THE GERMAN PRISONER
There was fighting that night all along the line, but nothing in the
way of a battle developed and the engineers did not participate in
the contest any further than that they were called on to repair some
bridges along the roadway where the shell-fire of the enemy made
several telling hits.
“The Huns are certainly showing some strong resistance to our advance,”
remarked Roger, while the bombardment was going on.
“Oh, I shouldn’t be surprised if they contested every foot of the
ground,” returned Dave. “They thought they were going to walk right
into Paris, and it makes them more than mad to be driven back this way.”
“One thing is certain,” said Phil. “These old Hindenburg trenches are
marvels of completeness.”
“I heard of one German dugout that was fitted, out like a first-class
hotel, with a bath and even a billiard-table! Those high muck-a-mucks
certainly take care of themselves.”
“Yes, and they take mighty good care that they are not hit, too!” added
Ben. “They let their common soldiers take all the hard knocks. You very
seldom hear of anybody connected with the royal families getting even a
scratch.”
Early in the morning there was a sortie on the part of one of the
American battalions. They had located some Germans hidden in a patch of
wood, and after some fierce fighting succeeded in surrounding a part of
the enemy and making them prisoners. A little later these fellows, to
the number of thirty, with a lieutenant and a sergeant, were marched to
the American rear.
At the time the prisoners were brought in, Dave and his detail were at
work on the roadway which the prisoners and those in charge of them
used. Along this roadway was also stationed the company of soldiers to
which Lieutenant Gebauer and Nat Poole belonged.
As Dave went about his duties he passed Gebauer and Nat several times.
Both of them glared at him, but no words passed. However, five minutes
later Dave saw Nat approach the lieutenant, and an earnest conversation
followed. Both looked several times toward our hero, and Dave felt
certain that the pair were talking about him.
“And it’s dollars to doughnuts they are not saying anything very nice,”
mused our hero. “Probably they are plotting as to what they can do to
get the better of me. I suppose I had better keep my eyes open as long
as they are around.”
A little later he had occasion to give Phil and Ben some directions,
and the latter called Dave to one side.
“I suppose you’ve noticed that Nat Poole and Lieutenant Gebauer are
around?”
“Yes indeed! I have passed them several times, Ben.”
“I went by them, too, and I heard your name mentioned. I believe they
are hatching up something.”
“If I were you I wouldn’t stand any nonsense from either of them,” put
in Phil.
“I don’t intend to!”
“Don’t you think you had better report them?”
“No; I intend to fight this out alone. Of course, if they do anything
that is too outrageous, I’ll have to mention it to those higher up.”
A few minutes later it was announced that the German prisoners were
coming, and, as was customary, all the Americans in that vicinity lined
the roadway to get a look at those who had been captured.
For the most part the prisoners appeared a silent and thoughtful crowd.
A few of them were decidedly sullen, as if ready to break out at any
moment, and these the guards watched closely, for it was remembered
that on one occasion a prisoner had suddenly gone violently insane,
killing one of his captors and then inflicting injury on himself from
which he had later died. On another occasion several prisoners had made
a wild dash for liberty but had been shot down before they could get
any great distance.
When the prisoners came up close to where Dave and his chums were
standing, the officer in charge for some reason or other called a
temporary halt. Then began a good-natured gibing between the soldiers
on both sides, a few of the Americans being able to talk German and one
or two of the prisoners answering in broken English.
Dave was looking over the brought-in men and noting how starved and
ill-clad they were when he became interested in one man who was gazing
with wide-open eyes at the Americans. Following this man’s gaze, Dave
saw that the prisoner was looking intently at Lieutenant Gebauer.
“Gebauer! Max Gebauer! What are you doing here?” called out the German
in his guttural language.
At the mention of his name Lieutenant Gebauer gazed at the prisoner,
and Dave felt certain that he started as he did so. Then, with swift
steps, Gebauer came to the prisoner’s side. There was a low exchange of
words which Dave could not catch, even had he known the German language
better than was the case. Gebauer looked much annoyed, while the
prisoner’s features betrayed great astonishment.
A short argument ensued, but in the midst of this the American
lieutenant suddenly put up his hand and motioned for the prisoner to
keep quiet. Then, as he stepped back, he made other motions as if to
draw a wallet from his pocket and count out imaginary bank-notes. Then
he placed a finger across his lips, turned and walked away.
Roger, Phil, and Ben, as well as Dave, saw all of these actions, and
were of course tremendously interested. They realized at once that
Gebauer and the German prisoner were well acquainted.
“It’s as plain as day that Gebauer wants that fellow to keep his mouth
shut about something,” remarked Phil, when the prisoners had resumed
their march to the rear.
“Yes. And it’s equally plain that he proposes to pay the fellow for
doing it,” returned Dave.
“What do you suppose it is all about?” came, with a puzzled look, from
Ben.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered the young lieutenant.
“I wonder if it’s possible that Gebauer is some sort of a spy and that
soldier knows it,” mused Roger.
“Anything is possible, Roger. But that fellow may be nothing more than
some business acquaintance. More than likely the Gebauer Jewelry
Company had a connection in Germany previous to the war--a great many
of those German-American firms had. That fellow may be nothing but a
business friend.”
“But why would he make a motion as if to pay him money and motion to
him to keep his mouth shut?” questioned Phil.
“Maybe Gebauer doesn’t want folks generally to know he had a German
connection,” said Ben.
“Don’t you think this ought to be reported?” questioned Roger.
“I’ll speak to Captain Obray about it,” answered Dave. “And then I am
going to see if I can’t get a chance to talk to that German prisoner.”
“Can you talk enough German to do it, Dave?”
“I can get an interpreter.”
Our hero lost no time in mentioning what he had seen to Captain Obray,
and that afternoon obtained permission to visit the place where the
German prisoners were being kept that night. This was in a barbed-wire
compound hastily laid out for that purpose by some of the engineers.
Dave had taken a good look at the German who had spoken to Max Gebauer,
and he had little trouble in picking the fellow out from the one
hundred and twenty men who filled the wire enclosure. He took Roger
with him, and also one of the engineers who could speak fairly good
German.
He found the prisoner to be a man of about forty, tall and thin, with
light hair and watery blue eyes. When questioned he gave his name as
August Besswig, and said that he had been a bookkeeper for a large
manufacturing firm in Frankfort.
“Ask him how it is that he happens to know a man by the name of Max
Gebauer,” said Dave to the interpreter.
When this question was put to the prisoner he looked rather disturbed
and then shrugged his shoulders.
“Max Gebauer? Who is he?” he returned after a pause.
“He is the man you were speaking to on your way to this camp,” said the
interpreter, after some words with Dave.
“Oh, that man! I don’t know him very well.”
“How do you happen to know him at all?” was the next question put.
“Well, it’s this way, if you must know. Some years ago I worked for a
large jewelry firm in Germany. We did business with the Gebauer firm in
America. That is how I got to know Mr. Max Gebauer. He used to come to
our place once a year or so on business.”
“Did he come after the war broke out?”
“He was there when that happened, but he got out very quickly,”
answered August Besswig.
After that he was questioned at some length regarding Gebauer, but made
evasive answers. It was evident that he knew something about Gebauer
which he did not wish to mention, but what it was there was no telling.
At last Dave had the interpreter bring the interview to an end.
“That German prisoner is a foxy one,” was Roger’s comment. “I believe
he could tell a great deal if he wanted to.”
“That’s exactly my idea, too,” answered Dave. “One thing is certain, he
and Gebauer have something in common.”
“Exactly, Dave. And the next question is--has that to do with the
present or the past?”
“Oh, I’m inclined to think it has something to do with the past,”
replied Dave. “From what I can find out, this Besswig is nothing but a
private soldier who was forced into the army. That being so, it is not
likely that he would have anything to do with Gebauer if the latter
were up to some shady work for the Government. I think it concerns
something that took place in the past, and it looks to me as if it was
something which Gebauer wants this Besswig to keep quiet about.”
Dave thought he might have another interview with the prisoner later;
but on the following day August Besswig was marched off to a camp
twenty miles distant and he had no opportunity for further talk with
the fellow. He tried to keep an eye on Gebauer, but his duties as an
engineer prevented this, and consequently he did not know an important
fact, which was that two days later Gebauer got a twenty-four-hours
leave of absence and hurried off to find out what had become of August
Besswig and to go to see the prisoner.
When Gebauer came back to camp he was in both a thoughtful and an ugly
mood. He smoked one cigarette after another in a nervous manner, and
then interviewed Nat Poole.
“Your friend Porter seems to be a pretty fresh sort of individual,”
grumbled the lieutenant, as he paced up and down in front of Nat.
“Don’t call him a friend of mine, Max,” was the quick reply of the
money lender’s son. “I like him about as much as I like a hop-toad.”
“He’s doing his best to get me into trouble,” continued Gebauer.
“Why, what has he done now?” questioned Nat, with sudden interest.
“Oh, a whole lot of things. Do you remember those prisoners that came
in a few days ago?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I happen to know one of those fellows very slightly--a fellow
who was connected with a jewelry concern in Germany with which our
concern in Philadelphia used to do a little business.
“Well, Porter saw me say a few words in a friendly way to that fellow,
and he at once had the prisoner interviewed and did his best to make
out that I had some sort of a German connection. Of course, he’s doing
his best to get me in Dutch with the military authorities!” stormed the
lieutenant.
“Well, he didn’t find out anything to your disadvantage, did he?”
questioned Nat.
“Of course not! How could he? I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“Well, then, what are you afraid of?”
“What am I afraid of? Don’t I know the kind of fellow Dave Porter is?
He wouldn’t like anything better than to cook something up with that
prisoner so as to get me in bad. I know him! I’ve a good mind to fix
him!”
“Let’s do it!” Nat’s eyes began to shine with expectancy. “I’d like
nothing better than to put one over on him. He’s getting altogether too
big for his boots. Now that he is a lieutenant, he thinks he can lord
it over everybody. I suppose when he gets back to Crumville he’ll put
on airs something fierce. According to the stories he’ll tell, he’ll
have been the one to win the whole war.”
After this the two continued their conversation for the best part of
an hour. Both were exceedingly bitter against Dave, Nat on account of
the many things which had happened ever since he had gone to Oak Hall,
and Gebauer because of the way he had been given the cold shoulder by
Jessie Wadsworth.
“If you are game to do it, Nat, I think we can put a good big one over
on Porter,” said Gebauer at last. “Of course, it will require a little
nerve to do it.”
“What do you propose to do?”
“Oh, that isn’t exactly clear in my mind yet. But I’ll hatch out
something before long. But how about you? Are you willing to stand by
me?”
“Sure I am! Unless, of course, you should want to go too far,” answered
Nat Poole, his natural cowardice suddenly asserting itself.
“Oh, we won’t go too far. We’ll only do something that will get him in
bad with those higher up. Then maybe he’ll be placed in disgrace, and
possibly reduced to the ranks.”
“Gee, that sounds good to me!” cried Nat. “Let’s go and do it!”
“Then you’ll work with me?”
“I sure will! And the sooner you get at it, the better.”