Now, my lads, do you wonder that while every prisoner here is thinking
of escape he hesitates to make the attempt?"
"I should say not!" declared Hal. "But the Huns must answer for all
this--their time of reckoning will come."
"Yes, but it will not be in proportion to the punishment they deserve,"
said Harding, "and that is what makes it so hard to bear. Cruelties that
they have inflicted upon their prisoners will not be repaid in
kind--there is no such barbarism in the hearts of the Allied nations.
But," and Harding brought his clenched fist into his left palm with a
resounding smack, "the debt should be paid in kind."
"No, no, Harding," said Chester quietly. "We cannot lower ourselves to
the level of these barbarians. Remember what the Good Book says:
'Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.'"
Again Harding buried his face in his hands. When he again looked up
there was a more peaceful expression in his face--his eyes had lost
their hardness.
"You are right," he said quietly.
"Now," said Chester, turning the subject, "the question is what they
will do with us in view of the trouble we stirred up to-day?"
Harding shrugged.
"It's hard to tell," he answered. "It all depends on their mood. It may
be that they will prescribe a week or so of solitary confinement, the
lash, or the matter may be overlooked. You never can tell."
"Great Scott!" said Hal. "We can't stand for solitary confinement. I
must tell you something, Harding. It is absolutely necessary that we get
away from here without delay--at least that we make the attempt."
Harding shook his head.
"Remember the story of Judson," he said slowly.
"Well, it can't be helped," declared Chester. "We'll have to risk it."
Harding looked at the lad sharply.
"You mean that you have some particular reason?" he asked.
Chester nodded affirmatively, and then, in a few words, explained the
mission with which they had been entrusted by General Pershing.
"I can realize the necessity of haste," declared Harding, a strange
light in his face, "and now I will tell you something. I have considered
the situation from every angle and I believe that I have found a plan
that promises success."
"You have?" exclaimed Chester eagerly.
"Yes," said Harding, "and now that the necessity has become so urgent we
shall make the attempt to-morrow."
Hal and Chester stifled their joy in subdued exclamations of delight.