Part 34 (2/2)

It was well toward midday before he secured any real information. They encountered at the crossing of a brook a small French patrol under a lieutenant, an intelligent man, whom by lucky chance Carstairs had met two weeks before.

He told them that going at a moderate rate they could reach by the next morning a large French army which lay north and west. Some British troops--he did not know how many--had come up, and they were on the extreme left of the allied line. More were expected. In front of them were great ma.s.ses of the Germans.

They gave him their own news, and then with mutual good wishes they drove on, Carstairs now at the wheel, and their pace increased. It was agreed that they should hasten much more, as soon as they were absolutely sure of the way. Wharton, for the first time, took part in the talk.

”When we have a definite point to aim at,” he said, ”we must take every risk and race for it. If we don't deliver these doc.u.ments promptly to the generals we ought to be shot.”

”We won't be shot for the lack of trying, Wharton,” said John, ”but if we go racing along the wrong road we'll be that much farther from our right direction.”

”We ought to see more patrols soon,” said Carstairs. ”They'll surely be watching all through this region.”

”Likely enough we'll find 'em in that wood ahead,” said John, pointing to a long stretch of forest that clothed a group of hills. ”It's just the place for 'em. From the top of that highest hill they can see for miles.”

Carstairs increased their speed, and the car shot forward. It was a fine motor, John thought, and the bombardment it had received had not hurt it much. That German prince certainly knew how to select a car, and he had fortified it in a splendid manner.

John was smiling to himself again in satisfaction, as they dipped down the valley and entered the forest, which in that country they would certainly call a great one. Its shade was pleasant, too, as the beams of the sun were now vertical and hot.

”Nice region,” said John approvingly. ”See that old castle off there to the left.”

An ancient castle, decayed and abandoned, crowned a little hill. Around it was a moat dry for generations, and one of the Norman towers had fallen down. It was a somber picture of lonely desolation.

”I suppose some fine old robber of a baron lived in that,” said John, ”and preyed upon the country, until he reached the hunting grounds of other robbers like himself.”

”Deucedly draughty and uncomfortable they must have been,” said Carstairs. ”We've some of 'em in my country, but they must have been pretty hard living for my lord and my lady.”

”I don't see that we have much advantage over those old fellows,” said John thoughtfully. ”They were little robbers, and here are all the countries of Europe trying to tear one another to pieces. After all, Carstairs, I'm beginning to think the Americans are the only really civilized people.”

Carstairs grinned.

”You can't do it, Scott,” he said, ”you can't take Wharton's place. I'll argue with him about the merits of Briton and Yankee. It's his time-honored right, but I'll have no dispute with you.”

Wharton smiled a stern a.s.sent.

”Then we'll let it go,” said John, ”but do you notice that this is a real forest. It must cover a half dozen square miles. I suppose that in your country they would call it the Royal Forest or by some such high-sounding name.”

”Never you mind what we'd call it,” rejoined Carstairs, ”but whatever it is it's evident that something violent is going on within its shades!

Listen!”

John started upright in his seat, as he heard the crackle of three or four shots so close together that they were almost in a volley, and then the sound of feet running swiftly. They stopped the machine, and a figure, stained, bleeding and desperate, emerged from the forest.

”A fugitive!” exclaimed John.

”But from what?” said Carstairs.

”The Germans, of course!” said Wharton.

The man, stained with blood, ragged and dirty came at great bounds, and before any one could put out a detaining hand he sprang into the car.

”Help, for G.o.d's sake!” he cried. ”I'm a spy in the service of France, and the Uhlans are coming down through the wood after me!”

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