CAPTURED OR DEAD?
There was very little sleep for the three Army Boys that night, in
spite of the exhausting labors of the day. They rolled and tossed
restlessly in their bunks, tortured by conjectures as to the fate of
their missing comrade.
Good old Tom! He had been so close to all of them, loyal to his
heart's core, brave as a lion, ready to stand by them to his last
breath. He had been beside them in many a tight scrape and had always
held up his end. It seemed as though part of themselves had been torn
from them.
Still, while there was life there was hope, and they drew some comfort
from the fact that he had not yet been found among the dead. If he
were a prisoner he might escape. They had all been in a German prison
camp before and had gotten away. Perhaps Tom might have the same luck
again.
They fell asleep at last, but the thought clung to them and assumed all
sorts of fantastic attitudes in their dreams so that they awoke tired
and depressed.
But there was little time on that morning to indulge in private griefs.
The fight was on, and shortly after dawn the battle was resumed.
All the forenoon it raged with great ferocity. But American grit and
steadfastness never wavered and the enemy was forced to retire with
heavy loss. Not only had they failed to drive the Americans from their
positions, but they had been driven back and forced to surrender a
large portion of their own, including the place where Frank had
crouched in the shell hole the night before.
Shortly after noon there came a lull while the Americans reorganized
the captured positions. Infantry actions ceased, though the big guns,
like belligerent mastiffs, still kept up their growling at each other.
"Hot work," remarked Frank, as, after their work was done, the three
friends found themselves together in the shade of a great tree.
"A corking scrap," agreed Bart, as he sprawled at his ease with his
hands under his head.
"The Heinies certainly put up a stiff fight," observed Billy, as he
tied up his little finger from which blood was trickling.
"They felt so sure that they were going to make mincemeat out of us
that it was hard to wake out of their dream," chuckled Frank. "I
wonder if they're still kidding themselves in Berlin that the Yankees
can't fight."
"In Berlin perhaps but not here," returned Bart. "They've had too much
evidence to the contrary."
"I wonder if this is really the beginning of the big drive that the
Huns have been boasting about?" hazarded Billy.
"I hardly think so," replied Frank. "There's no doubt that that's
coming before long, but the fighting yesterday and today was probably
to pinch us out of the salient we're holding. That would straighten
out their line and then they'd be all ready for the big push. When
that comes there will be some doings."
"The longer they wait the harder the job will be," said Billy. "They
say that our boys are coming over so fast that they're fairly blocking
the roads."
"They can't come too many or too fast," replied Bart. "And they'll
sure be some busy bees after they get here."
"Well, we're not worrying," observed Billy. "We're getting along
pretty well, thank you. By the way, Frank," he went on with a grin,
"are you feeling any different on this ground today than you felt last
night?"
"Bet your life," laughed Frank. "It's just about here that I was
calling a Heinie a jackass. And at that same minute I was thinking
that my life wasn't worth a plugged nickel."
"Wonder how the fellow made out that you left in the shell hole,"
chuckled Billy.
"Oh, he was all right," replied Frank. "I shouldn't wonder if he was
rather chilly during the night, but no doubt they hauled him out in the
morning."
"He got off lucky, though," put in Bart. "It's the sentry who got the
hot end of the poker. I wonder what he thought when he heard that
watchword."
"He didn't have much time to think," guessed Billy, "and to tell the
truth, I don't think he's done much thinking since. That revolver must
have hit him a fearful crack."
"It's safe to say that it gave him a headache anyway," remarked Bart
drily.
"Speaking of the revolver," said Frank, rising to his feet, "I'm going
to take a look for it. It was just over near that tree that I plugged
the sentry and it's probably there yet."
He searched industriously among the welter of debris and after a few
minutes arose with a shout.
"Here's it is," he said, as he held up his recovered treasure, which
had his initials scratched upon the butt. "Same old trusty and as good
as ever. It's saved my life many a time through the muzzle, but last
night was the first time it saved it through the butt."
He fondled the weapon lovingly for a moment, carefully cleaned and
reloaded it, and thrust it in his belt.
Just then a French colonel passed by, accompanied by two orderlies.
The French had been holding a section of the line at the right of the
Americans and their uniform was a familiar sight, so that the boys only
gave the group a passing glance. But Frank's eyes lighted with
pleasure when the colonel detached himself from the others and came
over with extended hand.
Frank wrung the hand heartily.
"Why, Colonel Pavet!" he exclaimed. "This is a great pleasure! I
didn't know that you were in this locality."
"My regiment is only two miles from here," replied the colonel, his
face beaming. "I need not say how glad I always am to see the brave
young soldier who saved my life."
"What I did any one else would have done," responded Frank lightly.
"But no one else did," laughed the colonel. "And from what I hear from
your commander you've been doing similar things ever since. I just
heard of your daring escape last night. It was gallantly done, _mon
ami_."
"Luck was with me," replied Frank.
"It usually is in such exploits," was the visitor's reply. "You know
the old saying that 'fortune favors the brave.' But I'll spare your
blushes and come down to something that will probably interest you
more. Did you get that letter from Andre, my brother, about your
mother's property?"
"Why, no, I didn't," answered Frank. "When was it written?"
"That's strange," said the colonel, a puzzled look coming over his
face. "I received a letter from Andre day before yesterday and he said
that he had written to you by the same mail."
"Well, you know the mail is rather irregular just now," replied Frank.
"No doubt it will get to me before long. Perhaps your brother told you
something of what was in the letter he wrote to me."
"Not in detail. He just mentioned that he was very anxious to get hold
of a former butler in your grandfather's family who is now in the
ranks. They had his testimony in part before he was called into
service, but he had not been cross-examined. Andre seems to feel sure
that he can extract information from him that will aid your mother to
come into possession of the estate. Andre's judgment is good, and as
you know, he is one of the leading lawyers of Paris."
"He is too good, and you also, to take all this trouble in our behalf,"
said Frank warmly. "My mother and I can never thank you enough."
"The debt will be always on our side," responded the colonel with a
wave of the hand. "By the way, how is your mother? I hope she is
well."
"She was well when I last heard from her," replied Frank, "and
happy--that is as happy as she can be while we are separated from each
other."
"She is a true daughter of France," said the colonel, "and she should
be happy to have so brave a son. Please remember me to her when you
write. _Au revoir_," and with a friendly smile he passed on.
"Still hobnobbing with the swells, I see," remarked Billy, as Frank
rejoined his chums.
"He was telling me of a letter that his brother had written me about my
mother's property," explained Frank. "Queer that it hasn't reached me.
Did any of you fellows get any mail yesterday?"
"I got a couple of letters," replied Billy. "Tom handed them to me
just before we went into action yesterday morning."
"Come to think of it, Tom was asking for you at the same time," said
Bart. "He'd brought down the mail for the bunch. He said he had a
letter for you. But you weren't around at the time and he stuck it
into his pocket. Then the boches came swinging at us, and in the
excitement I suppose he forgot all about it. Likely enough he has it
with him now--that is if the Huns have let him keep it."
"That must be the explanation," said Frank. "Well, all I can do is
write to the colonel's brother and ask him to send me a duplicate of
the letter. Poor Tom! I'd give all the letters in the world to have
him safe with us just now."
"Same here," said Billy and Bart in chorus.
"I guess the Huns have got him," said Frank gloomily. "He isn't among
the dead or wounded as far as we've been able to find. But I'll bet
they thought they had hold of a wildcat when they nabbed him."
"Trust Tom for that," said Bart. "He was a terror when he had his
blood up. He must have got knocked on the head, or they wouldn't have
taken him alive."
"Perhaps he'd have been luckier if he had been killed," said Billy
sadly. "From all I hear there are plenty of prisoners in German camps
who would welcome death."
"It makes me grit my teeth to think of the humane way we treat the men
we capture, and then compare it with the way the Huns treat our
soldiers," said Frank bitterly. "Look at the German prisoners we saw
working on the roads that time we went away on furlough. Plenty of
food, kind treatment, good beds. Why, lots of those fellows are living
better than they ever did in their own country. They're getting fat
with good living."
"Nothing like that in German prison camps," growled Bart. "Horrible
food, mouldy crusts, rotten meat, and not enough of that to keep body
and soul together. In a few months the men are little more than
skeletons. They work them sixteen or eighteen hours a day in all kinds
of weather. They set dogs on them and prod them with bayonets. Did
you read of the forty they tortured to death by swinging them by their
bound arms for hours at a time in freezing weather?"
"It's no mistake to call the Germans Huns," snapped Billy, clenching
his fists.
"No," agreed Frank, "but it's rough on the Huns."