The Girl from Alsace Part 25

"Who is the old man?"

"The burgomaster, doubtless. He and the priest are always the most influential men in a village."

The conference was waxing warmer, the lieutenant was talking in a loud voice, and once he shook his fist menacingly; again there was a wail of protest from the crowd--women were wringing their hands----

"He is demanding more than the village can supply," remarked the girl.

"That is not surprising," she added, with a bitter smile. "They will always demand more than can be supplied. But come; we must be getting on."

Stewart would have liked to see the end of the drama, but he followed his companion over the wall at the side of the road, and then around the village and along the rough hillside. Suddenly from the houses below arose a hideous tumult--shouts, curses, the smashing of gla.s.s--and in a moment, a flood of people, wailing, screaming, shaking their fists in the air, burst from the town and swept along the road in the direction of Herve.

"They would better have given all that was demanded," said the girl, looking down at them. "Now they will be made to serve as an example to other villages--they will lose everything--even their houses--see!"

Following the direction of her pointing finger, Stewart saw a black cloud of smoke bulging up from one end of the village.

"But surely," he gasped, "they're not burning it! They wouldn't dare do that!"

"Why not?"

"Isn't looting prohibited by the rules of war?"

"Certainly--looting and the destruction of property of non-combatants."

"Well, then----"

But he stopped, staring helplessly. The cloud of smoke grew in volume, and below it could be seen red tongues of flame. There before him was the hideous reality--and he suddenly realized how futile it was to make laws for anything so essentially lawless as war, or to expect niceties of conduct from men thrown back into a state of barbarism.

"What do the rules of war matter to a nation which considers treaties mere sc.r.a.ps of paper?" asked the girl, in a hard voice. "Their very presence here in Belgium is a violation of the rules of war. Besides, it is the German theory that war should be ruthless--that the enemy must be intimidated, ravaged, despoiled in every possible way. They say that the more merciless it is, the briefer it will be. It is possible that they are not altogether wrong."

"True," muttered Stewart. "But it is a heartless theory."

"War is a heartless thing," commented his companion, turning away. "It is best not to think too much about it. Come--we must be going on."

They pushed forward again, keeping the road, with its rabble of frenzied fugitives, at their right. It was a wild and beautiful country, and under other circ.u.mstances, Stewart would have gazed in admiring wonder at its rugged cliffs, its deep precipitous valleys, its thickly-wooded hillsides; but now these appeared to him only as so many obstacles between him and safety.

At last the valley opened out, and below them they saw the cl.u.s.tered roofs of another village, which could only be Herve. Around it were broad pastures and fields of yellow grain, and suddenly the girl caught Stewart by the arm.

"Look!" she said, and pointed to the field lying nearest them.

A number of old men, women, and children were cutting the grain, tying it into sheaves, and piling the sheaves into stacks, under the supervision of four men. Those four men were clothed in greenish-gray and carried rifles in their hands! The invaders were stripping the grain from the fields in order to feed their army!

As he contemplated this scene, Stewart felt, mixed with his horror and detestation, a sort of unwilling admiration. Evidently, as his companion had said, when Germany made war, she made war. She was ruthlessly thorough. She allowed no sentiment, no feeling of pity, no weakening compa.s.sion, to interfere between her and her goal. She went to war with but one purpose: to win; and she was determined to win, no matter what the cost! Stewart shivered at the thought. Whether she won or lost, how awful that cost must be!

The fugitives went on again at last, working their way around the village, keeping always in the shelter of the woods along the hillsides, and after a weary journey, came out on the other side above the line of the railroad. A sentry, with fixed bayonet, stood guard over a solitary engine; except for him, the road seemed quite deserted. For half a mile they toiled along over the rough hillside above it without seeing anyone else.

"We can't keep this up," said Stewart, flinging himself upon the ground.

"We shall have to take to the road if we are to make any progress. Do you think we'd better risk it?"

"Let us watch it for a while," the girl suggested, so they sat and watched it and munched their sandwiches, and talked in broken s.n.a.t.c.hes.

Ten minutes pa.s.sed, but no one came in sight.

"It seems quite safe," she said at last, and together they made their way down to it.

"The next village is Fleron," said Stewart, consulting his rough map.

"It is apparently about four miles from here. Liege is about ten miles further. Can we make it to-night?"

"We must!" said the girl, fiercely. "Come!"

The road descended steadily along the valley of a pretty river, closed in on either side by densely-wooded hills. Here and there among the trees, they caught glimpses of white villas; below them, along the river, there was an occasional cl.u.s.ter of houses; but they saw few people. Either the inhabitants of this land had fled before the enemy, or were keeping carefully indoors out of his way.

Once the fugitives had an alarm, for a hand-car, manned by a squad of German soldiers, came spinning past; but fortunately Stewart heard it singing along the rails in time to pull his companion into a clump of underbrush. A little later, along the highway by the river, they saw a patrol of Uhlans riding, and then they came to Fleron and took to the hills to pa.s.s around it. Here, too, clouds of black smoke hung heavy above certain of the houses, which, for some reason, had been made the marks of German reprisals; and once, above the trees to their right, they saw a column of smoke drifting upward, marking the destruction of some isolated dwelling.

The sun was sinking toward the west by the time they again reached the railroad, and they were both desperately weary; but neither had any thought of rest. The shadows deepened rapidly among the hills, but the darkness was welcome, for it meant added safety. By the time they reached Bois de Breux, night had come in earnest, so they made only a short detour, and were soon back on the railroad again, with scarcely five miles to go. For an hour longer they plodded on through the darkness, s.n.a.t.c.hing a few minutes' rest once or twice; too weary to talk, or to look to right or left.

Then, as they turned a bend in the road, they drew back in alarm; for just ahead of them, close beside the track, a bright fire was burning, lighting up the black entrance of a tunnel, before which stood a sentry leaning on his rifle. Five or six other soldiers, wearing flat fatigue caps, were lolling about the fire, smoking and talking in low tones.

Stewart surveyed them curiously. They were big, good-humored-looking fellows, fathers of families doubtless--honest men with kindly hearts.

It seemed absurd to suppose that such men as these would loot villages and burn houses and outrage women; it seemed absurd that anyone should fear them or hide from them. Stewart, with a feeling that all this threat of war was a chimera, had an impulse to go forward boldly and join them beside the fire. He was sure they would welcome him, make a place for him----

"_Wer da?_" called, sharply, a voice behind him, and he spun around to find himself facing a leveled rifle, behind which he could see dimly the face of a man wearing a spiked helmet--a patrol, no doubt, who had seen them as they stood carelessly outlined against the fire, and who had crept upon them unheard.

"We are friends," Stewart answered, hastily.

The soldier motioned them forward to the fire. The men there had caught up their rifles at the sound of the challenge, and stood peering anxiously out into the darkness. But when the two captives came within the circle of light cast by the fire, they stacked their guns and sat down again. Evidently they saw nothing threatening in the appearance of either Stewart or his companion.

Their captor added his gun to the stack and motioned them to sit down.

Then he doffed his heavy helmet with evident relief and hung it on his rifle, got out a soft cap like the others', and finally sat down opposite his prisoners and looked at them closely.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded in German.

"We are trying to get through to Brussels," answered Stewart, in the best German he could muster. "I have not much German. Do you speak English?"

"No. Are you English?" And the blue eyes glinted with an unfriendly light which Stewart was at a loss to understand.

"We are Americans," and Stewart saw with relief that the man's face softened perceptibly. On the chance that, if the soldier could not speak English, neither could he read it, he impressively produced his pa.s.sport. "Here is our safe-conduct from our Secretary of State," he said. "You will see that it is sealed with the seal of the United States. My brother and I were pa.s.sed at Herbesthal, but could find no conveyance and started to walk. We lost our way, but stumbled upon the railroad some miles back and decided to follow it until we came to a village. How far away is the nearest village?"

"I do not know," said the man, curtly; but he took the pa.s.sport and stared at it curiously. Then he pa.s.sed it around the circle, and it finally came back to its owner, who placed it in his pocket.

"You find it correct?" Stewart inquired.

"I know nothing about it. You must wait until our officer arrives."

Stewart felt a sickening sensation at his heart, but he managed to smile.

"He will not be long, I hope," he said. "We are very tired and hungry."

"He will not be long," answered the other, shortly, and got out a long pipe, but Stewart stopped him with a gesture.

"Try one of these," he said, quickly, and brought out his handful of cigars and pa.s.sed them around.