Part 8 (1/2)
”'Tain't on account of them,” said Tom, his voice breaking a little, ”it's on account of her----”
And he kneeled again to arrange the corner of the cloth more neatly over the wrinkled, wounded face....
CHAPTER IX
FLIGHT
”Anyway, we've got to get away from here quick,” said Tom, pulling himself together; ”never mind about clothes or anything. One thing sure, they'll be back here soon. See if he has a watch,” he added, indicating the dead soldier.
”No, but he's got a little compa.s.s around his neck; shall I take it?”
”Sure, we got a right to capture anything from the enemy.”
”He's got some papers, too.”
”All right, take 'em. Come on out through the kitchen way--hurry up.
Don't make any noise. You look for some food--I'll be with you right away.”
Tom crept cautiously out to the road and, kneeling, placed his ear to the ground. There was no sound, and he hurried back to the stone kitchen where Archer was stuffing his pockets with such dry edibles as he could gather.
”All right, come on,” he whispered hurriedly. ”What have you got?”
”Some hard bread and a couple of salt fish----”
”Give me one of those,” Tom interrupted: ”and hand me that tablecloth.
Come on. Got some matches?”
”Yes, and a candle, too.”
”Good. Don't strike a light. You go ahead, along the plank walk.”
Leaving the scene of the tragedy, they hurried along the board walk under the trellis, Tom dragging the tablecloth so that it swept both of the narrow planks and obliterated any suggestion of footprints. When they had gone about fifty yards he stooped and flung the salt fish from him so that it barely skimmed the earth and rested at some distance from the path.
”If they should have any dogs with 'em, that'll take 'em off the trail,”
he said.
”I'm sorry I didn't get you a souveneerr too,” said Archer, as they hurried along.
This was the first intimation Tom had that Archer regarded the little compa.s.s merely as a souvenir.
”You can give me those papers you took,” he said, half in joke.
”It's only an envelope,” Archer said. ”Have you got your b.u.t.ton all right?”
”Sure.”
When they reached the wine vat, Tom threw the old tablecloth into it, and pulled the vine more carefully so as to conceal the door. They were tempted to rest here, but realized that if they spent the balance of the night in their former refuge it would mean another long day in the dank hole.