The Girl from Alsace Part 23

"I hope so," Stewart agreed; but his heart misgave him as he looked at these marching men, sweeping on endlessly, irresistibly, in a torrent which seemed powerful enough to engulf everything in its path.

He had never before seen an army, even a small one, and this mighty host unnerved and intimidated him. It was so full of vigor, so self-confident, so evidently certain of victory! It was so st.u.r.dy, so erect, so proud! There was about it an electric sense of power; it almost strutted as it marched!

"There is one thing certain," he said, at last, "and that is that our adventures are not yet over. With our flight discovered, and Germans in front of us and behind us and probably on either side of us, our position is still decidedly awkward. I suppose their outposts are somewhere ahead."

"Yes, I suppose so," she agreed. "Along the Meuse, perhaps."

"And I am most awfully hungry. Aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

"I have heard that whole wheat makes a delicious breakfast dish," said Stewart, who felt unaccountably down-hearted and was determined not to show it. "Shall we try some?"

She nodded, smiling, then turned back to watch the Germans, as though fascinated by them. Stewart broke off a dozen heads of yellow grain, rubbed them out between his hands, blew away the chaff, and poured the fat kernels into her outstretched palm. Then he rubbed out a mouthful for himself.

"But that they should invade Belgium!" she said, half to herself. "Did you hear what that man said last night--that a treaty was only a sc.r.a.p of paper--that if Belgium resisted, she would be crushed?"

"Yes," nodded Stewart, "and it disgusted me!"

"But of course France has expected it--she has prepared for it!" went on the girl, perhaps to silence her own misgivings. "She will not be taken by surprise!"

"You don't think, then, that the Kaiser will dine in Paris on the twelfth?"

"Nonsense--that was only an empty boast!"

"Well, I hope so," said Stewart. "And wherever he dines, I hope that he has something more appetizing than whole wheat _au naturel_. I move we look for a house and try to get some real food that we can put our teeth into. Also something to drink."

"Yes, we must be getting forward," she agreed.

Together they peered out again above the grain. The ma.s.sed column was still pa.s.sing, shimmering along the dusty road like a mighty green-gray serpent.

"Isn't there any end to these fellows?" Stewart asked. "We must have seen about a million!"

"Oh, no; this is but a single division--and there are at least a hundred divisions in the German army! No doubt there is another division on each of the roads leading into Belgium. We shall have to keep away from the roads. Let us work our way back through the grain to that strip of woodland. No," she added, as Stewart stooped to pick up the bundle of clothing, "we must leave that. If we should happen to be stopped, it would betray us. What are you doing?"

Without replying, Stewart opened the bundle, thoughtfully selected a strand of the beautiful hair inside it and placed the lock carefully in a flapped compartment of his pocket-book. Then he re-tied the bundle and threw over it some of the severed stalks.

"It seems a shame to leave it," he said. "That is a beautiful gown--and the hair! Think of those barbarians opening the bundle and finding that lovely hair!"

The girl, who had been watching him with brilliant eyes, laughed a little and caught his hand.

"How foolish! Come along! I think I shall let you keep that lock of hair!" she added, thoughtfully.

Stewart looked at her quickly and saw that the dimple was visible.

"Thank you!" he said. "Of course I should have asked. Forgive me!"

She gave him a flashing little smile, then, bending low, hurried forward through the grain. Beyond the field lay a stretch of woodland, and presently they heard the sound of running water, and came to a brook flowing gently over a clean and rocky bed.

With a cry of delight, the girl dropped to her knees beside it, bent far over and drank deep; then threw off her coat, pushed her sleeves above her elbows, and laved hands and face in the cool water.

"How fortunate my hair is short!" she said, contemplating her reflection. "Otherwise it would be a perfect tangle. I make a very nice boy, do you not think so?"

"An adorable boy!" agreed Stewart, heartily.

She glanced up at him.

"Thank you! But are you not going to wash?"

"Not until you have finished. You are such a radiant beauty, that it would be a sin to miss an instant of you. My clothes are even more becoming to you than your own!"

She glanced down over her slender figure, so fine, so delicately rounded, then sprang quickly to her feet and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the coat.

"I will reconnoiter our position while you make your toilet," she said, and slipped out of sight among the trees.

Ten minutes later, Stewart found her seated on a little knoll at the edge of the wood, looking out across the country.

"There is a house over yonder," she said, nodding to where the corner of a gable showed among the trees. "But it may be dangerous to approach it."

"We can't starve," he pointed out. "And we seem to be lucky. Suppose I go on ahead?"

"No; we will go together," and she sprang to her feet.

The way led over a strip of rocky ground, used evidently as a pasture, but there were no cattle grazing on it; then along a narrow lane between low stone walls. Presently they reached the house, which seemed to be the home of a small farmer, for it stood at the back of a yard with stables and sheds grouped about it. The gate was open and there was no sign of life within. Stewart started to enter, but suddenly stopped and looked at his companion.

"There is something wrong here," he said, almost in a whisper. "I feel it."

"So do I," said the girl, and stared about at the deserted s.p.a.ce, shivering slightly. Then she looked upward into the clear sky. "It was as if a cloud had come between me and the sun," she added.

"Perhaps it is just that everything seems so deserted," said Stewart, and stepped through the gate.

"No doubt the people fled when they saw the Germans," she suggested; "or perhaps it was just a rumor that frightened them away."

Stewart looked about him. It was not only people that were missing from this farmyard, he told himself; there should have been pigs in the sty, chickens scratching in the straw, pigeons on the roof, a cat on the door-step.

"We must have food," he said, and went forward resolutely to the door, which stood ajar.

There was something vaguely sinister in the position of the door, half-open and half-closed, but after an instant's hesitation, he knocked loudly. A minute pa.s.sed, and another, and there was no response. Nerving himself as though for a mighty effort, he pushed the door open and looked into the room beyond.

It was evidently the living-room and dining-room combined, and it was in the wildest disorder. Chairs were overturned, a table was lying on its side with one leg broken, dishes lay smashed upon the floor.

Summoning all his resolution, Stewart stepped inside. What frightful thing had happened here? From the chairs and the dishes, it looked as if the family had been surprised at breakfast. But where was the family?

Who had surprised them? What had----

And then his heart leaped sickeningly as his eyes fell upon a huddled figure lying in one corner, close against the wall. It was the body of a woman, her clothing disordered, a long, gleaming bread-knife clutched tightly in one hand; and as Stewart bent above her, he saw that her head had been beaten in.