The Guns of Europe

Yet the fever of Carstairs slowly burned itself out. They had long since been safe from any pursuit by the Germans in the main road, and now the young Englishman realized it. He took one hand from the wheel, and dashed back a lock of hair that had fallen over his brow. Then he slowed down quickly, and when they were going not more than seven or eight miles an hour he said like one coming out of an ecstasy.

"Don't the Germans build splendid cars?"

"And fine machine guns, too?" said John, in a high-pitched unnatural voice.

"Now here is where I take command," said Wharton firmly. "You two have been madmen, as mad as anybody can be, although it's true that your madness has saved us. But you've done your great deeds, sanity is returning, and you're in a state of exhaustion. Carstairs, give me the wheel at once. I'm not much of a driver, but I can take the car along safely at a rate of five miles an hour, which is all we need now."

Carstairs, the fires within him burned out wholly now, resigned the wheel to his comrade, and sank limply into a seat beside John.

"Now you two rest," said Wharton, sternly, "and if I hear a word out of either of you in the next hour I'll turn the machine gun on you."

They obeyed. Each was a picture of physical collapse. Wharton did not know much about automobiles. In the driver's seat he felt as if he were steering a liner, but in such case as his one readily takes risks, and he sent the machine along slowly and with fair success.

It was beginning to lighten somewhat, and he looked for a village. They must have food, a fresh supply of gasoline, and news of their own army. They bore letters which they meant to deliver or die.

The same beautiful country, though less hilly, stretched before them. Many clear little streams flowed through the valleys, and here and there were groves free from undergrowth. Wharton believed that they were far toward the west, and near the British troops – if any had yet been landed in France.

"Are you two still in a convalescent stage?" he asked, glancing back.

"Getting along nicely, doctor, thank you, sir," said John. "I began to pick up just as soon as we left those German armies out of sight."

Then he turned to the comrade, sitting beside him.

"Carstairs, old man," he said, "I don't know what you are, at home, but here you're the greatest chauffeur that ever lived! I believe you could drive a car sixty miles an hour all day long on a single wheel!"

"Thanks, old man," said Carstairs, grasping his hand, "I didn't have time to look back, but I knew from the sounds that you were working a machine gun, as one was never worked before; fast enough by Jove to drive off a whole hostile army."

"You two have organized the greatest log rolling society in existence," said Wharton, "but you've been brave and good boys. Now let's take a look at this glorious car of ours which we had specially built for us in Germany."

The light in the east was increasing, and for the first time they made an examination of their capture. Despite the armor and presence of the machine gun it was upholstered in unusual style, with cushions and padded sides in dark green leather. There were many little lockers and fittings not to be found often in a car intended for war. On a tiny silver plate under the driver's seat a coat of arms was engraved. John, who was the first to catch sight of it, exclaimed:

"This car belongs to some duke or prince. Carstairs, you're a subject and not a citizen, and you ought to be up on all kinds of nobility worship. What coat of arms is this?"

"I don't know," replied Carstairs, "and I'm as free a man as you are, I'd have you to know."

"Breaking the treaty already," chuckled Wharton. "It doesn't matter whether we know the coat of arms or not. It's likely that the man standing in the road, the one whom John hit over the head with the gun was the duke or prince. Oh, if the Germans ever get you, Scott, they'll break you on the wheel for such an extreme case of Majestätsbeleidigung!"

"And if you pronounce that word again you'll break your jaw," said John. "Let's open all these lockers. We may find spoils of war."

It seemed a good suggestion, and taking the monkey wrench they broke open every locker. They found a pair of splendid field glasses, shaving materials, other articles of the toilet, and a tiny roll of fine tissue paper.

"I've an idea that we have something of value here," said John, as he held up the little roll. "It's in German, which I don't understand. Take it, Wharton."

There were six small sheets, and as Wharton translated them aloud and slowly they realized that in very truth they had made a precious capture. They contained neither address nor signature, but they notified the commander of the extreme German right wing that a British force would shortly appear near the Belgian border, on the extreme allied left, that it would be a small army, and that it could be crushed by a rapid, enveloping movement.

"The prince or duke whom you hit over the head, John," said Wharton, "was carrying this. He did not put it in his pocket, because he never dreamed of such a thing as the one that happened to him. But one thing is sure: our obligation to reach the allied force in the west is doubled and tripled. We three, obscure as we may be, may carry with us the fate of an army."

"He called us two madmen," said John, nudging Carstairs. "Now look at our good sober Wharton going mad with responsibility."

Wharton did not notice them. He was turning over and over the sheets of tissue paper, and his eyes glowed. His hands trembled, too, as he handled the precious document, but he did not let a single page fall.

"Glorious! splendid! magnificent!" he exclaimed. "By our capture, by our own courage and skill, and by ours alone we'll save the allied left wing from destruction."

The timeliness of their exploit, the wonderful chance had gone to Wharton's head. He forgot for the time his comrades, the motor, and the morning sun over the fields and the forest. He thought only of their arrival in the allied camp with those precious documents.

John and Carstairs exchanged glances again. They had come quite back to earth, but there could be no doubt that Wharton was taking an ascension.

"We'll treat him kindly," said Carstairs.

"Of course," said John. "Old friend of ours, you know. Been with us through the wars. But I want to tell you, Carstairs, and I hope I won't hurt your feelings, you being a monarchist, that I'm glad I hit that prince such a solid smash over the head. It will always be a pleasure to me to remember that I knocked out a royalty, and I hope he wasn't any mediatized prince either."

"Don't apologize to me. He was only a German prince, and they're so numerous they don't count British princes are the real thing."

"Stop talking foolishness you two!" exclaimed Wharton. "You ramble on, and we carry the fate of Europe in our hands! My God, we've wasted a quarter of an hour here talking! Carstairs, get back in the driver's seat, and I don't care how fast you drive! Scott, take your place at the machine gun, and shoot down anything that opposes us!"

"Mad! Quite mad!" John and Carstairs said together, but they obeyed with amazing promptness, and in a minute the car was spinning down the road at a great rate. But Wharton leaning forward and looking with red eyes in black rims, saw nothing they passed. He had instead a vision of the three arriving at some point far away with the prince's dispatches, and of English and French generals thanking those who had come in time to save them.

Carstairs drove with a steady hand, but he was his normal self now. He had seen that their supply of gasoline was sufficient to last a while, and he was content for the present with a moderate rate of speed. If they were pursued again then he could make another great burst, but he did not consider it likely that a third force of the foe would appear. They must be getting beyond the vanguard of the German invasion.

John sat beside Wharton. The machine gun was at rest, but he kept his rifle across his knee. Nevertheless he did not anticipate any further danger. He felt an immense satisfaction over their achievements, but the danger and strain had been so great that rest seemed the finest thing in the world. He hoped they would soon come to another of those neat French inns, where they would surely be welcome.

But Wharton was not thinking of inns and rest. He took out the dispatches and read them a second time. Then he folded them up triumphantly and put them back in his pocket again. His soul burned with ardor. Their fights with the aeroplanes and the armored cars were alike forgotten. They must get forward with the prince's dispatches.

The sun came over the slopes, and the day grew fast. John fell asleep in his seat with his rifle across his knees. He was aroused by the stopping of the car and the murmur of many voices. He sat upright and was wide awake all in a moment.

They had come to the village for which they had wished so ardently and they were surrounded by people who looked curiously at the car, the heavy dents in its armor, the machine gun, and, with the most curiosity of all, at the three occupants.

But their looks were friendly. The three in the car wore the French uniform, and while obviously they were not French, it was equally obvious that they were friends of France. John smiled at them and asked the burning question:

"Is there an inn here?"

They pointed across the street. There it was snug and unimpeachable. Carstairs drove slowly to the front of it, and he and John meanwhile answered a torrent of questions. Yes, they had been in a fight with Germans, and, after seizing one of their armored cars, they had escaped in it. But it was true that the Germans were coming into France by all the main roads, and the people must be ready.

There were many exclamations of dismay, and the questions they asked John and Carstairs never ceased. But they said nothing to Wharton. His stern, absent expression did not invite confidences. He was looking over their heads at something far away, and he seemed merely to be going into the inn, because his comrades were doing so.

The three found the breakfast good as usual. Gasoline could be obtained. It was not for civilians, but as they were soldiers serving France they were able to buy a supply. The news that they desired was scarce, although there was a vast crop of rumors which many told as facts. John was learning that war was the mother of lies. He believed only what men had seen with their own eyes, and but little of that. It was incredible how people described in detail things they had witnessed, but which had never occurred.

Had a British army landed? It had. It had not. Where was it? It was in Belgium. It was in France. It was at the training camps in England. There was plenty of information, and one could choose whatever he liked best. John and Carstairs looked at each other in dismay. They had a car, but where were they to go. At least they carried dispatches for a British army which some of the French believed to be in France. But Wharton took no notice of the difficulty. He was silent, and preoccupied with their triumphant arrival that was coming.

John asked the most questions, and at last he found a woman whose words seemed to be based upon fact and not imagination. She had a cousin who was employed in the telegraph, and her cousin told her, that British troops had landed, that some of them at least had reached Paris, and then had gone north toward Belgium, the region of Mons or Charleroi, she believed. She spoke quietly and with much detail, and John believed that she had a mind able to tell the truth without exaggeration.

He held a brief conference with Carstairs, who had now replenished the gasoline, and who had also put stores of food in the car. Carstairs agreed with him that the statement was probably correct, and that at any rate they ought to govern themselves in accordance with it. They did not consult Wharton, who they knew was thinking only of the papers.

John took the wheel. Like Wharton he did not know much about driving, but it was a time when one had to do things. Carstairs soon fell asleep, but Wharton sat rigidly erect, staring before him.

John had felt the emotion of triumph strongly that morning, but now much of it was departing. The country was growing more beautiful than ever. He had never seen any outside his own to match it. This had the advantage of age and youth combined. Buildings were gray and soft with centuries, but the earth itself was fresh and eternal with youth. But he knew beyond any shred of doubt that it would soon be torn to pieces by the fighting millions.

There was no occasion for haste now, as they must feel the way, and they were beyond the German advance. While Carstairs slept and Wharton stared ahead he examined the country. Once they passed near a town of considerable size, and he saw on a hill, in the center of it a great gray cathedral, its fine stonework glittering like tracery.

Then he saw the graybeards, the women, and the young boys and girls coming into the fields to work. All the men of fighting age were gone. He had seen the same in Germany, but it struck him anew with painful force, this turning of millions of workers upon one another, weapons in hand.

John stopped beside the fields once or twice and talked with the peasants. The old men could tell him nothing. They were stolid and stoical. Yes, there was war, but it was not any business of theirs to find where the armies were marching, and his heart went out more strongly than ever to the people, over whom military ambition and the folly of kings were driving the wheels of cannon.

It was well toward midday before he secured any real information. They encountered at the crossing of a brook a small French patrol under a lieutenant, an intelligent man, whom by lucky chance Carstairs had met two weeks before.

He told them that going at a moderate rate they could reach by the next morning a large French army which lay north and west. Some British troops – he did not know how many – had come up, and they were on the extreme left of the allied line. More were expected. In front of them were great masses of the Germans.

They gave him their own news, and then with mutual good wishes they drove on, Carstairs now at the wheel, and their pace increased. It was agreed that they should hasten much more, as soon as they were absolutely sure of the way. Wharton, for the first time, took part in the talk.

"When we have a definite point to aim at," he said, "we must take every risk and race for it. If we don't deliver these documents promptly to the generals we ought to be shot."

"We won't be shot for the lack of trying, Wharton," said John, "but if we go racing along the wrong road we'll be that much farther from our right direction."

"We ought to see more patrols soon," said Carstairs. "They'll surely be watching all through this region."

"Likely enough we'll find 'em in that wood ahead," said John, pointing to a long stretch of forest that clothed a group of hills. "It's just the place for 'em. From the top of that highest hill they can see for miles."

Carstairs increased their speed, and the car shot forward. It was a fine motor, John thought, and the bombardment it had received had not hurt it much. That German prince certainly knew how to select a car, and he had fortified it in a splendid manner.

John was smiling to himself again in satisfaction, as they dipped down the valley and entered the forest, which in that country they would certainly call a great one. Its shade was pleasant, too, as the beams of the sun were now vertical and hot.

"Nice region," said John approvingly. "See that old castle off there to the left."

An ancient castle, decayed and abandoned, crowned a little hill. Around it was a moat dry for generations, and one of the Norman towers had fallen down. It was a somber picture of lonely desolation.

"I suppose some fine old robber of a baron lived in that," said John, "and preyed upon the country, until he reached the hunting grounds of other robbers like himself."

"Deucedly draughty and uncomfortable they must have been," said Carstairs. "We've some of 'em in my country, but they must have been pretty hard living for my lord and my lady."

"I don't see that we have much advantage over those old fellows," said John thoughtfully. "They were little robbers, and here are all the countries of Europe trying to tear one another to pieces. After all, Carstairs, I'm beginning to think the Americans are the only really civilized people."

Carstairs grinned.

"You can't do it, Scott," he said, "you can't take Wharton's place. I'll argue with him about the merits of Briton and Yankee. It's his time-honored right, but I'll have no dispute with you."

Wharton smiled a stern assent.

"Then we'll let it go," said John, "but do you notice that this is a real forest. It must cover a half dozen square miles. I suppose that in your country they would call it the Royal Forest or by some such high-sounding name."

"Never you mind what we'd call it," rejoined Carstairs, "but whatever it is it's evident that something violent is going on within its shades! Listen!"

John started upright in his seat, as he heard the crackle of three or four shots so close together that they were almost in a volley, and then the sound of feet running swiftly. They stopped the machine, and a figure, stained, bleeding and desperate, emerged from the forest.

"A fugitive!" exclaimed John.

"But from what?" said Carstairs.

"The Germans, of course!" said Wharton.

The man, stained with blood, ragged and dirty came at great bounds, and before any one could put out a detaining hand he sprang into the car.

"Help, for God's sake!" he cried. "I'm a spy in the service of France, and the Uhlans are coming down through the wood after me!"

"Help you!" exclaimed Carstairs. "Of course we will! Any friend of France is a friend of ours!"

He bent low over the wheel once more in his old speeding attitude, and the car shot forward like an arrow.

CHAPTER XII

THE ABANDONED CHÂTEAU

John glanced back toward the point from which the shots had come, but it was already hidden by the curve of the hill. Moreover, the car was going so fast now that the Uhlans would be left as if standing still, and he turned his attention to the man who had crumpled at his very feet.

The stranger lay in a heap on the floor of the car, his breath coming in short gasps from sobbing lungs. There were red stains on the arms and right shoulder of his coat. John felt a great pity and dragged him into one of the seats. Then he uttered a cry of surprise. The features under their mask of blood and dirt were familiar.

"Weber!" he exclaimed.

Weber stared back.

"You, whom I met at the inn!" he said, "and your friends!"

"Yes, we're all here," said John cheerily. "This is indeed a singular chance!"

"A most fortunate one for me," said Weber, straightening himself, and endeavoring to arrange his clothing – it appeared that his pride was returning. "After this I shall think that Providence is watching over me. A man on foot seeking to escape has little chance against horsemen. I saw the automobile moving slowly and I sprang into it, intending to make the appeal which has been successful."

"Look who's here," said John to his comrades. "We've rescued Weber, the Alsatian, from the Uhlans. Battered a bit, but still in the ring and good for many another escape."

"So it is," said Carstairs, reaching back a hand. "We happened along just in time, Weber. It's a way we three have. I've no doubt that we'll rescue you at least a half dozen times more."

Weber grasped the proffered hand and shook it eagerly. Wharton bowed in a friendly manner, but he was still preoccupied. His hand rested on that point in his coat, beneath which the papers lay, and his thoughts were not with the fourth arrival in the car.

"Your wounds!" said John. "This is an automobile of princes, and for the present we are the princes. I've no doubt we can find in these lockers and drawers material of which to make bandages."

"They're slight. They don't matter," said Weber. "Pay no attention to them at a time like this. I know that you must be going toward the main French army, and time is of value. My strength is coming back now, and my courage, too. I will admit I was frightened. I thought my time had come. Perhaps that may seem a disgraceful confession, but it's true."

"Not disgraceful at all," said John sympathetically. "I haven't been a soldier more than a few days, but it's been long enough to teach me that brave men are often scared. What were you doing and how did you happen to come so near to being caught?"

"I've been inside the German lines. Oh, they're not so far away! And I was slipping out I had passed all, but a body of Uhlans, under a captain, von Boehlen, an uncommonly shrewd man. If I had been caught by him I would now be singing with the angels in Paradise."

He smiled faintly.

"I've met von Boehlen," said John, "and if he suspected you, you acted wisely to run with all your might. I saw him in Dresden on the eve of the war, and I've seen him since, though at some distance."

"We'll forget my narrow escape now," said Weber cheerfully.

"One can't remember such things long in these times."

"They're tremendous times."

"So tremendous that as soon as you've made one escape with your life you're due for another."

"You haven't heard of any Germans on this road?"

"No, but they're raiding far and wide, and von Boehlen will attempt anything."

"We've had uncommon luck so far, and I think it will continue. I see you're admiring our automobile. I wasn't jesting, when I told you it belonged to a prince."

"It's rather small for an armored car. They usually have seven or eight men in them."

"Yes, and it's fortunate for us that it's small. I told you luck was running our way. But as it is, it's a pretty heavy strain on the man at the wheel, although Carstairs there is an expert."

"I'm a pretty good chauffeur," said Weber, "and whenever Mr. Carstairs wishes it I'll relieve him at the wheel. Besides I know the country thoroughly, and I can take advantage of every short cut."

"I'll call on you soon," said Carstairs. "A lot of my enthusiasm for speeding has gone out of me. My arms ache all the time, but I'm good for another hour yet."

Weber did not insist. John understood why, as it was patent that he needed rest. He made himself comfortable in the seat, and the others left him in peace. The machine rolled on swiftly and smoothly. It was one of the beautiful roads so common in France, and John felt scarcely a jar. A full sun tinted the green country with gold.

The warmth was penetrating and soothing. John had lost so much sleep and the nervous drain had been so great that his eyelids became heavy. They came to a clear little brook, and decided to stop that all might have a drink. Weber used the chance also to bathe his face and hands and get rid entirely of blood, dirt and dust. He seemed then to John a rather handsome man, having the touch of the scholar in his face.

John walked about a little, stretching his arms, and thumping his chest in order to make himself more wakeful. But when he returned to the automobile, and sat down in the cushioned seat the old sleepiness returned. The effort to keep the eyelids from going down was painful. Carstairs in the driver's seat also yawned prodigiously.

"All my strength has returned now, and my nerve has come with it," said Weber. "Let me take the wheel. I see that you three are exhausted, as well you may be after such tremendous energy and so many dangers. I don't boast, when I say that I'm a good driver."

"Take the wheel, and welcome," said Carstairs, yawning prodigiously and retreating to a seat in the body of the car, beside John.

It was evident that Weber understood automobiles. He handled the wheel with a practised hand, and sent it forward with a skill and delicacy of touch equal to that of Carstairs.

"It is, indeed, a beautiful machine," he said. "Splendid work went into the making of it, and I can well believe as you do that it belonged to a prince."

John's sleepiness increased. The motion was so smooth and pleasant! And the absence of danger and strained effort lulled one to slumber. He fought it off, and then concluded that he was foolish. Why shouldn't he go to sleep? Carstairs was asleep already and Wharton, who felt such a tremendous weight of responsibility, was nodding. His eyelids fell. He raised them with a desperate effort, but they fell again and remained closed.