Part 58 (2/2)

”A true man to the last!” said Wolf. But he could not even press his friend's hand in sympathy.

Then Vogt began to speak of the day of release. For him that would soon come. He knew that every word must cut his comrade to the heart, for poor Wolf had still to endure long years of martyrdom in prison; but he could not help it. He could not restrain himself from expressing the great joy that filled his breast. He counted the hours and the minutes as they pa.s.sed, and could scarcely sleep at night.

Vogt walked with uplifted head and bright eyes; he handled his spade with cheerful zeal, and pushed his heavily-loaded wheelbarrow energetically. Would he not be a free man in a few days?

But Wolf compressed his lips together, and the brighter the suns.h.i.+ne the darker grew the cloud on his brow. His cheeks had fallen in more and more, and at the slightest exertion the sweat poured down his thin face. He looked ready to break down, and his eyes glowed with a feverish light.

”I shall never last it out,” he whispered to Vogt one morning. ”I shall go all to pieces. I would rather break away altogether and escape.”

”You are mad,” said Vogt. ”Do you not see the sentries? You would not be able to get a hundred yards away.”

Wolf looked at him. The chance of escape out of this narrow circle was indeed small. But he stuck to his project, adding: ”What does it matter if I am shot down? Would that not be better than going on in this way for three more long years?”

Of a sudden his plan appeared to him in a new light. If his flight were unsuccessful, if a sentry's bullet put a stop to it, would he not equally have suffered for his opinions? Would not this b.l.o.o.d.y sacrifice to the cause of revolution win new adherents? And would that not be better in the end than if he got free and lived out a painful existence in some foreign country?

Though formerly he had longed to be free at any price, death now shone before him as a desirable goal. Better that than to be crippled merely.

Next day he whispered to Vogt, ”Next time that the Jagers are on duty I shall try it.”

Vogt shook his head emphatically with a gesture of protest. His comrade must have gone clean out of his wits. And why should Wolf want to make the attempt just when the Jagers were mounting guard, the troops that were most proficient in shooting? It looked as if he were courting death.

The kind-hearted fellow set it before himself to dissuade his comrade from his intention. It would never do to let such a brave man commit suicide in a fit of despair. But he must manage it soon; in five days he himself would be free, and before that Wolf must give him his promise to abstain from his folly. Unfortunately the Jagers would be mounting guard the very next day.

As he pushed his loaded wheelbarrow before him he sought to meet Wolf's eyes; his comrade also had just filled his barrow. Vogt pa.s.sed close by him, and signed to Wolf to come with him. But Wolf purposely remained behind and shook his head, smiling.

Soon afterwards they were called in. The prisoners put away their tools and their barrows, and Vogt stood waiting in the half-dark shed till the others were ready.

Suddenly he felt his hand gripped, and Wolf whispered in his ear: ”Farewell, comrade, and keep true!”

Next minute the tall lean man had glided past him, and others had crowded between; it was impossible to get near him again.

On their way back to the prison he again intercepted a glance from Wolf. His comrade looked cheerful and triumphant, like one who has shaken off a heavy burden, and sees his future lie clear before him.

The guard that came on duty next morning in the parade-ground wore the green Jager uniform. One of the sentries, a smart young fellow with a carefully waxed black moustache and quick eyes, had on his breast the mark of distinction for shooting. He was doing this duty evidently for the first time, and he looked the prisoners up and down with a curious glance, as if they were some queer sort of wild beast. Then he took up his position, and marched stiffly beside the procession as they left the gate.

A thin mist covered the broad expanse of the big ground, but the sun soon dispelled the damp vapour, and shone down warm and unclouded.

Vogt looked anxiously at Wolf. But his comrade seemed to have given up his intention; he was bending diligently over his work, and had not even taken his place in the outside rank of workers, but was digging busily among the others. At a little distance from the prisoners the sentries strolled up and down their beat.

Presently an orderly from head-quarters came riding by on a dark-brown horse, which he was making step high in a stately manner as if on parade.

The Jager with the black moustache held his gun negligently on his shoulder and looked on with an interested expression. It was very boring to be always watching the prisoners messing about in the dirt.

Suddenly a lean figure detached itself from the little group of workmen--it was Wolf. With long strides he fled behind the sentry in the direction of the forest. The Jager had not even remarked his flight, and it was only the cry of the sergeant that drew his attention.

Then he hastily took the gun from his shoulder, made ready to fire, and cried the first ”Halt!”

Wolf ran on without stopping. Then something happened which decidedly bettered the chances of the fugitive: the mounted orderly felt called upon to give chase. He set his horse to a gallop and dashed after the escaping prisoner.

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