Tom Slade with the Boys Over There Part 11

They pa.s.sed on now over land comparatively level, the soft, fragrant needles yielding under their feet, the tall cone-like trees diffusing their resiny, pungent odor. It seemed as if the war must be millions of miles away. The silence was deathlike and the occasional crunching of a cone under their feet startled them as they groped their way in the heavy darkness.

"That looks like an oak ahead," said Archer. "You can see the branches sticking out----"

"Sh-h-h," said Tom, grasping his arm suddenly and speaking in a tense whisper. "Look--right under it--don't move----"

Archer looked intently and under the low spreading branches he saw a human form with something shiny upon its head. As the two boys paused, awestruck and shaking, it moved ever so slightly.

The fugitives stood rooted to the ground, breathing in quick, short gasps, their hearts pounding in their b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"He didn't see us," whispered Tom, in the faintest whisper. "Wait till there's a breeze and get behind a tree."

When presently the breeze rustled in the tress the two moved cautiously behind two trees.

And the silent figure moved also....

[Ill.u.s.tration: "SH-H-H." SAID TOM IN A TENSE WHISPER. "LOOK--DON'T MOVE." Page 78]

CHAPTER XII

THE DANCE WITH DEATH

The boys were thoroughly frightened, but they stood absolutely motionless and silent and Tom, at least, retained his presence of mind.

They were not close enough together to communicate with each other, nor could they more than distinguish each other's forms pressed against the dark tree trunks.

But the figure, being comparatively in the open, was discernible and Tom, by concentrating his eyes upon it, satisfied himself beyond a doubt that it was a human form--that of a German soldier, he felt sure.

Thanks to his stealth and dexterity, they were apparently undiscovered.

He tried to distinguish the bright spot on the cap or helmet, but it was not visible now, and he thought the man must have turned about.

In his alarm it seemed to him that his breathing must be audible miles away. His heart seemed in his throat and likely to choke him with every fresh breath. But he did not stir. Then another little breeze stirred the trees, sounding clear and solemn in the stillness and Tom moved ever so slightly in unison with it, hoping by changing his angle of vision to catch a better glimpse. He could see the bright spot now, the grim figure standing directly facing him in ghostly silence.

No one moved. And there was no sound save the half audible rustle of some tiny creature of the night as it hurried over the cushiony ground.

What did it mean? Who was it, standing there? Some grim Prussian sentinel? Had they, in this remote wilderness, stumbled upon some obscure pa.s.s which the all-seeing eye of German militarism had not forgotten? Was there, after all, any hope of escape from these demons of efficiency?

Archer, his chest literally aching from his throbbing breaths, crowded close behind his tree trunk in terror, startled by every fresh stir of the fragrant breeze. It seemed to him, as he looked, that the figure danced a trifle, but doubtless that was only his tense nerves and blinking eyes playing havoc with his imagination.

There was another rustling in the trees, caused by the freshening night breeze which Tom thought smelt of rain. And again the silent figure veered around with a kind of mechanical precision, the very perfection of clock-work German discipline, as if to give each point of the compa.s.s its allotted moment of attention.

Tom strained his eyes, trying to discover whether that lonely sentinel were standing in a path or where two paths crossed or where some favored view might be had of something far off in the country below. But he could make out nothing.

Suddenly he noticed something large and black among the trees. Its outline was barely discernible against the less solid blackness of the night, and it was obscured by the dark tree branches. But as he looked he thought he could see that it terminated in a little dome, like the police telephone booths on the street corners away home in Bridgeboro. A tiny guardhouse, possibly, or shelter for the solitary sentinel.

Perhaps, he thought, this was, after all, a strategic spot which they had unconsciously stumbled into; a secret path to the frontier, maybe.

He remembered now the talk he had heard in the prison camp, of Germany's building roads through obscure places in the direction of the Swiss border for the violation of Swiss neutrality if that should be thought necessary. These roads were shrouded in mystery, but he had heard about them and the thought occurred to him that perhaps these poor Alsatian people--women and children--were being taken to work on these avenues of betrayal and dishonor.

But try as he would, he could discern no suggestion of path, nor any other sign of landmark which might explain the presence of this remote station in the desolate uplands of Alsace. He believed that if they had taken five steps more they would have been discovered and challenged.

How to withdraw out of the very jaws of this peril was now the question.

He feared that Archer might make an incautious move and end all hope of escape.

Tom watched the solitary figure through the heavy darkness. And he marvelled, as he had marvelled before, at the machine-like perfection of these minions of the Iron Hand. Even in the face of their awful danger and amid the solemnity of the black night, the odd thought came to him that this stiff form turning about like a faithful and tireless weatherc.o.c.k to peer into the darkness roundabout, might be indeed a huge carved toy fresh from the quaint handworkers of the Black Forest.

As he gazed he was sure that this lonely watcher danced a step or two.

No laughter or sign of merriment accompanied the grim jig, but he was sure that the solitary German tripped, ever so lightly, with a kind of stiff grace. Then the freshening breeze blew Tom's rebellious hair down over his eyes, and as he brushed it aside he saw the German indeed dancing--there was no doubt of it.

Suddenly a cold shudder ran through him and he stepped out from his concealment as he realized that this uncanny figure was not standing but _hanging_ just clear of the ground.

CHAPTER XIII

THE PRIZE SAUSAGE

"Come on out, Archy," said Tom with a recklessness which struck terror to poor Archer's very soul. "He won't hurt you--he's dead."

"D-e-a-d!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Archer.

"Sure--he's hanging there."

"And all the time I wanted to sneeze," said Archer, laughing in his reaction from fear. "Ebe-nee-zerr, but I had a good scarre!"

Going over to the tree, they saw the ghastly truth. A man wearing a garment something like a Russian blouse, but of the field-gray military shade of the Germans (as well as the boys could make out by the aid of a lighted match) was hanging by his garment which had caught in a low spreading branch of the tree. His feet were just clear of the ground and as the breeze blew he swayed this way and that, the gathering strain upon his garment behind the neck throwing his limp head forward and giving his shoulders a hunched appearance, quite in the manner of the clog dancer. The German emblem was blazoned upon his blouse and superimposed in shining metal upon the front of his fatigue cap. Even as they paused before him he seemed to bow perfunctorily as if bidding them a ghastly welcome.

Tom's scout instinct impelled him instantly to fall upon the ground in search of enlightening footprints, but there were none and this puzzled him greatly. He felt sure that the man had not been strangled, but had been killed by impact with some heavier branch higher up in the tree; but he must have made footprints before he climbed the tree, and----

Suddenly he jumped to his feet, remembering what he had thought to be a guardhouse. It lay a hundred or more feet beyond the dangling body and as they neared it it lost its sentinel-station aspect altogether.

"Well--what--do you--know about that?" said Archer.

"It's an observation balloon, I'll bet," said Tom. "A Boche sausage!

Look for another man before you do anything else--there's always two. If he's around anywhere we might get into trouble yet."

It was a wise thought and characteristic of Tom, but the other man was quite beyond human aid. He lay, mangled out of all semblance to a human being, amid the tangled wreckage of the car.

The fat cigar-shaped envelope of the balloon stood almost upright, and though it looked not the least like a police telephone station now, it was easy to see how, from a distance in the dim light, it might have suggested a little round domed building.

"How do you s'pose it happened?" Archer asked.

"I don't know," said Tom. "It's an observation balloon, that's sure.

Maybe it was on its way back from the lines to somewhere or other. Hurry up, let's see what there is; it'll be daylight in two or three hours and we don't want to be hanging around here. They might send a rescue party or something like that, if they know about it."

"Morre likely they don't," said Archer.