Part 35 (2/2)
”You haven't heard of any Germans on this road?”
”No, but they're raiding far and wide, and von Boehlen will attempt anything.”
”We've had uncommon luck so far, and I think it will continue. I see you're admiring our automobile. I wasn't jesting, when I told you it belonged to a prince.”
”It's rather small for an armored car. They usually have seven or eight men in them.”
”Yes, and it's fortunate for us that it's small. I told you luck was running our way. But as it is, it's a pretty heavy strain on the man at the wheel, although Carstairs there is an expert.”
”I'm a pretty good chauffeur,” said Weber, ”and whenever Mr. Carstairs wishes it I'll relieve him at the wheel. Besides I know the country thoroughly, and I can take advantage of every short cut.”
”I'll call on you soon,” said Carstairs. ”A lot of my enthusiasm for speeding has gone out of me. My arms ache all the time, but I'm good for another hour yet.”
Weber did not insist. John understood why, as it was patent that he needed rest. He made himself comfortable in the seat, and the others left him in peace. The machine rolled on swiftly and smoothly. It was one of the beautiful roads so common in France, and John felt scarcely a jar. A full sun tinted the green country with gold.
The warmth was penetrating and soothing. John had lost so much sleep and the nervous drain had been so great that his eyelids became heavy. They came to a clear little brook, and decided to stop that all might have a drink. Weber used the chance also to bathe his face and hands and get rid entirely of blood, dirt and dust. He seemed then to John a rather handsome man, having the touch of the scholar in his face.
John walked about a little, stretching his arms, and thumping his chest in order to make himself more wakeful. But when he returned to the automobile, and sat down in the cus.h.i.+oned seat the old sleepiness returned. The effort to keep the eyelids from going down was painful.
Carstairs in the driver's seat also yawned prodigiously.
”All my strength has returned now, and my nerve has come with it,” said Weber. ”Let me take the wheel. I see that you three are exhausted, as well you may be after such tremendous energy and so many dangers. I don't boast, when I say that I'm a good driver.”
”Take the wheel, and welcome,” said Carstairs, yawning prodigiously and retreating to a seat in the body of the car, beside John.
It was evident that Weber understood automobiles. He handled the wheel with a practised hand, and sent it forward with a skill and delicacy of touch equal to that of Carstairs.
”It is, indeed, a beautiful machine,” he said. ”Splendid work went into the making of it, and I can well believe as you do that it belonged to a prince.”
John's sleepiness increased. The motion was so smooth and pleasant! And the absence of danger and strained effort lulled one to slumber. He fought it off, and then concluded that he was foolish. Why shouldn't he go to sleep? Carstairs was asleep already and Wharton, who felt such a tremendous weight of responsibility, was nodding. His eyelids fell. He raised them with a desperate effort, but they fell again and remained closed.
When John awoke a dimness over the western hills showed that the twilight was advancing. Through sleepy eyes he saw Weber's back as he bent a little over the wheel, steering steadily. The road now led through forest.
”Where are we, Weber?” he asked.
”Ah, awake are you,” said the Alsatian, not looking back. ”You saved my life, but it was most fortunate that you had the chance of doing it.
Otherwise all of you would have perished from lack of sleep.”
”Lack of sleep? What's that?” exclaimed Carstairs, waking up and hearing the last words. ”Why, I'm always lacking sleep. I believe the greatest hards.h.i.+p of war is the way it deprives you of sleep. When I've helped take Berlin, Hamburg, Munich and other important German cities, and this war's over, I'm going back to England to sleep a month, and if anybody wakes me before the right time there'll be a merry civil war in that blessed isle.”
Wharton, who had been somewhat uneasy in his sleep, woke up in turn, and his hand flew to his tightly b.u.t.toned coat. But he felt the papers safely there and his heart resumed its natural beat. Yet he was angry with himself. No man who carried perhaps the fate of a continent should ever close his eyes a moment.
”We're crossing a range of hills,” said Weber, replying as soon as he could to John's question. ”We've been making good time. We ought to strike the French line by midnight and then our journey will be over.”
”And I'll be glad when we get there,” said Carstairs. ”I love automobiles, but I've had enough for the present even of such a fine machine as this. I judge that we slept well, Mr. Weber.”
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