Part 39 (1/2)

It was hardly to be wondered at, for the face of his captive was encrusted with chalky mud and badly wanted a shave.

”How goes it with the brave Commandant you and I carried out of action that night we silenced the machine-gun? Do you remember now, thickhead?”

”_Mon Dieu!_” exclaimed Aristide Puzzeau, ”Mon Lieutenant, you have saved me from a great crime! But why will you keep such bad company? Let us embrace!” And he kissed him on both cheeks.

”And you have saved me from a most unpleasant death, my brave fellow,”

said Dennis, rubbing his throat; ”and now you must save these wretched beasts who are my prisoners.”

The corporal clapped a hand to his head like one in a dream as the men of his company, whom he had outstripped, reached the edge of the crater above them.

”Halt, my boys!” roared the corporal with the full strength of his leathern lungs, but he made a wry face and scowled savagely.

”If I had my way, mon Lieutenant, we would take no prisoners, hands up or hands down,” he said; ”we are too soft-hearted in this war.”

The howl of disappointment from the French Territorials mingled with the piteous whine of the terrified Germans, and before he scrambled after Puzzeau out of the hole, Dennis rid himself of the grey tunic and slacks, and stood revealed in his proper character.

”_Ma foi!_” said the captain of the company, as he shook hands heartily with him, ”you have indeed had a marvellous escape, my friend, but there is firing in the wood over yonder; I shall leave twelve men to escort this sc.u.m to our lines, and you will no doubt wish to proceed with them--unless you care to renew your acquaintance with your old comrades, the----”

”A thousand thanks, mon Capitaine,” laughed Dennis, remembering the German dispatch in the pocket of his tunic; ”my duty calls me elsewhere.

Good-bye and good luck!”

As he turned to go, and the foremost wave of the Territorials was already racing towards the trees, whence came the sharp crackle of musketry, a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and he saw Puzzeau looking at him with an expression of profound remorse on his black-bearded face.

”One never knows,” said Puzzeau in a deep ba.s.s whisper. ”I want to hear you say again that you have forgiven me. Also, our old Commandant, who, thank the stars, is recovering, charged me that if ever you and I met I was to tell you----”

A dozen voices shouting ”Corporal!” interrupted his speech, and with a despairing shrug of his huge shoulders the honest fellow ran after his men, leaving the Commandant's message undelivered.

At the edge of the wood he turned and waved his powerful arm, and as he vanished, Dennis, still rubbing his throat, stepped out briskly beside the German prisoners, who numbered eighty all told.

The big powerful brutes could have eaten their little guards, and Dennis with them, but they shambled along almost at a run, perfectly demoralised.

A short tramp across some ploughland, where brigades of active little men in blue-painted helmets were waiting, brought the prisoners to the French trenches, where Dennis had to run the gauntlet of half a dozen very wide awake but very polite officers, who pa.s.sed him still farther to the rear.

He was long leagues from the British Army away to the north of the Somme, and was puzzling how on earth he was to join it, when an automobile dashed from a side road, hooting imperiously for him to get out of the way.

”Confound you!” said Dennis to himself as he jumped rather ignominiously on to the bank, but the car stopped, and the driver rose in his seat, looking back at him.

”No, monsieur--it is not possible! It cannot be the Lieutenant Dashwood, surely!” called out the young Frenchman, and instantly forgetting his annoyance, Dennis ran towards the car.

”What, Martique, my dear fellow! Will wonders never cease? It is indeed the Lieutenant Dashwood, as you call him, and in no end of a hat, too!

How can I get back to our lines?”

The good-looking young Frenchman, perhaps a little thinner and more fine-drawn since the time when he and Dennis first met, laughed aloud with delight.

”_Cher ami_, nothing is simpler. Jump in. I am going straight to Fricourt, if that will help you.”

”Great Scott! I left my Governor not a mile from there the day before yesterday!” shouted Dennis, vaulting into the motor-car. ”How are things with us?”

”Magnificent!” laughed Martique; ”but what are you doing down here?”