The Girl from Alsace Part 34

"Good-by, then, for a moment, little comrade!"

"Good-by."

With one look deep into her eyes, he s.n.a.t.c.hed up the bundle containing his clothing, and crouching as low in the water as he could, set off cautiously toward the sh.o.r.e. There was a narrow strip of gravel just ahead, and behind that a belt of darkness which, he told himself, was a wood. He could see no sign of any sentry.

As he turned at the water's edge, he noticed a growing band of light over the hills to the east, and knew that the moon was rising. There was no time to lose! He whistled softly and began hastily to dress.

Low as the whistle was, it reached the boat--or perhaps it was mere chance that brought the searchlight sweeping round just as the girl rose in the water and started toward the sh.o.r.e. The light swept past her, swept back again, and stopped full upon the flying figure, as slim and graceful as Diana's.

There was a hoa.r.s.e shout from the boat, and the splash of straining oars; and then Stewart was dashing forward into the water, was by her side, had caught her hand and was dragging her toward the bank.

"Go on! Go on!" he cried, and paused to pick up his shoes, for the sharp gravel warned him, that, with unprotected feet, flight would be impossible. His coat lay beside them and he grabbed that too. Then he was up again and after her, across the cruel stones of the sh.o.r.e, toward the darkness of the wood and safety--one yard--two yards----

And always the searchlight beat upon them mercilessly.

There came a roar of rifles from the river, a flash of flame, the whistle of bullets about his ears.

And then they were in the wood and he had her by the hand.

"Not hurt?" he gasped.

"No, no!"

"Thank heaven! We are safe for a moment. Get on some clothes--especially your shoes. We can't run barefooted!"

He was fumbling with his own shoes as he spoke--managed to thrust his bruised feet into them--stuffed his socks into the pocket of his coat and slipped into it.

"Ready?" he asked.

"In a moment!"

And then he felt her hand in his.

"Which way?"

He glanced back through the trees. The boat was at the bank; its occupants were leaping out, rifles in hand; the searchlight swept up and down.

"This way, I think!" and he guided her diagonally to the right. "Go carefully! The less noise we make the better. But as long as those fellows keep on shooting, they can't hear us."

Away they went, stumbling, scrambling, bending low to escape the overhanging branches, saving each other from some ugly falls--up a long incline covered by an open wood, across a little glade, over a wall, through another strip of woodland, into a road, over another wall--and then Stewart gave a gasp of relief, for they were in a field of grain.

"We shall be safe here," he said, as they plunged into it. "I will watch, while you finish dressing," and he faced back toward the way they had come.

The full moon was sailing high above the eastern hills, and he could see distinctly the wall they had just crossed, with the white road behind it, and beyond that the dense shadow of the wood. It was on the strip of road he kept his eyes, but no living creature crossed it and at last he felt a touch upon his arm.

"My turn now!" the girl whispered.

Stewart sat down upon the ground, wiped the mud from his feet, shook the gravel from his shoes, drew on his socks and laced his shoes properly.

As he started to get up, he felt a sudden sharp twinge in his shoulder.

"What is it?" asked the girl, quickly, for an exclamation of pain had burst from him before he could choke it back.

"Nothing at all!" he said, and rose, gingerly. "I touched a raw place, where a briar scratched me. I seem to be composed largely of raw places--especially as to my feet. How are yours?"

"One of them hurts a little--not enough to mention."

"You're sure you can walk?"

"Certainly--or run, if need be."

"Then we had better push on a little farther. The Germans are still too close for comfort. Keep your back to the moon--I'll act as rear-guard."

For a moment she looked up questioningly into his face.

"You are sure you are not hurt?" she asked.

"Perfectly sure."

"I was afraid you had been shot--I saw how you placed yourself between me and the river!"

"The merest accident," he a.s.sured her. "Besides, those fellows couldn't shoot!"

She gazed up at him yet a moment, her lips quivering; then she turned and started westward through the field.

Falling in behind, Stewart explored his wounded shoulder cautiously with his fingers. He could feel that his shirt was wet with blood, but the stabbing pain had been succeeded by a sharp stinging which convinced him that it was only a flesh-wound. Folding his shirt back, he found it at last, high in the shoulder above the collar-bone.

"That was lucky!" he told himself, as he pressed his handkerchief over it, reb.u.t.toned his shirt, and pushed on after his comrade. "Half an inch lower and the bone would have been smashed!"

Away to the south, they could hear the thunder of the Liege forts, and Stewart, aching from his own slight injury, thought with a shudder of the poor fellows who had to face that deadly fire. No doubt it was to this fresh attack the troops had been marched which they had seen crossing the river. It was improbable that the invaders would risk pushing westward until the forts were reduced; and so, when the fugitives came presently to a road which ran northwestwardly, they ventured to follow it.

"We would better hide somewhere and rest till daylight," Stewart suggested, at last. "We have had a hard day."

He himself was nearly spent with fatigue and hunger, and his shoulder was stiff and sore.

"Very well," the girl agreed. "I too am very tired. Where shall we go?"

Stewart stopped and looked about him.

On one side of the road was a level pasture affording no shelter; on the other side, a rolling field mounted to a strip of woodland.

"At the edge of those trees would be the best place," he decided, and the girl agreed with a nod.

Laboriously they clambered over the wall beside the road and set off toward this refuge. The field was very rough and seemed interminable, and more than once Stewart thought that he must drop where he stood; but they reached the wood at last and threw themselves down beneath the first clump of undergrowth.

Stewart was asleep almost before he touched the ground; but the girl lay for a long time with eyes open, staring up into the night. Then, very softly, she crawled to Stewart's side, raised herself on one elbow and looked down into his face.

It was not at all the face of the man she had met at the Kolner Hof two days before. It was thinner and paler; there were dark circles of exhaustion under the eyes; a stubbly beard covered the haggard cheeks, across one of which was an ugly scratch. Yet the girl seemed to find it beautiful. Her eyes filled with tears as she gazed at it; she brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over the forehead, and bent as though to press a kiss there--but stopped, with a quick shake of the head, and drew away.

"Not yet!" she whispered. "Not yet!" and crawling a little way apart, she lay down again among the bushes.