Читать книгу Over There with the Canadians at Vimy Ridge - Ralphson George Harvey - Страница 4

"That's a piece of boche treachery as sure as I'm a Yank fighting with the Canadians," was Irving's speedy conclusion after witnessing the scene exposed by the lights and hearing the salute which he decided must have come from the enemy scout. "That's the way they work it! They're noted for treachery of that very sort."

"Kamerad!"

The salute was repeated, scarcely above a whisper, but clear enough for Irving to hear it distinctly. And with the utterance of that word another thrill of apprehension, doubt, confusion, electrified the mind and body of the listening scout, who had not been discovered by Tourtelle and the boches when the lights illuminated the field, undoubtedly, because he happened to be crouching close to a bush large enough to cast a shadow about him.

"My!" exclaimed the boy under his breath; "I'd 'ave sworn that word came from the very spot where Tourtelle was standing. They can't 'ave changed positions so quickly. And yet, I must be mistaken. Common sense tells me it must 'ave been the boche who gave that salute. I wonder what's the matter with my hearing.

"But I'll have to go to that miserable 'shave-tail's' rescue if the other fellow plays a trick on him. I think I'll get close and see what's going on."

Irving crept cautiously toward the spot where he had seen the second lieutenant when the lights blazed forth. The distance was so short that he fancied he ought to have been able to see both the officer and the enemy scout from his position near the bush. The boche, unless he had moved since the lights went out, was a similar distance away from the watcher and about twenty-five feet to Private Ellis' right.

In a few seconds Irving reached approximately the spot where he had seen Lieut. Tourtelle, when the "very lights" illuminated the vicinity, and was surprised and just a little worried on failing to find him still there. Then he began to look around him to see if his eyes could not pierce the surrounding darkness far enough to discover the form of the officer. His search was interrupted by another startling incident.

Something struck the calf of his right leg a rather severe blow, and the boy gripped his trench-knife in one hand and his pistol in the other, ready to defend himself if attacked. Nothing further of disturbing nature followed immediately, and Irving stooped down to examine the object that had struck him. It was a short, stout club of the kind known in No Man's Land as a "persuader stick," which can be used effectively, like a policeman's billy, in the dark.

"Who in the world threw that? – not the boche, surely," the boy muttered. "It's like the one I've seen in 'the turtle's' possession; but what could he want to throw it back here for?"

"Kamerad!"

"There it goes again," buzzed through Irving's head. "I don't believe it's a trap set for me, but maybe it is for the 'looie,' and he may be just fool enough to fall for it. I owe it to-to-Uncle Sam to save him, if I can, though I'm afraid Uncle Sam 'u'd be better off without 'im."

Private Ellis put his knife and pistol away, gripped his club, and advanced toward the spot whence the last "kamerad" seemed to have come. As he moved ahead slowly he became conscious gradually that a dark object stood before him a few yards away. Would he be able to determine whether it was friend or foe? He was in doubt on this question and determined to exercise the greatest care and caution.

He moved around in a semi-circular path to the other side of the object that had attracted his attention. But he had scarcely done this when the presence of another and similar obstruction to his vision caused him to stop and remain motionless.

This object was moving slowly and with seeming caution toward the other one. His attitude and manner were not clear because of the darkness, so that Irving could not interpret his purpose from any such indication.

"Kamerad!"

This time there could be no mistake from whom of the two scouts the salute came. It was from the one who apparently had thrown his "persuader stick" away, the one who was nearer the spot where he had seen Lieut. Tourtelle during the illumination.

"What's he doing-surrendering?"

Irving might have suspected that the officer in charge of this patrol was working a "boche trick" on a boche if it had not been for the fact that he had thrown his stick away. But this act made it appear that a panic had seized him and he was signaling his desire to surrender because he feared to enter into mortal combat with the enemy scout.

"Why doesn't he retreat if he's afraid to fight?" Irving wondered. "He could do that with perfect grace, for he's under orders not to fight unless he has to. But he seems to be advancing right toward Heinie without any reason for doing it. Maybe he's going to shove a pistol in that fellow's face, but it looks to me more as if he's lost 'is senses from fright. Anyway, I'm goin' to help 'im just for the sake of Uncle Sam. I'll hit that boche a tap on the head that'll make 'im see the Star Spangled Banner."

The boy with the club quickened his steps silently, for he was skilled with the "moccasin tread" even on hobnails. Moreover, the softness of the wet earth was in his favor. In about a minute he had stolen around behind the boche, who was advancing cautiously toward the "kamerad saluter."

He was morally certain that the soldier now within ten feet of him was an enemy, but he resolved to be very careful lest he attack one of his own comrades. So he continued to approach with the utmost caution, hoping to identify the fellow by an inspection of his uniform. In the darkness this was an exceedingly difficult thing to do, for there is a general similarity in the make of the uniforms of soldiers of most nations, so that when silhouetted they differ very little to any but a keenly observing expert.

But Irving was not forced to depend alone upon his vision in the darkness of the night to verify his identification of the two patrol scouts. There was another salute in low tone, and this time an answer was given.

"Kamerad!"

"Was willst du, hund?"

Crack!

The "persuader stick" in the hand of the Yank swung with sharp impact against the head of the boche just under his helmet. The "Canadian-hund" hater dropped in his tracks.