Part 17 (1/2)
”A prisoner, Captain,” said von Arnheim, saluting respectfully.
Von Boehlen turned slowly, and a malicious light leaped in his eyes when he saw John on foot before him, and wholly in his power.
”And so,” he said, ”it's young Scott of the hotel in Dresden and of the wireless station, and you've come straight into my hands!”
The whimsical humor which sometimes seized John when he was in the most dangerous situation took hold of him again. It was not humor exactly, but it was the innate desire to make the best of a bad situation.
”I'm in your hands,” he replied, ”but I didn't walk willingly into 'em.
Your lieutenant, von Arnheim here, and his men brought me on the points of their lances. I'm quite willing to go away again.”
Von Boehlen recognized the spirit in the reply and the malice departed from his own eyes. Yet he asked sternly:
”Why do you put on a French uniform and meddle in a quarrel not your own?”
”I've made it my own. I take the chances of war.”
”To the rear with him, and put him with the other prisoners,” said von Boehlen to von Arnheim, and the young Prussian and two Uhlans escorted him to the edge of the field where twenty or thirty French prisoners sat on the ground.
”I take it,” said von Arnheim, ”that you and our captain have met before.”
”Yes, and the last time it was under circ.u.mstances that did not endear me to him.”
”If it was in war it will not be to your harm. Captain von Boehlen is a stern but just man, and his conduct is strictly according to our military code. You will stay here with the other prisoners under guard.
I hope to see you again.”
With these polite words the young officer rode back to his chief, and John's heart warmed to him because of his kindness. Then he sat down on the gra.s.s and looked at those who were prisoners with him. Most of them were wounded, but none seemed despondent. All were lying down, some propped on their elbows, and they were watching and listening with the closest attention. A half-dozen Germans, rifle in hand, stood near by.
John took his place on the gra.s.s by the side of a fair, slim young man who carried his left arm in a bandage.
”Englishman?” said the young man.
”No, American.”
”But you have been fighting for us, as your uniform shows. What command?”
”General Vaugirard's, but I became separated from it earlier in the day.”
”I've heard of him. Great, fat man, as cool as ice and as brave as a lion. A good general to serve under. My own name is Fleury, Albert Fleury. I was wounded and taken early this morning, and the others and I have been herded here ever since by the Germans. They will not tell us a word, but I notice they have not advanced.”
”The German army is retreating everywhere. For this day, at least, we're victorious. Somebody has made a great plan and has carried it through.
The cavalry of the invader came within sight of Paris this morning, but they won't be able to see it tomorrow morning. Whisper it to the others.
We'll take the good news quietly. We won't let the guards see that we know.”
The news was circulated in low tones and every one of the wounded forgot his wound. They spoke among themselves, but all the while the thunder of the hundred-mile battle went on with unremitting ferocity. John put his ear to the ground now, and the earth quivered incessantly like a s.h.i.+p shaken at sea by its machinery.
The day was now waning fast and he looked at the ma.s.s of Uhlans who stood arrayed in the open s.p.a.ce, as if they were awaiting an order.
Lieutenant von Arnheim rode back and ordered the guards to march on with them.
There was none too severely wounded to walk and they proceeded in a file through the fields, Uhlans on all sides, but the great ma.s.s behind them, where their commander, von Boehlen, himself rode.