SQUARING ACCOUNTS
Tom told in detail just what had happened since he had fallen into
the hands of the Huns. He had been taken from place to place and
treated with the greatest harshness. Everywhere he had witnessed
scenes of bloodshed and cruelty. The Spartacides had spared
neither age nor sex. They had seemed possessed with a lust for
murder. Their bloody work had a fit emblem in their red flag.
Tom's familiarity with the language had not been great enough to
understand all that was said in the conferences that he frequently
overheard, though he had picked up enough to know that murder and
riot were being planned on an extensive scale in the district
occupied by the American Army. Some of the Germans in the mob had
lived previously in America, from which they came to serve in the
German Army when war had been declared and while the United States
was still neutral, and these men, Tom said, were among the
bitterest of all. Often in their off hours they would come and
stand in front of his cell and tell him blood curdling stories of
what they had been doing and of what they were going to do to him
also. They had spoken freely, for they regarded him as good as
dead, and some of the information he had gained from the talk of
these miscreants was regarded as of great value by the lieutenant,
whose pen fairly flew over the paper at some points in Tom's
narrative.
At last Tom had told the lieutenant all he knew, and after
thanking him the officer dismissed him.
He was witness to some touching sights as he made his way back to
his companions. There were mothers embracing their sons, wives
weeping with joy in the arms of their husbands who had been Tom's
companions in the grim march that morning to the rear wall where
they were to face death. But there were no fresh stains on that
wall this morning, and the graves remained undug, though here and
there were seen the first marks of spades where the wretched
victims had begun to dig. It had been a close call, and Tom
involuntarily shuddered. The cool air that he drew into his lungs
had never seemed so sweet to him as now.
He found the Army Boys looking with great interest at a spade
which they held out to him as they approached.
"Here's a souvenir, old boy," grinned Billy.
"It's the one you lammed into the Huns with," explained Bart. "My,
but that was a mighty wallop. They went down like tenpins."
"I guess it gave them a headache," laughed Tom. "I know that I put
all my weight behind the blows."
"One of them will never have any more headaches," declared Frank.
"Even his thick German skull wasn't proof against that blow.
Subsequent proceedings will interest him no more."
"The other one was taken to the hospital with a broken shoulder,"
remarked Billy.
"If Tom had only had time, he'd have cleaned out the whole bunch,"
laughed Bart. "As it is, he's given them a wholesome respect for
American muscle."
"And American speed too, I imagine," grinned Billy. "The way Tom
was making for the woods was a caution. A jack rabbit had nothing
on him."
They could joke about the matter now, but it had been far from a
joke at that moment not far removed, when life and death had been
trembling in the balance.
"Tell us how we came to lose you, Tom," said Frank, as he threw
down the spade and they made their way to their temporary
quarters. "One minute we saw you and the next we didn't."
"You vanished like a ghost," put in Bart "When we were fighting in
that house I saw you knock down one of the rioters with the butt
of your gun. I was busy myself then with a husky roughneck, but I
tumbled him over and looked around for you and couldn't see you."
"We thought at first," said Billy, "that you might have fallen
between the houses when you were chasing the Huns over the roof.
We made a careful search afterward, but couldn't find hide nor
hair of you. You weren't in any of the hospitals, either. You
seemed to have melted into thin air."
"I'm blest if I know myself how it happened," said Tom. "The last
I remember was that a couple tackled me at once. I lunged my
bayonet at one of them, and then I must have gone down and out,
although I don't even remember being hit. I suppose, though, that
the other fellow caught me a clip with a gun butt, for when I next
knew anything I had a lump on the back of my head as big as an
egg.
"I found myself in an attic that was as black as Egypt," he went
on. "I couldn't tell whether it was day or night, for there didn't
seem to be any window. My hands were tied behind me, and I was
aching from head to foot. After a while a bunch of Huns came in,
took me downstairs, and pitched me into a covered wagon. Then they
drove off into the country. Where they took me I don't know, but
after a long ride I was taken out of the wagon and slammed down in
a room of what seemed to be a deserted cabin. I only knew it was
somewhere in the woods, for through the windows I could see trees
all around.
"After a while two or three men who seemed to be the leaders came
in. One of them, who could speak English, tried to put me through
the third degree. They wanted me to tell them all that I knew
about the army forces in Coblenz and the surrounding districts,
how many there were, where they were located, what the plans were,
and all that kind of dope. Of course I didn't know anything, and
then they took it out of me in kicks. I got lots of them, and I
guess I'm black and blue all over. They're a plucky lot when a
man's hands are tied."
There was a murmur of rage and sympathy from his comrades and
their fists clenched.
"Some of them wanted to put an end to me right then and there,"
Tom continued, "but others objected until they could get me a
little further into Germany. They felt that the American forces
were a little too near for comfort. Great Scott, how they hate the
Americans! They fairly frothed at the mouth when they spoke of
them. They blame us for their defeat. I've heard them say many a
time that if it hadn't been for us they'd have been in Paris long
ago and maybe in London."
"I guess they were pretty near right at that," remarked Frank.
"They surely were," agreed Billy. "Your Uncle Samuel came along
just in the nick of time."
"But go ahead, Tom," urged Bart. "What did they do with you after
that?"
"Just about the same, only more so," replied Tom, with a grin. "I
was taken from one town to another until they finally settled down
here. They seemed to find it a promising place to carry out their
program of loot and murder. There was some pretty sharp street
fighting here for a few days, and then the Spartacides got the
upper hand and commenced killing some of their hostages. What you
saw this morning has been going on for some time, only this was
the biggest batch they have had yet. Going to make a grand wind-up
as it were. They haven't spared the women, either. One of them was
killed yesterday."
"The hounds!" gritted Frank between his teeth.