the forest of sword 11
John and his new friend, Fleury, were among those who yet sat up and
listened to the sounds of battle still in progress, although it was far
in the night. It was an average night of late summer or early autumn,
cool, fairly bright, and with but little wind. But the dull, moaning
sound made by the distant cannonade came from both sides of them, and
the earth yet quivered, though but faintly. Now and then, the
searchlights gleamed against the background of darkness, but John felt
that the combat must soon stop, at least until the next day. The German
army in which he was a prisoner had ceased already, but other German
armies along the vast line fought on, failing day, by the light which
man himself had devised.
Fleury was intelligent and educated. Although it was bitter to him to be
a prisoner at such a time, he had some comprehension of what had
occurred, and he knew that John had been in a position to see far more
than he. He asked the young American many questions about his flight in
the air, and about Philip Lannes, of whom he had heard.
"It was wonderful," he said, "to look down on a battle a hundred miles
long."
"We didn't see all of it," said John, "but we saw it in many places, and
we don't know that it was a hundred miles long, but it must have been
that or near it."
"And the greatest day for France in her history! What mighty
calculations must have been made and what tremendous marchings and
combats must have been carried out to achieve such a result."
"One of the decisive battles of history, like Platæa, or the Metaurus or
Gettysburg. There go the Uhlans with Captain von Boehlen at their head.
Now I wonder what they mean to do!"
A thousand men, splendidly mounted and armed, rode through the forest.
The moonlight fell on von Boehlen's face and showed it set and grim.
John felt that he was bound to recognize in him a stern and resolute
man, carrying out his own conceptions of duty. Nor had von Boehlen been
discourteous to him, although he might have felt cause for much
resentment. The Prussian glanced at him as he passed, but said nothing.
Soon he and his horsemen passed out of sight in the dusk.
John, wondering how late it might be, suddenly remembered that he had a
watch and found it was eleven o'clock.
"An hour of midnight," he said to Fleury.
Most all the French stretched upon the ground were now in deep slumber,
wounded and unwounded alike. The sounds of cannon fire were sinking
away, but they did not die wholly. The faint thunder of the distant
guns never ceased to come. But the campfire, where he knew the German
generals slept or planned, went out, and darkness trailed its length
over all this land which by night had become a wilderness.
John was able to trace dimly the sleeping figures of Germans in the
dusk, sunk down upon the ground and buried in the sleep or stupor of
exhaustion. As they lay near him so they lay in the same way in hundreds
of thousands along the vast line. Men and horses, strained to their last
nerve and muscle, were too tired to move. It seemed as if more than a
million men lay dead in the fields and woods of Northeastern France.
John, who had been wide awake, suddenly dropped on the ground where the
others were stretched. He collapsed all in a moment, as if every drop of
blood had been drained suddenly from his body. Keyed high throughout the
day, his whole system now gave way before the accumulated impact of
events so tremendous. The silence save for the distant moaning that
succeeded the roar of a million men or more in battle was like a
powerful drug, and he slept like one dead, never moving hand or foot.
He was roused shortly before morning by some one who shook him gently
but persistently, and at last he sat up, looking around in the dim light
for the person who had dragged him back from peace to a battle-mad
world. He saw an unkempt, bearded man in a French uniform, one sleeve
stained with blood, and he recognized Weber, the Alsatian.
"Why, Weber!" he exclaimed, "they've got you, too! This is bad! They
may consider you, an Alsatian, a traitor, and execute you at once!"
Weber smiled in rather melancholy fashion, and said in a low tone:
"It's bad enough to be captured, but I won't be shot Nobody here knows
that I'm an Alsatian, and consequently they will think I'm a Frenchman.
If you call me anything, call me Fernand, which is my first name, but
which they will take for the last."
"All right, Fernand. I'll practice on it now, so I'll make no slip. How
did you happen to be taken?"
"I was in a motor car, a part of a train of about a hundred cars. There
were seven in it besides myself. We were ordered to cross a field and
join a line of advancing infantry. When we were in the middle of the
field a masked German battery of rapid-firers opened on us at short
range. It was an awful experience, like a stroke of lightning, and I
don't think that more than a dozen of us escaped with our lives. I was
wounded in the arm and taken before I could get out of the field. I was
brought here with some other prisoners and I have been sleeping on the
ground just beyond that hillock. I awoke early, and, walking the little
distance our guards allow, I happened to recognize your figure lying
here. I was sorry and yet glad to see you, sorry that you were a
prisoner, and glad to find at least one whom I knew, a friend."
John gave Weber's hand a strong grasp.
"I can say the same about you," he said warmly. "We're both prisoners,
but yesterday was a magnificent day for France and democracy."
"It was, and now it's to be seen what today will be."
"I hope and believe it will be no less magnificent."
"I learned that you were taken just after you alighted from an
aeroplane, and that a man with you escaped in the plane. At least, I
presume it was you, as I heard the Germans talking of such a person and
I knew of your great friendship for Philip Lannes. Lannes, of course was
the one who escaped."
"A good surmise, Fernand. It was no less a man than he."
Weber's eyes sparkled.
"I was sure of it," he said. "A wonderful fellow, that Lannes, perhaps
the most skillful and important bearer of dispatches that France has.
But he will not forget you, Mr. Scott. He knows, of course, where you
were taken, and doubtless from points high in the air he has traced the
course of this German army. He will find time to come for you. He will
surely do so. He has a feeling for you like that of a brother, and his
skill in the air gives him a wonderful advantage. In all the history of
the world there have never before been any scouts like the aeroplanes."
"That's true, and that, I think, is their chief use."
Impulse made John look up. The skies were fast beginning to brighten
with the first light in the east, and large objects would be visible
there. But he saw nothing against the blue save two or three captive
balloons which floated not far above the trees inside the German lines.
He longed for a sight of the _Arrow_. He believed that he would know its
shape even high in the heavens, but they were speckless.
The Alsatian, whose eyes followed his, shook his head.
"He is not there, Mr. Scott," he said, "and you will not see him today,
but I have a conviction that he will come, by night doubtless."
John lowered his eyes and his feeling of disappointment passed. It had
been foolish of him to hope so soon, but it was only a momentary
impulse, Lannes could not seek him now, and even if he were to come
there would be no chance of rescue until circumstances changed.
"Doubtless you and he were embarked on a long errand when you were
taken," said Weber.
"We were carrying a message to the commander of one of the French
armies, but I don't know the name of the commander, I don't know which
army it is, and I don't know where it is."
Weber laughed.
"But Lannes knew all of those things," he said. "Oh, he's a close one!
He wouldn't trust such secrets not even to his brother-in-arms."
"Nor should he do so. I'd rather he'd never tell them to me unless he
thought it necessary."
"I agree with you exactly, Mr. Scott. Hark! Did you hear it? The battle
swells afresh, and it's not yet full day!"
The roaring had not ceased, but out of the west rose a sound, louder
yet, deep, rolling and heavy with menace. It was the discharge of a
great gun and it came from a point several miles away.
"We don't know who fired that," said Weber, "It may be French, English
or German, but it's my opinion that we'll hear its like in our forest
all day long, just as we did yesterday. However, it shall not keep me
from bathing my face in this brook."
"Nor me either," said John.
The cold water refreshed and invigorated him, and as he stooped over the
brook, he heard other cannon. They seemed to him fairly to spring into
action, and, in a few moments, the whole earth was roaring again with
the huge volume of their fire.
Other prisoners, wounded and unwounded, awakened by the cannon, strolled
down to the brook and dipped into its waters.
"I'd better slip back to my place beyond the hillock," said Weber.
"We're in two lots, we prisoners, and I belong in the other lot. I don't
think our guards have noticed our presence here, and it will be safer
for me to return. But it's likely that we'll all be gathered into one
body soon, and I'll help you watch for Lannes."
"I'll be glad of your help," said John sincerely. "We must escape. In
all the confusion of so huge a battle there ought to be a chance."
Weber slipped away in the crowd now hurrying down to the stream, and in
a few moments John was joined by Fleury, whose attention was centered on
the sounds of the distant battle. He deemed it best to say nothing to
him of Weber, who did not wish to be known as an Alsatian. Fleury's
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