Part 13 (1/2)
”Ah, that is the cavalry,” said Joos. ”It stands on a rock by the roadside.”
”It is hard to distinguish anything owing to mist and dust,” said Dalroy. ”Of course, the darkness is all to the good.--If you ladies do not scream, whatever happens, and you run quickly when I give the word, I don't think there will be any real danger.”
In the event, they were able to cross the road in a body, and without needless haste. A horse stumbled and fell, and had to be unharnessed before being got on to its feet again. The incident held up the column during some minutes, so Dalroy was not compelled to abandon the rifle, which it would have been foolish in the extreme to carry if there was the slightest chance of being seen.
Thenceforth progress was safe, though slow and difficult, because the gloom beneath the trees was that of a vault. Even the miller perforce yielded place to Leontine's young eyes and sureness of foot. There were times, during the ascent of one side of the quarry, when whispered directions were necessary, while Madame Joos had to be hauled up a few awkward places bodily.
Still, they reached the hut, a mere logger's shed, but a veritable haven for people so manifestly in peril. They were weary, too. No member of the Joos household had slept throughout the whole of Tuesday night, and the women especially were flagging under the strain.
The little cabin held an abundant store of shavings, because its normal tenant rough-hewed his logs into sabots. Here, then, was a soft, warm, and fragrant resting-place. Dalroy took command. He forbade talking, even in whispers. Maertz, who promised to keep awake, was put on guard outside till the moon rose.
The wisdom of preventing excited conversation was shown by the fact that the five people huddled together on the shavings were soon asleep. There was nothing strange in this. Humanity, when surfeited with emotion, becomes calm, almost phlegmatic. Were it otherwise, after a week of war soldiers would not be sane men, but maniacs.
Dalroy resolved to sleep for two hours. About eleven o'clock he got up, went quietly to the door, and found Maertz seated on the ground, his back propped against the wall, and his head sunk on his breast. As a consequence, he was snoring melodiously.
He woke quickly enough when the Englishman's hand was clapped over his mouth and held there until his torpid wits were sufficiently clear that he should understand the stern words muttered in his ear.
”Pardon, monsieur,” he said shamefacedly. ”I thought there was no harm in sitting down. I listened to the guns, and began counting them. I counted one hundred and ninety-nine shots, I think, and then----”
”And then you risked six lives, Leontine's among them!”
”Monsieur, I have no excuse.”
”Yet you have been a soldier, I suppose? And you gabble of serving your country?”
”It will not happen again, monsieur.”
Dalroy pretended an anger he did not really feel. He wanted this stolid Walloon to remain awake now, at any rate, so turned away with an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of contempt.
Maertz rose. He endured an eloquent silence for nearly a minute. Then he murmured, ”Monsieur, I shall not offend a second time. Counting guns is worse than watching sheep jumping a fence.”
The moon had risen, revealing a cleared s.p.a.ce in front of the hut. A dozen yards away a thin fringe of brushwood and small trees marked the edge of the quarry, while the woodcutter's path was discernible on the left. A slight breeze had called into being the myriad tongues of the wood, and Dalroy realised that the unceasing cannonade, joined to the rustling of the leaves, would drown any sound of an approaching enemy until it was too late to retreat. He knew that Von Halwig, not to mention the military authorities at Vise, would spare no effort to hunt out and destroy the man who had dared to flout the might of Germany, so he was far from satisfied with the apparent safety of even this secluded refuge.
”Have you a piece of string in your pockets?” he demanded gruffly.
Trust a carter to carry string, strong stuff warranted to mend temporarily a broken strap. Maertz gave him a quant.i.ty.
”I am going to the cross-road,” he continued. ”Keep a close watch till I return. When you hear any movement, or see any one, say clearly 'Vise.'
If it is I, I shall answer 'Liege.' Do you understand?”
”Perfectly, monsieur. A challenge and a countersign.”
Dalroy believed the man might be trusted now. Taking the rifle, he made off along the path, treading as softly as the c.u.mbrous sabots would permit. He was tempted to go bare-footed, but dreaded the lameness which might result from a thorn or a sharp rock. At a suitable place, half-way down the steep path by the side of the quarry, he tied a pistol to a stout sapling, and, having fastened a cord to the trigger, arranged it in such fas.h.i.+on that it must catch the feet of any one coming that way. The weapon was at full c.o.c.k, and in all likelihood the unwary pa.s.ser-by would get a bullet in his body.
It was dark under the trees, of course, but the moon was momentarily increasing its light, and the way was not hard to find. He memorised each awkward turn and twist in case he had to retreat in a hurry. Once the lower level was reached there was no difficulty, and, with due precautions, he gained the shelter of a hedge close to the main road.
The stream of troops still continued. Few things could be more ominous than this unending torrent of armed men. By how many similar roads, he wondered, was Germany pouring her legions into tiny Belgium? Was she forcing the French frontier in the same remorseless way? And what of Russia? When he left Berlin the talk was only of marching against the two great allies. If Germany could spare such a host of horse, foot, and artillery for the overrunning of Belgium, while moving the enormous forces needed on both flanks, what millions of men she must have placed under arms long before the mobilisation order was announced publicly!
And what was England doing and saying? England! the home of liberty and a free press, where demagogues spouted plat.i.tudes about the ”curse of militarism,” and encouraged that very monster by leaving the richest country in the world open to just such a sudden and merciless attack as Belgium was undergoing before his eyes!
Lying there among the undergrowth, listening to the tramp of an army corps, and watching the flicker of countless rifle-barrels in the moonlight, he forgot his own plight, and thought only of the unpreparedness of Britain. He was a soldier by training and inclination.