Part 23 (2/2)

”No, no, I am no advocate for hara.s.sing my men.”

”Good night, then,” Ralph said, briefly, and he wrapped himself in his cloak, and lay down.

”We are not accustomed to this sort of thing, Percy,” he whispered to his brother, in English, ”and I don't like it. No wonder our franc tireurs do so badly, if this is a sample of their discipline.”

”I don't like it either, Ralph. The Prussians are advancing; and if that fellow last heard of them as ten miles off, they are as likely as not to be only two. I shan't be sorry when morning comes.”

”Nor I either, Percy. However, here we are, and we have no authority over this fellow; so we must make the best of it, and hope that--for once--folly will not have its just reward.”

So saying, the boys remained silent for the night. But although silent, neither of them slept much--Ralph especially, whose arm was still very sore, and at times painful, hardly closed his eyes. He told himself it was absurd, but he could not help listening, with painful attention.

Had the night been a quiet one, he need not have strained his ears; for as he knew, from the many hours he had pa.s.sed at night upon guard, the hush is so intense--in these great forests--that one can hear the fall of a mountain stream, miles away; and the snapping of a twig, or almost the falling of a leaf, will catch the ear. The night, however, was windy; and the rustle of the pine forest would have deadened all sound, except anything sharp, and near.

The sentry did not appear similarly impressed with the necessity for any extraordinary attention. He was princ.i.p.ally occupied in struggling against cold, and drowsiness. He walked up and down, he stamped his foot, hummed s.n.a.t.c.hes of songs, yawned with great vigor, and so managed to keep awake for two hours; when he roused the next for duty, and lay down with a grunt of relief.

At last, after keeping awake for hours, Ralph dozed off. How long he slept, he knew not; but he was roused into full wakefulness by a touch on the shoulder, and by hearing Tim Doyle whisper:

”Hist, Mister Ralph, I've my doubts that there is something wrong.

I couldn't sleep, in this camp without watch or outposts; and for the last quarter of an hour, I fancy I've been hearing noises. I don't know which way they are coming, but it seems to me they are all round us. I may be wrong, sir, but as sure as the piper--”

”Hush, Tim!” Ralph said to the Irishman, who had crawled noiselessly along, and had lain down by his side.

”Percy, are you awake?”

”Yes, I woke at Tim's whisper. Listen.”

They did listen; and distinctly, above the sighing of the wind, they could hear a rustling, cracking noise. Day was just breaking, but the light was not sufficiently strong to show objects with any distinctness, among the trees.

”By Jove, we are surrounded!” Percy said; and was just going to alarm the camp when the sentry, startled into wakefulness, challenged and fired.

The franc tireurs woke, and leaped to their feet. Percy and Tim were about to do the same, when Ralph held them down.

”Lie still,” he said, ”for your lives.”

His words were not out of his lips, when a tremendous volley rang out all round them; and half the franc tireurs fell.

”Now!” Ralph said, leaping up, ”make a rush for a house.

”To the houses, all of you,” he shouted, loudly. ”It is our only chance. We shall be shot down, here, like sheep.”

The officer of the franc tireurs had already atoned for his carelessness, by his life; and the men obeyed Ralph's call and, amidst a heavy fire, rushed across the fifty yards of open s.p.a.ce to the houses. The door was burst in, with the rush.

Ralph had not stopped at the first house but, followed by his brother and Tim Doyle, had run farther on; and entered the last house in the village.

”Why did you not go in with the others, Ralph? We have no chance of defending ourselves, here. We have only our revolvers.”

”We have no chance of defending ourselves anywhere, Percy,” Ralph said. ”There must be a couple of hundred of them, at least; and not above fifteen or twenty, at most, of the franc tireurs gained the houses. Resistance is utterly useless; and yet, had I been with those poor fellows, I could not have told them to surrender, when they would probably be shot, five minutes afterwards. We should be simply throwing away our lives, without doing the least good.”

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