The Day of Wrath Part 14

CHAPTER VIII

A RESPITE

Never before in the course of a somewhat varied life had Dalroy felt so irresolute, so helplessly the victim of circ.u.mstances. Bereft of the local knowledge possessed by Joos and the other Belgians, any scheme he adopted must depend wholly on blind chance. The miller had described the wood as occupying a promontory in a bend of the Meuse, with steep cliffs forming the southern bank of the river. There was a tow-path; possibly, a series of narrow ravines or clefts gave precarious access from the plateau to this lower level. Probably, too, in the first shock of fright, the people in the hut had made for one of these cuttings, taking Irene with them. They believed, no doubt, that the Englishman had been shot or captured, and after that spurt of musketry so alarmingly near at hand the lower part of the wood would seem alive with enemies.

Dalroy blamed himself, not the others, for this fatal bungling. Before s.n.a.t.c.hing a much-needed rest he ought to have arranged with Joos a practicable line of retreat in the event of a night alarm. Of course he had imposed silence on all as a sort of compulsory relief from the tension of the earlier hours, but he saw now that he was only too ready to share the miller's confidence. Not without reason had poor Dr.

Lafarge warned his fellow-countrymen that "there were far too many Germans in Belgium." Schwartz and his like were to be found in every walk of life, from the merchant princes who controlled the trade of Antwerp to the youngest brush-haired waiter in the Cafe de la Regence at Brussels.

Dalroy was aware of a grim appropriateness in the fate of Schwartz. The German automatic pistols carried soft-nosed bullets, so the arch-traitor who murdered the Vise doctor had himself suffered from one of the many infernal devices brought by _Kultur_ to the battlefields of Flanders.

But the punishment of Schwartz could not undo the mischief the wretch had caused. The men he led knew the nature and purpose of their errand.

They would report to the first officer met on the main road, who might be expected to detail instantly a sufficient force for the task of clearing the wood. In fact, the operation had become a military necessity. There was no telling to what extent the locality was held by Belgian troops, as, of course, the runaway warriors would magnify the firing a hundredfold, and no soldier worth his salt would permit the uninterrupted march of an army corps along a road flanked by such a danger-point. In effect, Dalroy conceived a hundred reasons why he might antic.i.p.ate a sudden and violent end, but not one offering a fair prospect of escape. At any rate, he refused to be guilty of the folly of plunging into an unknown jungle of brambles, rocks, and trees, and elected to go back by the path to the foot of the quarry, whence he might, with plenty of luck, break through on a flank before the Germans spread their net too wide.

He had actually crossed some part of the clearing in front of the hut when his gorge rose at the thought that, win or lose in this game of life and death, he might never again see Irene Beresford. The notion was intolerable. He halted, and turned toward the black wall of the wood.

Mad though it was to risk revealing his whereabouts, since he had no means of knowing how close the nearest pursuers might be, he shouted loudly, "Miss Beresford!"

And a sweet voice replied, "Oh, Mr. Dalroy, they told me you were dead, but I refused to believe them!"

Dalroy had staked everything on that last despairing call, little dreaming that it would be answered. It was as though an angel had spoken from out of the black portals of death. He was so taken aback, his spirit was so shaken, that for a few seconds he was tongue-tied, and Irene appeared in the moonlit s.p.a.ce before he stirred an inch. She came from an unexpected quarter, from the west, or Argenteau, side.

"The others said I was a lunatic to return," she explained simply; "but, when I came to my full senses after being aroused from a sound sleep, and told to fly at once because the Germans were on us, I realised that you might have outwitted them again, and would be looking for us in vain. So, here I am!"

He ran to her. Now that they were together again he was swift in decision and resolute as ever. "Irene," he said, "you're a dear. Where are our friends? Is there a path? Can you guide me?"

"Take my hand," she replied. "We turn by a big tree in the corner. I think Jan Maertz followed me a little way when he saw I was determined to go back."

"I suppose I had unconscious faith in you, Irene," he whispered, "and that is why I cried your name. But no more talking now. Rapid, silent movement alone can save us."

They had not gone twenty yards beneath the trees when some one hissed, "Vise!"

"Liege, you lump!" retorted Dalroy.

"Monsieur, I----"

"Shut up! Hold mademoiselle's hand, and lead on."

He did not ask whither they were going. The path led diagonally to the left, and that was what he wanted--a way to a flank.

Maertz, however, soon faltered and stopped in his tracks.

"The devil take all woods at night-time!" he growled. "Give me the highroad and a wagon-team, and I'll face anything."

"Are you lost?" asked Dalroy.

"I suppose so, monsieur. But they can't be far. I told Joos----"

"Jan, is that you?" cried Leontine's voice.

"_Ah, Dieu merci!_ These infernal trees----"

"Silence now!" growled Dalroy imperatively. "Go ahead as quickly as possible."

The semblance of a path existed; even so, they stumbled over gnarled roots, collided with tree-trunks which stood directly in the way, and had to fend many a low branch off their faces. They created an appalling noise; but were favoured by the fact that the footpath led to the west, whereas the pursuers must climb the cliff on the east.

Leontine, however, led them with the quiet certainty of a country-born girl moving in a familiar environment. She could guess to a yard just where the track was diverted by some huge-limbed elm or far-spreading chestnut, and invariably picked up the right line again, for the excellent reason, no doubt, that the dense undergrowth stood breast high elsewhere at that season of the year.

After a walk that seemed much longer than it really was--the radius of the wood from the hut being never more than two hundred yards in any direction--the others heard her say anxiously, "Are you there, father?"

"Where the deuce do you think I'd be?" came the irritated demand. "Do you imagine that your mother and I are skipping down these rocks like a couple of weasels?"

"It is quite safe," said the girl. "I and Marie Lafarge went down only last Thursday. Jules always goes that way to Argenteau. He has cut steps in the bad places. Jan and I will lead. We can help mother and you."

Dalroy, still holding Irene's arm, pressed forward.

"Are we near the tow-path?" he asked.

"Oh, is that you, _Monsieur l'Anglais_?" chuckled the miller. "Name of a pipe, I was positive those _sales Alboches_ had got you twenty minutes since. Yes, if you trip in the next few yards you'll find yourself on the tow-path after falling sixty feet."

"Go on, Leontine!" commanded Dalroy. "What you and your friend did for amus.e.m.e.nt we can surely do to save our lives. But there should be moonlight on this side. Have any clouds come up?"

"These are firs in front, monsieur. Once clear of them, we can see."

"Very well. Don't lose another second. Only, before beginning the descent, make certain that the river bank holds no Germans."

Joos grumbled, but his wife silenced him. That good lady, it appeared, had given up hope when the struggle broke out in the kitchen. She had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from the jaws of death by a seeming miracle, and regarded Dalroy as a very Paladin. She attributed her rescue entirely to him, and was almost inclined to be sceptical of Joos's sensational story about the killing of Busch. "There never was such a man for arguing," she said sharply. "I do believe you'd contradict an archbishop. Do as the gentleman bids you. He knows best."

Now, seeing that madame herself, after one look, had refused point-blank to tackle the supposed path, and had even insisted on retreating to the cover of the wood, Joos was ent.i.tled to protest. Being a choleric little man, he would a.s.suredly have done so fully and freely had not a red light illumined the tree-tops, while the crackle of a fire was distinctly audible. The Germans had reached the top of the quarry, and, in order to dissipate the impenetrable gloom, had converted the hut into a beacon.

"_Misericorde!_" he muttered. "They are burning our provisions, and may set the forest ablaze!"

And that is what actually happened. The vegetation was dry, as no rain had fallen for many a day. The shavings and store of logs in the hut burned like tinder, promptly creating a raging furnace wholly beyond the control of the unthinking dolts who started it. The breeze which had sprung up earlier became a roaring tornado among the trees, and some acres of woodland were soon in flames. The light of that fire was seen over an area of hundreds of miles. Spectators in Holland wrongly attributed it to the burning of Vise, which was, however, only an intelligent antic.i.p.ation of events, because the delightful old town was completely destroyed a week later in revenge for the defeats inflicted on the invaders at Tirlemont and St. Trond during the first advance on Antwerp.

Once embarked on a somewhat perilous descent, the fugitives gave eyes or thought to naught else. Jules, the pioneer quoted by Leontine, who was the owner of the hut and maker of sabots, had rough-hewed a sort of stairway out of a narrow cleft in the rock face. To young people, steady in nerve and sure of foot, the pa.s.sage was dangerous enough, but to Joos and his wife it offered real hazard. However, they were allowed no time for hesitancy. With Leontine in front, guiding her father, and Maertz next, telling Madame Joos where to put her feet, while Dalroy grasped her broad shoulders and gave an occasional eye to Irene, they all reached the level tow-path without the least accident. Irene, by the way, carried the rifle, so that Dalroy should have both hands at liberty.

Without a moment's delay he took the weapon and readjusted the magazine, which he had removed for the climb. Bidding the others follow at such a distance that they would not lose sight of him, yet be able to retire if he found the way disputed by soldiers, he set off in the direction of Argenteau.

In his opinion the next ten minutes would decide whether or not they had even a remote chance of winning through to a place of comparative safety. He had made up his own mind what to do if he met any Germans.

He would advise the Joos family and Maertz to hide in the cleft they had just descended, while he would take to the Meuse with Irene--provided, that is, she agreed to dare the long swim by night. Happily there was no need to adopt this counsel of despair. The fire, instead of a.s.sisting the flanking party on the western side, only delayed them. Sheer curiosity as to what was happening in the wood drew all eyes there rather than to the river bank, so the three men and three women pa.s.sed along the tow-path unseen and unchallenged.

After a half-mile of rapid progress Dalroy judged that they were safe for the time, and allowed Madame Joos to take a much-needed rest. Though breathless and nearly spent, she, like the others, found an irresistible fascination in the scene lighted by the burning trees. The whole countryside was resplendent in crimson and silver, because the landscape was now steeped in moonshine, and the deep glow of the fire was most perceptible in the patches where ordinarily there would be black shadows. The Meuse resembled a river of blood, the movement of its sluggish current suggesting the onward roll of some fluid denser than water. Old Joos, whose tongue was seldom at rest, used that very simile.

"Those cursed Prussians have made Belgium a shambles," he added bitterly. "Look at our river. It isn't our dear, muddy Meuse. It's a stream in the infernal regions."

"Yes," gasped his wife. "And listen to those guns, Henri! They beat a sort of _roulade_, like drums in h.e.l.l!"

This stout Walloon matron had never heard of Milton. Her ears were not tuned to the music of Parna.s.sus. She would have gazed in mild wonder at one who told of "noises loud and ruinous,"

When Bellona storms With all her battering engines, bent to raze Some capital city.