Part 26 (2/2)

upon hearing Tim's proposition.

”But seriously, Christine,” Ralph said, ”the objection which you mention to the Jew pedlar's disguise is important. Full as the streets are of soldiers looking about, he could hardly hope to go from here through the streets, and out at the gate, without someone asking him about the contents of his box.”

Christine allowed--a little pettishly, at the failure of her plan--that it certainly was likely.

”The real difficulty is to get outside the gate,” Ralph said, thoughtfully. ”After that, I should have no fear.”

”What are you thinking of doing, then?” Christine asked.

”I was thinking of dressing Percy, and myself, in the clothes of young peasants; and putting Tim into something of the same sort, with a great bandage round his face. Then I should say that we were two lads, from some place near the frontier, who had come here to meet our uncle; who had had his jaw shattered, in battle. That would explain Tim's not being able to talk at all; and as to looks, he is red enough for a German, anywhere.”

”Yes,” Christine said, ”that would do, very well; but of course, you would be liable to be asked for papers.”

”Of course,” Ralph said, ”but we must risk something.”

”I have an idea,” Christine said, suddenly, clapping her hands. ”I have some cousins living at Wiesbaden. These are three boys, and I am sure they would do anything for me. I will go out to Wiesbaden, tomorrow, and ask them to lend me their papers, just for one day.

Wiesbaden is not your way, at all; but for that very reason you would get out more easily there, and be less likely to be suspected, or followed. You could cross the Rhine somewhere near Saint Goar.

”I shall have to tell some sad stories to my cousins, and coax them a great deal. Still, I daresay I shall succeed; and then you can go boldly across the bridge, and into the railway station, and take a ticket for Wiesbaden. You can have an envelope, ready directed, and put the papers into the post there.”

”The very thing, Christine. You are a darling!” Ralph exclaimed, catching her by the waist and kissing her, before she had time to think of resistance.

”I shan't do anything at all for you,” Christine said, laughing and blus.h.i.+ng, ”if you misbehave in that way.”

”I couldn't help it, Christine--not even if your mother had been looking on.

”And now, about our clothes.”

”I couldn't buy them,” Christine said. ”I never could go into a shop and buy men's clothes.”

The thing was so evident that, for a moment, the boys' looks fell.

Then Christine said, coloring very much:

”There is a box, in my room, of Karl's things. He is my cousin, you know; and he was working as a gardener, here, till he had to go out in the Landwehr--so, of course, he left his things here, for us to take care of. He is about your size. I will take out one suit--it won't hurt it--and you can put it on, and go out into the town, and buy the things for all three of you.”

”Capital!” the boys exclaimed. ”It couldn't be better.”

Ten minutes afterwards, Ralph went down the stairs and out into the street, dressed as a German laborer in his best suit. He was a little uneasy, at first; but no one noticed him, and he was soon in a shop, haggling over the price of a peasant's coat--as if the matter of a thaler, one way or other, was a thing of vital importance to him. He bought the three suits at three different shops--as he thought that it would look suspicious, if he were to get them all at the same--and in an hour was back again. An hour afterwards, Christine started for Wiesbaden.

The Barclays had reason to congratulate themselves that they had not longer deferred their preparations for escape; for when presenting themselves, as usual, that afternoon at the roll call, they were told that they must hold themselves in readiness to leave for one of the eastern fortresses, upon the following evening; as another large batch of prisoners, from Metz, was expected to arrive upon the following day.

In the evening, Christine returned from Wiesbaden; which is distant only a quarter of an hour, by rail, from Mayence.

”I have got them,” she said, ”but if you only knew the trouble I have had! What a bother boys are, to be sure!”

”Especially cousins--eh, Christine?”

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