The Scarecrow and Other Stories Part 7

The frown stayed over his eyes.

"We were bound to come together again, old Otto. You and I were pretty good pals back there at your university. What a time we two had together! And old Mutter Schwegel! How old Mutter Schwegel fussed over us! How she took care of us! It all seems like yesterday--!"

Kurz got out of his chair.

"Old Mutter Schwegel--;" he muttered.

"Dear old Mutter Schwegel!"

Kurz's eyes stole away from his face.

"Later--I shall tell you of Mutter Schwegel too."

"And the talks we used to have--! The nightlong talks. We settled the affairs of the world nicely in those days. Didn't we, old Otto?"

"The--affairs--of--the--world--"

"And old Mutter Schwegel coming in to put out the light. And then standing there to hear what we had to say of life and of death."

"Of--life--and--of--death."

"And not being able to tear herself away to go to bed. She thought we were wise, Otto. She used to drink in every word we said. And then she'd scold us for staying up all night. Old Mutter Schwegel. I've thought of her often--"

Kurz made a movement toward him.

"And of me, Charlie?--You had thought of me?"

"I say, rather--! Many a time--when they called me back from the university--even after I went out to France--I thought of you."

His mind was muddled a bit. He put it down to the excitement of his coming home. That uncertain feeling came over him again quite strongly.

But he had thought of Otto. He remembered he had thought of Otto a lot.

"And what was it you thought of me, Charlie?"

It came back to him that there had been one time when he had thought of Otto particularly. That one time when something tremendous had happened to him. He could not quite think what. He knew he had been glad when he thought of Otto because he had been spared inflicting the thing on him.

He could not get it clear.

He avoided looking at Kurz.

"Why--; why, I wondered what you were doing. All that sort of thing. You know what I mean."

"Yes. I know. I did go into the army, Charlie. It was that sort of thing you meant, Charlie?"

He felt himself start.

"I was afraid you would do that;" he said involuntarily.

"Yes. I, too, was afraid."

Kurz's voice was low.

"You? Afraid?"

"Ach, Charlie!--You know it. The fear it was not for myself!"

He walked over to the window. He stood there looking down at the huge boxwood hedges looming in thick gray bulks up from the smudging reach of the heavily matted shadows.

He turned.

"You funked meeting me--in--war?"

"Ach!--G.o.d forbid!--That--I--should--meet--you--in--war--!"

"I too;" he said it quickly. "I too was afraid that I should come upon you. It haunted me--; that fear I might harm you. It stayed with me--; day and night. I shouldn't want to hurt you, Otto. I--I prayed." It came back to him how often he had prayed it. "I always prayed that it might never be you!"

"Yes--; I know."

He went and stood close beside Kurz. He found himself staring at Kurz intently.

"But you're here;--in England. I say, did they make you a prisoner?

Could my people get parole for you?"

"No. I do not think they do that here in your country. I do--not--need--parole, Charlie."

"I thought perhaps--"

"No--!"

"But how did you get here, then?"

"Charlie--; Charlie!--ach!--will--you--not--then--wait?"

"Come, come, old Otto. You've got something to tell me. If you don't want to say how you got here, why, all right. Only, you'd best get it off your mind. Whatever it is you'd better come out and say what you came to say."

Kurz slid back into the chair again.

The room was still. Heavy with silence.

"Yes. I'll tell you--if I can. Charlie, it is hard to say."

He tried to help Kurz.

"It's about this war of ours; that's it, isn't it?"

"About the war? Yes--!"

"Then tell me."