A PERSONAL AFFAIR
As Dave and his chums strode forward they saw the soldier ahead of them
give the gaunt-looking French lad another shove. This caused the poor
boy to lose his balance, and over he went in the roadway, falling on
top of the big bundle he was carrying.
“Hi, you bruiser, stop that!” cried Dave, coming up behind the
soldier and catching him by the arm. Then, as, rather startled by the
interruption, the fellow whirled around, he added in amazement: “Nat
Poole!”
“See here! what do you mean by grabbing me by the arm?” demanded the
son of the money lender of Crumville, as soon as he recovered from his
astonishment.
“Why, it’s Nat Poole!” exclaimed Roger.
“Who would have thought of meeting him here?” added Phil.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself for treating a poor French boy
like this, Nat,” continued Dave, as he stepped forward and assisted
the fallen boy to his feet. The fellow looked much frightened, thus
confronted by four soldiers. Evidently he was afraid he had gotten
himself into serious trouble. He did not understand what was being said.
“I guess I’ve got a right to hire a boy to carry a bundle for me,”
grumbled Nat.
“Did you hire him?” demanded Dave.
“I don’t know as that’s any of your business,” was the blustering
response.
“Did he hire you to carry the package for him?” questioned Dave of the
boy in the best French he could command, which, it may be said here,
was far from good.
“That soldier made me carry the bundle. He makes motions like he would
beat me if I did not do it,” answered the boy, with a shiver.
“He won’t touch you; so don’t be afraid,” said Dave, and then he looked
calmly at Nat.
“See here, Dave Porter! what right have you to come and butt into my
private affairs?” growled Nat.
“As a commissioned officer of the army I am bound to see to it that the
inhabitants around here are properly treated,” answered Dave. And if he
said this rather sternly I think he may be pardoned for so doing.
“A commissioned officer? Humph, you’re only a sergeant! I don’t see how
you got into that uniform.”
“Lieutenant Porter was made a lieutenant some time ago,” said Phil.
“And you had better mind yourself, Nat, or you’ll get into trouble.”
“So they made you a lieutenant, did they?” queried Nat; and it was easy
to be seen that he was envious of Dave’s promotion. “Funny the luck
some fellows have!”
While this talk was going on the boy had been edging farther and
farther away from the Americans. Now he suddenly took to his heels,
running off as if for dear life.
“Now see what you have done!” grumbled Nat. “I wanted that boy to carry
this bundle into town for me.”
“What’s the matter with carrying it yourself, Nat?” suggested Roger.
“You are more able to do it than that poor half-starved kid.”
“Humph! I wasn’t brought up to lug bundles,” grumbled the money
lender’s son.
“Is it your own?” questioned Phil.
“No! It belongs to our captain. He detailed me to take it into town for
him.”
“If he did, he must have done it as a punishment for you,” returned
Dave quickly. He well knew that privates were often punished by their
superiors for slight infringements of the regulations by having
disagreeable duties assigned to them. He himself had seen unlucky
engineers set to work carrying bundles, cleaning up in camp, and even
peeling potatoes and onions for weeks at a time.
“Never mind why I was carrying the bundle. I can’t see that it’s any of
your business, even if you are a lieutenant.”
“I won’t argue the point, Nat; but in the future you take my advice and
leave the poor French boys alone.”
“Oh, say! you fellows make me tired,” growled the money lender’s son.
And then, grabbing up the bundle which still lay in the roadway, he
turned his back on the others and stalked off.
“Say, Dave, I think you ought to report him,” was Phil’s comment.
“Oh, let it go, Phil,” was the quick reply. “If I, as a lieutenant,
reported Nat, he would claim that it was nothing but a personal matter
between us. I don’t want to take advantage of my position when it comes
to dealing with somebody I have known for years. I would rather fight
it out on my own hook, so to speak.”
“Oh, I understand your feelings, Dave--I’d feel that way myself.”
“If you reported Nat he would make a great hullabaloo and say you were
simply trying to show your authority,” said Roger. “Just the same, I am
glad we caught him and came to the rescue of that boy. We want all of
the inhabitants here to realize that we are their friends and intend to
treat them with perfect fairness.”
The three chums soon reached the town, Nat Poole having gone in ahead
of them. Dave made his purchases, and Roger and Phil got what they
wanted, and then they walked around to see the sights. This town had
been under bombardment several times, and while a portion of it was
still in fairly good condition, many of the buildings had suffered, and
at the end of one of the streets the demolition was complete.
“Just think of having lived here while those bombardments were going
on!” was Dave’s comment, as they paused in front of one of the
buildings, a rear corner of which was still standing.
“It must make the French people heart-sick to come back and find their
homes nothing but heaps of rubbish.”
“And to think that the Germans carried off nearly everything of value,”
put in Phil.
“Never mind, Phil, some day we’ll make them pay the whole bill,”
returned Dave. “The only thing we can’t make good is the loss of life.”
They walked around for over an hour, for this was the first chance
they had had to look over this particular town. During the winter at
the front they had had an opportunity to go back to two other ruined
places, but at that time the ruins had been covered with a thick
mantle of snow, so that they had seen comparatively little.
Walking along one of the streets, which was still piled high with the
debris of the last bombardment, Dave and his chums had occasion to walk
under what remained of a bridgeway running from one building across the
road to another.
“It’s queer that bridge wasn’t knocked down by the bombardment,”
remarked Roger, as he surveyed the ruin left on all sides.
“Some of these old stoneworks are remarkably substantial,” returned
Dave. “The engineers of those days certainly knew their business. Under
ordinary circumstances a bridge like this will last for thousands of
years.”
They came out on the other side of the bridge and here paused to look
around again. Then, as Dave happened to glance upward, he gave a sudden
cry of alarm:
“Look out there!”
As he spoke there came down on their heads a perfect shower of dirt,
consisting mostly of pulverized lime and cement. Then, before they
could move, another shower of the same stuff descended upon them.
“Great Cæsar! do you suppose those buildings are going to fall?” cried
Phil. Some of the dust had got into his eyes, temporarily blinding him.
“No, nothing is falling,” answered Dave quickly. “That stuff came from
the top of the bridgeway and was thrown down on us.”
“Hi there! Stop that!” yelled Roger, and then repeated his words in
French.
“I saw somebody’s arm, and that arm was dressed in khaki,” said Dave
quickly. “I believe that stuff was thrown down by some of our soldiers.
I am going up there to investigate. Come along.”
To get up on the bridgeway was not difficult. They had to pass into
what was left of one of the houses and then make their way up a rather
rickety pair of stairs. Then they passed over a shaky floor and through
a doorway leading to the bridge.
As they did this, Dave, who was well in advance, caught sight of two
figures in khaki--those of a private and an officer. The two had been
laughing boisterously, but now, as Dave and his chums came up on the
bridge the others started away from them. But the far end of the bridge
was blocked by the ruins of the building beyond, and the fleeing ones
had to come to a halt.
“It’s Nat Poole, just as I thought,” said Dave to his chums.
“Who is that fellow with him?” questioned Roger.
“I’m not quite sure, Roger, but he looks like Gebauer.”
[Illustration: THERE CAME DOWN ON THEIR HEADS A PERFECT SHOWER OF
DIRT.--_Page 161._]
“So it is! I recognize him now. Well, what do you know about this!”
In another moment the two parties were confronting each other. Nat
looked rather sullen, while Lieutenant Gebauer put on a front as if
the affair did not concern him in the least. Of course the engineers
saluted, and Gebauer did likewise.
“Nat, did you throw that stuff down on top of us?” demanded Dave.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” was the low reply.
“Yes, you do,” put in Roger quickly, and going forward he grabbed Nat
by the arm.
“Roger Morr, you let me alone!” howled the money lender’s son, a trifle
frightened.
“This is Lieutenant Gebauer, I believe?” remarked Dave, a bit stiffly.
“You are right. And you are--?” and here the lieutenant paused.
“I am Lieutenant Porter. I think you ought to remember me.”
“Oh, yes; I remember you now. You come from the same town that Poole
does,” said Gebauer slowly.
“I suppose both of you thought it was a good joke to throw that dirt
down on us?” continued Dave, eying the other lieutenant squarely.
“Oh, soldiers have got to have a little fun, you know,” said Gebauer
coolly, and, taking a cigarette from a case, he started to light it.
“It’s no fun to throw lime dust around,” growled Phil, who was still
rubbing his eyes. “For two pins, Nat Poole, I’d give you the thrashing
of your life.”
“There will be no fighting done here!” cried Lieutenant Gebauer sternly.
“Perhaps you had a hand in this, Lieutenant?” said Dave quickly.
“Ha! do you accuse me, Porter?” and the other officer drew himself up
proudly.
“I know there were two lots of that stuff came down on our heads. Did
Poole throw both of them?”
“No, I didn’t!” was the quick reply. “I--I--” and then Nat stopped.
“I don’t see why you should make such a row over a little fun,”
remarked Gebauer, puffing away at his cigarette. “It’s dull enough
around here. We’ve got to stir things up a little.”
“Well, after this when you stir things up, you keep away from me,” said
Dave coldly.
“Do you mean that as a threat, Porter?”
“I mean that as a warning.”
There was a moment’s pause, and twice Lieutenant Gebauer made a move as
if to speak. But then he merely shrugged his shoulders and flipped the
ashes from his cigarette.
“Life is too short to quarrel, Porter,” he remarked finally. “Have it
your own way.”
“I intend to have it my own way.” Dave stepped a bit closer. “I believe
you know well enough, Lieutenant Gebauer, that I have a little personal
account to settle with you. But that can wait. Just the same, I want
you and this cowardly young fellow here to understand that you have got
to keep your distance. Otherwise there is going to be real trouble for
both of you.”
“See here! You--you--can’t--er--threaten me like this!” stammered
Gebauer, not knowing how to proceed.
“Come on, boys; I’ve had my say,” said Dave to his chums, utterly
ignoring the splutterings of Gebauer. Nat was mumbling something under
his breath, but what it was, nobody understood.
Then Dave and his friends left the bridge and the ruins around it and
went on their way.