THE GERMAN HOST
John was turning away from the camp fire with his friends, when he saw
something drop out of the dark, and disappear in a little valley near
them.
"Another of those aeroplanes," said Carstairs. "I can't get wholly used
to the way they zigzag and spiral about at night like huge birds of
prey. They always give me a chill, even when I know they're our own."
John had secured one good look at the machine as it swooped toward the
earth, and he asked his friends to walk with him toward the improvised
hangar, where it would surely be lying.
They saw a man of slender but very strong build step from the aeroplane,
and throw back his visor, showing a tanned face, a somewhat aquiline
nose, and eyes penetrating and powerful like those of some bird that
soaring far up sees its prey on the earth below. It was an unusual,
distinctive face, and the red firelight accentuated every salient
characteristic.
"Lannes!" said John joyfully. "I thought it was the _Arrow_ when I saw
you descending!"
John stood in the shadow, and the young Frenchman took a step forward to
see better. Then he too uttered an exclamation of gladness.
"It's Monsieur Jean the Scott, my comrade of the great battles in the
air!" he said. "It was my hope rather than my expectation to find you
here."
He grasped the extended hand and shook it with great warmth. Then John
introduced him to his friends. Lannes and Carstairs surveyed each other
a moment.
"Frenchman and Englishman have been on the same battle fields for a
thousand years," said Carstairs.
"Usually the only ones there, and fighting each other," said Lannes.
"Whichever side won, the victory was never easy."
"You are a brave people. We French are the best witnesses of it."
"We are always slow to start. We are usually the last to reach the
battle field."
"Also, usually the last to leave it."
"It seems fitting to me that the enemies of a thousand years should have
exhausted all their enmity and should now be united against a common
foe."
"Without you we could not win."
Lannes' wonderful eyes were sparkling. There is something deep and
moving in the friendships of youth. Moreover it made a powerful appeal
to his strongly-developed dramatic side. Foes of a thousand years were
bound to acknowledge the merits of each other. Carstairs, less
demonstrative, felt the same appeal. Then they too shook hands with
strength and enthusiasm.
"I approve of this love-feast," said Wharton, "but don't fall to kissing
each other. Man kissing man is a continental custom I can't stand."
"Don't be alarmed," said Lannes laughing. "It's passing out in France,
and I certainly would not do it. I've lived a while in your country. Now
will you wait here, my friends? I have a report to make, but I will
return in a half hour."
When Lannes returned he handed a letter to John: "Your uncle and the
worthy Mr. Anson have managed to reach Paris through Switzerland," he
said. "I found them, and, on the chance that I might reach you, the
distinguished Senator, your uncle, gave me the letter that I now give to
you."
Making his excuses to the others John read it hastily. His uncle wrote
in a resigned tone. He and Mr. Anson would remain in Paris a short time,
and then if the German forces came near, as he feared they might, they
would cross to London. He hoped that his nephew would leave the army and
join them there, but if contrary to all good advice, he insisted on
remaining he trusted that he would fight bravely and show the
superiority of Americans to the decadent Europeans.
"Good old Uncle Jim," said John to himself, as he put the letter back in
his pocket. "Maybe it's a faith like his that will really make us the
greatest nation in the world."
He did not see any great difference at that moment between the sublime
faith of Senator Pomeroy in the United States and the equally sublime
faith of Carstairs in the British Empire. The only difference was in
their way of expressing it. But he felt a great affection for his uncle,
and he knew very well that the chances were against his ever seeing him
again. A slight mist came before his eyes.
"I thank you for bringing the letter, Lannes," he said. "My uncle and
Mr. Anson will remain a while in Paris, and then they will probably go
to London."
He would not tell Lannes the Senator's reason for leaving Paris.
"From what place have you come after leaving Paris, if it's no army
secret?" he asked.
Lannes with a dramatic gesture swept his hand over his head.
"From there. From the heavenly vault," he replied. "I have been
everywhere. Over forests and many cities, over the German lines and over
our own lines. I have seen the Germans coming not in thousands but in
millions. I thought once that the army of our allies would be cut off,
but it has joined with our own in time."
"Is it true that we fight tomorrow?"
"As surely as the rising of the sun."
"In that case it would be better for us all to go to sleep," said
Carstairs phlegmatically. "We'll need our full strength in the morning."
But John was not able to close his eyes for a long time. His rather
loose position as an aide enabled him to go about much with Darrell, the
young officer to whom he had been introduced first, and he saw that the
British army awaited the battle with eagerness, not unmixed with
curiosity. In John's opinion they held the enemy far too lightly, and he
did not hesitate to say so. Darrell was not offended.
"It's our national characteristic," he said, "and I suppose it can't be
changed. This overweening confidence sometimes brings us defeats that we
might have avoided, and again it brings us victories that we might not
have won otherwise. Tommy Atkins is always convinced that he can beat
two soldiers of any other nation, unless it's you Yankees. Of course he
can't, but the belief helps him a lot."
"Remember how you fared in the Boer war." Darrell laughed.
"Tommy Atkins doesn't read history, and those who remember it have long
since convinced themselves that the Boer successes were due to strange
tricks or are merely legendary."
John was not at all sure that Darrell was not a better born and better
educated Tommy Atkins himself. He, and all the other young officers whom
he met, seemed to be absolutely sure of victory on the morrow, no matter
how numerous the German host might be.
After a while he lay down in the grass, wrapped in a blanket, near his
comrades and slept. But the August night was not quiet, and it was an
uneasy sleep. He awoke far before dawn and stood up. He heard distant
shots now and then from the pickets, and the powerful searchlights often
played on the far horizon, casting a white, uncanny glare. Darker spots
appeared in the dusky sky. The aeroplanes were already hovering above,
watching for the first movement of the enemy.
He walked to the place, where the _Arrow_ was lying, and saw Lannes
standing beside it, fully clothed for flight.
"I'm carrying dispatches to our own army on the right," said Lannes,
"and I don't think you will see me again for several days. You fight
today, you know."
"And we shall win?"
Lannes was silent.
"All the English are confident of victory," continued John.
"Confidence is a sublime thing," said Lannes, "but in a great war it
goes best with numbers and preparation."
John felt the gravity of his tone, but he asked no more questions,
seeing that the young Frenchman was reluctant to answer them, and that
he was also ready for his flight.
"You're in all senses a bird of passage, Philip," he said, "but I know
that whatever happens tomorrow or rather today we're going to see each
other again. Good-bye."
"Good-bye," said Lannes, extending his gloved hand. "We're comrades,
John, and I hope sometimes to turn your little fraternity of three into
a brotherhood of four. Tell the Englishman, Carstairs, that France and
England together can't fail."
"He'll think it mostly England."
"If we only win, let him think it."
Lannes stepped into the machine, it was shoved forward, then it rose
gracefully into the air and flew off in the usual spirals and zigzags
toward the east, where it was soon lost in the darkness. John gazed
toward the point, where he last saw it. It seemed almost a dream, that
flight of his with Lannes, and the fight with the Taubes, and the
Zeppelin. He was on the ground now, and the coming battle would be
fought on the solid earth, as man had been fighting from time
immemorial. He was about to return to his blanket when a glad voice
called to him and a figure emerged from the dark.
"Mr. Scott," came a pleasant voice. "And you were not drowned after all!
I thought that I alone escaped!"
It was Weber, paler than usual, but without a wound. John's surprise was
lost in gladness. He liked this man, whose manners were so agreeable,
and he had mourned his death.
"Mr. Weber," he said, shaking hands with him, "it's I who should say:
'and you are not dead?' We thought you were drowned under the
automobile. Mr. Wharton, Mr. Carstairs and myself escaped uninjured
although we had a hard time afterward with the Germans. How did you
manage it?"
"I _was_ under the automobile, and I _did_ come near being drowned, but
not quite. I'm a good swimmer, but I was caught by a strap. As soon as I
could disengage myself I swam rapidly down stream under water, came up
in the shadow, and crawled among some bushes on the bank. I saw the
Germans ride into the river, search the opposite shore, and after a
while go away. Then I emerged from the bushes, walked more hours than I
can count, and you see me here. I've brought information which I think
of value, and I'm on my way now to give it to high officers."
John shook hands with him again. Weber's manner, at once frank and
cheerful, invited confidence.
"Providence seems to watch over all four of us," he said. "It's quite
certain that none of us will ever meet his death by drowning."
"Nor by hanging either I hope," said Weber.
"Now I must hurry. If I'm not sent away immediately on another mission
it's likely I'll see you tomorrow."
He disappeared almost at once. He seemed to John to have some mysterious
power of melting into the air, or of re-embodying himself. It was
terrifying for the moment, but John shook himself and laughed.
"Lightness of foot and silence are the two great assets in his trade,"
he said to himself.
He wrapped himself in his blanket and again sought sleep which came
readily enough despite the distant shots and the flashing white lights.
But he was awakened at the first upshoot of dawn, and the whole army was
soon on its feet, its front spreading a long distance across the green
country. They had hot coffee and good hot food, and then turned to their
duty, John at the same time telling them of the return of Weber, over
which both Wharton and Carstairs rejoiced.
"It's a good omen," said Carstairs. "We'll take it that way and let it
point to our success today."
"We need it," muttered Wharton, who was looking through glasses, "and a
lot more just as good. If I don't make any mistake the German nation is
advancing against us in a solid mass."
Carstairs had observed the same fact.
"They seem to be quite numerous," he said.
"Now's your chance," said John, "to prove not only that one Englishman
is as good as any other two Europeans, but as good as four."
"Looks like it," said Carstairs coolly. "I'm bound to admit that we can
get all the fighting we want. But our men are ready and willing. Listen
to the bagpipes of those Highlanders."
"Sounds more like a dirge," said Wharton.
"A dirge for the other fellows."
"Do they keep their legs bare so they can run fast?"
"Yes, after the enemy."
John smiled.
"You're true blue, Carstairs, old fellow," he said. "What do you see,
Wharton?"
"Germans, Germans, and then more Germans. Germans on the right, Germans
on the left, and Germans in the center, always Germans. They're
advancing by kingdoms, grand dukedoms, dukedoms and principalities. The
whole circle of the horizon is gray with them."
The three were mounted and ready for orders. Aloft swung the aeroplanes
and over the hostile front hovered those of the Germans also. John had
little to do, but; as he rode slowly back and forth with the others, he
heard the light talk and the jesting among these troops who spoke
English. Although he knew that they underrated the danger he was proud
of them, and he remembered that his transplanted blood and theirs were
the same.
His eyes turned back to the gray sea, coming forward like the tide
across the open fields. It's edge was yet far away, but the sunlight was
so bright and the columns so deep that he saw them plainly. As in the
battle with the French they made upon him the impression of irresistible
strength. He saw too that their tremendous line would overlap the
British on both left and right, and he was assailed by a sudden and
deadly fear that they stood in the presence of the invincible. But his
strong will took command of his imaginative mind, and his face seemed
calm as he sat on his horse with the others and watched the advancing
foe.
Rifles were already crackling in the valleys between, where the pickets
were seeking the lives of one another, and now came the deep, rumbling
thunder of the giant cannon as they threw their shells from a range of
eight or ten miles. When a shell burst there was a crash like that of a
volcano in eruption, great cavities were torn in the earth, and men fell
in dozens. Vast clouds of smoke from the monster guns began to drift
against the horizon, but nearer where the smaller guns were at work only
light white clouds appeared.
The advancing German army was a semicircle of fire. From every point the
field batteries opened, making a steady crash so frightful and violent
that it seemed to rend the earth. But above their roar the eruption of
the colossal cannon in the rear could be heard now, and shells of
immense weight struck and burst in the English lines. Along the whole
British front the cannon were replying, and the roar reached incredible
proportions. Noxious fumes too filled the air. Gases seemed to be
released and the air was heavy and poisonous in the lungs. War had taken
on a new aspect, one more sinister and menacing than the old.
The shock from the great guns became so terrific that John tore little
pieces from the lining of his coat and stuffed them in his ears, in fear
lest he should be made deaf forever. He did it surreptitiously, until he
saw others doing the same, and then he put in more. Many of the troops
were lying down now. Others were kneeling, but everywhere the officers
stood up or sat their horses, reckless of death. The rifle firing had
ceased, because the pickets and skirmishers of both were driven in, and
the masses on the two sides were not yet near enough to each other for
that weapon.
But the cannon, hundreds and hundreds of them were pouring forth two
storms of death. The British position was raked through and through by
the fire of a thousand guns. Shrapnel seemed to rain from the clouds
scattering death and wounds everywhere. The air was filled with its
ferocious whine like that of a hurricane.
John, having no messages to carry, continued to watch the German
advance. He had no doubt that thousands had already fallen before the
hostile fire, but he could see no break in that living gray line. It
came steadily on, solid, tremendous and, again he felt that it was
impossible to stay it.
"The field telephone brings news that the French on our right miles away
are engaged also!" shouted Wharton.
"That doesn't concern us!" John shouted back. "Look what's coming, a
million Germans at least!"
The shrapnel whined terribly over his head and his horse fell, but he
sprang clear.
"My horse is killed!" he cried.
"So's mine," said Carstairs, as he picked himself from the grass.
Wharton's was hurt by the same deadly shower and he dismounted to
examine his wound, but the horse maddened by pain and fright broke loose
and ran toward the German lines. Before he had gone far a shell swept
him away in fragments.
John thought they were safer on foot, but his fear began to leave as the
madness of battle seized him. He had the curious but not uncommon
feeling in a soldier that the whole hostile army was firing at him
alone. His heart swelled with indignation, and his hair bristled with
anger. Snatching up the rifle of a fallen man he stood, ready to use it,
when the gray line came within fair range.
Carstairs and Wharton shouted something to him, but he could not hear
the words. He merely saw their lips moving. The crash had become so
tremendous that voices were inaudible. John was now quite certain that
if he had not put the lint in his ears he would have become deaf
forever. But both Wharton and Carstairs seized him and dragged him down.
Wharton, through his glasses, had noticed that new German batteries were
coming into action, and their fire would converge upon the place, where
they stood.
As they lay almost flat behind a little ridge the shrapnel began to
shriek over their heads with increased violence. Many men behind them
were killed and a stream of wounded dragged themselves toward the rear.
The giant shells also fell among them, spreading death over wide areas.
The hideous smell of fumes and gases spread. The air seemed poisoned.
The rifles now opened fire, and the air was filled with singing steel.
The little bullets flew in millions, cutting down men, bushes, grass,
everything. John and his comrades using the ridge for shelter fired
their own weapons as fast as they could pull the trigger. He did not
know how Carstairs and Wharton had obtained their rifles, but plenty
were lying about for the taking.
As the German lines drew nearer John saw the men falling in hundreds.
Their ranks were swept by shell, shrapnel and the unceasing storm of
bullets, but the gray hosts, a quarter of a million strong, passing over
the dying and the dead, always swept on, their generals eager to cut off
and destroy the English army where it stood. As they marched vast bodies
of troops thundered out "The Watch on the Rhine," or "A Mighty Fortress
is our God." Now and then a strain of the song came to John's ears on
the roar of the battle.
The gray sea was coming nearer, ever nearer. Losses, however large, were
nothing to the Germans. Their generals led them on straight into the
face of the British fire, and John gasped as if all that tremendous
weight were about to be hurled upon his own chest.
The British fire doubled, tripled. The German line wavered, steadied
itself and came on again. Then John saw a flash extending along their
own front, and he and his comrades sprang to their feet. He saw an
officer give an order and then with a tremendous shout the men, their
line bristling with steel, rushed forward.
John heard the shrapnel and bullets shrieking and whistling among them,
but he was untouched. Whether there was any bayonet on the end of his
rifle he did not know, but he was running forward with the others, and
then he was in the center of a vast red whirlwind, in which the faces of
men shone and steel glittered. Cannon and rifles crashed, and there was
a great shouting, but the Germans at last reeled and gave back before
the bayonet.
A tremendous roar of cheers came from the British line, and for a little
space there was a comparative lull in the thunder of the battle. John
heard a Highland brigade singing some wild song, and near him the Irish
were pouring forth a fierce, wailing note. Wharton and Carstairs were
still by his side, unharmed.
"The bayonet after all is the weapon for close quarters! It takes a good
man to stand the cold steel!" shouted Carstairs.
"So it does!" John shouted back, "but they've stopped for only a few
moments! They're gathering anew!"
"And we're here waiting for them! But I wish there were more of us!"
John echoed the wish. He saw the German army advancing again or at least
enough of it to know that it could overpower the defense. The Germans
were as brave as anybody and under their iron discipline they would come
without ceasing. He borrowed Wharton's glasses, and also saw the vast
overlapping lines to right and left. A great fear was born in his heart
that the German effort would succeed, that the British army would be
surrounded and destroyed. But he handed the glasses back to Wharton
without a word.
The battle swelled anew. The German generals reformed their lines and
the hosts poured forward again, reckless of losses. The defense met them
with a terrible fire and charged again and again with the bayonet.
For hours the battle raged and thundered over the hills and valleys, and
the British line still held, but it was cut up, bleeding at every pore,
and to right and left the horns of the long German crescent were slowly
creeping around either flank. John from his place on a hill saw well and
he knew that their position was growing extremely dangerous. It seemed
to him that the German threat would certainly be carried out, unless
help came from the French.
[Illustration] "A vast red whirlwind in which the faces of men shone and
steel glittered."
Late in the day he was on horseback again, carrying a message from a
general to any French commander whom he could reach, urging immediate
help. He had left Wharton and Carstairs on the battle line, and the
horse was that of a slain colonel.
Gaining the rear, where the weight of the fire would not reach him John
galloped toward the right, passing through a small wood, and then
emerging upon a field, in which wheat had stood.
As his blood cooled a little he slowed his speed for a moment or two,
and took a look at the battle which was spread over a vast area. He was
appalled by the spectacle of all those belching cannon, and of men
falling like grass before the mower. A continuous flash and roar came
from a front of miles, and he saw well that the German host could not be
stopped.
He galloped toward the right, but it seemed to him that distance did not
cause any decrease in the crash and roar. Either his imagination
supplied it, or the battle was increasing in violence. He rode on, and
then a new sound greeted him. It was the thunder of another battle, or
rather a link in the chain of battles. He was approaching the position
of a French army which had been assailed with a fury equal to that from
which the British suffered.
John was merely one of many messengers and the French commander smiled
grimly when he read his dispatch.
"Look!" he said, pointing a long arm.
John saw another vast gray host, rolling forward, crushing and
invincible. At some points the French had already lost ground, and they
were fighting a desperate, but losing battle. No help could come from
them, and he believed that the French armies farther east were in the
same mortal danger.
John received his return dispatch. He knew without the telling what was
in it. The French would certainly urge the British to fall back. If they
did not do so they would be lost, the French line in its turn would be
crumpled up, and France was conquered.
It was given to John, a youth, as he rode back in the red light of the
late sun, to know that a crisis of the world was at hand. He was
imaginative. He had read much and now he saw. It struck upon him like a
flash of lightning. Along that vast front in face of the French armies
and the British there must be a million troops, armed and trained as no
other troops ever were, and driven forward by a military autocracy which
unceasingly had taught the doctrine, that might is right. The kings, the
princes, the dukes and the generals who believed it was their right to
rule the world were out there, and it was their hour. By morning they
might be masters of Europe.
He had all the clear vision of a young prophet. He saw the sword and
cannon triumphant, and he saw the menace to his own land. He shuddered
and turned cold, but in a minute warmth returned to his body and he
galloped back with the message. Others had returned with messages like
his own, and, giving up his horse, he rejoined his comrades.
Carstairs and Wharton were gloomy. The ground that had been the front
line of the British was now under the German foot. The German weight,
irresistible in appearance, had proved so in fact, and far to left and
right those terrible horns were pushing farther and farther around the
flanks, John now saw the German army as a gigantic devil fish enveloping
its prey.
"What did you find, John?" shouted Carstairs.
"I found a French army pressed as hard as our own, and I heard that
farther to the east other French armies were being driven with equal
fury."
"Looks as if we might have to retreat."
"It will soon be a question, whether or not we can retreat. The Germans
are now on both our flanks."
Carstairs' face blanched a little, but he refused to show
discouragement.
"They're telling us to retire now," he said, "but we'll come again.
England will never give up. John, your own transplanted British blood
ought to tell you that."
"It does tell me so, but when I was riding across the hills I saw better
than you can see here. If we don't get away now we never shall, and
England and France cannot regain what they will have lost."
But the British army was withdrawing. Those terrible horns had not quite
closed in. They were beaten back with shell, bullets and bayonets, and
slowly and sullenly, giving blow for blow the British army retreated
into France.
John and his comrades were with a small force on the extreme left,
almost detached from the main body, serving partly as a line of defense
and partly as a strong picket. They stopped at times to rest a little
and eat food that was served to them, but the Germans never ceased to
press them. Their searchlights flashed all through the night and their
shell and shrapnel searched the woods and fields.
"It's no little war," said Carstairs.
"And I tell you again," said Wharton, "that England must wake up. A
hundred thousand volunteers are nothing in this war. She must send a
half million, a million and more. Germany has nearly seventy million
people and nearly every able-bodied man is a trained soldier. Think of
that."
"I'm thinking of it. What I saw today makes me think of it a lot. Jove,
how they did come, and what numbers they have!"
A huge shell passed screaming over their heads and burst far beyond
them. But they did not jump. They had heard so much sound of cannon that
day that their ears were dulled by it.
"It's evident that they haven't given up hope of cutting us off," said
Wharton, "since they push the pursuit in the night."
"And they'll be at it again as hard as ever in the morning," said John.
"We'll see those horns of the crescent still pushing forward. They mean
to get us. They mean to smash up everything here in a month, and then go
back and get Russia."
The firing went on until long past midnight. Toward morning they slept a
little in a field, but when day came they saw the gray masses still in
pursuit. All day long the terrible retreat went on, the defense fighting
fiercely, but slowly withdrawing, the Germans pressing hard, and always
seeking to envelop their flanks. There was continual danger that the
army would be lost, but no dismay. Cool and determined the defense never
relaxed, and all the time bent to the right to get in touch with the
French who were retreating also.
It was a gloomy day for John. Like most Americans his feeling for France
had always been sympathetic. France had helped his own country in the
crisis of her existence, and France was a free republic which for a
generation had strictly minded its own business. Yet this beautiful land
seemed destined to be trodden under foot again by the Germans, and the
French might soon cease to exist as a great nation. French and English
together had merely checked the German host for a few hours. It had
swept both out of its way and was coming again, as sure and deadly as
ever.
They did not hear until the next day that the French and English armies
were already in touch, and while still driven back it was not probable
that they could be cut apart, and then be surrounded and destroyed in
detail. John felt a mighty joy. That crisis in the world's history had
passed and by the breadth of a hair the military autocracy had missed
its chance. Yet what the German hour had failed to bring might come with
slow time, and his joy disappeared as they were driven back farther and
farther into France. Thus the retreat continued for days and nights.
Carstairs was the most cheerful of the three. They had slipped from the
trap, and, as he saw it, England was merely getting ready for a victory.
"You wait until our second army comes up," he said, "and then we'll give
the Germans a jolly good licking."
"When is it coming up?" asked John. "In this century or the next?"
"Be patient. You Yankees are always in too much of a hurry."
"I'm not in such a hurry to get to Paris, but it seems that we'll soon
be there if we keep on at the rate we're going."
"You could be in a worse place than Paris, It's had quite a reputation
in its time. Full of life, gayety, color. I'll be glad to see Paris."
"So will the Germans, and if we don't do better than we've been doing
they'll see it just about as soon as we do."
Carstairs refused to be discouraged, and John hoped anew that the armies
would be able to turn. But he hoped against what he knew to be the
facts. They were driven on mile after mile by the vast German force.
Another night came, after a day of the desperate retreat and powerful
pursuit. John and his comrades by some miracle had escaped all wounds,
but they were almost dead from anxiety and exhaustion. Their hearts too
were sinking lower and lower. They saw the beautiful country trampled
under foot, villages destroyed, everything given to ruin and the
peasants in despair fleeing before the resistless rush of the enemy.
"John," said Carstairs, "you know Unter den Linden, don't you?"
"Yes, it's a fine street."
"So I've heard. Broad enough for the return of a triumphal army, isn't
it?"
"Just suited to the purpose."
"Well, I don't know whether the Germans will go back to the old Roman
customs, but I want to tell you right here that I won't be a captive
adorning their triumphal procession."
"How are you going to keep from it?"
"I'll get myself shot first. No, I won't! I'll see that they don't have
a chance for any such triumph! I and a million others."
"I feel like despairing myself sometimes," said John gravely, "and then
I say to myself: 'what's the use!' I don't mean to give up, even when
the Germans are in Paris."
"Well spoken," said Wharton, who was lying on his back in the grass.
"All is not lost yet by a long shot. When our army drew out of their
clutches their first great stroke failed. Who knows what will happen to
their second?"
They were still on the extreme left of the Allied line, forming a sort
of loose fringe there, but their comrades on the right were only a few
hundred yards away. They heard in front the scattered firing of the
pickets and skirmishers which continued day and night, while the
searchlights of the pursuers winked and winked, and, at far intervals, a
mighty shell crashed somewhere near.
There was a pause in the retreat and John also lay down on the grass. At
first he was flat on his back, and then he turned over on his side. His
ear touched the earth, and he heard a sound that made him spring to his
feet in alarm.
"Horses!" he cried. "It must be the Uhlans!"
They saw lances gleaming through the dusk, and then with a rush and a
shout the Uhlans were upon them.
John sprang to one side, dodging the sweep of a sabre, and firing his
rifle at the man who wielded it. He did not have time to see whether or
not he fell, because the little camp, in an instant, was the scene of
terrible turmoil and confusion, a wild medley of shouting men and
rearing horses. Instinctively he rushed to one side, dodging the thrust
of a lance, receiving a blow from the butt of another on his head, but
finally coming clear of the tumult.
The lance blow had made him see stars, and he could not think or see
clearly now. He had dropped his rifle, but he remembered his automatic,
and drawing it he began to fire into the mass of horses and horsemen.
Then a lancer rode at him with poised weapon. He fired at him, leaped
aside and ran through some bushes, intending to come around on the other
flank.
But the dizziness in his head increased and his sight became dimmer. The
whole world suddenly turned black, and he felt himself falling through
space.