“Now,” said Buck with a grin, “we are about to get down to something
that hasn’t been printed forty times in the newspapers.”
Bob could not help getting a little huffy at that.
“You’d be a mighty poor newspaper man,” he said, “if you hadn’t heard
something about all of those things by this time. But of course if you
don’t want to hear the rest of this, why all right.”
“Shut up, Buck,” said Ned, himself smothering a smile, for Bob was
really funny when he flared up in this way. “Go on with your story,
Bob, please. Of course we’re interested. You were just going to tell us
about what really happened when you finally determined to take matters
into your own hands and go to the front, whether the German authorities
wanted you to or not.”
Somewhat mollified, Bob continued his narrative:
“I happened to be in Malines at the time and the point where the
heaviest fighting was going on was in the Yser River district, a
considerable distance to the south. Nothing but military trains were
running between the two points and naturally I wouldn’t have been
permitted to take one of them. My only remaining course was to buy
a horse and to take my chances of getting there alone. It took me
four days to buy that horse and then I had to pay about four times
what he was worth, owing to the fact that the cavalry had long before
appropriated every sound animal in the country.
“This noble charger of mine was wind-broken and wall-eyed, those
probably being the only reasons why he had not been commandeered
previously. He was such an awful looking object that I hated to be seen
riding on him, but beggars can’t be choosers and I had to make the best
of it.
“While staying there in Malines I had struck up quite a friendly
acquaintanceship with several young officers, one of whom--Hoffmansthal
by name--was good enough to volunteer his services in securing a
passport for me from the commandant. There was all sorts of red tape
to be gone through before I finally got it, and when I did I found
out that it was made out in the name of ‘Philip Maestrich, citizen of
Malines, and by trade a silversmith.’ The papers went on to say that
I had been given official permission to travel to Namur, not far from
where the fighting was, to the bedside of my sick wife. My friend,
Lieutenant Hoffmansthal, explained that he could never have got the
passport for me except by this subterfuge.
“So I set out on my wobbly old mare and as far as Corbais all went
well. From there on every patrol guarding the roads stopped me and
acknowledged the passport with extreme ill-grace. I took to avoiding
the main hotels in the towns and slept in all sorts of unpleasant
places--sometimes even under a haystack out in the open fields.
“Near Wasseige I found all of the roads blockaded with reinforcements
marching to the front, and, rather than risk detection by them, I
made a wide détour to the east, turning south again somewhere in the
neighborhood of Villers le Temple. That night a dreadful rainstorm
drove me to take shelter in a peasant’s cottage, and he, while I slept,
galloped on a plough-horse to the nearest German outposts and won a
reward for declaring me a spy.
“I was jerked roughly out of bed by a big, red-bearded Uhlan
captain, my saddlebags were searched and even the linings cut out to
discover the presence of secret papers. There they found my _Herald_
credentials, which said that my name was Robert Russell and not ‘Philip
Maestrich.’ That was enough with the blockhead who had arrested me,
and, all puffed up with his capture, he sent me with a special detail
of men to Combret. Later I was transferred from one camp to another
until a hospital train happened along bound for Muhlbruck. They bundled
me aboard this for trial by ferocious old General Haberkampf, whose
field headquarters were located at our destination.
“Never will I forget the ghastly horrors of that five-hour ride on that
hospital train. The engine barely crawled along, bumping over rails
which the Belgians had torn up in the early days of the war, and which
had subsequently been re-laid by the Germans. Every railway coach was
packed to suffocation with wounded, some of them so frightfully mangled
as to appear scarcely human any longer.
“Groans and piteous cries for water or more air echoed in my ears both
day and night. Each morning we stopped to put out three or four poor
fellows who had died overnight. Some were delirious with pain and would
scream, sing or curse frantically, defying the Red Cross nurses to come
near them. The smell of blood, ether and arnica made the air sickening.
I myself was wholly unnerved by it, but my soldier guards maintained
the appearance of stolid indifference. Perhaps they had become used to
seeing such suffering as that.
“Finally we arrived in Muhlbruck. I was completely fagged out by then,
and really scarcely cared whether they shot me or not. My brain was
numb with the horrors with which I had been surrounded. I couldn’t
think, let alone invent a story that would plausibly account for my
traveling about under an assumed name.
“When they hauled me up before old General Haberkampf, he hardly gave
me a chance to defend myself. He is a soldier of the old, hard school
of the Emperor Wilhelm I--the sort of fellow who makes militarism his
god.
“‘In other words,’ he growled at me, ‘you confess that you are not the
person whose passport you use, and that you have for some time past
been penetrating our lines under false colors. You now say that you are
an American newspaper man, yet you know that war correspondents have
been officially ordered out of the war zone. How do I know but that you
are lying to me as you already have to all of my officers between here
and Malines? You are a spy!’
“I tried to bring him into a reasonable frame of mind, but that is a
hard thing to do with a man whose army is being daily beaten further
back. He would not listen to me.
“Then they took me to a foul prison where I stayed for three weeks
with about fifty other wretched men--some of them Frenchmen who had
been captured in battle; a couple of them peasants who had been caught
looting dead bodies on the battle field; and three or four common
malefactors. We were treated well enough there, but sanitary conditions
were unspeakable, and, really, the news of yesterday that my case was
at last to come up for final decision, struck me as an actual relief.
“Long before this I had given up all hopes of ever escaping and I
expected to be condemned. My trial was a mere form. All the way down
that road to the place of execution this morning I kept thinking about
you boys, wondering what you were doing and if you would have tried to
rescue me had you heard of my plight.
“All of the adventures and happy times we ever had together in the past
recurred to me vividly. Good old pals! How I wanted to see you just
once more before I died!
“When they backed me up against that wall, I closed my eyes, expecting
to hear the death volley ring out at any moment. Then I suddenly felt
something tugging and slashing at my wrists, the hard ropes fell away,
and I turned, half-dazed, to find Buck shoving two big revolvers into
my hands, with word that you other boys were near with the _Flyer_.
“You know the rest of the story, and I can’t say anything more except
that words don’t suffice to express my opinion of the perfectly bully
way you have acted towards me.”
“Land! Land!” shouted Ned just then. “I can see the trees down below!”