Army Boys on the Firing Line; or, Holding Back the German Drive Read online

  CHAPTER XII

  THE DRUGGED DETACHMENT

  A scouting party was being made up a few days later, and the Army Boyswere glad that they were included in it. In the region where they werestationed the woods were thick, and there was a sort of "twilight zone"that afforded excellent opportunities for individual fighting. Thelines were rather loosely kept, and it was no uncommon occurrence tohave raiding parties slip across, have a brush with their opponents,and retire with what forage or prisoners they might be lucky enough totake.

  There had been a good deal of "sniping" that, while it only causedoccasional losses, was a source of harassment and irritation, andFrank's squad had orders to "get" as many of these sharpshooters aspossible.

  A little way from the camp there was a deep gorge. Along its top weremany huge trees whose branches reached far out over the precipice.They drew so close together that their branches in many cases wereinterwoven.

  The squad was moving along without any attempt to keep formation insuch rough country, when there was the crack of a rifle and a bulletzipped close by Frank's ear.

  He started back.

  "Did it get you, Frank?" called out Bart in alarm.

  "No," replied Frank, "but it came closer than I care to think about."

  At the corporal's command they took shelter behind trees, from whichthey scanned the locality in the direction from which the shot had come.

  There was no trace of any concealed marksman, search the coverts asthey would. But that he was there, and that he was an enemy to bedreaded, was shown a moment later when a bullet ridged the fingers ofthe hand that Billy had incautiously exposed.

  With an exclamation, Billy put his bleeding fingers to his mouth. Theinjury was slight and Bart bound his hand up for him, using extremecare to keep behind the trees.

  "We have to hand it to that fellow," remarked the corporal. "Hecertainly knows how to shoot."

  "I'd hand him something if I only knew where he was," growled Billy.

  "I know where he is," said Frank.

  "Do you?" asked the corporal eagerly.

  "Where?"

  "In the tallest of that clump of trees on the edge of the gorge,"replied Frank. "I caught a glimpse of his rifle barrel the last timehe fired."

  "We'll give him a volley," decided the corporal, and a moment later, athis command, the rifles rang out.

  Several times this was repeated in the hope that one of the bulletswould find its mark. But the tree trunk was enormously thick andbullets imbedded themselves in it without injury to the marksman,snugly sheltered on the further side.

  If they could have surrounded the tree and shot from different sidesthere would have been no trouble in bagging their quarry. But the treehad been cunningly chosen for the reason that the further side hungover the precipice and could only be attacked from the side where theparty now were.

  Frank's keen eyes had been sizing up the situation and he now had aproposal to make.

  "I think I see a way to dislodge him if you'll let me try it,Corporal," he said.

  "What is it?" asked Wilson.

  "You'll notice that the branches of those trees are mixed in with eachother," replied Frank. "If you can keep him busy with your shooting,so that he won't be thinking of anything else, I think I can make adetour and climb up one of those other trees on the side away from him.I could carry my rifle strapped on my back. Then I might work my wayalong the branches and perhaps catch sight of him."

  "It's worth trying," decided the corporal. "Go ahead, Sheldon, but bemighty careful."

  Frank slipped away in the shelter of the trees, described asemi-circle, reached the third tree from the one where the German wasstationed, and commenced to climb.

  It was hard work, for the tree was thick and he could not get a goodgrip on it with his arms. But he persisted until he reached the firstlimb and drew himself up on it. Then he examined his rifle carefullyand with the utmost caution began to work his way among the branches.

  Some of these were so thick as to be themselves almost like treetrunks, and he had no apprehension on the score of his weight. Hepassed to the next tree, and then to the next. There he paused,parting the branches carefully.

  He knew that his comrades were keeping their part of the bargain, forthe thud of bullets against the tree that sheltered the enemy wasalmost continuous.

  For several minutes Frank looked for his enemy. Then his search wasrewarded, and through an open space he found himself looking squarelyinto the eyes of the man who, a few minutes before, had tried to send abullet through his brain.

  The man saw him at the same instant. Like a flash he leveled his rifleand fired.

  For such a hurried aim the shot was good. Frank felt the whistle ofthe bullet as it almost grazed him. But it was not good enough.

  The next instant Frank's rifle spoke. The man flung out his arms,toppled over and fell with a crash into the gorge that the treeoverhung. The rifle clanged after him. There would be no more snipingby that particular marksman from that particular tree.

  There was a shout from the squad who had witnessed the duel, and asFrank slid down the tree he was greeted with acclamations.

  "A nervy thing, Sheldon," commended Wilson.

  "He almost got me, though," returned Frank. "It was a case of touchand go."

  "He was a brave man," was the tribute of the corporal, "though thatparticular kind of work has always seemed to me something like murder.He shot his victims without giving them a chance. His work on land wasthat of the U-boats on the sea--a species of assassination."

  The squad went on with special caution and with a close watch on thetrees. But noon came without further adventure and they got out theirrations and prepared to enjoy them at the foot of a spreading maple.

  They were perhaps half way through the meal, which they had seasonedwith jokes and laughter, when there was a rustling in the bushes nearat hand. Instantly they leaped to their feet and reached for theirrifles.

  "Who goes there?" demanded the corporal.

  There was no answer.

  "Answer or we shoot!" cried Wilson.

  The bushes parted and a young peasant girl stepped forth.

  She was a pretty girl of about eighteen. Her face bore the marks oftears, her hair was dishevelled, and she was in a state of extremeagitation. She began to talk feverishly and with many gestures.

  "Here, Sheldon," said the corporal, "you speak French. See if you canunderstand what the girl is saying."

  Frank stepped forward.

  "_Que voulez-vous, Mademoiselle?_" he asked.

  The relief of the girl when she heard her own language was evident.

  "These are English soldiers, Monsieur?" she asked.

  "No," said Frank, "they are Americans."

  "Oh, _les braves Americains_!" she exclaimed. "How glad I am! I knowyou will help me."

  "Be sure of that," replied Frank. "But tell me now just what hashappened."

  "The boches," she answered. "They are at our house."

  "How many are there?" asked Frank with quickened interest.

  "About thirty," she replied. Then as she saw Frank glance at the tenwho made up his party, she went on: "But you can capture them, I amsure. They are drugged."

  "Drugged?"

  "Yes. They came to our house early this morning. They upseteverything. They smashed the furniture. They tied my father andbrother in chairs. They said they were going to burn the house whenthey got ready to go away."

  "But how were they drugged?"

  "They made me get them all the food and wine there was in the house. Idid so. I put some laudanum in the wine. They ate and drank. Thenthey got sleepy. They dropped off one by one. Then I ran out to findhelp. I find you. Heaven is good."

  Frank consulted the corporal as the others crowded around in greatexcitement.

  The corporal meditated.

  "It may be a trap," he said cautiously.

  "I don't think so," replied Frank. "Lo
ok at the girl. She's noactress. I think she's telling the truth."

  "But even if they were drugged, they may have recovered from theeffects by this time," pondered the corporal.

  Then he made up his mind.

  "We'll take a chance," he decided. "Ask the girl how far the house isfrom here."

  "About a mile," the girl answered to Frank's query. "And there is oneother thing," she added. "They have a prisoner with them. He is youngand he has a uniform like yours, only it is torn and soiled. Theythrew him on the floor in a room upstairs. He was tied with ropes."

  "What does he look like?" asked Frank. "Tell me as well as you can."

  She described the prisoner amid the growing excitement of the Army Boys.

  "Tom, for a thousand dollars!" cried Frank.

  "It must be!" echoed Bart.

  "Sure as guns!" chimed in Billy.

  "Do you know him, then?" asked the girl, who had been looking at themwonderingly. "Oh, then hurry! For they are going to hang him. Theyput a rope over the tree near the well and said they would hang himwhen they got through eating and drinking."

  Hang Tom! If there had been any hesitation before, there was none now.The chums would have run every step of the way if the corporal had notrestrained them. As it was they covered the mile in double-quick time.

  As they came to where the farm bordered on the woods and caught sightof the house, their eyes turned with dread toward the well. Anexclamation of heartfelt relief broke from them. The rope was there asthe girl had said, but no hideous burden dangled from it.

  No one was in sight, and a death-like silence brooded over the place.They waited in the shelter of the trees. Perhaps the enemy hadrecovered and was waiting for them with a force three times their own.

  Five minutes passed. Then the corporal gave an order.

  "Fix bayonets! We're going to rush the house."

  There was a sharp click.

  "Charge!"

  With a cheer they rushed across the brief space that separated themfrom the house and up to the open door.

  The corporal looked in.

  "Put up your guns, boys," he said quietly. "We've got them."

  The others crowded after him into the long low-ceiled room. The enemyhad been delivered into their hands. There, sprawled over the floor inall sorts of ungainly attitudes among the smashed furniture, were theinvaders in various stages of stupor. Some of them opened their eyesat the sudden interruption and stared hard at the newcomers. Thelieutenant himself sat at the table on which his head had fallenforward.

  But the Army Boys did not tarry long. A word of permission from thecorporal and they bounded up the narrow stairs and burst into the roomwhere the girl had said Tom had been left.

  The room was empty!

  They searched and called frantically.

  "Tom! Tom! Where are you? Come out! It's friends, Frank, Billy,Bart!"

  They looked in every cranny and corner of the house upstairs and thendown. Then they rushed out to the barn. Then with fear at theirhearts they sounded the well.

  All was to no purpose. Tom--if it had really been Tom--might havevanished into thin air for any trace they found of him.

  Where had he gone? What had become of him? Or, worst of all, what hadthe enemy done to him?

  There was no answer, and at last they rejoined their comrades in thehope that questioning of the German lieutenant or some of his men mighttell them what they wanted to know.

  The first precaution that the corporal had taken was to disarm and bindhis prisoners. Then the farmer and his son were released. They werewild with rage at the treatment they had undergone and the wanton havocwrought in their home. If the choice had been left to them they wouldhave killed every prisoner on the spot.

  At the corporal's command water was brought from the well and bucketsof it were dashed over the Germans. There was sputtering and yelling,but the soldier boys enjoyed it hugely, and they worked with a heartygood will.

  It was a drastic remedy for sleepiness but it worked, and before longthe Germans, looking like so many drowned rats, had come out of theirstupor and began to realize their situation. The privates weresheepish, but the lieutenant went almost crazy with anger when herealized how he had been trapped. His eyes looked venom at the girl,who laughed at him triumphantly. His rage was increased by hisconsciousness of the pitiable figure he presented. His smart uniformwas dripping, his hair was matted over his face and even his ferociousmustache had lost its Kaiser-like curl. Even one of his own menventured to snicker at him, and the look the officer turned on him wasnot good to see.

  The corporal began to question him, but the lieutenant looked at him indisdain.

  "A German officer does not answer the questions of a corporal," hesneered.

  "Just as you like," retorted Wilson coolly. "Perhaps you'd like tohave me leave you here with the owner of the house and his son. Ithink they'd like nothing better than to have five minutes alone withyou. Perhaps even one minute would be enough."

  The lieutenant took one glance at the glowering faces of the farmer andhis son and wilted instantly.

  "I will answer your questions," he said, shortly.