Part 28 (1/2)

Bates offered no objection, as long as they followed in rear. The hussar's cloaks came in useful, and Dalroy buckled on a sword-belt. Jan announced that he was good for another twenty miles provided he could win clear of those _sales Alboches_. He was eager to relate his adventures, but Dalroy quieted him by the downright statement that if his tongue wagged he might soon be either a prisoner again or dead.

A night so rife with hazard could hardly close tamely. The rain cleared off, and the stars came out ere they reached the ferry on the Schelde, and a scout sent ahead came back with the disquieting news that a strong cavalry picket, evidently on the alert, held the right bank. But the thirteen had made a specialty of disposing of German pickets in the dark. In those early days of the war, and particularly in Flanders, Teuton nerves were notoriously jumpy, so the little band crept forward resolutely, dodging from tree to tree, and into and out of ditches, until they could see the stars reflected in the river. Dalroy and Irene had dismounted at the first tidings of the enemy, turning a pair of contented horses into a meadow. They and Maertz, of course, had to keep well behind the main body.

The troopers, veritable Uhlans this time, had posted neither sentry nor vedette in the lane. Behind them, they thought, lay Germany. In front, across the river, the small army of Belgium held the last strip of Belgian territory, which then ran in an irregular line from Antwerp through Gand to Nieuport. So the picket watched the black smudge of the opposite bank, and talked of the Kron-Prinz's stalwarts hacking their way into Paris, and never dreamed of being a.s.sailed from the rear, until a number of st.u.r.dy demons pounced on them, and did some pretty bayonet-work.

Fight there was none. Those Uhlans able to run ran for their lives. One fellow, who happened to be mounted, clapped spurs to his charger, and would have got away had not Dalroy delivered a most satisfactory lunge with the hussar sabre.

No sooner had Bates collected and counted sixteen people than the tactics were changed. Five rounds rapid rattled up the road and along the banks.

”I find that a bit of noise always helps after we get the windup with the bayonet, sir,” he explained to Dalroy. ”If any of 'em think of stopping they move on again when they hear a hefty row.”

A Belgian picket, guarding the ferry, and, what was of vast importance to the fugitives, the ferry-boat, wondered, no doubt, what was causing such a commotion among the enemy. Luckily, the officer in charge recognised a new ring in the rifles. He could not identify it, but was certain it came from neither a Belgian nor a German weapon.

Thus, in a sense, he was prepared for Jan Maertz's hail, and was even more rea.s.sured by Irene's clear voice urging him to send the boat.

Two volunteers manned the oars. In a couple of minutes the unwieldy craft b.u.mped into a pontoon, and was soon crowded with pa.s.sengers. Never was sweeter music in the ears of a little company of Britons than the placid lap of the current, followed by the sharp challenge of a sentry: ”_Qui va la?_”

”A party of English soldiers, a Belgian, and an English lady,” answered Dalroy.

An officer hurried forward. He dared not use a light, and, in the semi-obscurity of the river bank, found himself confronted by a sinister-looking crew. He was cautious, and exceedingly sceptical when told briefly the exact truth. His demand that all arms and ammunition should be surrendered before he would agree to send them under escort to the village of Aspen was met by a blank refusal from Bates and his myrmidons. Dalroy toned down this cartel into a graceful plea that thirteen soldiers, belonging to eight different regiments of the British army, ought not to be disarmed by their gallant Belgian allies, after having fought all the way from Mons to the Schelde.

Irene joined in, but Jan Maertz's rugged speech probably carried greater conviction. After a prolonged argument, which the infuriated Germans might easily have interrupted by close-range volleys, the difficulty was adjusted by the unfixing of bayonets and the slinging of rifles. A strong guard took them to Aspen, where they arrived about eleven o'clock. They were marshalled in the kitchen of a comfortable inn, and interviewed by a colonel and a major.

Oddly enough, Corporal Bates was the first to gain credence by producing his map, and describing the villages he and his mates had pa.s.sed through, the woods in which they hid for days together, and the cures who had helped them. Bates's story was an epic in itself. His men crowded around, and grinned approvingly when he rounded off each curt account of a ”sc.r.a.p” by saying, ”Then the Yewlans did a bunk, an' we pushed on.”

Dalroy, acting as interpreter, happened to glance at the circle of cheerful faces during a burst of merriment aroused by a reference to Smithy's ingenuity in stealing a box of hand grenades from an ammunition wagon, and destroying a General's motor-car by fixing an infernal machine in the gear-box. The mere cranking-up of the engine, it appeared, exploded the detonator.

”Is that what you were doing under the car outside the barn?” he inquired, catching Smithy's eye.

”Yes, sir. I've on'y one left aht o' six,” said Smithy, producing an ominous-looking object from a pocket.

”Is the detonator in position?”

”Yus, sir.”

”Will you kindly take it out, and lay it gently on the table?”

Smithy obeyed, with rea.s.suring deftness.

Dalroy was about to comment on the phenomenal risk of carrying such a destructive bomb so carelessly when he happened to notice the roll collar of a khaki tunic beneath Smithy's blue linen blouse.

”Have you still retained part of your uniform?” he inquired.

”Oh, yus, sir. We all 'ave. We weren't goin' to strip fer fear of any bally Germans--beg pawdon, miss--an' if it kime to a reel show-dahn we meant ter see it through in reggelation kit.”

Every man of twelve had retained his tunic, trousers, and puttees, which were completely covered by the loose-fitting garments supplied by the priest of a hamlet near Louvignies, who concealed them in a loft during four days until the ma.s.s of German troops had surged over the French frontier. The thirteenth, a Highlander, actually wore his kilt!

The Belgian officers grew enthused. They insisted on providing a _vin d'honneur_, which Irene escaped by pleading utter fatigue, and retiring to rest.

Dalroy opened his eyes next morning on a bright and sunlit world. It might reasonably be expected that his thoughts would dwell on the astounding incidents of the past month. They did nothing of the sort. He tumbled out of a comfortable bed, interviewed the proprietor of the ”_Trois Couronnes_,” and asked that worthy man if he understood the significance of a Bank of England five-pound note. During his many and varied 'scapes, Dalroy's store of money, carried in an inner pocket of his waistcoat, had never been touched. _Monsieur le Patron_ knew all that was necessary about five-pound notes. Very quickly a serviceable cloth suit, a pair of boots, some clean linen, a tin bath, and a razor were staged in the bedroom, while the proprietor's wife was instructed to attend to mademoiselle's requirements.

Dalroy was shaving, for the first time in thirty-three days, when voices reached him through the open window. He listened.