The Girl from Alsace Part 33

He swung himself round to the front of the box and tried to pierce the gloom ahead. The center of the stream would be clear, he told himself, and they must be nearly in the center. Then he heard the confused tread of many feet, the current seemed to quicken, and he glanced up to see that they were almost beneath the bridge. Yes, the stream ahead was clear; but what were those lights down along the water?

And then he saw that a boat was moored there, and that a squad of men were strengthening the supports with which the engineers had hastily repaired the shattered abutment.

With frenzied energy, he pulled the box around so that his companion's head was hidden behind it; then, with only his nose out, he floated silently on. They would not see him, he told himself; they were too busily at work. Even if they did, they could make nothing of this rough shape drifting down the river.

Nevertheless, as they swept within the circle of light cast by the flaring torches, Stewart, taking a deep breath, let himself sink below the surface; and not until the blood was singing in his ears did he come up again.

They had pa.s.sed! They were safe! He drew a deep breath. Then he peered around the box.

"Are you there? Are you all right?"

"Yes," came the soft answer. "Never tell me again that you are not a fighter!"

"Compliments are barred until we are safe in Belgium!" he reminded her gayly. "But it's clear sailing now!"

He struck out again, pushing diagonally forward toward the bank which he could not see, but which could not be far away. This was not going to prove such a desperate adventure, after all. The worst was over, for, once on land, far below the German troops, they had only to push forward to find themselves among friends.

Then his heart stood still as a shrill scream rent the night--a woman's scream of deadly horror--and he jerked his head around to find that his comrade was no longer there.

CHAPTER XIV

THE LAST DASH

Never will Stewart forget the stark horror of that instant; never afterward did he think of it without a shudder. It was one of those instants--fortunately few--which stamp themselves indelibly upon the brain, which penetrate the spirit, which leave a mark not to be effaced.

It was the flash of her white arm, as she sank for the second time, that saved her. Instinctively Stewart clutched at it, seized it, regained the box at a vigorous stroke, threw one arm across a handle, and raised her head above the water.

Her face was white as death, her eyes were closed, she hung a dead weight upon his arm--and yet, Stewart told himself, she could not have drowned in so short a time. She had been under water only a few seconds.

Perhaps she had been wounded--but he had heard no shot. His teeth chattered as he looked at her, she lay so still, so deathlike.

And then he remembered that shrill scream of utter horror. Why had she screamed? What was it had wrung from her that terrible cry? Had some awful thing touched her, seized her, tried to drag her down?

Shivering with fear, Stewart looked out across the water. Was there something lurking in those depths--some horror--some unthinkable monster----

He shook himself impatiently; he must not give way to his nerves.

Holding her face back, he splashed some water into it, gently at first, then more violently. She was not dead--she had only fainted. A touch on her temple a.s.sured him that her heart was beating.

He must have been unconsciously paddling against the current, for something touched him gently on the shoulder--a piece of driftwood, perhaps; and then he was suddenly conscious that it was not driftwood--that it was soft, hairy----

He spun around, to find himself staring down into a pair of unseeing eyes, set in a face so puffed and leprous as to be scarcely human.

How he repressed the yell of terror that rose in his throat he never knew; but he _did_ repress it somehow, and creeping with horror, pushed the box quickly to one side. But the bloated body, caught in the swirl of his wake, turned and followed, with an appearance of malignant purpose which sent a chill up Stewart's spine. Kicking frenziedly, he held the box back against the current, and for an instant fancied that his hideous pursuer was holding back also. But, after what seemed like a moment's hesitation, it drifted on down the stream and vanished in the darkness.

For a moment longer, Stewart stared after it, half-expecting it to reappear and bear down upon him. Then, with an anguished breath of relief, he stopped swimming and looked down at the face upon his arm. So that was the horror which had beset her. She had felt it nuzzling against her, had turned as he had done! No wonder she had screamed!

He felt her bosom rise and fall with a quick gasp; then her eyes opened and gazed up at him. For an instant they gazed vacantly and wildly, then a flood of crimson swept from chin to brow, and she struggled to free herself from his encircling arm.

"Easy now!" Stewart protested. "Are you sure you're all right? Are you sure you're strong enough to hold on?"

"Yes, yes!" she panted. "Let me go!"

He guided her fingers to the handles, a.s.sured himself that she grasped them firmly, then released her and swam to his old position on the other side of the box. For a moment they floated on in silence.

"How foolish of me!" she said, at last, in a choking voice. "I suppose you saved my life!"

"Oh, I just grabbed you by the arm and held on to you till you came to."

"Did I scream?"

"I should rather think so! Scared me nearly to death!"

"I could not help it! I was frightened. It was--it was----"

"I know," said Stewart, quickly. "I saw it. Don't think about it--it has gone on downstream."

"It--it seemed to be following me!" she gasped.

"Yes--I had the same feeling; but it's away ahead of us now. Now, if you're all right, we'll work in toward the bank--it can't be far off.

Hullo! What's that?"

A shadowy shape emerged from the darkness along the eastern sh.o.r.e, and they caught the rattle of oars in row-locks.

"They heard you scream," whispered Stewart. "They've sent out a patrol to investigate," and with all his strength he pushed on toward the farther bank.

Suddenly a shaft of light shot from the bow of the boat out across the water, sweeping up and down, dwelling upon this piece of driftwood and upon that. With a gasp of apprehension, Stewart swung the box around so that it screened them from the searchlight, and kept on swimming with all his strength.

"If they spot those bundles," he panted, "they'll be down upon us like a load of brick! Ah!"

The light was upon them. Above their heads the bundles of clothing stood out as if silhouetted against the midday sky. Stewart cursed his folly in placing them there; surely wet clothes were preferable to capture! He should not have taken the risk--he should have put the clothing inside the box and let it take its chance. But it was too late now. In another moment----

The light swept on.

From sheer reaction, Stewart's body dropped limply for an instant through the water, and then rebounded as from an electric shock.

"I can touch bottom!" he said, hoa.r.s.ely. "We'll get there yet. Hold fast!"

Setting his teeth, digging his toes into the mud, he dragged the box toward the sh.o.r.e with all his strength. In a moment, the water was only to his shoulders--to his chest--he could see that his comrade was wading, too.

He stopped, peering anxiously ahead. There was no light anywhere along the sh.o.r.e, and no sound broke the stillness.

"It seems all right," he whispered. "I will go ahead and make sure. If it is safe, you will hear me whistle. Keep behind the box, for fear that searchlight will sweep this way again, and when I whistle, come straight out. You understand?"

"Yes."