The Boy Allies in the Trenches Part 33

"Killed!" exclaimed Hal. "And why would they have killed you?"

"Because," said the little man, "I myself picked the pocket of a man whom one of their number was trailing."

"I see," said Chester, manifesting no surprise, for he was well aware that the street Arab had taken them for his own kind. To have betrayed surprise would have been to invite suspicion.

"Now," said the little man, "we shall have to hide. The police will be scouring the neighborhood. Have you a refuge handy?"

"No," said Hal.

"Then you shall come with me." He hesitated a moment, then added: "Which do you love best, your country or gold?"

Hal took a long chance.

"Gold," he said briefly.

The little man slapped him familiarly on the back.

"As all true Apaches!" he exclaimed. "_Bien_! Then you shall come with me."

He led the way along the dark street and the lads followed him.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE APACHE DEN.

Before a low-lying, tumble-down wooden shack of but a single story the little man paused and glanced furtively about. Then he darted quickly up the steps, and, motioning to the lads to follow him, disappeared within.

Inside Hal and Chester found themselves in what appeared to be a narrow pa.s.sageway. It was damp and evil-smelling and the darkness was intense.

The lads were unable to see a yard in front of them. The voice of the little man pierced the darkness.

"Come," he said, and the lads advanced in the darkness.

They came presently to a flight of stairs, leading down, and they descended slowly, feeling their way that they might not fall. At the bottom there was still nothing but darkness. Here their guide was waiting for them and allowed them to pa.s.s. A moment and there came to the ears of the lads a dull clang, as if a heavy iron door had been closed behind them.

And this, in truth, was the case.

Ahead of them in the dark hall their guide had opened the door without their knowledge that such a thing existed, and now that they had pa.s.sed through he closed it again. The lads waited until he again brushed by them and took the lead. Then they followed.

It seemed to Hal and Chester that the pa.s.sageway wound about considerably, for they were conscious of making several sharp turns.

Then, from ahead, a faint glow of light pierced the darkness and they could make out their surroundings. In the rear it was perfectly dark and on each side of the narrow pa.s.sageway the dark, grimy walls rose sheer for perhaps twenty-five feet. The place reeked with the smell of foul air and tobacco smoke.

Now that the light shattered the blackness the little man, who had advanced as soft-footed and as sure-footed as a cat in spite of the darkness, increased his stride and made toward the light. He brought up directly against another door, through cracks in which the light streamed. Here he turned to Hal and Chester.

"I am Jean Garnier," he said. "And you?"

"Hugo Choteau," replied Hal, giving the first name that came into his mind.

"I am Victor Doubet," said Chester, and added to himself, "I hope I can remember it."

He kept repeating it over and over to himself, that he might grow accustomed to it.

"_Bien_," said Jean. "Come! I shall introduce you to my friends."

He knocked sharply on the door--three light taps, followed by one loud tap.

From within came the sound of sc.r.a.ping chairs, followed by footsteps approaching the door. Came the sound of bars being removed and placed on the floor and a bolt shot back with a crash. Light immediately flooded the pa.s.sageway as the door was opened a crack and an evil-looking face peered forth.

"Oh, it is you, Jean," he said, after peering intently at the lads'

guide. "Come in."

He threw the door open wider.

"Yes, it is I," said the Apache, "and with me two friends."

"If they are friends of yours they are welcome," said the man inside.

The three entered the room together and the man who had opened the door immediately re-bolted and re-barred it.

Inside Hal and Chester looked quickly about, but still not so as to give an impression of undue curiosity. The room was perfectly bare, except for a single large table and probably fifty old wooden chairs, which were scattered about without regard to order. At the far end of the room there was another door, but except for this there was no means of egress.

In various parts of the room sat perhaps a dozen men, all of evil visage, their hats pulled low over their eyes, cigarettes protruding from their lips at a drooping angle. They paid no heed to the entrance of Jean, Hal and Chester, although, from under their hats, they eyed them keenly.

Jean turned to the man who had admitted them and introduced the two lads with a flourish of his right hand.

"These, Georges," he said, "are my friends, Hugo Choteau and Victor Doubet, who, but a few moments since, saved me from death."

Georges' only reply was a grunt. Plainly he was little interested in the newcomers, as long as they were vouched for by Jean, and he showed no interest in Jean's recent escape from death. Apparently this was no novelty. He resumed his seat at the table, and putting up his feet and drawing his hat even farther over his face, lighted a cigarette and settled himself in comfort and closed his eyes.

Now that he had piloted them to safety Jean took no further thought of the boys, but himself dropped into a chair, propped his feet up, lighted a cigarette and followed Georges' example.

Hal and Chester also sank into chairs and did likewise, both, however, keeping one eye open.

Directly Jean sat up and from his pocket produced a pack of cigarettes, which he extended to Hal.

"Smoke?" he said laconically.

Hal was in a quandary. He was not a smoker himself, yet he realized that the Paris Apache who was not a victim of nicotine was indeed a scarce article. But he muttered to himself, as he selected a cigarette and pa.s.sed the pack on to Chester:

"Here is where smoking a cigarette may save our lives."

Chester's mind followed along on this course, and, after pa.s.sing the pack back to Jean, and accepting a match, both lads lighted up in most approved fashion.

The wants of his guests thus attended to, Jean left them to their own thoughts, and gave them no further notice.

The Apache is not a talkative man, and therefore there was not the sound of a human voice to break the death-like stillness of the foul-smelling den. For perhaps an hour and a half all sat without so much as moving.