Part 40 (2/2)

These thoughts were hateful, and turning into the road by which they had come to the chateau he ran down it. He ran because he wanted motion, because he wished to reach the French army as quickly as he could, and help Lannes organize for the rescue of Julie.

He ran a long distance, because his excitement waned slowly, and because the severe exercise made the blood course rapidly through his veins, counteracting the effects of his cold and wetting. When he began to feel weary he turned out of the road, knowing that it was safer in the fields. He had the curious belief or impression now that the black shower was all arranged for his benefit. Providence was merely making things even. The soldiers had been brought upon him when the chances were a hundred to one against him, and then the shower had been sent to cover him, when the chances were a hundred to one against that, too.

He saw far to the south a sudden faint radiance and he knew that it was the last of the lightning. The little feathery clouds, which looked so friendly and pleasant against the blue of the sky, came back and the moaning on the western horizon toward which he was traveling was wholly that of the guns.

He heard a noise over his head, a mixture of a whistle and a scream, and he knew that a sh.e.l.l was pa.s.sing high. He walked on, and heard another.

But they could not be firing at him. He was still that mere mote in the infinite darkness, but, looking back for the bursting of the sh.e.l.ls, he saw a blaze leap up near the point from which he had come.

A cold s.h.i.+ver seized him. The range was that of the chateau, and Julie was there. The French gunners could have no knowledge that their own people were prisoners in the building, and if one of those huge sh.e.l.ls burst in it, ruin and destruction would follow. The conservatory had been a silent witness of what flying metal could do. He stopped, appalled. He had been wrong to leave without Julie, and yet he could have done nothing else. It was impossible to foresee a sh.e.l.ling of the chateau by the French themselves.

The screaming and whistling came again, but he did not see any explosion near the chateau. One could not tell much from such a swift and pa.s.sing sound, but he concluded that it was a German sh.e.l.l replying.

He had seen a German battery near the house and it would not remain quiet under bombardment.

He had no doubt that the French gunners, having got the range, would keep it. Somebody, perhaps an aeroplane or an officer with flags in a tree, was signaling. It was horrible, this murderous mechanism by which men fired at targets miles away, targets which they could not see, but which they hit nevertheless. Every pulse beating hard, John shook his fist at the invisible German guns and the invisible French guns alike.

Then he recovered himself with an angry shake and began to run again. He knew now that he must go forward and secure a French force for rescue.

But no matter how much he urged himself on, a great power was pulling at him, and it was Julie Lannes, a prisoner of the Germans in the chateau.

Often he stopped and looked back, always in the same direction. Twice more he saw sh.e.l.ls burst in the neighborhood of the house, and then his heart would beat hard, but after brief hesitation he would always pursue his course once more toward the French army.

He did not know the time, but he believed it to be well past midnight.

He had his watch, but his immersion in the fish pond had caused it to stop. Still, the feel of the air made him believe that he was in the morning hours. Sh.e.l.ls continued to pa.s.s over his head, and now they came from many points. He had seen or heard so much firing in the last eight or ten days that the world, he felt, must be turned into a huge ammunition factory to feed all the guns. He laughed to himself at his own grim joke. He was overstrained and he began to see everything through a red mist.

His clothing was drying fast, but his throat was very hot from excitement and exertion. He came to a little brook, and kneeling down, drank greedily. Then he bathed his face and felt stronger and better.

His nerves also grew steadier. There was not so much luminous mist in the atmosphere. Ahead of him the crash of the guns was much louder, and he knew that he had already come a long distance. It seemed that the pa.s.sing of the storm had renewed the activity of the gunners. The mutter had become rolling thunder, and both to north and south the searchlights flared repeatedly.

He heard the beat of hoofs, and he hoped that they were French cavalry on patrol, but they proved to be German Hussars, Bavarians he judged by the light blue uniforms, and they were coming from the direction of the French lines. They had been scouting there, he had no doubt, but they pa.s.sed in a few moments, and, leaving his hedge, he resumed his own rapid flight, continually hoping that he would meet some French force, scouting also.

But he was doomed to a long trial of patience. Twice he saw Germans and hid until they had gone by. They seemed to be scouting in the night almost to the mouths of the French guns, and he admired their energy although it stood in the way of his own plans. He came to a second brook, drank again, and then took a short cut through a small wood. He had marked the reports of guns from a hill about two miles in front of him, and he was sure that a French battery must be posted there. He reckoned that he could reach it in a half hour, if he exerted himself.

Half way through the wood and human figures rose up all about him.

Strong hands seized his arms and an electric torch flashed in his face.

”Who are you?” came the fierce question in French.

But it was not necessary for John to answer. The man who held the torch was short, but very muscular and strong, his face cut in the antique mold, his eyes penetrating and eager. It was Bougainville and John gave a gasp of joy. Then he straightened up and saluted:

”Colonel Bougainville,” he said, ”I see that you know me! I have just escaped from the enemy for the second time. There is a house in that direction, and it is occupied by the Prince of Auersperg, one of the German generals.”

He pointed where the chateau lay, and Bougainville uttered a shout:

”Ah!”

”He holds there a prisoner, Mademoiselle Julie Lannes, the sister of the great Philip Lannes, the aviator; and other Frenchwomen.”

”Ah!” said Bougainville again.

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