SENTENCED
Both Fred and Boris recognized at once the hopelessness of flight. Both
thought instinctively of the hollow and the concealed entrance to the
tunnel, and both knew that to attempt to use that now would not save
them, and would give away a secret that might be supremely important at
some future time, either to them or to someone else among those who
shared the precious secret. The grounds were flashing with light in all
directions; soldiers called to one another; men ran all around, looking
for them.
And yet, hopelessly caught as they were, neither could give up supinely.
Both had the dauntless fighting spirit that must be conquered, that will
never give up, not only while hope remains, but while disaster, be it
ever so certain, has not actually come to pass. They were in a sort of
thicket, almost as thick as a primeval jungle. At the same moment the
thought seemed to come to each of them that the one chance for momentary
safety lay in keeping perfectly still. They were side by side, wedged in
a little opening they had made for themselves, and now they went down
together.
All about them the din of the pursuit continued. Officers were pouring
out of the house to join the hunt. Shouts and cries resounded. Fred had
to smile to himself. It seemed to him that the boasted system and order
of the German army could not be what he had always heard about it if the
escape of two boys could produce such a disorganization.
And then there was a sudden diversion. The noise seemed to die away. It
did not cease for there was still a good deal of talking, but there was
no more shouting, until there was a sudden whirring sound.
"An aeroplane!" whispered Boris. "I've seen them for the last few days,
flying in all directions. They use them for scouting."
"I knew I ought to recognize that sound!" said Fred.
It seemed fairly safe for them to speak to one another now. For some
reason it was quite evident they had been forgotten.
There was an interval of almost complete silence; then came a sudden
explosion of orders. Half a dozen motorcycles sprang into crackling
life; there was the unmistakable din of a powerful aeroplane engine,
which, with no muffler, is noisy enough to wake the dead. Then came the
whirring of its propeller. They were sure that if they only dared to
raise their heads, they would see the machine rising near by.
But there was more to follow that was just as inexplicable. The
motorcycles chugged away; then three automobiles started. Their engines
roared for a moment before they subsided to the ordered, steady hum of a
smooth running motor. On the first car that got away there was a horn
that made Boris start convulsively as he heard its bugle note, and grasp
Fred's shoulder.
"That horn belongs only to a car used by a full general!" he said. "It
must be von Hindenburg going, Fred! That flying machine brought
important news!"
That had been evident to Fred almost from the first. He wondered
mightily what was going to happen next. It seemed incredible that the
Germans, knowing that he and Boris must soon be found, and that only
patience was necessary if they were to be caught, would so quickly give
up looking for them. And yet--Boris was right, of course. A general
would not depart with such abundant evidence of haste and sudden
decision unless some grave news had come through the air.
One question was soon settled. Scarcely had General von Hindenburg's car
started, with the musical call of its horn clearing the way for it, when
the search for the two scouts was renewed with as much vigor as had been
shown before the coming of the aeroplane. And this time it was speedily
successful. There was less din and confusion. Fred saw at once that some
officer with a cool and level head had taken charge. The searchers now
did the simple, obvious thing. They divided the grounds up into
sections, and beat over each section thoroughly, with the result that a
corporal and a private speedily came upon Boris and Fred, and, raising a
sort of view halloo, dragged them out into the open, flashing their
electric torches in their eyes.
"Here they are!" cried the corporal. "Herr Hauptmann, here they are!"
A captain came up quickly, and at the sight of Fred exclaimed sharply in
his surprise.
"You're the boy I chose to help with the work in the house here!" he
said. His face darkened. "He is a spy! Take him into the guard room and
lock him up." He barely glanced at Boris. "Yes, that is the other. See
that he is taken back to his quarters, corporal, and that a sentry
remains constantly on guard."
"He is not a spy! If he is one, then so am I!" Boris broke out in a
sharp protest. "He must be treated exactly like myself, or I must be
used as he is!" throwing caution to the four winds.
"I am giving the orders here," said the German, coldly. "We have no
desire to treat you harshly, Prince. You and your father have won the
liking and respect of all your neighbors here, and it is a matter of
regret that we must detain you at all. But you must be able to see for
yourself that there is a great difference between an open enemy like
yourself and one who pushes his way among us to get what information he
can--"
"I beg your pardon, captain," Fred interrupted, thoroughly awake by this
time to the danger in which he stood. "It was by your orders, and
against my own protest, that I came into the house here at all."
"You will have an opportunity to explain all such matters at your
trial," said the captain. "I can assure you that all will be done in a
regular fashion, and that you will have every opportunity to defend
yourself. Colonel Goldapp will doubtless arrange for a quick hearing
since we shall not be here much longer."
Fred was quite cool and collected. He was frightened, to be sure, and
he was brave enough to admit that to himself. He had good reason to be
frightened. There is no offence more serious than espionage in time of
war, and by every rule of war he was a spy. He had pretended to be a
German, which he was not, and had been found within the German lines. It
was true, of course, that he had been ordered into headquarters, but
that was a trifling point, and, though he had raised it, Fred knew very
well that no technicality would save him if the truth about him came
out.
Boris understood all this, undoubtedly, quite as well as Fred or the
German captain, but he was beside himself. He felt that Fred had run
into this terrible danger because of him, in order to try to rescue him
from an imprisonment that, though annoying, was by no means a serious
matter.
"Take me instead of him!" he cried, forgetting that with every word he
was really making Fred's case worse. "I--"
"I'll be all right," said Fred, with a cheerfulness he certainly did
not feel. "All I want is a fair trial. If I get that, I'll be all
right."
Unwillingly enough, Boris let himself be led away. Something in Fred's
look, or in his voice, had warned him not to say anything more. So Fred
saw him go, and was taken himself to the guard room, of which he was the
only occupant save for the impassive Pomeranian sentry. Fred guessed,
somehow, that German soldiers in war time did not often do things that
caused them to be put under arrest. In the little he had seen of them he
had come to understand what it was that made a German army so
formidable.
He expected to be brought before the court early in the morning but, in
fact, he was called out in less than an hour, and taken into the
dining-room of the parsonage. Here, at the head of the table, sat an
officer in a colonel's uniform; Colonel Goldapp, unquestionably,
presiding over the court, which included four officers beside himself.
Fred knew enough of the military law to understand what was going on.
He saw a young lieutenant sitting with some papers before him. Another
came and drew him aside.
"I am to defend you," this officer said, pleasantly. "That is, of
course, I am to see that you get fair treatment. You are accused of
being a spy. The charge, as I understand it, is that you are a Russian,
but have disguised yourself as a German. If this is true, the best
advice I can give you is to plead guilty and throw yourself on the mercy
of the court. Your age will be taken into consideration."
"I am not a Russian," said Fred, quickly. "I am an American. I demand an
opportunity to see the American ambassador, or at least the nearest
American consul."
"Is that all?"
"That is all I can say. It is true that I am an American, and I believe
it is my right, as a foreigner, to ask to see the representative of my
country, since America and Germany are not at war, but are friendly one
to the other."
"That would be true if you were charged with an offence in a civil
court. But in a court-martial there are no such rules. Once more, I
believe your best course is to plead guilty. I do not know the evidence
against you, but I can tell you that the court might be merciful if you
admitted your guilt frankly, while it would probably treat you more
harshly if you forced it to prove your guilt."
Fred shook his head, however. And so the trial began. It was a real
trial, and fair enough, but a trial by court-martial is not like one in
a civil court, especially in time of war. There were no delays. The
judge-advocate stated the case against Fred very briefly. He called as
witness the officer who had brought Fred into headquarters, who said
that the prisoner had been entirely willing to come. Then the corporal
who had found him testified. And the third witness, when he was called,
was none other than Lieutenant Ernst, who had befriended Fred at
Virballen! At the sight of him Fred's heart sank. He began to
understand what a strong case there really was against him.
At Ernst's first words there was almost a sensation, for the lieutenant
brought out the fact that Fred was related to the Suvaroff family. The
fact that Fred had gone straight to the house of his kinsman came out as
a result of Ernst's evidence, and Fred knew that it would be useless to
say that this had been the result of pure chance, and that he had not
even known of Boris's existence. It was true, but it was none the less
incredible. It was easy to see when Ernst had finished giving his
testimony, which he did reluctantly, and with a good deal of sympathy
for Fred, that the court had made up its mind.
There were no witnesses for Fred to call. He told his own story, but it
was not believed. The finding of the court was inevitable: "Guilty as
charged!" And Colonel Goldapp, in an expressionless voice, pronounced
sentence.
"The prisoner is old enough, though he is only a boy, to know the fate
of a spy. He risked this fate. He will be shot at once. Captain von
Glahn will take charge of the execution of the court's sentence."
Fred passed through the minutes that followed as if he were in a dream.
It seemed to him that it was someone else who was led into the garden,
placed against a wall, and blindfolded. Von Glahn, a young officer, came
and stood beside him.
"The firing squad will be here at once," he said. "I am sorry. Is there
any message I can deliver for you?"
And then outside a bugle rang out, and there was a burst of wild,
frenzied yelling and the next moment a crash of firing.