OUNTOYS 
 
 BERT LEE
 
 V
 
 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL
 
 OH CALU. LIBRABY, IAS ANGELES
 
 The Machine Swerved and Maurice Escaped the Thrust. 

 
 AT HIS 
 COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 A Tale of the Great War 
 
 BY 
 
 ALBERT LEE 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 
 JOHN F. CAMPBELL 
 
 NEW YO*K CHICAGO 
 
 Fleming H. Revell Company 
 
 LONDON AND EDINBURGH
 
 Copyright, 1918, by 
 FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 
 
 New York: 158 Fifth Avenue 
 Chicago: 17 N. Wabash Ave. 
 London: 21 Paternoster Square 
 Edinburgh: 75 Princes Street
 
 AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 
 TO 
 
 EACH AMERICAN 
 SCOUT SOLDIER AND SAILOR 
 
 WHO HAS 
 
 " DONE HIS BIT " 
 
 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 21311R5
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I. THE BRONZE MEDAL ... 11 
 
 II. THE SUBMARINE .... 24 
 
 III. THE GUN-RUNNERS ... 41 
 
 IV. AN EXCITING CHASE ... 54 
 V. THE RECRUITING OFFICE . . 65 
 
 VI. THE BARBED WIRE ENTANGLE- 
 MENT 74 
 
 VII. A DANGEROUS ERRAND ... 86 
 
 VIII. THE GERMAN SPY .... 98 
 
 IX. THE RIDE FOR THE CAMP . . 110 
 
 X. AT HEADQUARTERS .... 124 
 
 XI. PROMOTION 133 
 
 XII. RUNNING THE GAUNTLET . . 143 
 
 XIII. THE FIGHT FOR THE MILL . . 165 
 
 XIV. PRISONERS OF WAR . . . 179 
 XV. THE PRISONERS' HOSPITAL . . 194 
 
 XVI. A CHOICE FOR LIFE OR DEATH . 208 
 
 XVII. THE GERMAN GUIDE . . .229 
 
 XVIII. THE GERMAN FARMHOUSE . . 242 
 
 XIX. THE GERMAN WAR-?LANE . . 260 
 
 XX. HOME AGAIN 281
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Facing 
 The Machine Swerved and Maurice Escaped the 
 
 Thrust Title 
 
 He Had the Girl on the Window-Sill, Still 
 
 Unconscious . . . . . .18 
 
 He Lifted the Major by His Shoulders and 
 
 Dragged Him Along Slowly .... 80 
 
 Redmayne Put Forth His Splendid Strength 
 
 and Hurled Him Back . 182
 
 I 
 
 THE BRONZE MEDAL 
 
 ME. MILLARD was writing in his room 
 when a tap came on the door. 
 "Come in!" he cried, and when the 
 door opened, a strapping young fellow in the 
 uniform of a Scout stood in the doorway, with 
 all the belongings he had brought from the 
 camp. 
 
 Mr. Millard put down his pen ; but before he 
 had time to say a word Maurice was at the 
 table, holding out his left hand to his father, 
 who looked at his boy in the utmost surprise. 
 
 ' ' Been to the wars ? " he asked, when he saw 
 the Scout's right arm in a sling, and the hand 
 that protruded from it covered with white band- 
 ages, not so much as showing his finger-tips, 
 while his head and a part of his face was bound 
 round with linen. 
 
 "A little bit, father," Maurice answered, 
 trying to hide the fact that his smile made him 
 wince because of the pain. "I'll tell you all 
 about it presently. Where's mother?" 
 
 "In her sewing-room," his father said, look- 
 ing at his son with increasing concern, for he 
 seemed very much damaged; more like a sol- 
 dier just discharged from hospital than a Scout 
 who had returned home after rather more than 
 
 11
 
 12 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 a fortnight's camping. Then he saw something 
 which attracted his attention, and he was even 
 more surprised. 
 
 "Where did you get that from?'* he asked, 
 pointing to a bronze medal which hung on the 
 Scout's breast by a red ribbon, 
 
 "Our General pinned it there this morning, 
 father, ' ' Maurice answered, quietly, but looking 
 down at the medal with some pride in his face, 
 which colored up while he did so. 
 
 "Then how in the world did you manage to 
 win it?" was the next and most natural ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "Well, father, it was like this. While we 
 were out camping there was a big fire at one 
 of the farms, and our troop went off quick to 
 lend a helping hand. I was one of them, and 
 got this at the review this morning." 
 
 "And got burnt pretty well by the look of 
 it," said Maurice's father, greatly concerned, 
 yet proud to think that his boy had won such 
 distinction. 
 
 1 * Just a bit, father, but it 's nothing. It might 
 have been a lot worse, for it was an awful 
 blaze while it lasted. The doctor says I shall 
 be as right as a fiddle before the holidays are 
 over. Where's mother? Oh, of course, you 
 said in her room. I'll go and report myself." 
 
 The boy's face brightened, and for the fun 
 of the thing he gave his father the salute, left- 
 handed this time, swung round on his heel, and 
 marched in his full camping kit to the door. 
 
 His father looked after him with pride, for
 
 THE BRONZE MEDAL 13 
 
 the Scout, getting on towards seventeen years 
 old, was well worth looking at. He was a fine, 
 well set up, lusty young fellow who had got 
 into the Upper Grade by sheer merit, and not 
 by favor. If he lived up to his school and 
 Scout reputation, and did as well in the world, 
 he was going to make a fine man good-looking, 
 muscular, stalwart, capable, and full of fine in- 
 telligence. He would become one of that sort 
 of men who make his country what it is to-day 
 men with moral muscle, as they say, and who 
 would never stoop to mean and shabby tricks 
 just to make a bit of money, or gain a position. 
 "What has the dear boy been doing now, I 
 wonder?" Mr. Millard said to himself, taking 
 up his pen as soon as the door was shut. In- 
 stead of writing he put his pen down again, and 
 sitting back in his chair, began to puzzle his 
 brain as to the bronze medal. Among his books 
 in the room was a " Scouts' Manual," and get- 
 ting out of his chair, he went to the shelves, 
 took down the book, looked at the index, and 
 then turned to the page where he saw what was 
 said there about the Scout's Bronze Medal. 
 His eyes opened wide, and his heart beat 
 quickly with pride because of what was printed 
 there. It was not much, but it meant a great 
 deal. 
 
 "The Bronze Medal is mounted on a red 
 ribbon and is awarded to a Scout who has 
 actually saved life where risk is involved." 
 
 Mr. Millard read the paragraph again and
 
 14 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 again, and looked at the picture. Yes. It was 
 exactly the same as the medal Maurice was 
 wearing. 
 
 "It's like him, dear old fellow," he muttered 
 to himself. "He never boasts. There's not an 
 ounce of conceit in him. He does a thing just 
 as though it was the right thing to do, and he 
 could do no other. But think of it ! I wonder 
 what he really did to win that medal?" 
 
 There was a knock at the door, and the maid 
 brought a telegram to her master, and he read 
 it quickly. 
 
 "Take this to your mistress, and tell her I 
 am going to catch a train," Mr. Millard said, 
 looking at his watch. Finding he had barely 
 time, he hurried out of the room, caught up 
 his hat and umbrella, and walked up the street 
 quickly. Beckoning to a taxicab at the corner, 
 he told the driver to take him to the station. 
 
 "The very man I want!" he exclaimed, as 
 he stepped into the train, and saw someone 
 dressed in a Scoutmaster's uniform, and sitting 
 in the corner of the car, reading a news- 
 paper. 
 
 The Scoutmaster looked up. 
 
 "Why, it's Millard!" he exclaimed, putting 
 out his hand. "I'm reading this new edition of 
 the evening paper, and it gives some ugly 
 news about Germany and Russia, and France 
 as well," Lycett exclaimed. "It looks very 
 much as though Germany means war." 
 
 "I hope not," said Mr. Millard, seriously, 
 sitting in the opposite corner of the cab.
 
 THE BRONZE MEDAL 15 
 
 "I want to talk to you," he went on, as soon as 
 he had glanced at the headlines in the paper 
 which Lycett handed to him. He put the paper 
 on the seat while he spoke. 
 
 " Lycett, you're my boy's Scoutmaster, aren't 
 you ! ' ' 
 
 "Yes, I am," said the other, with a pleasant 
 laugh. "And I'm proud of the fact. But what 
 do you want me fort" he asked, looking at Mr. 
 Millard. 
 
 "Maurice has come home as though he had 
 been in the wars, and not merely Scout-camp- 
 ing. When he came to my room to report him- 
 self his right arm was in a sling, his head was 
 bandaged, but he wore a bronze medal on his 
 breast. I spotted it at once, but could get very 
 little out of him. He merely said there had 
 been a big blaze at one of the farms, and he 
 and some other Scouts had helped to put it 
 out." 
 
 The Scoutmaster's face had a strange look 
 on it. 
 
 "Millard," he exclaimed, "you ought to be 
 the proudest Scout father living!" 
 
 The train began to move at the moment, the 
 porter slammed the door, and now that they 
 had the car to themselves, the Scoutmaster told 
 a story which thrilled the listener who sat 
 opposite to him. 
 
 "The fourth night after we went into camp 
 your boy was on duty as Patrol Leader, and 
 was out scouting with his patrol, because we 
 were supposed to be expecting a surprise from
 
 16 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 an enemy. All was quiet, but suddenly one of 
 Maurice's patrols came tearing along to my 
 tent. 
 
 " 'There's a farm on fire,' the boy panted. 
 'Millard has gone off with the patrol to give 
 some help, for it's a big blaze, sir. He sent 
 me to you.' 
 
 "There was scarcely need to tell me that 
 much, for while the Scout was speaking I saw 
 the blaze, and in a few minutes the Scouts in 
 camp were swarming from their tents and wait- 
 ing for orders. As soon as I had told off some 
 to guard the camp I called for volunteers, and 
 we started. I had scarcely given the word 
 before we were going helter-skelter across the 
 fields, and by the time we reached the farm we 
 found that Maurice and his patrol were busy 
 in all sorts of ways, doing the first thing which 
 promised to be useful. They had already 
 turned out the frightened horses from the 
 stable into the fields, and when I came up they 
 were driving the cows from the barns. 
 
 "Before many moments had gone I had set 
 every boy to some sort of work, but after a 
 while I heard something which made my blood 
 run cold. The flames had got hold of the house, 
 and it was doomed. If every fire-engine in the 
 countryside had been playing on it they could 
 not have saved it. But one half was not yet 
 touched, although the flames and the wind were 
 moving in that direction. The farmer had gal- 
 loped off for the engines, but none so far had 
 come, and long before he could get back the
 
 THE BRONZE MEDAL 17 
 
 house would be in ruins at the rate it was 
 burning. 
 
 * ' ' My girl 's in that room, ' the farmer 's wife 
 cried, crazy with terror, and wringing her 
 hands. 
 
 " 'Which room?' I asked; and she pointed to 
 one of the windows which, so far, did not seem 
 to have been touched by the flames. 
 
 "Your boy was standing near, and heard 
 what the woman said. 
 
 " 'I'll have a try for her!' he exclaimed, and 
 he was off before he had said it all, as hard as 
 his feet would carry him. You can imagine 
 how fast that would be, since none in our troop 
 could have a look in with him. I went after 
 him, but before I got to the door he was going 
 up the stairs. The entrance was full of fire, 
 and the staircase was already cut off. He 
 must have dashed through the flames, for when 
 I stood in the doorway he was taking the bend 
 oJ the stairs. 
 
 "It seemed to me, as he went, that the whole 
 of the staircase was on fire, and that the flames 
 licked out at him; but he went on, and at that 
 moment great flames burst out at the doorway, 
 driving me and the other Scouts back. 
 
 "When he was in hospital, because of his 
 burns, I heard what happened when Maurice 
 passed out of my sight, and this is how I make 
 out the story, for he was so loath to say much. 
 I had to drag it out of him. The house at the 
 top of the stairs was black with smoke. The 
 door of one of the rooms to his left was open,
 
 18 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 and he saw a mass of fire. It was not there 
 that the girl was lying, for the farmer's wife 
 had pointed to the room on his right hand. 
 
 * * He opened the door, and looked into a room 
 which was black with smoke. The flames that 
 roared behind him showed him what was inside. 
 A girl of fifteen was lying on the bed, uncon- 
 scious dead, perhaps choked with the smoke. 
 Going quickly to the bedside and bending over 
 her, he found that she was breathing. 
 
 "Snatching her up in his arms, thinking 
 nothing of her weight, though she was a big 
 girl, he carried her to the top of the stairs, 
 meaning to carry her down; but when he came 
 to the bend he saw that the flames were sweep- 
 ing up the staircase with a roar, and the tongues 
 of fire seemed to leap up at him. 
 
 <Try the window,' I shouted, for it was 
 impossible to get through that furnace to him; 
 but he did not hear me in the roar and hiss 
 that added to the fire's horror. 
 
 "Seeing how impossible it was to carry the 
 girl down the stairs, Maurice turned back into 
 the room, swiftly. His ready wit served him 
 well, for laying his burden on the floor, he ran 
 to the window, threw it wide open, and looked 
 out. Before any of us could suggest what he 
 should do he had disappeared, and we won- 
 dered whether the floor had gone, especially 
 when we saw that the flames were in the room 
 beneath. 
 
 "I never passed such long and anxious mo- 
 ments, but at last he was at the window again ;
 
 
 He Had the Girl on the Window-Sill, Still Unconscious.
 
 THE BRONZE MEDAL 19 
 
 this time he placed the girl on the window-sill, 
 still unconscious, and he began to lower her 
 by the sheets he had knotted together to make 
 a rope. How he had strength to do it I can't 
 imagine; but as you know, he has the frame 
 almost of a man. He lowered her carefully 
 until I had the girl in my arms. 
 
 " 'Is she safe!' he cried, looking out when 
 he saw that the strain was no longer on the 
 sheets. 
 
 " 'Yes,' we shouted back. 
 
 " 'Then I'm coming myself,' he exclaimed, 
 and he began to crawl on to the window-sill; 
 but to our amazement he turned back, and we 
 lost sight of him. We soon knew the reason. 
 A terrier was whimpering on the bed, and, as 
 Maurice put it to me afterwards, he could not 
 think of leaving the poor creature to die. 
 Although every moment was precious, and the 
 flames were already in the room, some of them 
 coming through the floor, we saw him bring the 
 frightened dog to the window. He had tied the 
 sheet rope about him, and began to lower him 
 swiftly. 
 
 " 'Be quick,' he cried; and while he called, 
 we saw the flames behind him. The knot was 
 too firm to unfasten, and I cut it away. 
 
 " 'Catch me if I fall. The flames may burn 
 the sheets and I shall drop,' he called down to 
 us. 'Hold that out to catch me.' 
 
 "He tossed a blanket through the window, 
 and crawling out, the flames licking about his 
 hands and face, he lowered himself hand under
 
 20 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 hand. I never saw anyone come down a rope 
 of any sort so swiftly, but even then he was too 
 late. He was still in mid-air when the flames 
 burnt through the sheet he had fastened to the 
 bedstead, and he fell. But the blanket he had 
 flung out was held by a dozen of us, and, thank 
 God! we caught him in it, although we stag- 
 gered with the weight when his body came down 
 with a crash. 
 
 1 'He knew no more all through that night, 
 for when I caught the dear old fellow in my 
 arms he was unconscious, and for all the night, 
 and the greater part of the next day, it seemed 
 doubtful whether he would pull through. 
 
 " 'I'm going to wire to your people,' I said 
 to him, soon after he came round. 
 
 " 'No, please don't!' he exclaimed, anxiously. 
 ' It will frighten them. Mother will think it's 
 a lot worse than it really is. Just say nothing. ' 
 
 "He seemed so distressed, so afraid of the 
 shock to his mother and his sister, Marjorie, 
 that we kept quiet, but we nursed him well, and 
 being otherwise in such fit condition, he grew 
 better every day. In a day or two, the doctor 
 said this morning, he can take off his bandages. 
 
 "I wrote to our Chief, who was coming down 
 to review the Scouts, and told him the whole 
 story. This morning he took everybody by 
 surprise, for he called Maurice out before a 
 thousand of us, who had come in from different 
 camps, told them what he had done, and when 
 he had pinned the Bronze Medal on your boy's 
 breast, he said it was one of the bravest deeds
 
 THE BRONZE MEDAL at 
 
 he ever knew done by a Scout; and the noblest 
 part of all seemed to be his kindness to a help- 
 less dog!'* 
 
 There was silence in the train when the 
 Scoutmaster ended the story. 
 
 "You'll be proud of your boy, Mr. Millard," 
 he said, presently, looking at Maurice's father, 
 whose eyes were gleaming. 
 
 "Proud isn't the word for it, Lycett," he 
 answered. * ' I can only thank God for keeping 
 him from death, and thank Him again and 
 again for giving me such a son." 
 
 When the little family knelt that night for 
 family prayer, Maurice felt his face grow hot 
 because of what his father said in his prayer, 
 and his twin sister, Marjorie, who was by her 
 brother's side, was so surprised that she lifted 
 her face from her hands, and gazed across the 
 table at her father. 
 
 "His mother and I thank God for giving us 
 such a boy for our son; one who is bold, and 
 brave, and true, and who lives up to his Scout 
 promises, putting duty before all other things, 
 just as he did a few days ago when camping 
 out with his comrades. God give him grace to 
 be as true all his life through; as ready to 
 serve others as he has been during the last 
 fortnight. And while he won that mark of 
 honor for a deed so brave, may he be as true 
 to his God, and as resolute to live a brave and 
 spotless life, as the knights of olden time, who 
 were without reproach." 
 
 Maurice 's eyes sparkled when he got up from
 
 22 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 his knees, and kissing them all, he went to his 
 room. He had scarcely shut the door when 
 Marjorie opened it, and came in. 
 
 "What did father mean by saying what he 
 did about your brave deed in the camp?" she 
 asked. 
 
 ' ' Oh, it was only what any other Scout would 
 do if he had the chance. I had all the luck, 
 Marjorie, and was able to get some frightened 
 horses and cows out of the burning buildings 
 into the fields. Poor beggars ! " he added, as he 
 leaned against the back of the bed, and looked 
 at his pretty sister's face. "How horrible if 
 they had been ringed round with that fire! 
 Good-night, Sis. I'm awfully sleepy." 
 
 Marjorie kissed him. She kissed his band- 
 aged hand, and even the Bronze Medal, which 
 made 'him laugh. 
 
 "You needn't laugh, Mr. Patrol Leader," 
 she exclaimed, her face reddening. "I was 
 bound to do something to show how proud I 
 am of my brother, who must have done a lot 
 more than that. They don't give Bronze 
 Medals to Scouts unless they do something 
 very special. I've read what they say in the 
 ' Scouts ' Manual. ' So there ! ' ' 
 
 She tripped out of the room, her face beam- 
 ing, and Maurice, like a tired soldier, tried to 
 keep awake while he said his prayer; but the 
 moment his head touched the pillow he was 
 fast asleep. An hour later something awoke 
 him, and opening his eyes, he saw by the light 
 of the moon that stole in at the window, that
 
 THE BRONZE MEDAL 23 
 
 his mother was at his bedside. He heard her 
 saying, softly: 
 
 "My own brave boy." 
 
 His uninjured arm stole round her neck. 
 
 "Mother, what did father mean by his prayer 
 after supper?" he asked^ while her cheek 
 touched his. 
 
 "Exactly what he said, my dear. Your 
 father met your Scoutmaster, and heard the 
 whole story. I can't tell you how proud I am! 
 It was such a splendid thing! Maurice, my 
 dear, if you had died in that burning room, 
 I think my heart would have broken; but I 
 should have been proud of my boy to the end 
 of my days, to think that he was so chivalrous. 
 Why didn't you tell us?" she added, half 
 scoldingly. 
 
 "It would have sounded like boasting, 
 mother," Maurice said, with a catch in his 
 voice, for he felt that his mother's cheek was 
 wet with tears. 
 
 "We should never have had such a thought," 
 she said, and kissing him, she went away. 
 
 "I'll deserve the dear little mother's love, 
 and father's trust," said Maurice, sitting up in 
 the bed. "They believe in our Scout promise 
 to do good turns to other people, and I'll do 
 my solemn best never to disappoint them." 
 
 He lay back in bed, and was soon asleep 
 again, dreaming afresh of that terrible night in 
 the blazing farmhouse.
 
 n 
 
 THE SUBMARINE 
 
 MAUEICE fully expected to go back to 
 school, but the unexpected happened 
 which changed the plans that had been 
 made for him. 
 
 The day his sister started for her school in 
 France he stood on the footboard of the rail- 
 way car. 
 
 "I say, Sis," he said to Marjorie, laughing 
 while he held her hand, "if you see any of the 
 Germans, and they begin to rant about war 
 with France, just you tell them they'll get jolly 
 well beaten, and that if they try any of their 
 nonsense with you, you've got a big brother 
 who means to join the army, and do his best 
 to bring the Germans down a notch or two." 
 
 There was a laugh and a kiss, and as the 
 train began to move, Maurice dropped off the 
 footboard, watched the train steam out of the 
 station, and went home. Two hours after that 
 he went back to meet his father, who had been 
 wired for on important business ; but when he 
 stepped out of the railway car, Maurice opened 
 his eyes in surprise to see his Uncle Bernard 
 following him on to the platform. 
 
 Maurice had understood that he was in 
 Japan, superintending the reconstruction of 
 
 24
 
 THE SUBMARINE 25 
 
 the Japanese fleet, and it was supposed that 
 he would be staying there for a couple of years 
 more. Yet there he was, bronzed and sturdy, 
 as fine-looking and cheery as any man in the 
 Navy. 
 
 "Why are you here, uncle!" was Maurice's 
 first question, as soon as they had shaken 
 hands. "Is there going to be war! And have 
 they brought you home to help sink the 
 German fleet!" 
 
 His uncle laughed. 
 
 "Wait till we get home. 'Twill keep." 
 
 While they were having tea in the garden, 
 Uncle Bernard told them that he had been sent 
 for by the government to take charge of a 
 scientific expedition to various parts of the 
 world, and what he said made Maurice 's mouth 
 water. He was to captain a submarine, and 
 among other things was to explore the floor 
 of the ocean in certain parts, bringing back 
 answers to some important questions. He was 
 also to go up two great rivers and describe the 
 things he saw, but he was to watch particularly 
 what the German warships he met were doing. 
 
 "You'll miss the war, uncle," Maurice ex- 
 claimed, when he had finished; "and they say 
 there's bound to be one, sooner or later." 
 
 "Sooner or later!" said Captain Bernard, 
 smiling. "It will be 'later.' Do you suppose 
 the government would go in for an expedition 
 like this, costing thousands of dollars, if they 
 really thought there would be war! I shall be 
 gone and back again before the Germans start
 
 26 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 fighting. Besides, strong as their fleet is, 
 they would scarcely think of measuring their 
 strength against our magnificent Navy." 
 
 Maurice had taken in every word. If only 
 he could go ! he thought. To dive down to the 
 ocean depths, where all sorts of mysteries were 
 hidden to know how much was true in Jules 
 Verne's books it would be splendid! But it 
 was useless to think about it. He had to go 
 back to school in a week or two for another 
 term. The idea of having any part in such a 
 trip was an impossible one, he thought. 
 
 Later in the evening, Maurice went to his 
 room, but it was idle to think of going to bed 
 with that thought of the submarine trip upper- 
 most in his mind. It was a lovely night, and 
 he opened the window and stepped out on to 
 the balcony. While he stood there, with his 
 hands deep down in his pockets, he could hear 
 voices. He leaned over the railings and saw his 
 mother, father, and his uncle, who were talking 
 without any thought of secrecy, and Maurice, 
 who had no wish to play the part of eaves- 
 dropper, could not help hearing what was 
 said. 
 
 His uncle was going into further details 
 about this journey, telling his hearers that some 
 well-known scientific men were to accompany 
 him, as were also his own two boys. Maurice 
 heard it all. His hands came out of his pockets, 
 and he gripped the rail of the balcony tight in 
 his eagerness not to miss a word. 
 
 * ' I wonder Maurice did not say he would like
 
 THE SUBMARINE 27 
 
 to go," Uncle Bernard exclaimed, when he had 
 lit his cigar and tossed the match away. 
 
 "He would be thinking of going back to 
 school," said Maurice's mother. "He has one 
 term more to run." 
 
 ' * One term ! ' ' said Uncle Bernard, half scorn- 
 fully. "He would learn twenty times as much 
 if he came with me, and there's room for 
 him." 
 
 "I'm content if he wishes it," said Mr. 
 Millard. "What do you say, mother!" 
 
 "I would like him to go. We can pay the 
 term money to the school, and let Maurice have 
 this splendid chance. He would be safe with 
 my brother, and such an opportunity may never 
 come again. But he has not said he would 
 like to go." 
 
 "And that surprised me," said Captain 
 Bernard, who was sitting back in the lounge 
 chair, enjoying his smoke. 
 
 Maurice could stand it no longer. 
 
 "They don't know," he said to himself. "I 
 want to go, but I thought they would not like 
 it. I'll just go and tell them." 
 
 Swinging away from where he stood, and 
 going down the stairs two steps at a time, 
 nearly overturning the maid who was passing, 
 he hurried into the garden. 
 
 "I thought you were in bed," his mother said 
 as Maurice stood in front of them, with the 
 moon shining on his eager face. 
 
 "It was no use, mother. I got thinking of 
 the voyage uncle is taking, and I want to go, if
 
 28 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 be will have me. What do you say, father!" 
 
 His father 's face was all smiles. 
 
 "Your uncle is willing if you would like 
 to go." 
 
 "Are you and mother willing?" 
 
 "We are both of the same mind, my boy!" 
 
 "How jolly!" cried Maurice, holding out his 
 hand to his father, and going to his mother to 
 kiss her. 
 
 "That's all right then," said Captain 
 Bernard, who was looking on with a broad 
 smile on his face. "Shake hands, my boy, on 
 the bargain. We start on Monday, so that you 
 have three busy days before you in getting your 
 outfit. It will be for all sorts of weather 
 hot and cold, snow and hail and storm, and 
 blistering sunshine. But we'll go into details 
 to-morrow. They tell me you mean to be a 
 soldier. ' ' 
 
 "That's true, uncle; but I'm glad to go on 
 this voyage first." 
 
 "So much the better, I think." Then Uncle 
 Bernard added, with a twinkle in his eye : ' ' By 
 the time we come back you will be able to begin 
 soldiering, unless you decide instead to be a 
 sailor in the Navy." 
 
 On the following Monday the Waverley was 
 on her way, commencing what the authorities 
 expected to be one of the most remarkable 
 voyages ever attempted. Those who saw her 
 gliding out of the harbor, with her conning- 
 tower and a large part of her great gray back
 
 THE SUBMARINE 29 
 
 rising finely out of the water, which washed 
 against her rounded sides, wondered how long 
 she would maintain her place as the finest sub- 
 marine afloat. It was talked about freely as 
 a "toss up" which was better the Waverley, 
 or some of the German under-seas craft which 
 were said to beat anything that ever moved be- 
 neath the surface. Still, it was claimed that 
 the Waverley was "second to none." 
 
 No one, save the Department and those on 
 board, knew what her business was, and very 
 few knew exactly how she was constructed, 
 except a prowling engineer who managed in 
 some way to get on board, but was found by 
 a couple of sailors in the act of examining the 
 machinery, and who got tossed off the sub- 
 marine without ceremony, being left to take his 
 chance of "sink or swim." He turned out to 
 be a German, and when he landed, dripping 
 wet, he was arrested, tried, and sentenced to 
 three years in prison as a spy. 
 
 The presence of three young fellows on the 
 platform, and each of them in smart Scout 
 uniform Maurice's cousins with the Captain 
 and two or three seamen, gave no one any idea 
 that the Waverley was about to undertake one 
 of the most adventurous voyages any under-sea 
 vessel Jules Verne's excepted had ever at- 
 tempted. 
 
 There was, however, another passenger on 
 board, and he had come without permission. 
 He had been smuggled on board by Ted 
 Bernard when his father's back was turned,
 
 30 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 and had been taken to the berth unknown to 
 anyone, being told to keep quiet if he did not 
 want to be put ashore. 
 
 It was Jugs, a Scotch terrier, one of the 
 jolliest and quaintest-looking of rough-haired 
 dogs that ever smelt a rat, and he was dead on 
 that sort; but what sport he was likely to find 
 on a submarine it was hard to say. He under- 
 stood the position, and jumping into the bunk, 
 he went into the darkest corner, curled himself 
 up, and lay soundless, even when his master 
 went out and shut the door. But the moment 
 he was alone he sat up, cocked his ears, sniffed, 
 and blinked his eyes with satisfaction. He was 
 content to wait for his master, who, with his 
 brother Tom and Maurice, were having the 
 sight of their lives at the moment. 
 
 There were the great docks where they were 
 laying down the keels of new dreadnoughts, 
 and some which were nearly ready to go on 
 commission. They passed submarines in plenty, 
 but all were puny in point of size compared to 
 the Waverley, who went on proudly, as if she 
 knew that she was the monarch of her class. 
 There were great armored and protected 
 cruisers and torpedo boats and destroyers; 
 and yet, while some of them were capable of 
 remarkable speed, the Waverley could beat the 
 best, for above water she could do her thirty 
 knots, and at a push put on as many as thirty- 
 five. 
 
 "Now, my boy," said Uncle Bernard, laying 
 his hand on Maurice's shoulder, and pointing
 
 THE SUBMARINE 31 
 
 to all these, "see what preparations we have 
 made for war, if war ever comes. Do you 
 suppose Germany can go one better!" 
 
 "I know they'll never get anywhere near," 
 exclaimed Ted, who was looking about proudly. 
 
 At last they got away and out into the 
 open sea. Standing with their backs against 
 the conning-tower, the boys felt the sea breezes 
 blowing on their faces, and tasted the salt 
 spray on their lips. 
 
 "Here's a life on the ocean wave for you!" 
 cried Tom, opening his mouth wide to drink in 
 the sea air. 
 
 It was their first taste of the ocean, and it 
 was a delight. There was no need as yet for 
 any underwater experiences, and consequently 
 Uncle Bernard kept the Waverley going with 
 her tower and periscope and gray back above 
 the surface ; but it so happened that before the 
 day had gone the weather changed. The sun 
 went in, and a misty rain began to fall. The 
 sea, as the submarine drove farther into it, had 
 a heavy swell on, and later the spray sprang 
 over the Waverley 's back and washed the 
 platform. 
 
 They were in for nasty weather. 
 
 "You must go below, boys," said Captain 
 Bernard, when the trio, like himself, were wet 
 to the skin, because of the spray and the soak- 
 ing rain that followed. 
 
 "Hallo, Jugs!" cried Ted, flinging open the 
 door of their berth, and when he had switched 
 on the electric light, he saw the terrier sitting
 
 32 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 up in the corner, cautious before he attracted 
 attention, lest he might be seen by someone 
 who would bundle him ashore. Ted heard 
 his stumpy tail slapping against the side of 
 the bunk, and laughed at the question Jugs 
 seemed to put as to whether he could not 
 come out of hiding into light, and liberty, and 
 fun. 
 
 "Come along, old fellow." 
 
 In a moment Jugs was on his legs. A bark 
 was broken off short when Ted 's forefinger went 
 up, and he understood. There was yet time to 
 put in somewhere and then a desolate journey 
 home in a guard's van. 
 
 "Lie low till to-morrow, Jugs, and then 
 you'll have the run of the place, and we'll see 
 how you like a sailor's life." 
 
 The Waverley went on in splendid style, and 
 the boys talked and amused themselves for 
 hours. She proved to be a fine sailer, and there 
 was scarcely any oscillation, although there was 
 an immense swell on. 
 
 "She's a champion," said one of the men, 
 who came in with a message for the boys to 
 be sure to change into dry clothes at once. 
 "She's what I calls Al. I've bin in one o' 
 these 'ere submarines afore, an' a beastly thing 
 she was. You didn't dare to yawn, or sneeze, 
 or shift a plate on the mess table, but the blessed 
 thing tipped as if she meant to topple over. 
 An' when you comes to think as there was 
 more'n a dozen of us aboard, an' all on us 'ad 
 warious duties to perform, you can imagine as
 
 THE SUBMARINE 33 
 
 we tipped frequent, an' sometimes didn't know 
 which was floor an' which was ceilin'." 
 
 Warne had scarcely said as much when there 
 was a sudden smash, and sailor and boys alike 
 were in a heap on the floor, with Jugs among 
 them with a frightened yelp. The whole body 
 of the Waverley trembled; there were cries of 
 startled men in every part of the craft. 
 
 When they scrambled to their feet, the trio 
 and Warne were unable to stand without grip- 
 ping tight to something solid. 
 
 "Somethin' more'n a wave that," exclaimed 
 the sailor, who looked ruefully at his smashed 
 clay pipe. 
 
 "What can it be?" came the question from 
 the others, since the floor did not right itself, 
 but remained at an angle, which made standing 
 difficult. 
 
 " A collision," said Warne, who scrambled 
 off on his hands and knees, crawling out at the 
 doorway. The others followed, eager to know 
 what had happened, and wondering whether, in 
 case of her having been run down, the sub- 
 marine would sink, and drown them all, like 
 so many rats in a trap. 
 
 It was an awful thought a weird experience 
 at the outset of a voyage which had so many 
 promises ; to be smashed into like that, perhaps 
 by a huge liner in the fog, which would feel 
 herself jar against something, she knew not 
 what, and move on in the mist without lending 
 a helping hand. Maurice recalled a story of 
 the experiences of some who were in a sunken
 
 34, AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 submarine, where one of the officers wrote the 
 account of what happened to the men below, 
 waiting for death. The submarine had been 
 fished up later on, and this paper was found; 
 but all on board were dead. Was this to be 
 the end of those who were in the Waverley f 
 
 Maurice and his cousins managed to crawl 
 to the steps which led up to the conning-tower, 
 and by this time the Waverley had partly 
 righted herself; but there was still the feeling 
 that she was damaged in some way, for her 
 nose was dipping downward. Maurice could 
 hear the propeller whirling at a terrific rate, 
 as if no longer in the water, but in the air 
 above the surface. 
 
 What did it mean! Was it that the sub- 
 marine was so damaged that she would pres- 
 ently make a plunge down and down to the 
 floor of the sea, while those who were on 
 board would be shut in to die of suffocation, 
 when their storage air was exhausted? Above 
 all other sounds came the somewhat dimmed 
 noise from outside, like the screaming of fog- 
 horns, and the siren of a great ocean liner, or 
 a big warship. 
 
 Warne was at the foot of the steps, and 
 refused to allow Maurice and his cousins to 
 mount. He had been up himself, and was 
 come down at what was almost a plunge to do 
 something at the Captain's orders. 
 
 ' ' Stay where you are, ' ' he cried. * * If you go 
 up you'll be in the way, an' perhaps that'll 
 mean the loss of everything."
 
 THE SUBMARINE 35 
 
 He said this as he moved off to carry out his 
 orders. 
 
 "What's happened?" Maurice asked, keep- 
 ing pace with the sailor, and stumbling like 
 him as they moved on to the engine-room. 
 
 "A German cruiser 'as run us down. I know 
 she's German by 'er cut, an' I just caught sight 
 of 'er flag. If we was at war I'd say as she did 
 it a purpose, an ' I believe she meant to sink us. 
 I've no faith in them Germans, an' I don't love 
 'em too much, by no means. ' ' 
 
 That was all Warne would say, for he had 
 serious work on hand, and it was no time for 
 talking. He came out of the engine-room in a 
 few moments, and by that time the machinery 
 was at a standstill, so that when he mounted to 
 the conning-tower again, the vibration had 
 ceased, and the terror of the accident seemed 
 to have diminished considerably. 
 
 Still standing at the foot of the steps with 
 his cousins, Maurice heard the Captain's voice 
 ring out angrily. 
 
 "You ran us down willfully," he cried in 
 German. "You heard my siren, and you saw 
 me! It was done on purpose, and I shall 
 report it, and the name of your ship, to the 
 Department." 
 
 His voice shook with anger; then he cried 
 out again to the German: "Slacken speed! 
 Can't you see we're hooked on to you some- 
 how? Do you want to sink us?" 
 
 No answer came from the warship, nor did 
 she stop. Suddenly the submarine lurched, as
 
 36 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 though she had been unexpectedly loosened, 
 and Maurice and his cousins tumbled all in a 
 heap on the floor. Warne, who was half-way 
 up the ladder, fell with a crash, and, striking 
 his head against something, lay motionless, 
 dead, perhaps, but certainly stunned, and those 
 who were at the conning-tower were lying about 
 in all directions. There was a loud and deri- 
 sive laugh, as from many men, something was 
 said which Maurice could not catch about ac- 
 cursed Americans, and then, when he got on 
 his feet painfully, and ran up the steps, he saw 
 the great warship moving away, without wait- 
 ing to see whether she could render any aid. 
 
 By this time Captain Bernard was on his 
 feet, heedless of pain, and of the fact that blood 
 was streaming from a wound in his forehead. 
 His first thought was the safety of his sub- 
 marine, and as he searched for the symptoms 
 of her damage, Maurice could see that he antici- 
 pated the worst. 
 
 The Waverley did not right herself, and as 
 Maurice watched, like his uncle, it seemed to 
 him that the submarine was so badly damaged 
 that she would presently settle down and find 
 her way to the sea floor, incapable of rising 
 again. 
 
 The Captain shouted his orders, and his 
 men, such of them as were not too seriously 
 hurt to move about, made a fine response; but 
 the position seemed a' hopeless one. Nothing 
 that could be done would put the Waverley 
 right again. Her nose dipped lower and lower,
 
 THE SUBMARINE 37 
 
 until she suddenly swerved, and to everyone's 
 surprise straightened herself out, and the pro- 
 peller was in the water once more. Captain 
 Bernard waited to comprehend the meaning of 
 this. Then his cry came, sharp and clear, for 
 those in the engine-room: 
 
 ''Set the motors going for all they're worth. 
 I fear we are sinking, but we may get to port 
 in time. It is ten miles off." 
 
 Damaged though she was, the Waverley re- 
 sponded, and plunged on through the waters. 
 The fog had lifted, and she seemed to know that 
 she was riding home for dear life ; and with the 
 Captain at the wheel, determined to save her 
 if it were possible, she' met his call. 
 
 But could she keep afloat so long! She was 
 doing thirty-five knots, for her electric motors 
 were not damaged, and with that speed on her 
 she ought to run into port in twenty-five 
 minutes at the longest. 
 
 As she plunged on, trembling and rolling, an 
 order came which told of possible death : 
 
 "Let every man put on his lifebelt, and bring 
 me one." 
 
 So many of the crew were hurt, or looking 
 round the submarine, to keep an eye on any 
 unsuspected danger, that the Scouts were the 
 only ones available to follow out the Captain's 
 order. Ted and Tom carried the lifebelts to 
 all parts of the Waverley where there were any 
 men, and they helped to fasten them on those 
 who were too seriously injured to do it for 
 themselves. In case the submarine must sink
 
 38 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 they could be carried up to the conning-tower, 
 and have their chance. 
 
 Maurice took one up to his uncle, who caught 
 at it, but scarcely looked at his nephew, his eyes 
 scanning the shore a long way in front of 
 him. 
 
 "Hold the steering-wheel, my boy, while I 
 put this on. You see that point yonder?" he 
 asked, indicating a spot on the coast far on in 
 front. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then keep her nose straight on that. We 
 shall do it yet, please God. ' ' 
 
 Meanwhile Captain Bernard was fastening 
 his belt on, watching Maurice, and content when 
 he saw how capably he was following his in- 
 structions. He spoke presently, when he came 
 to the last fastening. 
 
 "I am sure those Germans willfully ran me 
 down. They signaled that they wanted me to 
 draw near, and when I did so, having no reason 
 to suspect them, the ship suddenly put on full 
 speed and smashed into me before I could get 
 out of the way!" 
 
 The Captain's face was dark with anger, as 
 his eyes searched the waters in the hope of 
 seeing the warship; but she was far away, 
 scarcely visible on the horizon. 
 
 "Do you think you can manage the wheel 
 while I go below to have a look round?" the 
 Captain asked presently. 
 
 "Easily, uncle." 
 
 "Why, boy, you haven't a lifebelt on," ex-
 
 THE SUBMARINE 39 
 
 claimed the Captain, with concern, turning his 
 attention to his nephew. 
 
 11 There's plenty of time, uncle. Besides, 
 I'm a strong swimmer. We're only a mile or 
 so away now, and if the Waverley goes down 
 I shouldn't need a belt for that distance," said 
 Maurice, with quiet confidence. "Will she 
 keep afloat so long?" 
 
 "I think so. I'll go below and have a look 
 round. ' ' 
 
 Maurice stood to his task, and yet it seemed 
 to him to be more and more hopeless. The 
 submarine was doomed. She lay more on her 
 side than before, and it was as much as he 
 could do to stand at the steering-wheel. 
 Something kept the Captain down below, but 
 he came to the foot of the ladder and called, 
 presently : 
 
 "How far away now?" 
 
 "We are close by the entrance." 
 
 The Captain sprang up the ladder three 
 steps at a time, and his face brightened when 
 he took the wheel and looked ahead. 
 
 "It's all right in one way, thank God!" he 
 exclaimed. "I am going to run her aground, 
 and then no lives will be lost, but a lot of 
 the poor fellows below have broken something 
 a leg, or an arm, or a head," he added 
 regretfully. "It was a shameful bit of busi- 
 ness, and in time of peace, too," he mut- 
 tered. 
 
 He looked ahead now, keenly, and for a little 
 while he said nothing. The submarine was
 
 40 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 swaying, and seemed as though she would 
 make a downward plunge. 
 
 "She looks like sinking, uncle." 
 
 "I think not. She is badly damaged, 
 though. Some of her plates are crumpled, 
 two of her bulkheads are broken away at the 
 bow, and there's lots of damage besides. If 
 the motors keep going I think we shall save 
 her. The German meant to sink us, I'm 
 sure," the Captain exclaimed again. " 'Twas 
 a burning shame. Dastardly, I call it!" he 
 cried, angrily, gripping the wheel tightly, to 
 change the direction a little. "Two or three 
 minutes more!" 
 
 The men who were not seriously injured, 
 and could do no more to save the submarine, 
 crowded up the ladder, eager to know what 
 chance there was of being saved. Then came 
 a jar which nearly shook off those who were 
 on the steps. The Waverley came to a sudden 
 standstill, and not one kept his footing; not 
 even the Captain, who gripped the wheel, for 
 his feet shot under him. But he straightened 
 himself quickly. 
 
 "Pick yourselves up, lads," he cried. "The 
 Waverley 's saved! I've run her aground."
 
 in 
 
 THE GUN-RUNNERS 
 
 THE Waverley was so badly damaged 
 that she had to go into dock for repairs, 
 and the report, when she had been over- 
 hauled, was that it would take weeks to make 
 her seaworthy again. 
 
 Maurice took the first train home, and got 
 in just as the bell rang for breakfast, taking 
 everybody by surprise. 
 
 "I'm awfully disappointed, father," he said, 
 when he had told the story of the submarine's 
 misfortune. 
 
 "I don't wonder at it," his father answered 
 sympathetically. "It brings the old saying to 
 mind, that 'Man proposes, but God disposes.' 
 Look here, dear boy, you may make up your 
 mind that God has some other plan for 
 you." 
 
 While he was speaking, the newspaper was 
 brought in, and then their hearts beat quickly, 
 for it was printed in large letters that war had 
 begun. An enormous German Army was on 
 the move towards the French frontier; but no 
 one suspected what really happened a day or 
 two later that the Germans broke their 
 solemn promise not to violate Belgian neu- 
 trality and rushed their soldiers into Belgium. 
 
 41
 
 42 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 The world looked on in wonder, for the Bel- 
 gian Army stood in the way of the Germans, 
 but it was like a pigmy trying to stop a 
 giant. 
 
 Then England joined in because she must, 
 for honor's sake, and Maurice forgot all about 
 his disappointment over the Waverley. He 
 felt proud of his country because she would 
 not stand by and see the brave little army 
 beaten down, and the land overrun with Ger- 
 many's hordes, who laughed in scorn at the 
 protests against their perfidy. 
 
 "I ought to do something, father," said 
 Maurice, feeling that this war called on every- 
 one's patriotism. "Do you think I shall get 
 a chance?" 
 
 "If you mean going into the army, I'm 
 afraid you're too young," his father an- 
 swered, looking his son up and down, and 
 thinking what a fine, strapping fellow he was. 
 He could have easily passed for eighteen. 
 
 "But I'm more than seventeen, father. 
 And look at my size. There's a soldier going 
 along the road. Just look at him! I'm half 
 a head taller, and if he can fight, can't I?" 
 
 His father smiled. 
 
 "There's an age-limit, my boy." 
 
 Maurice shrugged his shoulders, but before 
 he could say anything his father spoke again. 
 
 "I'll tell you what I heard last night that 
 Scouts can render splendid service at home, if 
 they care to offer." 
 
 Maurice was alert in an instant.
 
 THE GUN-RUNNERS 43 
 
 "Are you willing that I should offer? And 
 you, mother?" he asked eagerly, taking the 
 coffee from her hands. 
 
 "I should be sorry if you did not," said his 
 father. And his mother added, "And I think 
 you should, my dear. Why not go and see your 
 Scoutmaster?" 
 
 "I will, as soon as breakfast is over. I'll 
 have a jolly big one to keep up my inner man ! ' ' 
 Maurice added, with a laugh, holding out his 
 plate for another slice of bacon. 
 
 He started off when the meal was over, but 
 to his dismay Mr. Lycett had started for the 
 city, and would not be back till the seven o 'clock 
 train in the evening. 
 
 Maurice left the doorstep and moved down 
 the street slowly, wondering what he should do. 
 He passed a newsagent's shop, and a thought 
 came ; then he went in and bought a time-table. 
 Looking into it he saw that a train would start 
 in seven minutes. The station was ten minutes' 
 walk, but he went at a trot, and presently 
 sprinted, managing to catch the train "by the 
 skin of his teeth," as he put it, when he sank 
 into the seat in the car just as the train 
 moved away from the platform. 
 
 Mr. Lycett was gone off on business, and 
 would not be back all that day. 
 
 "Done a second time," Maurice said to him- 
 self. ' * What am I going to do now ? " he asked, 
 when he was in the street. "Go to head- 
 quarters, of course!" he exclaimed, and with 
 this in his mind he caught the underground
 
 44 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 train, and in half an hour he had told his 
 business. 
 
 "What can you do?" asked the official, who 
 was so busy that he scarcely knew which way 
 to turn. 
 
 "Anything; or at least I can try." 
 
 The official laughed, and looked at the clock. 
 
 ' * Come back in half an hour, or say an hour. 
 I'm sending Scouts in all directions, and put- 
 ting them on to all sorts of jobs. Some have 
 been told off to guard culverts, some to keep 
 an eye on the railway bridges all manner of 
 things ; but I can surely find something that will 
 suit you. I see your record is here, and you 
 hold the Bronze Medal, and other things." 
 
 When Maurice went back, sharp to time, he 
 was told that he would be taken on as mes- 
 senger for the War Office. 
 
 1 ' When will you start ? ' ' 
 
 "Now, sir. I'll only need to send a telegram 
 home, and let them know I'm down for duty." 
 
 "That's all right, then." 
 
 Maurice was told where to go to receive in- 
 structions, and because the note he took with 
 him stated that his record ran that he was a 
 Scout of unusual alertness, he was told off to 
 watch along the East Coast, and give in reports 
 to the Coast Guard, keeping the keenest pos- 
 sible lookout for any sign of treachery. 
 
 His duty was exacting; as hard and im- 
 portant in its way as though he had joined 
 Pershing's Army, and was in France, or 
 training for it. He found himself one night on
 
 THE GUN-RUNNERS 45 
 
 a lonely road near the sea, in a countryside be 
 did not know, save by the help of the map that 
 was given to him. His special errand just then 
 was to carry an important message for the 
 Coast Guard, and the rain was coming down 
 in torrents. 
 
 Feeling for his dispatch, to make sure that 
 it was safely stowed away where it could not 
 get wet, he looked about him for some sort of 
 shelter, and close by he saw the dark form of 
 a house, which was apparently in absolute 
 darkness. 
 
 " Empty, I suppose," said Maurice. "I can 
 stand there at any rate until the worst of this 
 is over," he muttered, while the rain was beat- 
 ing against him, and pouring off his hat and 
 down his face. 
 
 While he spoke he drew up close to the wall, 
 and set his back against it. It afforded him but 
 little shelter, and he wondered whether there 
 was a doorway in which he could stand. He 
 moved on carefully, not to catch his foot in 
 something unseen, and have a fall ; then feeling 
 as he went, he found a doorway. To his sur- 
 prise the door was wide open. 
 
 "I'll step right in," he exclaimed; but he had 
 scarcely done so when he was startled with 
 hearing men 's voices. 
 
 Looking along the passage, he saw a streak 
 of light along the floor, evidently the bottom of 
 a door, and the voices came from that direction. 
 
 For a while he stood in silence, not knowing 
 whether it was safe or not, in such a lonely
 
 46 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 place, to make himself heard ; but in the intense 
 quietness he heard something which made him 
 listen eagerly. What he heard caused him to 
 go softly nearer to the door, where he would 
 hear all that was said; for here was treachery. 
 
 Maurice wondered what things were like on 
 the other side of the closed door. There were 
 three voices, so he judged; there might be 
 more; but certainly three. One was that of 
 one of his countrymen, but from occasional 
 short sentences which came into the conversa- 
 tion, and from the accent of the speakers, the 
 other two were Germans. 
 
 "When does this vessel come in!" Maurice 
 heard. 
 
 "Into St. James's Creek at two o'clock in 
 the morning," came the answer. "She has on 
 board twenty thousand rifles, newest pattern, a 
 million rounds of ammunition, twenty machine 
 guns, and a quantity of dynamite, all to be 
 hidden away here till the signal is given for the 
 naturalized Germans to assemble. When that 
 day comes, and it's within a week from now, we 
 shall stand a chance of doing some mischief." 
 
 "What about my money!" 
 
 ' l Some of it is here. One-half down as soon 
 as the vessel is in the creek, and one-half on 
 the night when the Germans mobilize here and 
 get their arms. That night a German General 
 is to land, and I can tell you we shall put up a 
 big fight. The home fleet will come down here, 
 but a big convoy of German ships, bringing 
 soldiers by thousands, will land them some-
 
 THE GUN-RUNNERS 47 
 
 where else, get a footing, and make things 
 possible for an invasion." 
 
 The other laughed. 
 
 "I've no great reason to think kindly of my 
 country, and I was told when I was in Berlin 
 that it would be made worth my while to do all 
 this, and risk my neck; but I expected more 
 money than that by a long way." 
 
 ' ' You will have more when our men have won 
 their footing; twice as much, I was told to 
 promise you, ' ' said one of the Germans. ' * The 
 night when these men of ours now in this coun- 
 try are here, there will be others by hundreds 
 by thousands in different parts, concentrating 
 by stealth, to take the authorities by surprise." 
 
 Maurice had listened in amazement, but he 
 felt that it was his duty, storm or no storm, 
 to go away softly, and give this information 
 to the officer of the Coast Guard. He began to 
 move, but stopped in an instant, for he heard 
 the sound of a man's footsteps near the door of 
 the house. Then came the heavy stamp of 
 boots along the passage, straight for the door 
 at which he had heard these treacherous plans 
 spoken of. He drew back close to the wall, 
 hoping that the man would pass, and waited, 
 scarcely breathing. But the passage was 
 narrow, and his hope come to nothing, the 
 moment the man was near him. 
 
 The stranger brushed against something, 
 and his hand went out in an instant. Maurice 
 tried to move away, knowing that he was dis- 
 covered, but he felt himself gripped, and a
 
 48 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 question came, in the German accent such as 
 he had noticed with the others. 
 
 "Who are you?" he asked. 
 
 Before there was time for an answer, the 
 German cried aloud. There was a noise in the 
 room, and the sound of a falling chair ; the door 
 was opened, and a flood of light, it seemed to 
 Maurice, after that intense darkness, betrayed 
 him to these men who hurried out in response 
 to the newcomer 's call. 
 
 "Somebody playing the part of spy! One 
 of those Scouts, by Jove ! ' * cried the man with 
 whom Maurice was struggling desperately ; but 
 strong as he was, he was no match for four 
 men, and before long he was dragged into the 
 room and savagely tossed to the floor. Some- 
 one closed the door, twisted the key in the lock, 
 pulled it out, and dropped it into his pocket. 
 
 "So you've been spying?" exclaimed the 
 Englishman, who was near to Maurice. "Get 
 up and answer for yourself. ' ' 
 
 He kicked at Maurice, who sprang to his feet 
 quickly, and faced the four men who crowded 
 round him. 
 
 "What did you hear!" the Englishman 
 asked, but Maurice gave no answer, nor did he 
 give any reply to the questions that were reiter- 
 ated. The temptation was strong to tell this 
 man to his face that he was a traitor, and ought 
 to be shot, but it would avail him nothing. It 
 was better to maintain silence. 
 
 "Fortunately you came when you did," said 
 one of the men, turning to him who had
 
 THE GUN-RUNNERS 49 
 
 stumbled against Maurice in the passage. 
 "Else he would have given us away. We'll 
 have to keep him a prisoner till this coup 
 comes off." 
 
 "Why not kill him offhand?" asked one of 
 the Germans, pulling out his revolver, and 
 examining it to see that it was in working 
 order. 
 
 "No! I won't have murder," exclaimed the 
 man who was apparently a superior officer. 
 "We will lock him up in the top room, on the 
 quarry side, and keep him there." 
 
 The others assented, and Maurice, in spite of 
 a renewed struggle when he found himself in 
 the passage, in the hope that he might manage 
 to slip away and be lost in the darkness, was 
 compelled to yield to numbers and move up the 
 stairs, with one man in front, carrying a lamp 
 to show the way, and the others following to 
 cut off his retreat. 
 
 ~"This is the room, and the door is strong," 
 exclaimed the man who carried the lamp. "It's 
 solid oak, as you people in this country love to 
 call it; and as luck has it, the bolt is on the 
 outside. Now, Master Scout, in you go!" 
 
 Maurice found himself almost tossed in. He 
 felt himself going headlong, and was barely 
 able to save himself from dashing against the 
 opposite wall. He kept his footing and pulled 
 up in time; then he heard the door slam, and 
 the bolts shoot into their sockets. 
 
 "He'll not get out now," he heard. Then 
 followed the noisy tramp of men down two
 
 50 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 flights of stairs, the slam of a door, and silence. 
 At first Maurice began to despair, not so much 
 because of his own danger as for the deadly 
 damage that would be done if this gun-running 
 expedition succeeded. It would mean so much : 
 fighting on home soil; loss of property for 
 these men had been talking, while he listened, 
 of devastation on an alarming scale of signals 
 for Zeppelins, and signals as well for battle 
 cruisers to raid the coasts. The raiders, and 
 these who were to be armed with the guns that 
 were coming, were to burn whatever they came 
 across. They would harry the villages, and de- 
 stroy the farms, killing the cattle, and anything 
 that came their way, men, women, or children, 
 just as had been done in that fearful sweep 
 through Belgium with fire and sword. 
 
 It was this which Maurice thought of, and he 
 was distressed beyond words to find that he was 
 helpless, and could not give warning. Had 
 he been able to get away, he could have raced 
 to some telegraph office, and the messages 
 would be flashed in a dozen different directions. 
 Even if the gun-runners were not captured lives 
 would be saved, and the plans of the Germans 
 frustrated. 
 
 The storm had passed by this time, and then 
 the moon came out from behind great broken 
 clouds. It shone through the window, and he 
 saw that the room was filled with fighting mate- 
 rial: rifles, revolvers, machine guns in pieces, 
 hand grenades, bayonets, boxes of cartridges- 
 hundreds of things which belonged to the
 
 THE GUN-RUNNERS 51 
 
 equipments of soldiers, stacked up to the ceil- 
 ing, and only leaving a space like a passage 
 from the door to the window, which was pos- 
 sibly kept clear to enable the Germans to look 
 out to sea. 
 
 Startled by this discovery, Maurice went to 
 the window and found that it was unfastened. 
 He lifted it softly to see what chance there was 
 of escape. 
 
 The house on that side stood so close to the 
 edge of a quarry that no one could do more 
 than find standing room. Close by the window 
 was a water-pipe running from the sheeting of 
 the roof down to the bottom part of the house. 
 
 "I could climb down that, and get away to 
 the Coast Guard, and give the alarm," Maurice 
 said to himself; but he shuddered at the possi- 
 bilities. Suppose the water-pipe would not 
 support his weight, and broke away, and he 
 fell? His body would be broken, for he would 
 fall down into the quarry, where everything 
 was black and forbidding. It might easily 
 mean death. 
 
 But he had to think of others, and not of 
 himself. There was the call of his country; 
 the appeal to his patriotism; the country's 
 danger in war time, now that she was betrayed 
 by that traitor who had sold his honor and his 
 countrymen for money! And there were men 
 and women of the countryside, near the sea, 
 the farmsteads and villages on the coast all 
 at the mercy of the enemy. It was terrible to 
 think of.
 
 52 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 He felt that he must take the risks for the 
 sake of those who were being so shamefully 
 betrayed. He must play the game ! Yes, and 
 he would play it, whatever the consequences, 
 rather than allow those gun-runners to land 
 their arms unhindered. 
 
 Standing at the window, Maurice tried to 
 plan out his course. Suppose that he succeeded 
 in getting down the water-pipe, there was surely 
 some way down into the quarry. The moon 
 would show him where to go, and what to do 
 with his hands and feet. 
 
 He thought the thing out thoroughly and 
 quickly, and then, to cover his retreat, as he 
 put it to himself, he crossed to the door, which, 
 by the aid of the moonlight, he saw had an 
 inside bolt, and perhaps might have more. But 
 there was only one, and when he drove it into 
 its socket softly, he returned to the window on 
 tiptoe and climbed on the sill. 
 
 It called for all his nerve to grip the water- 
 pipe and trust his weight to it, but it was his 
 only course if he would give the warning, and 
 prevent the Germans from carrying out their 
 scheme. Clutching at the pipe, he began his 
 descent, feeling his finger-nails scraping against 
 the wall, and the skin at his knees being torn 
 as he gripped the pipe with them; but he 
 ignored all that in his determination to get 
 away and give warning. At last his feet 
 touched something solid, and glancing down- 
 wards, he found that he had landed on the top 
 edge of the quarry.
 
 THE GUN-RUNNERS 53 
 
 At that moment he heard a window open 
 noisily, and looking up, saw a man's head 
 appear. A cry and an oath followed. 
 
 "He's getting away! He's on the quarry 
 edge," the man cried; and three other heads 
 were thrust out of the window. 
 
 Maurice moved along the edge slowly and 
 carefully, reaching a spot on the other side of 
 the house, being now out of the sight of the 
 men. As for himself, he still had that quarry 
 to consider, and he saw that there was no other 
 way of escape but down its dangerous paths, 
 supposing there were any. The ledge itself 
 was not more than a foot wide where he stood, 
 and it narrowed off till it came to nothing.
 
 IV 
 
 AN EXCITING CHASE 
 
 MAURICE stood to consider the question 
 of descending into the quarry. Was it 
 possible? He thought he could get 
 down if not hurried, but there was the fear lest 
 the men in the house should anticipate his doing 
 this, and would be waiting for him. He half 
 determined to remain where he was till morn- 
 ing, when the quarrymen would come to their 
 work and see him ; but he thought of the possi- 
 bilities. The gun-runners would have time to 
 land their stores, the mischief would be done, 
 and havoc, and loss of life, and distress for the 
 unprotected were sure to follow. 
 
 ' 'It's my duty to make the venture," he ex- 
 claimed. "I may save the situation. Not only 
 so, I have not yet delivered the dispatch, and 
 I was told that the consequences, if I failed, 
 would be serious." 
 
 He watched to see whether the moon was 
 likely to serve him during his climb down the 
 quarry-side, and he saw that the sky was clear- 
 ing, for the clouds were moving away swiftly. 
 
 He started at once, dropping off the first 
 ledge to one below, and from that to another. 
 It was the first bit of quarry-climbing he had 
 ever done, and he discovered the difficulty and 
 
 54
 
 AN EXCITING CHASE 55 
 
 the danger of it. Sometimes he had about 
 three or four inches to rest his foot on; some- 
 times a yard or more; but he kept his head, 
 and was on the move all the time, occasionally 
 glancing below to see whether there were any 
 signs of his jailers. 
 
 So far they had not shown themselves, and he 
 wondered whether they thought Maurice so 
 thoroughly trapped on the treacherous ledge of 
 rock that they had gone away to hurry on the 
 gun-runners, intending later to get to him and 
 carry him back to his prison. 
 
 He was startled by a sound above him, and 
 glancing up to see what it meant, he saw two 
 men leaning out of the window. That he did 
 not mind, at first ; but he thrilled at the thought 
 that they might use their revolvers on him, and 
 come round to the quarry to carry his dead or 
 maimed body away. Before he had dropped 
 off that ledge to the lower he understood their 
 intention. One of the men dropped a rope, and 
 did it with such skill that he felt the scrape of 
 it on his hands. It had a noose in it, and he 
 knew that they were hoping to get the noose 
 about his body and, moving swiftly, haul him 
 up to the window. 
 
 He breathed with relief when he found that 
 they failed, but the man pulled up the rope 
 swiftly, and dropped it again while he was 
 moving along a foot-wide ledge carefully, and 
 this time it fell over his head and shoulders, 
 and being drawn up swiftly, it was tightened 
 about him like a snake twining round the body
 
 56 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 of a victim. He felt the grip of it pinching 
 under his arms, and the pain brought a cry to 
 his lips. He felt that he was lost, for they 
 were beginning to haul him up bodily, and were 
 laughing when they saw him dragged up from 
 that ledge to the one above. 
 
 But his quick wit saved him. He had his 
 knife at his belt, and opening it swiftly, waited 
 his time. It would never do to cut it while he 
 was half-way up to the next ledge, since that 
 would mean a fearful fall, a broken body, per- 
 haps a life-long maiming, if not death. The 
 moment he found his feet touching the ledge he 
 slashed at the rope, and the first cut severed 
 it and left him free. 
 
 He dropped to the next ledge swiftly, took 
 infinite risks and got yet lower, and lower still, 
 until he knew that no rope could reach him 
 where he was. 
 
 After that he had to go more warily, and the 
 descent seemed more perilous than before; 
 which meant that he was a long time descend- 
 ing, in spite of his agility. But, after taking 
 many risks, he had but half a dozen yards to go, 
 and although the remaining bit of climbing 
 down was dangerous, he took the risks. After 
 a nasty drop on some unseen crowbars and 
 other tools, he stood in the quarry, among some 
 carts which were standing with their shafts in 
 the air. He was feeling grateful that he was 
 clear, and that now he had but to be wary, and 
 he could give the alarm in this life and death 
 affair.
 
 AN EXCITING CHASE 57 
 
 While he was pulling his clothes into place, 
 before starting on this fateful errand, he 
 heard a man's voice behind the carts. Then 
 came the sound of footsteps on both sides of 
 him. 
 
 "I'm trapped!" he thought, when two men 
 appeared on either hand ; but he was Scout-like 
 in his alertness. There was barely room to do 
 it, but urged on by the desperate position in 
 which he found himself, he sprang on the box 
 of the wheel of one of the carts, and dropped on 
 the other side by the cart's tail. He was free 
 to move, and he bounded forward into the open, 
 anywhere for the moment, to get away from the 
 men who were coming after him. 
 
 In the moonlight he saw a rutted road, which 
 led out of the quarry, and racing away with all 
 speed, but careful to see where he went, not to 
 fall, he found himself nearing the exit. Behind 
 were the men, cursing and hurling stones to 
 lame and floor him. Some rattled past; some 
 fell short; some landed so close that the water 
 in the ruts into which they splashed flew up and 
 bespattered him. All this made him plunge on 
 more than ever, to escape an unlucky blow, but 
 at last disaster came. The road was in 
 shadow, and he did not see a cart in the way, 
 the shafts lying down. A cry escaped him 
 when he found himself caught at the feet, and. 
 falling across the shaft. His hands were cut 
 in the fall on the stones, and his knees were 
 chafed and stinging with pain; nor was that 
 all. He had struck his head against something,
 
 58 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 and he felt a warm trickling down his forehead 
 into one of his eyes. 
 
 It was no time for bewailing his mishap, or 
 thinking of the pain. What possessed him was 
 the thought of the gun-runners, and the deter- 
 mination of the men who were in pursuit to stop 
 him from giving the alarm. He sprang up 
 hearing heavy feet on the stony path not far 
 behind. He could not help hoping that the 
 unseen shafts would be a snare to his pursuers, 
 and he made a fresh spurt to atone for lost 
 time. 
 
 Once outside the quarry he slowed down to 
 take in his bearings, for he did not know how 
 the quarry lay after coming along that winding 
 road out of it. The sounds of the men appeared 
 to be far behind, and now the pain he felt com- 
 pelled attention. His fingers were skinned with 
 the climb down the water-pipe; his knees were 
 smarting, and his forehead bled so freely that 
 he was obliged to bind his handkerchief round 
 his head to stay the flow of blood. 
 
 The sounds of pursuit died away, and he 
 leaned against a field gate to think out a plan. 
 It seemed to him, in view of what was to be 
 attempted by the gun-runners, that he ought to 
 find a Coast Guard Station and give warning, 
 since one of the duties of the Coast Guard was 
 to stop the introduction of arms, or dynamite, 
 or anything in the shape of war material. 
 
 Before many moments had gone, and before 
 he quite decided in what direction to go, he was 
 astounded to see, on the highway he thought
 
 AN EXCITING CHASE 59 
 
 he would have to travel, two men come out of 
 the darkness of a hedge, not far away, into the 
 middle of the road, and look about in all direc- 
 tions. Would they see him! 
 
 He knew that his escape along that road was 
 cut off, and he wondered where the other 
 two men were. Somewhere not far away, he 
 was sure, since so much depended on his cap- 
 ture. 
 
 The only way to get clear was to climb the 
 gate, for when he tried to open it he found it 
 chained and locked. At another time he would 
 have vaulted it with ease, but not now. He 
 began to climb, but what pain it was! He 
 struck his knee against one of the bars, and 
 gasped, but when he stood and balanced himself 
 on the top bar, the men saw him, and came for 
 him with a shout. 
 
 Jumping into the field, and going for all he 
 was worth, although it was full of lumps, he 
 reached the hedge on the other side. In the 
 full light of the moon he ran along the hedge 
 side, looking for a place to crawl through, but 
 the men had divined his intention, and were 
 trying to cut him off. Maurice swung round 
 and raced back in the opposite direction, 
 climbed over a gate, and ran on. 
 
 When he came to a bit of copse the men were 
 not in sight. Near by was a pond which threat- 
 ened to bar his way, and would compel him to 
 go round. It meant loss of time, and risk of 
 capture. What should he do ? Should he drop 
 into the pond, and hide among the rushes which
 
 60 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 were in deep shadow because of the heavy 
 foliage on the trees which overhung the water? 
 He hesitated, but turning, saw the men climbing 
 the gate. They seemed to guess that he would 
 take his way through the copse, not knowing of 
 the pond, perhaps, and they chose it for them- 
 selves, to Maurice's consternation. 
 
 He looked at the water. It was black, and full 
 of everything nasty that could be found in a 
 stagnant pool; but what of that? He might 
 hide there, and be unseen ; then, if the men gave 
 up the search, or missed him, and- went farther 
 afield, he would still have time to give the alarm 
 and cut off the gun-runners. He slid down the 
 sloping bank, not knowing how deep it was, and 
 the cold water came up and up till he felt it 
 about his waist. He waded on, ready for an 
 unexpected plunge into a possible hole, until he 
 reached the rushes, and once amid such black- 
 ness, he hoped that he was safe. 
 
 He waited. At first it seemed pleasant, for 
 the water got at his burning knees and cooled 
 and soothed them; but the cold, after a while, 
 seemed to strike into his bones, and it was dif- 
 ficult to keep his teeth from chattering. 
 
 The men were approaching, and their voices, 
 distant at first, grew louder, and then he knew 
 that they were in the copse. 
 
 "He wouldn't stay here," said one. 
 
 "I'll strike a match and see," said another; 
 and a light lit up the copse. Maurice saw the 
 men's faces as the red glow of the burning 
 match fell on them, and he saw how they peered
 
 AN EXCITING CHASE 61 
 
 about when match after match was struck. The 
 light showed them the green surface of the 
 pond, but at last they concluded that he was 
 gone into the road beyond. 
 
 When the men left, and he was alone again, 
 Maurice crawled out, and taking the shadows 
 wherever possible, came to the open country. 
 The sea was on his right, and he knew then 
 the direction he must take. Forgetful of pain, 
 and weariness, and hunger, thinking only of 
 duty, and of the necessity for his warning, he 
 moved as though he had nothing but distance 
 to contend with. On and on he went, until he 
 came to a great square wooden building, a hun- 
 dred yards back from the sea cliffs. There was 
 no light anywhere, but by the moon he saw, to 
 his delight, the flagstaff on which the White 
 Ensign was flying, and knew it to be a Coast 
 Guard Station. 
 
 When a blue-jacket on sentry challenged him, 
 he stopped and told his story. 
 
 "I'll call the guard," the sentry said, when 
 he had whistled in surprise. "I dare not leave 
 my post. Sit there, Scout, until somebody 
 comes." 
 
 Before many moments had gone an officer 
 and three armed sailors came on at the double, 
 in answer to the sentry's call. 
 
 "What's wrong, Kershaw?" the officer asked. 
 
 "This yer Scout says as there's some gun- 
 running to come off in James's Creek at mid- 
 night, sir." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed the officer, turning to
 
 62 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 Maurice, who was sitting on a bowlder, utterly 
 worn out. " Tell me all you know." 
 
 Maurice told the story tersely, and in a 
 quarter of an hour a strong force of armed 
 men were moving swiftly in the direction of 
 James's Creek. The officer lingered a moment 
 or two to speak to Maurice. 
 
 "You seem fairly done up, and it's a couple 
 of miles farther to the camp where you have to 
 take your message. Let me send a man on 
 with it, while you go to the station and eat 
 and rest. ' ' 
 
 "I must not do that, sir. My orders were to 
 give the dispatch into Captain Drayton's hands, 
 and deliver a verbal message as well." 
 
 4 'Then I'll send a man with you to show you 
 the way. It may save you from getting into 
 any mischief, for I am certain there are a 
 number of Germans about, rascals who ought 
 to be interned and aren't, and the presence of 
 a Scout may make them think he means busi- 
 ness not to their own liking." 
 
 He blew a whistle, and a sailor ran up, 
 saluting as he came to a standstill. 
 
 4 * Take this young fellow to Captain Drayton, 
 and see that he comes to no harm. Take his 
 pace, for he has been in difficulties, and is pretty 
 well hurt," said the officer kindly. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the sailor, saluting; and in 
 half an hour, by taking short cuts, Maurice had 
 discharged his errand. 
 
 "Go and lie down there, on that camp bed- 
 stead, and have a good rest, when they Ve given
 
 AN EXCITING CHASE 63 
 
 you something to eat," said the Captain kindly, 
 after reading the dispatch, and giving some im- 
 portant orders. What Maurice heard and saw 
 showed him that his errand was more pressing 
 than he had supposed. "I mean to report your 
 service," he said approvingly. "It was finely 
 rendered. ' ' 
 
 It was broad daylight when Maurice awoke, 
 and he heard some loud cheering. 
 
 "What's up!" he asked of an orderly who 
 came in to see how he was getting on. 
 
 "Something fine, an' no mistake," the soldier 
 answered, his face broad with smiles. "They 
 caught that ship, an' the fellows what you spoke 
 about the whole blessed lot of 'em an* to- 
 morrow there'll be some shootin' of traitors. 
 The Government ought to give you a medal for 
 this," said the man, hurrying out to know what 
 more there was to hear. 
 
 Maurice called after him, and the soldier 
 halted at the door. 
 
 "Did they find the house with all the guns 
 and ammunition in it, by the quarry!" 
 
 "Rather!" said the man, with a grin; and 
 with that he walked away.
 
 V 
 
 THE RECRUITING OFFICE 
 
 MAURICE was rendering splendid service 
 as a Scout, but he was impatient to 
 play a more important part in the war, 
 and come into touch with the enemy. He had 
 a horror of being thought a "slacker," and as 
 he was such a big fellow, looking more than 
 eighteen, he wondered what he should do if 
 some young lady came up to him and presented 
 him with a white feather. Apart from that, he 
 became still more eager when he read the ap- 
 peals for recruits on the great bill-posting 
 stations, and one of them especially appealed 
 to him. 
 
 YOUR COUNTRY WANTS 
 
 YOU, 
 
 AND 300,000 MORE MEN LIKE YOU. 
 DON'T WAIT, BUT JOIN NOW. 
 
 "I've got to wait another six months," said 
 Maurice discontentedly, as he stood and read 
 the great poster. "Yet think what a great 
 fellow I ami Look at that chap, and I'm a 
 head taller than he! And he's in khaki I I'll 
 
 64
 
 THE RECRUITING OFFICE 65 
 
 go and talk to father, and see if I can persuade 
 him at least to let me try. It's possible that 
 I may slip through." 
 
 He found father busy at his table, writing, 
 but the moment Maurice stood in the door- 
 way, his father saw that he had come to talk 
 on something important, and his pen went 
 down. 
 
 "Anything wrong?" he asked pleasantly. 
 
 4 ' No, father, not at present. ' ' Then Maurice 
 went straight to the business on hand. 
 
 "The Government says it wants three hun- 
 dred thousand more men." 
 
 "I know it, and it is getting them." 
 
 "But not as many as it should get. I've 
 been out on Scout duty all day, and whichever 
 way I turn there are slackers ; fellows who care 
 more for their own skins than their country's 
 welfare, and they aren't playing the game. I 
 would, if I had the chance." 
 
 "You are doing it every day, my boy. This 
 Scout work means very real service." 
 
 "Yes, I know, father. But men are wanted 
 at the front, and I ought to be there. You don't 
 know what was said at the Recruiting Meeting 
 the night before last. There was a boy in the 
 crowd at a ship launch, and the men who were 
 pulling at the ropes couldn't get the ship to 
 budge, and were going to give up. Then the 
 youngster came, pulled off his coat, and tucked 
 up his shirt-sleeves. The people who were look- 
 ing on laughed. 
 
 " 'What do you think you can do, little
 
 66 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 whipper-snapper?' asked one of the men who 
 had been pulling at the ropes. 
 
 " 'I can pull a pound,' was the answer; and 
 the men called out that he should have his 
 chance. They picked up the ropes again; the 
 boy did his share, pulled his pound, and the 
 ship went swinging down into the water. 
 They want men, father, and I can pull my 
 pound. ' ' 
 
 Maurice was looking at his father across the 
 table, and his face was full of eagerness. 
 
 "Soldiers run tremendous risks," said Mr. 
 Millard quietly. 
 
 "I wouldn't shirk them, father." 
 
 "It means tiredness, worn-out-ness, march- 
 ing until your feet are blistered, and work until 
 every bone in your body aches." 
 
 "I can take my share with the rest, since it 
 has to be done by somebody, father." 
 
 "It means the chance of wounds, my boy." 
 
 "I don't mind if I'm doing my duty." 
 
 "It means the risk of death." 
 
 "I'd be ready to die for my country, father, 
 like the others." 
 
 ' ' Then go, my boy, and do your share ; but I 
 want to put you on your honor. You are not 
 eighteen yet, and if they ask your age at the 
 Eecruiting Office, you must tell them exactly 
 how old you are." 
 
 "I'll tell the truth, father. While I should 
 dearly like to get into our Army, for I don't 
 want to be among the shirkers, I won't deceive 
 them. Shall I go now?"
 
 THE RECRUITING OFFICE 67 
 
 Mr. Millard looked at his watch. 
 
 "They close in half an hour, and it will take 
 nearly fifteen minutes to get there. Suppose 
 you wait till to-morrow?" 
 
 "I'd rather go now, father;" and saluting, 
 as his custom was with his father, Maurice 
 hurried out of the room, and before many 
 moments had gone Mr. Millard heard the front 
 door close, and then a boy's swift feet on the 
 pavement. 
 
 The Eecruiting Office was still open when 
 Maurice entered, and those who saw him step 
 up to the table thought what a fine recruit he 
 would make. He looked the age required 
 eighteen; but they were disappointed when he 
 answered the question as to age. 
 
 "I'm only seventeen and a half, sir." 
 
 "What a pity," said the presiding officer. 
 "Eighteen is the limit." 
 
 A look of disappointment swept across 
 Maurice's face. 
 
 "I'm big enough for eighteen," he exclaimed 
 impulsively. "I've strength enough for a sol- 
 dier. I've been a Scout for a long time and am 
 a Patrol Leader. And what is more, I've been 
 doing duty for the Coast Guard on the East 
 Coast." 
 
 "What is your name!" the officer inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 "Maurice Millard." 
 
 There was an exclamation of surprise, and 
 those who were at the table sat up more alert 
 than before.
 
 68 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 "Are you the Scout who gave notice of the 
 gun-running the other night?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 ' ' It was a fine bit of work, my boy, and if all 
 your work has been like it " 
 
 The officer broke off and pointed to Maurice's 
 breast. 
 
 "That's the Bronze Medal, and you must 
 have won it, or you would not be wearing it." 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Maurice, his face coloring. 
 
 The officer looked at those who sat at the 
 table with him. 
 
 "Suppose you leave the room for a few 
 minutes," he said quietly. "The sergeant shall 
 call you in when we have talked your case 
 over." 
 
 Maurice was turning to go out when an idea 
 occurred to him, which he thought might 
 strengthen his application, for he was in dead 
 earnest. 
 
 "I was in the Cadet Corps at Ellingham a 
 sergeant, sir, so that I know all the drill," he 
 exclaimed eagerly. 
 
 The officer's eyes gleamed, and he nodded for 
 Maurice to go. Maurice walked about outside, 
 full of anxiety. He read the recruiting posters, 
 and was eager not to be a slacker who cared 
 more for his skin than his country's honor. 
 But with him there was something more than 
 an appeal to be a soldier. He wanted to take 
 his share in the generous endeavor to drive 
 the Germans out of Belgium, and give those 
 ruined people their homes and country again.
 
 THE RECRUITING OFFICE 69 
 
 He wanted to take his place in the stand for 
 right against Germany's cruel policy with a 
 weak nation, and although it meant self -sacri- 
 fice like a true soldier he was ready for it. 
 
 It seemed to him that they were a long time 
 talking his case over in the office. The hour 
 when they usually closed was past, and still the 
 sergeant did not come. Did they mean to refuse 
 him ; to put him back for six whole months ? but 
 still he had told the truth, and there was noth- 
 ing on his conscience. 
 
 Just then the door opened, and the sergeant, 
 standing in the doorway, beckoned to him. 
 Maurice crossed to him in quick strides, won- 
 dering what he was going to hear. 
 
 "Is it all right?" he asked the old soldier. 
 
 "Wait and see," said the sergeant, with a 
 chuckle at his joke. "Now, then, in you gol" 
 And Maurice felt the man's hand on his 
 shoulder, giving him a push. 
 
 "Maurice Millard, your age is against you, 
 but your service is all in your favor," said the 
 officer. "We have talked things over. By the 
 time you have gone through your training and 
 qualified for service at the front you will be 
 eighteen. Will that suit you!" 
 
 "I can't tell you how glad I shall be," 
 Maurice cried. "I want to do my bit, sir. I 
 want to do what you spoke of at the Eecruiting 
 Meeting I want to pull my pound." 
 
 The men at the table roared with laughter. 
 
 "You will pull sixteen ounces to the pound, 
 I am sure," said the officer, still laughing.
 
 70 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 "Well, report yourself to-morrow. The ser- 
 geant there will tell you all about it. If you 
 make as fine a soldier as you have made a 
 Scout, you ought to come out on top." 
 
 "Field Marshal," said one of the men at the 
 table; and Maurice went out of the room, his 
 face in a glow, and his heart beating with 
 pleasure at the thought that he was to serve 
 his country and do his bit. 
 
 Maurice went into training, but a great sur- 
 prise was in store for him one morning when 
 the Commanding Officer sent for him. 
 
 "Millard, there has been a call for Scouts at 
 the front, and you have put your soul so thor- 
 oughly into the work that I have named you for 
 one of them. Will you go I " 
 
 "Yes, sir," was the ready answer. Maurice 
 felt his heart leap with satisfaction. "When 
 do I start?" 
 
 ' ' This is Monday. You must be on your way 
 to the sea port on Wednesday morning, by 
 the 11.25. I will see to your kit being ready, 
 and am sure, from what I have seen of you, that 
 you will not disappoint me, and make me wish 
 I had sent someone else. You can have leave 
 to gb home and say 'Good-by.' Start at once. 
 There 's a train in an hour from now. ' ' 
 
 It was, perhaps, an unusual thing for an 
 officer to do, but he shook Maurice by the hand 
 warmly. 
 
 "My boy, that Bronze Medal of which I have 
 heard speaks much for your fine spirit. All 
 J Jiave heard of you tells me that you count
 
 THE RECRUITING OFFICE 71 
 
 honor and duty as great things. I'm not going 
 to preach to you, Millard, but you will be going 
 among all sorts of men, and you will meet with 
 all sorts of temptations; but keep your mind 
 and your heart clean. Don 't let your character 
 be smirched. I feel sure you will be loyal to 
 God as well as to your Government." 
 
 1 ' I will do my best, sir, ' ' said Maurice, and a 
 moment later he was gone. 
 
 "Where's father, mother?" Maurice asked, 
 as soon as he had told her he was to go to the 
 front at once. 
 
 "Gone to France to look after Marjorie," 
 said his mother, whose heart beat with anxiety, 
 as well as pride, when she heard that Maurice 
 was to start on Wednesday. 
 
 "Is Marjorie in any danger?" he asked 
 eagerly. 
 
 "We can't say. We have written again and 
 again, and no answers have come. Because our 
 anxiety is so great your father has obtained 
 permission to go to France to look for her." 
 
 Maurice noticed how his mother's lips 
 trembled, and her eyes gleamed. He put his 
 arms about her and kissed her fondly. 
 
 "Mother, I'll see if I can find her, for I have 
 some scouting to do, and it may take me to all 
 sorts of places." 
 
 He said that to comfort his mother, but his 
 own heart was gripped by a certain fear, for it 
 was common talk now that the Germans were 
 merciless wherever they went, and Marjorie,
 
 72 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 whom he loved so dearly, may have got into 
 their hands. What might she be enduring if 
 she was alive 1 
 
 He shuddered at the thought, but was care- 
 ful to speak encouragingly to his mother, who 
 was consumed with anxiety. 
 
 But how swiftly those hours passed from 
 the Monday night to the Wednesday morning ! 
 They were the quickest Maurice had ever 
 known, and eager though he was to be fighting 
 at the front, he was pained at the thought of 
 saying "Good-by" to the little mother whom he 
 loved so dearly; and he would have given a 
 great deal to have had a handshake from his 
 father. 
 
 A long telegram came an hour before Maurice 
 had to start. It was from his father in answer 
 to one Maurice's mother had sent to her hus- 
 band to tell him that their boy was ordered out 
 to France at short notice. 
 
 . . 
 
 'Hear that Marjorie is safe somewhere. 
 Sorry not to grip your hand, my boy ; but I know 
 you will play the game. There is room for it 
 here. Keep in touch with God, and all that is 
 manly. God go with you. Your father's best 
 love." 
 
 It was a long telegram, and Maurice felt the 
 hot tears come to his eyes as he read it, and a 
 strained feeling at the top of his throat. He 
 would not disappoint his father. 
 
 When he came out of his room, ready to start, 
 his mother stood in her own doorway.
 
 THE RECRUITING OFFICE 73 
 
 "My dear, I want you," she said, and she 
 drew him into the room and closed the door. 
 
 "What is it, little mother?" he asked affec- 
 tionately, and there was a pang when he saw 
 signs of tears on her face, although she thought 
 she had wiped them quite away. He knew she 
 was trying to smile, not to send him away 
 downhearted. 
 
 "I want to say exactly what your father said 
 in his telegram, my dear. And I want to give 
 you a keepsake something I value greatly; 
 something I used when I was a girl at school." 
 
 She took her little pocket Bible from the 
 table, and held it out for Maurice. 
 
 "I want you to take it, to treasure it, and 
 read it, and to stand by what it says. Will 
 you?" 
 
 Maurice took it from her trembling hands, 
 and throwing his arms about her, he kissed her 
 again and again. 
 
 "Mother, I'll never part with it. I'll 
 treasure it as something sacred because it 
 comes from you. But it's time, dear little 
 mother. I must go. Good-by." 
 
 He turned away with the Bible in his hand, 
 caught up his kit-bag, and without looking 
 round, went, he did not know how, out of the 
 house, and down the street towards the station. 
 As soon as he had turned the corner out of 
 sight, his mother went from the window, and, 
 dropping on her knees at the table, prayed that 
 God would shield him and bring him and his 
 sister safely back to her.
 
 VI 
 THE BARBED WIRE ENTANGLEMENT 
 
 DURING the months of hard training 
 Maurice had gone in heart and soul for 
 First Aid, of which he had already done 
 a great deal during his Scout practice ; but his 
 idea was that when he was at the front he might 
 find it useful beyond all that had yet come into 
 his experience. 
 
 It was not luck which made him get on, but 
 downright hard work; a determination not to 
 be Number Two if he could be Number One by 
 work. The officer who called after him as he 
 left the Recruiting Room, "Mind you come 
 home a Field Marshal, Millard!" was not 
 laughing at him, but he saw the sort of fellow 
 Maurice was, and that he possessed so much 
 grit that he would not be content just to rub 
 along, but would use every opportunity for 
 rising in the ranks. 
 
 Maurice had not been at the base in France 
 many hours before a case of First Aid offered 
 for a soldier who had been knocked down by 
 one of the ambulance vans ; and since no doctor 
 or nurse was near at the moment, Maurice set 
 the poor Tommy's broken leg, and did it so well 
 that the surgeon who came along after a time 
 did not need to make any changes, and told him 
 
 74
 
 BARBED WIRE ENTANGLEMENT 75 
 
 lie was a born doctor, and ought to go in for 
 surgery. 
 
 " Shall we get the war through first, sir?" 
 Maurice asked pleasantly. 
 
 The other realities of war came on him very 
 swiftly. By the time he was at the front he 
 was so light of foot, and so ready, that the 
 officer in command of the battalion made use of 
 him freely, and his errands often brought him 
 into a very real danger zone. At first he was 
 dazed with the clamor, but he got used to it, 
 and moved about, where his work and duty 
 called him, amid the noise of screaming bullets, 
 the bursting of grenades and shells, shirking 
 nothing. 
 
 The first message from the Lieutenant- 
 Colonel of the battalion was comparatively 
 easy, but when he was told to go on the second, 
 the officer who sent him to one of the sectors, 
 and one which was the most dangerous, little 
 guessed how very near it was to being the last 
 message Maurice would ever carry. He came 
 to a spot where he had to halt for a few minutes, 
 for a regiment was marching by, made up of 
 men who had been war-hardened by the fighting 
 at the front; fine, bronzed, and weather-beaten 
 fellows who would not be turned aside from the 
 fearful task the Brigadier-General had set them 
 to do. This was another of those infantry raids 
 which the Germans were powerless to stop, and 
 the regiment was swinging on, singing, and pre- 
 senting a magnificent appearance. They might 
 have been marching through one of the towns
 
 76 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 at home, rather than moving into the very jaws 
 of death. 
 
 As soon as they had passed, Maurice crossed 
 the road and made for the place where he ex- 
 pected to find the battalion for one of whose 
 Majors he was carrying a very special message. 
 It was getting rather dark when he got among 
 the men, and one of the Lieutenants told him 
 where Major Grey was. 
 
 "You'd better not go. He is in one of those 
 forward trenches yonder. Ah ! just where that 
 German shell burst! The Major made up his 
 mind to set some of our men to snip away the 
 barbed wire, for we're going to make a big raid 
 before morning. Let me send one of these 
 fellows with your message, for they know 
 their way about," said the young officer 
 kindly. 
 
 "What! Send another fellow just to save 
 my own skin?" asked Maurice, half scornfully. 
 "Besides, it's a verbal message for the Major, 
 and for his ear only, so I was told, and I haven't 
 a bit of writing about me. Thanks, all the 
 same, but I must go myself." 
 
 With that he moved on towards the trench, 
 which he found in the dim twilight, and 
 dropped into it, with the German trench not 
 a hundred yards away. 
 
 Between the rival trenches was a fearful 
 tangle of criss-crossed barbed wire, put there 
 by the Germans and so interlaced that Maurice 
 thought a cat could scarcely get through, much 
 less a soldier. The moment he dropped into
 
 BARBED WIRE ENTANGLEMENT 77 
 
 the trench he saw the German trench lined up 
 as it were with spouts of rifle fire, and English 
 soldiers poured back volley after volley at some 
 of the enemy's men when they leapt up out of 
 their own trench, thinking to hack away the 
 very wire they had placed there. It was clear 
 that they meditated a raid. 
 
 "Let 'em all come!" shouted some of our 
 men; and a terrific- fusillade followed, so that 
 no German came near the barbed wire, and only 
 one or two got back to the trenches. 
 
 There was a lull for a few minutes, and 
 Maurice thought his chance had come; for in 
 the dim evening light no sign of the enemy 
 could be anywhere seen. 
 
 "I saw him crawling along to those barbed 
 wires," said the non-com., staring at Maurice, 
 wondering what he wanted, and knowing that 
 he did not belong to his company, nor even to 
 his battalion. "He's gone, I expect, to see 
 whether there 's any chance of getting round to 
 that trench to turn those Huns out. Do you 
 want him?" 
 
 "I have a message for him from the Briga- 
 dier-General." 
 
 "Best wait for him to come back if ever he 
 does," the sergeant muttered, under his breath, 
 for he felt that another man ought to have been 
 doing that sort of work, rather than a valuable 
 officer going out to risk his life. 
 
 Maurice searched the front in the twilight 
 with his hand to his eyes, and when he spotted 
 the Major, he wondered how he should get at
 
 78 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 him. There was a greatly prolonged lull, the 
 men in this trench, where Maurice was shelter- 
 ing, watching for any sign of further efforts on 
 the part of the Germans, with an occasional 
 rifle shot picking off a venturesome soldier in 
 the enemy trenches. 
 
 "I must crawl out to him," thought Maurice, 
 who had been told that the message was urgent, 
 and time a great consideration everything, in 
 fact. 
 
 Where he stood, when he had moved along 
 the trench to get nearer to the officer, there was 
 no one to hinder him, and .to avoid any shots 
 that might come he went out of the trench on 
 his hands and knees, throwing himself down 
 constantly full length on the ground, wriggling 
 along at times, taking every bit of shelter 
 possible. The men in our trenches watched 
 him, wondering at his daring, and saw how, 
 with a speed which was surprising, he came to 
 the spot where the Major was sheltering behind 
 a fallen tree-trunk close up against the barbed 
 fencing. He was talking to three men lying 
 low, like himself, giving them instructions as 
 to the wire-cutting. Maurice could hear the 
 tang of a jarred wire which a fourth man was 
 working on in the twilight, which had almost 
 become darkness now, so that the soldier could 
 afford to be venturesome. 
 
 The Major now thought he could safely move, 
 and he stood upright to peer into the gathering 
 darkness; but the moment Maurice was within 
 speaking distance he put out his hand, still
 
 BARBED WIRE ENTANGLEMENT 79 
 
 sprawling on the ground, and caught at the 
 Major's ankle to attract attention. 
 
 "I've brought a message from General 
 Medway, sir," he exclaimed, when the officer 
 looked down sharply and saw him. As soon as 
 he heard Maurice, Major Grey flung himself 
 prone on the ground to hear what the message 
 was. 
 
 "Tell the General that I have already given 
 orders to that effect, but ask him if he can send 
 me another hundred men, if I am to raid the 
 trench yonder effectively." 
 
 Maurice saluted, and turned to go away, 
 while the Major, standing again, peered into 
 the darkness to see, if possible, what the enemy 
 was doing. Suddenly there was a magnesium 
 flare from the German trench, and the soldiers 
 there saw the Major and his men at the barbed 
 wire. An instant later there was the uproar of 
 bullets and cracking rifles, and Maurice saw one 
 of the men who was clipping the barbed wire 
 throw up his hands and fall backwards, then 
 lie still. 
 
 The magnesium wire continued to flare, and 
 two other men fell, while the Major dropped on 
 his knees. Maurice wondered whether he was 
 hit, but when he saw him lying on his side he 
 knew that one of the bravest officers at the 
 front had fallen. 
 
 But was he dead? The light still flared, for 
 all this was but a matter of moments, and 
 Maurice, lying flat on the ground, saw the four 
 men lying where they had fallen. Three men
 
 80 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 lay still, but the Major turned on his side, 
 writhing with pain. 
 
 "I must go to him," Maurice muttered, 
 turning round, still lying low; and regardless 
 of the danger, knowing that if he were seen he 
 would be a bullet-mark for the German snipers, 
 he crawled back until he came to within a 
 few feet of the spot where Major Grey was 
 
 lying. 
 
 "Are you hurt, sir?" he called; and at that 
 moment the magnesium flare went out, and at 
 once all around him was blackness. There were 
 shots still flying, sent at random into the dark- 
 ness, but Maurice sprang to his feet and took a 
 few swift strides to where the Major lay. 
 
 "Are you badly hurt, sir!" he asked again, 
 falling on his knees and bending over the 
 wounded officer. 
 
 He had scarcely put the question when he 
 felt something like a blow on his chest and near 
 his heart, but since it was only momentary he 
 took no notice of it. 
 
 "I'm done for, I think, for I can't move. A 
 shot has gone through me. Better get back, 
 my lad, or you'll be picked off if that mag- 
 nesium flare should come again." 
 
 Maurice thought quickly in those moments. 
 
 "If you could grip my belt tightly, sir, I 
 might go on my hands and knees and drag you 
 back to the trench, where they could do some- 
 thing for you." 
 
 "I'll try," came the ready and grateful 
 answer.
 
 He Lifted the Major By His Shoulders and Dragged Him 
 Along Slowly.
 
 BARBED WIRE ENTANGLEMENT 81 
 
 Maurice felt the Major's hand at his belt; 
 and then, although the wounded man was above 
 the medium size, Maurice began to move. It 
 seemed to him at first, as he made the effort 
 to drag the heavy body of the officer over the 
 uneven ground, which was covered with the 
 broken metal of hundreds of exploded shells, 
 that his strength would not last out; but the 
 thought of the wounded Major's needs, his 
 extremity, the certainty that he would bleed to 
 death if Maurice did not bring him away at 
 once, made him put forth an effort which 
 enabled him to move on towards the English 
 trench. 
 
 It was slow work, but by inches he drew the 
 wounded man nearer and nearer. 
 
 Suddenly, when he was within twenty yards 
 of the trench, where the Major's men were wait- 
 ing, distressed and maddened at the thought 
 that the officer they loved was killed in that 
 last volley, the magnesium flare came again. 
 Maurice had risen to his feet to grip the Major 
 by the shoulders and drag him on more easily 
 and swiftly, but in a moment, while he saw his 
 own long shadow cast on the ground, and reach- 
 ing even to the British trench, he flung himself 
 prone on the ground. 
 
 "Lie low, sir, and the shots will go over us." 
 
 He had scarcely spoken when the air was torn 
 with a fierce rifle fusillade, but it did no harm. 
 The men in the trench dropped low, but watched 
 keenly through the periscopes, in case this wild 
 rush of fire was the prelude to a rush, after
 
 82 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 hacking their way through the barbed wire 
 entanglement. 
 
 The pandemonium seemed to be unending to 
 Maurice, who could hear the hiss and zipp of 
 the bullets. His fear was lest he might be hit 
 by some stray low shot from the trench to- 
 wards which he had been dragging his heavy 
 burden. 
 
 Again the light went out after a terrible and 
 answering stream of bullets from our own men ; 
 but every shot was well overhead; for in that 
 sudden flare the men had seen what Maurice 
 was doing. 
 
 "We'll try again, sir," exclaimed Maurice, 
 in the lull which followed when the darkness 
 came. ' * Grip my belt. ' ' 
 
 But the Major did not move. He had either 
 fainted or was dead killed, perhaps, by a shot 
 in that furious fusillade. Maurice slipped his 
 hand into the officer's tunic, and to his intense 
 relief felt the heart-beats. 
 
 "I must take the risks," he cried, springing 
 to his feet, and bending low, he lifted the Major 
 by his shoulders, and dragged him along slowly, 
 the wounded man's feet trailing on the ground. 
 He had barely begun to move when there was a 
 scramble of feet, and three or four soldiers 
 who had come out of the trench took the burden 
 from him, and, carrying the Major in their 
 arms, took him into the shelter of a dugout 
 and looked to his wounds. 
 
 Maurice, with his limbs trembling after that 
 great effort, was yet alive to duty.
 
 "Who is next in command?" he asked, as 
 the Major was taken away. 
 
 "I am," exclaimed a Captain, who had come 
 tramping along the trench. "Who are you?" 
 
 "Maurice Millard, sir. I was sent by Gen- 
 eral Medway with a message for Major Grey, 
 but he was wounded after I gave it to him out 
 there by the wire entanglement. I must tell 
 you, sir, since he cannot give any orders." 
 
 Maurice repeated the message, and added, 
 "Major Grey asked me to tell the General that 
 he wants a hundred men at once to carry out 
 the order successfully. May I go, sir?" 
 
 "Yes, Millard. But wait! Let me shake the 
 hand of a brave young fellow," the Captain 
 said, thrilling at the remembrance of what he 
 had seen Maurice doing. "Are you hurt at 
 all?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 Maurice saluted, and taking the risks again 
 for the journey to the General, he went as 
 fleetly as his fatigue would let him. Once or 
 twice he tried a sprint, but failed to keep it 
 up; but after a time he found the General in 
 a broken-down barn, issuing orders. The mo- 
 ment he saw Maurice enter, his clothes muddy 
 and torn, and bloodstained because of the Ma- 
 jor's wound, he asked quickly: 
 
 "Any message from Major Grey?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. He has anticipated what you pro- 
 posed, but wants a hundred men at once." 
 
 "He shall have them. Captain Darner, see 
 to that. Was all right, Millard?"
 
 84 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 "All was right, sir, except that the Major is 
 very seriously wounded. But I repeated your 
 message to the Captain who takes up the com- 
 mand, and he is waiting for the extra men, sir." 
 
 When Captain Darner left the barn to carry 
 out this instruction for reinforcements, General 
 Medway turned to Maurice. 
 
 "Tell me what is going on there." 
 
 Maurice told of all he had seen, but no word 
 was spoken of his share in bringing in the 
 wounded Major. He had finished, and was in 
 the act of saluting before turning away when 
 the General exclaimed in concern: 
 
 "Millard, you have been hit. Come here." 
 
 Maurice stepped close to the table. 
 
 "I think not, sir," he said quietly. 
 
 He had forgotten in the excitement of the 
 rescue of the Major that he had felt a heavy 
 blow on his* chest, but now he remembered. 
 
 "You were hit there," said the General, 
 pointing to Maurice's breast-pocket. "By 
 every right it ought to have killed you," he 
 went on, in a tone of amazement. "Yet you 
 seem to be unhurt." 
 
 The General bent over the table, unbuttoned 
 the pocket, and pulled out the tiny Bible 
 Maurice's mother had given him when they 
 said "Good-by." He gazed at it in surprise, 
 and beckoning to the officers who were standing 
 around, held it up for them to see. The shot 
 had torn its way through the cloth of the 
 jacket, and bored into the cover, where it 
 stopped. It must have fallen away when its
 
 BARBED WIRE ENTANGLEMENT 85 
 
 career ended so abruptly, but those who 
 watched, and Maurice, whose heart was beat- 
 ing quickly, and into whose throat a lump arose 
 as he thought of his mother and her parting 
 words, and this gift of hers, realized how nar- 
 row his escape had been. 
 
 "It was your mother's Bible, my lad," said 
 the General, who had read her name, and what 
 she had written underneath. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Maurice huskily. "She 
 gave it to me the morning I left home to come 
 to the front." 
 
 There was a momentary silence, but for the 
 perpetual boom of guns, the burst of shells, and 
 the rattle of rifles. 
 
 ' ' Millard, ' ' the General exclaimed, in a voice 
 that had a strange tremor in it, "you have to 
 thank God for shielding you, and for the 
 mother who gave you this. Take it, and don't 
 part with it." 
 
 "I told my mother I never would, sir," said 
 Maurice, whose voice faltered. He took the 
 Bible from the General's hand, saluted, and 
 walked away.
 
 MAJOR GREY was brought from the 
 dugout and carried to the hospital 
 after a terrific German assault on the 
 trenches had been swept back. As soon as he 
 was able to think of other things, and in spite 
 of his pain, he sent for General Medway, and 
 told him how he owed his life to Maurice Mil- 
 lard. 
 
 The General listened in amazement. 
 
 "I'll see that it's not lost sight of, Major," 
 he exclaimed, when the wounded officer had 
 ended. "It's very wonderful that a boy barely 
 eighteen should have all that readiness of re- 
 source. As for pluck, he has any amount of 
 it, for only this morning I heard a story about 
 him, and I mean to make something of that and 
 this account of yours when I have a chance 
 with the Commander-in-Chief . " 
 
 A mist came to the wounded Major's eyes 
 when General Medway mentioned Maurice's 
 escape because of the pocket Bible, and then 
 came the fact of Maurice having won the 
 Bronze Medal. 
 
 "It was just the prelude, Major, to this sort 
 of work. And I can tell you another thing. 
 Before I heard that story of the farm fire I felt 
 he had the making of a splendid young officer. 
 
 86
 
 A DANGEROUS ERRAND 87 
 
 He went to my old school, Ellingham where 
 you went, too and I mean to get him out of 
 the ranks, obtain a commission for him, and 
 keep my eye on him. A young fellow with that 
 sort of grit has a future before him.'* 
 
 General Medway, however, was not able to 
 see to Maurice for some time, for the Germans, 
 with their furious onslaughts, kept his hands 
 full. Maurice was meanwhile very much oc- 
 cupied in one of the hospitals, where the de- 
 mands were so great that he was claimed from 
 the ranks to give what help he could to the 
 wounded. 
 
 Now and again, however, he got among some 
 of the men, with whom he was a general fa- 
 vorite, and one evening he joined a group of 
 Tommies who had just come in from the 
 trenches to their rest billets, and were enjoying 
 the best-cooked meal they had had for many 
 a day. They had come in, singing lustily, 
 1 'Please don't send me home!" and now the 
 group was kept in a roar with funny tales. 
 Every soldier, while he was stirring his soup 
 in whatever old salmon or bully-beef tin he 
 could find, not to wait for better serving, tried 
 to go one better than his neighbor. 
 
 The Tommies fairly rocked with laughter at 
 something Maurice had just told them, when 
 a Captain came out of the barn which was still 
 the Brigadier's headquarters. 
 
 "I want Sergeant Carter," he called, as soon 
 as the men had quieted down enough for him 
 to make his voice heard.
 
 88 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 "He's in the hospital, sir," Maurice ex- 
 claimed, springing to his feet and saluting. 
 "He told me where I could find him, in case 
 he should be wanted. Shall I fetch him, sir?" 
 
 "Yes. Tell him to come here with his motor- 
 cycle. The Brigadier has something on hand 
 for him." 
 
 Maurice jumped on a bike that was leaning 
 against the broken wall, and without stopping 
 to ask any questions as to ownership, he rode 
 hard to the hospital. He had spent a good 
 part of the day with the Bed Cross, helping 
 to carry some of the wounded back from the 
 trenches after a tremendous fight and a fierce 
 counter-attack, and he had been feeling tired. 
 But now he flung all that aside, and winding in 
 and out among the groups of soldiers who were 
 sleeping, or eating, or smoking after their hard 
 day's work, he came within sight of the hospi- 
 tals. More than once the way was blocked, for 
 some howitzer batteries were being hurried up 
 from the base, in readiness for an expected 
 mass attack by the Germans. 
 
 Not to lose time he rode alongside the mov- 
 ing guns to get round by the rear, or slip 
 through somewhere if a chance offered. He 
 saw a gap, and although it was risky, and a 
 fall would have meant being crushed under the 
 wheels of a heavy gun, he gained the other 
 side. Then he made a dash up the hill, and 
 found Carter busy seeing to the carrying of 
 a lot of wounded soldiers into the wards. 
 
 "The Brigadier wants you, sergeant," he
 
 A DANGEROUS ERRAND 89 
 
 cried, while he was dismounting. ''Captain 
 Kenyon says you must bring your motor-cycle 
 with you." 
 
 "That sounds like business," said the sol- 
 dier, wiping his damp face. "I'll go at once; 
 but I'm awfully hungry. I've been at this job 
 ever since twelve, and there 's such a lot brought 
 in that I've had no time to eat." 
 
 Carter looked hungry and done up, but he 
 was a soldier, and with him duty always came 
 first. While he was rolling down his sleeves 
 and crossing to a wagon where he had flung 
 his jacket on one of the wheels, Maurice asked 
 where his cycle was. 
 
 "In the shed behind those horses," said 
 Carter. 
 
 "Then I'll go for it, and see that it's in good 
 going order, while you go into the canteen and 
 get something to eat," cried Maurice, jumping 
 on his own machine while he was speaking. 
 
 "He's prime, and no mistake," the sergeant 
 muttered, looking to his revolver while he 
 crossed over to the canteen; for he guessed, 
 from other risky errands he had been sent on 
 before, that it might come to fighting to-night 
 in order to win through. 
 
 Only stopping to drink a cup of tea at the 
 canteen counter, and carrying some food in his 
 hand, he ate as he went along, thinking to get 
 to the shed in time to put on the finishing 
 touches ; but Maurice had the machine in readi- 
 ness, and had found the goggles. 
 
 "You're a brick, old man!" Carter ex-
 
 90 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 claimed, when he saw what Maurice had done. 
 "Well, I'm off!" 
 
 The motor-cycle went down the slope at a 
 tremendous pace, and Maurice watched until 
 the sergeant rode out of sight. 
 
 As there was nothing calling him back to the 
 Brigadier's headquarters, he looked round to 
 see what he could do. He turned in at the 
 hospital close by, and although he had done 
 a stiff day's work already, he laid himself out 
 for a bit more when some ambulance vans came 
 up to the door. Without waiting to be called 
 on, he lent a helping hand at the stretchers. 
 
 It took an hour or more to empty the vans 
 that poured in, and then, looking at his wrist- 
 watch, and finding it was time to report him- 
 self in his own billet, he jumped on the bike 
 and hurried back. He passed the barn where 
 Captain Kenyon was standing, and Maurice saw 
 by the light of the moon that he looked worried. 
 
 "Is that Millard?" the Captain asked. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Can you ride a motor-cycle?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. I've gone many a mile on Ser- 
 geant Carter's since I came to camp." 
 
 "Then you shall have mine, for I want you 
 to overtake Carter. He started with his mes- 
 sage, but another has cropped up since then, 
 and the Brigadier wants it to be taken to the 
 General. But you don't know the way, per- 
 haps?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, I do. You sent me to him the day 
 before yesterday."
 
 A DANGEROUS ERRAND 91 
 
 "Ah, so I did! I quite forgot. But could 
 you find your way in this light ? ' ' 
 
 "Easily, sir," was the ready answer. 
 
 "Then come with me," said the Captain, 
 turning on his heel and crossing the farmyard 
 to the barn. 
 
 Something like a sick feeling came to Maurice 
 as he stood in the doorway for a moment, and 
 glanced along the moonlit road he would have 
 to travel. The fighting had been so violent, 
 and so much ground had been taken and re- 
 taken, that he heard at the hospital that some 
 parts of the road were possibly occupied by 
 Germans ; but the only way he knew of in order 
 to get direct to Headquarters, unless he rode 
 many miles farther and lost time, was through 
 a wood he could see in the far distance, and 
 the road, if not in the hands of the enemy, 
 might very well be shelled by shrapnel. Still, 
 duty called, and the thought of it stiffened his 
 back in an instant. 
 
 "I'm going to try my level best," he mut- 
 tered, when he followed Captain Kenyon into 
 the building where the Brigadier was sitting 
 at a table listening to a message through the 
 telephone. Seeing Maurice, he beckoned to 
 him. 
 
 "Millard, this is the message, an important 
 one, and it must get into no other hands but 
 the General's; not even into an officer's hand. 
 I have written on very thin paper, so that you 
 may hide it easily. Chew it into a pulp rather 
 than let the Germans read it if by any chance
 
 92 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 they get hold of you," the Brigadier added, 
 with an anxious laugh. "Don't worry about 
 overtaking Carter. He will be too far ahead 
 for you to catch him up; and besides, I want 
 you to move quite independently, and do what- 
 ever your ingenuity and circumstances suggest. 
 I don't like sending you, and I wouldn't do it, 
 but I can't help myself, and I know that you 
 are alert and reliable." 
 
 Maurice flushed at the words. 
 
 "I'll do my best, General," he said, taking 
 the message, and to the amusement of those 
 who were looking on, he pulled off his jacket, 
 slit the collar with his penknife, and contrived 
 to slide the envelope in at the narrow opening. 
 
 "It will serve to stiffen the collar, at all 
 events, ' ' said the General, who had been watch- 
 ing with interest. "Well, good luck to you, 
 Millard," he exclaimed when Maurice had 
 pulled on his jacket, and was ready to go. 
 
 Maurice was at the door when the Brigadier 
 called after him : 
 
 "By the way, Millard, I heard of what you 
 did for Major Grey. It was splendid, and will 
 not be forgotten. ' ' 
 
 Maurice's face colored with pleasure, but, 
 saluting, he passed out, Captain Kenyon at 
 his heels. 
 
 "You must have a good revolver," said the 
 Captain. He went to one of the outhouses in 
 the farmyard, and came back with a beautiful 
 little six-chambered weapon, into which he 
 slipped the full number of charges.
 
 A DANGEROUS ERRAND 93 
 
 "Suppose I give you another handful," he 
 said, slipping a quantity into Maurice 's pocket. 
 "Now, Millard, you are set up, and if any Ger- 
 mans try to stop you, you can show them your 
 mettle." 
 
 "And that I will, sir." 
 
 "Here's my motor-cycle," exclaimed the 
 Captain, when they moved through the wild 
 farm garden, which had had no attention from 
 anyone since the army came. By an apple- 
 tree a machine was leaning, and being a soldier 
 through and through, he did not stop at trifles, 
 but dropped on his knees and looked carefully 
 at the cycle to see that it was in thorough-going 
 order. He went over every part of it with his 
 flash-lamp, leaving nothing unexamined and 
 nothing to chance. 
 
 At last the perilous journey began. Away 
 on the left were the sounds of heavy cannon- 
 ading, the very road shaking with the violence 
 of the firing, telling Maurice that the Germans 
 were using their heavy guns, which the British 
 field howitzers were answering continually. It 
 seemed to him that the machine gun and rifle 
 fire never ceased, and at times, when he was 
 nearer to the trenches, because of the bends 
 in the road, he could hear the spluttering 
 crackle, and the reports of bombs and hand- 
 grenades. 
 
 After a while Maurice got away from the 
 open country into the hills, where, so he 
 thought, anything might happen. He knew of 
 a defile he had to enter. It was empty when
 
 94 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 he rode through it two or three days before, 
 but there were so many changes that he won- 
 dered whether any Germans were now holding 
 it. They ought not to be, but there was no 
 telling where the enemy might get, since he had 
 cunning and daring enough for anything. 
 
 The possibility of Germans being there sent 
 a shiver down his back, and brought the damp- 
 ness to his forehead, but he remembered what 
 his Scoutmaster had once said: "The brave 
 man dashes into danger without hesitation, 
 when a less brave man is inclined to hang 
 back." 
 
 Maurice brushed his face with his sleeve, and 
 setting his teeth, and gripping the handle-bar 
 tightly, he put the motor to its topmost speed. 
 What with the noise of his machine, and the 
 booming of the distant artillery, he could hear 
 nothing close at hand until there was a mo- 
 mentary lull with the guns, when a challenge 
 came, sharp and loud : 
 
 "Anhalten!" 
 
 Maurice knew now that his fears were real- 
 ized. The defile had changed hands, and the 
 Germans were in it, for this was the German 
 order to stop. He did not obey, but went on 
 fast as ever; yet he could not repress the thrill 
 of fear. The machine dashed on at a terrific 
 speed, and bumped and shook, and threatened 
 to tumble to pieces with the roughness of the 
 road. In spite of its noise Maurice heard the 
 sound of a shot, and a quick hiss as it missed 
 him and flew past; another just as near; a
 
 A DANGEROUS ERRAND 95 
 
 third; and again the same challenge from a 
 nearer point a strong- voiced call: 
 
 "Anhalten!" 
 
 Maurice wondered whether it would be wiser 
 to stop, or go ahead ; but if he halted he would 
 be taken prisoner, and apart from his own 
 danger, since he would possibly be shot off- 
 hand, he thought of the errand on which Gen- 
 eral Medway had sent him. It must be im- 
 portant, or he would not have been sent when 
 there was every chance of meeting the enemy; 
 but the thought of being made a prisoner was 
 not to be compared with the danger of the 
 Brigade under General Medway 's command. 
 He knew, as others did, that the Germans were 
 in overwhelming numbers where the Brigade 
 was placed, and so much depended on that 
 message getting through. 
 
 "I'll take the risk," Maurice determined, and 
 on he went, in spite of the call and the shots 
 which followed. His machine was in fine work- 
 ing order, and God helping him, he would do 
 his duty and brave the danger. 
 
 He gripped the handle-bar still more tightly, 
 and his whole body was tense. Shots came, and 
 he could hear them whizz past him. One hit 
 the heel of his boot, and he felt the jar of it. 
 Another cut through the sleeve of his jacket; 
 but nothing worse happened, and he was thank- 
 ful. Before long he was out of range, and 
 thought he had got clear. 
 
 When he had cleared the defile, he had a 
 forest to go through, and again he wondered
 
 96 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 what he might meet. What if the Germans 
 were there as well? It was a temptation to 
 stop, for the darkness was intense where the 
 leafy branches of the trees cut off the moon- 
 light. He found himself wishing that the build- 
 ers of motor-cycles would make them go silently, 
 for this horrid noise advertised his coming. 
 
 But what was the use of wishing things of 
 that sort? There was the fact that the motor 
 was noisy, and he would have to make the best 
 of it. 
 
 "I'll go through with it," he said to himself, 
 and he drove straight across from the mouth 
 of the defile into the forest. He had barely 
 got among the trees when he saw the gleam of 
 metal, and from the shape of it he knew that 
 it was the helmet of a German soldier who 
 meant to shoot him down, or bar the way. 
 Maurice did not turn aside, but, lowering his 
 head, went straight at him. The soldier, en- 
 deavoring to dodge the motor, caught his foot 
 in something, and rolled over, leaving the way 
 clear. The sight of the German tumbling 
 brought laughter to Maurice's lips; but on he 
 went. 
 
 He was compelled to slow down considerably 
 when fairly in the forest, lest some spreading 
 roots should throw him. Constantly he had to 
 bend over the handle-bar to pass under the low- 
 lying branches, and all the while he knew that 
 other dangers were threatening him. At any 
 spot a German sentry might bar the way, and 
 it was even possible that he would run into the
 
 A DANGEROUS ERRAND 97 
 
 midst of a company of the enemy; but the one 
 thought was the spur to him. He was on duty ; 
 he had to carry the Brigadier's message, and 
 must not give up. It was not for a soldier to 
 think of consequences to himself. 
 
 The forest as he knew from past experi- 
 ence was two miles across, and he had nearly 
 covered that distance without having seen any 
 further sign of the enemy. Looking ahead he 
 saw the open country, brilliantly lit up by the 
 moon, which was going low down now, and be- 
 fore long would give place to the dawn of the 
 morning. Far on in front were great blotches 
 of darkness, which might be anything, but 
 probably the British Army. It was there that 
 the British had been when he rode through the 
 forest that other day, and he knew there had 
 been no retreat, in spite of the tremendous ef- 
 fort of the Germans to break through to get 
 to Calais. 
 
 His heart began to beat with hope. He 
 would get to his journey's end, find the Gen- 
 eral, and rid himself of this burden of responsi- 
 bility the message that was hidden away in 
 his collar, and on the delivery of which so much 
 depended. 
 
 "Not far now," he exclaimed, sitting up in 
 his saddle to peer beyond the forest, and deter- 
 mine the way he should take when he dashed 
 out from among the trees. 
 
 But disaster came. His machine hit some- 
 thing, and he was hurled out of his seat, coming 
 to the ground with a crash.
 
 vin 
 
 THE GERMAN SPY 
 
 WHEN Maurice came to himself he felt 
 that he was bruised all over. His 
 hands were cut about, and smarted 
 badly, and there was a pain in his head, while 
 the blood trickled down his face. 
 
 His first thought was for the letter. He 
 knew that he had been unconscious, perhaps 
 for some time, and a fear came that while he 
 lay helpless, and ignorant of what was passing, 
 someone might have searched him, and possibly 
 got hold of the Brigadier's message. The 
 thought of this made him feel hot, but an ex- 
 clamation of relief came when he felt at his 
 collar and heard the slight crackle of the paper 
 inside. 
 
 "Safe, thank God!" he said to himself. "I 
 must push on, for time is precious. But I 
 wonder how long I Ve been lying here. A long 
 time, by the look of the moon." 
 
 Another thought came. Were there any 
 Germans about? Or were they keeping their 
 distance from the British camp, which was ex- 
 ceptionally strong on this side? 
 
 When he stood up to listen and look around, 
 he found himself trembling in every limb after 
 that tremendous shaking. He started at a 
 
 98
 
 THE GERMAN SPY 99 
 
 sound, not unlike the moan of someone in pain. 
 
 "I wonder what that means," Maurice mut- 
 tered, looking around, in case it was possible 
 to find some explanation; but the thought of 
 caution came. ''It may be a German trying 
 on a decoy dodge. He wants to draw me into 
 the darkness, perhaps." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, and was half in- 
 clined, in spite of the smart of his scraped skin 
 and the bruises, to jump on his machine and 
 ride away; but the moan came again. The 
 sound was no sham, for it was one of very 
 genuine pain, and it was against all rules of 
 humanity to pass by one who was in trouble, 
 and leave him to his fate. 
 
 "It may be a German," Maurice thought, 
 bandaging his bleeding head while he stood 
 peering into the blackness of the forest. The 
 moan came again, just as he tied the knot. 
 
 "Oh, come! I can't stand it when it's like 
 that!" he exclaimed. "If somebody's lying in 
 pain, wounded, perhaps, with a bayonet, or a 
 shell, German or no German, I must see what 
 it means, and do something for him. A bit of 
 First Aid, perhaps." 
 
 He was none the less alert, and he looked to 
 the revolver at his belt, to see that it was in 
 working order; for if somebody was deceiving 
 him he would make a fight for it. 
 
 He moved into the darkness, cautiously, 
 afraid to use his flash-lamp ; and before he had 
 gone a yard or two he was sprawling. It was 
 impossible to stifle a cry of pain, but getting
 
 100 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 on his feet he pulled out his lamp, and, switch- 
 ing on the light, saw that he had fallen over 
 a motor-cycle. 
 
 The moan came again from the bushes, and 
 he groped his way in that direction, using the 
 light and risking the consequences. 
 
 At first he spoke in German, but no answer 
 came. Then he tried English. 
 
 " Where are you?" 
 
 "Here." 
 
 Maurice started when he heard the response. 
 
 "Is it Sergeant Carter?" he asked, forget- 
 ful of everything now; for the voice was one 
 he would know anywhere although it was more 
 shaky, he thought, than Carter's. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Maurice hurried among the bushes, using the 
 flash-light freely; but he suddenly remembered 
 the need for caution, and shut off the light; 
 for after all it might not be Carter, but a trap 
 set for him. 
 
 "Who are you?" he asked, halting, and 
 standing in darkness. "Friend or foe?" 
 
 "Are you Maurice Millard?" came a ques- 
 tion in return. 
 
 There was no more doubt after that. Maurice 
 went forward at a run, and came to a huddled 
 heap, which proved to be a soldier in khaki. 
 
 "What's wrong?" he asked eagerly, drop- 
 ping on his knees by the soldier's side. 
 
 "I've got a German shot in my thigh," said 
 Carter, whose voice was shaking with pain. 
 
 The first thing Maurice did was to put the
 
 THE GERMAN SPY 101 
 
 sergeant in a more comfortable position, and 
 when Carter asked for a drink, he gave him 
 a cupful from his flask. 
 
 "I feel better for that," said Carter, hand- 
 ing back the collapsible cup with a trembling 
 hand. 
 
 "Now, sergeant, I'll see what's wrong, and 
 serve you with a bit of First Aid," said Mau- 
 rice cheerily, hoping to put some heart into the 
 wounded soldier. He slit up the khaki trousers 
 with his pocket-knife and looked carefully at 
 the wound. The experience he had had in the 
 Eed Cross Hospital served him, for while he 
 was busy bandaging up the thigh he comforted 
 Carter by telling him that no bone was smashed, 
 but the bullet had gone in at one side and out 
 at the other. 
 
 "You are fixed up now, sergeant, till I get 
 you into hospital," said Maurice, putting the 
 best face on what he knew to be an ugly bit of 
 business. 
 
 "Anyhow, Millard, I'm only a lame dog," 
 exclaimed Carter, with a wince, when he tried 
 to move. "My leg's done for, I'm thinking, in 
 spite of that bit of First Aid. But what are 
 you doing here ? I left you up at the hospital 1 ' ' 
 the sergeant went on, forgetful of himself for 
 the moment. 
 
 "General Medway thought of something 
 after you had gone. I rather fancy the Ger- 
 mans have shown signs of coming on as thick 
 as locusts where our Brigade is. Anyhow, be- 
 cause he could not spare any of his officers, and
 
 102 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 there's likely to be some stiff work to-night a 
 smashing blow of some sort Captain Kenyon 
 called me in, and the Brigadier sent me on with 
 a further message. How did you get into this 
 mess?" Maurice asked, breaking off, looking 
 at the bandage again, and making it sit easier. 
 
 They sat in darkness after that, and Carter 
 explained matters quietly. 
 
 "The Germans were not here three or four 
 days ago." 
 
 "I know," said Maurice, interrupting. "I 
 was here myself two days ago, and the forest 
 was empty a sort of 'No Man's Land.' " 
 
 "They're here now, it seems. They must 
 have come when that rush was made at the 
 quarry, and being here, I suppose they heard 
 my machine. Somebody shouted 'Anhalten!' 
 or something like that, which I took to mean 
 'Halt!' but I paid no attention to it, and put 
 on speed. Then they let go at me. There was 
 a regular spatter of bullets, and one of them 
 hit me in the thigh ; but I went on out of their 
 way until my machine hit against something 
 a fallen tree, perhaps and I was sent flying. 
 I just managed to crawl away to this spot, 
 thinking I might get into hiding, but they came 
 for me. They had followed me, and found my 
 broken machine. I thought I was done for 
 that they were certain to find me when a loud 
 call came, and the Germans did not stop to 
 look for me. The call seemed too urgent ; and 
 after a bit all was quiet, except that never- 
 ending firing of the big guns."
 
 THE GERMAN SPY 103 
 
 Carter stopped suddenly at a whisper from 
 Maurice. Although the moon was shining, 
 lighting up the open country, here, in the midst 
 of the dense bushes, it was so dark that it was 
 impossible for anyone to see these two English 
 soldiers. Listening, they heard the tramp of 
 feet not far away, and the jingle of spurs, as 
 well as the sound of horses' hoofs. 
 
 Were they friends or foes? 
 
 The unspoken question had its answer almost 
 immediately, for someone spoke in German, 
 which Maurice, having learned the language at 
 school, understood well. Carter did not under- 
 stand what was said, but Maurice, with his lips 
 close to the soldier's ear, whispered into it a 
 translation of all he heard. Their blood boiled 
 at what w r as said, and presently someone lit a 
 match to light a cigar. The flare of the match 
 showed them a big group of soldiers, all in 
 German uniform save one, and this one was 
 in khaki. 
 
 "You say you are supposed to be out here 
 to scout in the woods, and see whether the defile 
 is clear so that the English General may send 
 reinforcements through? That was what I 
 think you said?" the officer asked, bending in 
 his saddle to speak to the man in English uni- 
 form. 
 
 "Exactly that," came the answer, and at the 
 moment someone lit a match once more, and 
 Maurice and Carter saw the faces of some of 
 the men. "None know me for a German, and 
 because I speak English so fluently I was ac-
 
 104 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 cepted when I enlisted in London. I am sup- 
 posed to be an Englishman, and because I am 
 able to speak German they are making use of 
 me. I have picked up no end of information, 
 and as they count me one of their best scouts, 
 I am here to see whether the way is clear for 
 troops in case reinforcements are called for to 
 meet the great German rush that is arranged 
 for to-morrow. I have already sent back the 
 corporal who came with me a German like 
 myself, by the way to report that so far the 
 way is perfectly clear. I gave him a roughly- 
 written note to say that General Medway is 
 reported as hard pressed, and will have to re- 
 tire unless reinforcements are sent at once." 
 
 There was boisterous laughter among the 
 men in that group of Germans. 
 
 1 'You will get well paid for this, Raidt," said 
 the officer, leaning with his hand on the horse 's 
 flank, and speaking down to the man in khaki. 
 "You are worth a whole battalion to us. I 
 suppose you will go back to the Commander- 
 in-Chief to report?" 
 
 " Rather! You may rely on it that I shall 
 not leave my work undone. It is not my way, 
 as the General knows. But listen to what I 
 have to say. The defile beyond this forest 
 gradually contracts. It comes down in one 
 place to a narrow passage, and that part is 
 overlooked by hills crested with trees. A 
 couple of thousand Germans, with plenty of 
 machine guns, could form an ambuscade, and 
 bring disaster to the brigade, and equally sure
 
 THE GERMAN SPY 105 
 
 am I that the General will send one forward 
 if General Medway is supposed to make an 
 urgent call for assistance." 
 
 Eaidt stopped, and silence followed. An- 
 other match was lit by someone, and the light 
 not only showed up the amused faces of the 
 troopers, but the officer sitting in his saddle, 
 deep in thought. 
 
 "Splendid!" he exclaimed, after a while. 
 "My men are ready. Before two hours have 
 gone I can block the exit. We can concentrate 
 our shrapnel fire and sweep the place, and I 
 very much doubt whether many of the British 
 soldiers will get out alive. Good-night." 
 
 The horsemen rode away through the forest 
 in the direction of the defile as fast as the dark- 
 ness would allow, but the scout in khaki sat 
 down on a fallen tree near by, holding a flash- 
 lamp in his hand, while he wrote some notes 
 in a pocket-book. Carter and Maurice could 
 see him plainly, and keeping their eyes on him, 
 while they covered him with their revolvers, 
 they whispered, with their heads almost touch- 
 ing, as to the course they should take. 
 
 Something must be done to stop that mur- 
 derous ambuscade but what? 
 
 "We must kill him," said Carter, between 
 his teeth, and shivering with the pain of his 
 wounded thigh. 
 
 "Not unless we are obliged," Maurice urged. 
 "Let the General deal with him. He can shoot 
 him, or hang him, if he thinks fit." 
 
 "All right," said Carter reluctantly. "I'd
 
 106 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 like to treat Mm as a traitor. He deserves 
 death." 
 
 "I know," Maurice exclaimed; "but I vote 
 we make a prisoner of him." 
 
 Carter turned to Maurice in surprise. 
 
 "How can we do that?" 
 
 "I'll explain; then you shall say what you 
 think my suggestion is worth." 
 
 Carter listened, and when Maurice had told 
 exactly what he meant, he said shortly, "I'm 
 ready, if you will give me an arm. Never mind 
 the pain." 
 
 Maurice pulled off his own boots, then Car- 
 ter's; in that way they could move on the moss 
 beneath the trees soundlessly. Then, fingering 
 their revolvers, and Maurice with Carter's 
 cloak on his arm, they started on a daring 
 enterprise which might very well bring a score 
 of Germans to deal with them. Leaning hard 
 on Maurice's arm, Carter limped along. No 
 matter about the pain, he had said, yet it was 
 agony when it came to moving; but he set his 
 teeth, thinking it lucky that no bone was 
 smashed, and that it was a flesh wound instead. 
 The thing that counted was to save the rein- 
 forcing troops from being trapped in the ra- 
 vine, which would become a shambles in a few 
 minutes. 
 
 Approaching the German spy from behind, 
 they moved so silently on the moss, and came 
 so near, that while they could touch the man 
 by stretching out their hands, he had no sus- 
 picion of their presence. His thought must
 
 THE GERMAN SPY 107 
 
 have been that if any living men were at hand, 
 they would be Germans, and he went on scrib- 
 bling away at his notes, which were to deceive 
 the English General. 
 
 Dropping Carter's hand off his arm, Mau- 
 rice flung the cloak over the spy's head, and 
 pulled it about him tightly to muffle his cries, 
 if he attempted any. 
 
 1 ' If you make a noise, or move a little finger, 
 I'll put a bullet into you," said Carter, whose 
 face was wet because of the pain he endured 
 in this movement. The spy felt the cold muzzle 
 of a revolver on his uplifted hands, with which 
 he endeavored to throw away the cloak, and 
 realizing how near death was, he kept still and 
 silent. 
 
 "Never mind the cloak now, Millard. I'll 
 keep him from shouting, for when he begins 
 my revolver goes off. First thing, disarm him. 
 He has a revolver. Get that away." 
 
 Maurice felt round for the weapon, drew it 
 away, and stuck it in his own belt. The spy 
 submitted while Maurice strapped his arms 
 tight down to his sides with his own belt, and 
 tore up the German's jacket into broad strips 
 to bind him thoroughly and gag him. Before 
 long this traitor, who was to lead a whole bri- 
 gade into what would be a valley of death, was 
 sitting on the fallen tree, unable to move hand 
 or foot, and equally incapable of making a 
 sound. Maurice knew how to do his work, and 
 did it thoroughly. 
 
 The scheme was then carried on to its next
 
 108 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 stage. Not more than half a do-zen yards away 
 was a steep slope, the ground of which near 
 the base was densely covered with bushes. 
 Carter was unable to do anything because of 
 the pain of his wound, but Maurice, gripping 
 Eaidt by his feet, dragged him to the edge of 
 the slope and toppled the spy over. 
 
 The moon and the faint dawn together, by 
 this time, served to show how the spy rolled 
 helplessly down the slope and disappeared 
 among the bushes. Carter crawled on his 
 hands and knees to the edge and peered over 
 with Maurice, but neither of them could see 
 any sign of the man, who was completely hid- 
 den away. They watched, but no sign of stir- 
 ring followed, nor any sound to indicate that 
 the gag or the bonds had loosened in that ter- 
 rifying descent. 
 
 "Now be off, Millard, and carry the message 
 to the camp. Take mine as well, and those 
 notes dropped by that rascal. They were on 
 the grass by the tree, but I picked them up. It 
 will serve to convince the General of that fel- 
 low's murderous plan." 
 
 "That's all right, but I don't mean to leave 
 you here," Maurice protested. "I will look to 
 your cycle, and we'll go together." 
 
 "If you put it ever so right I can't ride with 
 my thigh like this," said Carter, whose words 
 shook with his pain. 
 
 Maurice realized the force of the sergeant's 
 words, and helped him back into a safe place 
 among the bushes. There was a hole in a bit
 
 THE GERMAN SPY 109 
 
 of rising ground, as if it had been scooped out 
 for a shelter, and putting Carter there, and 
 making him as comfortable as was possible, 
 filling his water-can and the sergeant's at a tiny 
 brook near by, and then covering up the place 
 with rough branches, thrown down carelessly 
 not to attract attention, he turned his attention 
 to Carter's motor-cycle. It would require a 
 great deal of repair before it would be possible 
 to ride it again, but the question then was, 
 what to do with it? It could not be left there, 
 lest it should betray Carter's presence when 
 the daylight came. He pushed it among some 
 bushes, where it was completely hidden, and 
 then looked to his own machine, which was 
 quite undamaged. 
 
 After a grip of the hand, and a second look 
 to make sure that Carter could get at both 
 water-flasks, Maurice mounted, and was on his 
 way again, eager by full speed to make up for 
 lost time.
 
 IX 
 THE RIDE FOE THE CAMP 
 
 MAURICE realized how precious the time 
 was, for it was easy to conceive that 
 the General, with Raidt's lying mes- 
 sage in his hand, would take immediate steps 
 to send on reinforcements to General Medway. 
 If they entered the defile hundreds upon hun- 
 dreds of splendid soldiers would be trapped, 
 and the most magnificent bravery would 
 scarcely avail. Even if, with British courage, 
 they fought their way through, the carnage 
 would be fearful. 
 
 Maurice shuddered at the thought. He im- 
 agined what the defile would be like if Raidt's 
 plan succeeded. If the traitorous corporal had 
 carried his message to General Headquarters, 
 and the relieving force was sent instantly, the 
 brave fellows would be piled thick on top of 
 one another with that terrific fire of shell and 
 machine guns the German officer had spoken of 
 when talking to Raidt. 
 
 "I'm going to do my level best to stop 
 them," thought Maurice, gripping his handle- 
 bar tightly, after putting on full speed. The 
 jar of the machine caused him great pain, and 
 it seemed to him that the wound in his head 
 had started bleeding again. But what of that? 
 
 no
 
 THE RIDE FOR THE CAMP 111 
 
 The thing that mattered was to get his message 
 through, for the reinforcements, already falsely 
 called for, must not enter the defile. They 
 must go some other way. 
 
 On and on he rode, always on the lookout, 
 a Scout to his finger-tips, for he knew that at 
 any moment he might find himself in the midst 
 of a score, perhaps a hundred, German soldiers. 
 
 Alert like this he saw something which 
 seemed to bring his heart to his mouth, and he 
 slowed down to lessen the noise his machine 
 was making. The moon had begun to lose her 
 brilliancy because the day-dawn was more ad- 
 vanced than when he said "good-by" to Car- 
 ter; but with the combined light of growing 
 dawn and waning moonlight, he saw, in the 
 open space he had to cross, a number of Uhlans, 
 dismounted, their horses cropping the grass 
 close by. They were apparently reconnoiter- 
 ing, ready to leap into their saddles and re- 
 treat if any British cavalry came into view; 
 but whatever their business, the thought with 
 Maurice was that it would be madness to cross 
 that open country. The only safe course now 
 would be to work round the edge of the forest 
 until he got out of sight of the enemy's riders. 
 
 He dropped off the machine and moved on 
 silently, keeping in the shadows; but when he 
 thought he might safely mount again, since the 
 Uhlans would not hear the sound of his ma- 
 chine, he went sprawling. He knew as he fell 
 what had happened. He had caught his foot 
 against the legs of a sleeping sentry whom he
 
 112 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 had not noticed in the deeper shadows of the 
 trees. 
 
 While he was scrambling to his feet the man 
 was stirring, and spoke in German. Then a 
 big hand was thrown out, and clutched at Mau- 
 rice, who struggled, and being wide awake and 
 not sleepy, like the sentry, he wrenched him- 
 self free and got away, while the German was 
 still full length upon the ground. Before the 
 soldier was on his feet Maurice was in his 
 saddle again, moving quickly amid the shadows 
 of the forest ; but he had not gone many yards 
 when a shot whizzed past him. 
 
 He did not pause, for he knew that those 
 Uhlans, having heard a shot so close, followed 
 by a loud outcry, and another shot, would be 
 after him on their horses. He put on a tre- 
 mendous pace, setting the motor at its swift- 
 est ; but even then the danger was great. Mau- 
 rice went hot at the thought of his flight being 
 traced by the noise of his machine. It adver- 
 tised the way of his going, and he was certain 
 to bring down on himself not only the gallop- 
 ing horsemen, but shots, possibly from other 
 sentries, on the chance of hitting him. 
 
 There was no time to linger over the pros 
 and cons what he should do, or what he should 
 not do. His mind must be made up at once, 
 for a few minutes hence it would be too late, 
 and his message and warning might never be 
 delivered. 
 
 "I'll have to do the remainder of the journey 
 on foot," he said to himself. "I must hide the
 
 THE RIDE FOR THE CAMP 113 
 
 cycle, and get round how I can, or else I'll be 
 caught and shot." 
 
 The forest which he had been skirting was 
 densely dark a few yards inside, away from 
 the open country, which was getting lighter 
 with the growing dawn. But dashing into the 
 shadows, taking the risks of roots and low- 
 hanging branches, he came to a spot where it 
 was so dark that he could scarcely see his hand 
 before him. He was sorry to leave Captain 
 Kenyon's cycle like this, but what else could 
 he do? He must take a soldier's chance in this 
 as in other things. The needs of General Med- 
 way's brigade were infinitely more important 
 than a two-hundred-dollar machine, and equally 
 as pressing more so, indeed was the thought 
 of preventing that fearful conflict in the ravine. 
 
 Feeling about with his hand, afraid to use 
 his flash-light lest he might be seen, and draw 
 on him some German bullets, he touched a tree, 
 and leaned the machine against it; but he 
 paused. 
 
 "The first German who comes along will see 
 it. If a bush were anywhere about I would 
 hide it. I'll have a look round." 
 
 He switched on his lamp, and found a dense 
 bush a few yards away, and in darkness he 
 moved forward, pushed into the midst of the 
 bush with the machine, and once inside, every- 
 thing seemed to close up round him. He had 
 scarcely done this when there came the sound 
 of galloping hoofs. The sounds, however, died 
 away, for the cavalrymen had swept by.
 
 114 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 Pushing through the bush, on the side of the 
 open country, he moved cautiously from tree to 
 tree, taking no step until he was sure of his 
 ground, and watchful for any token of an ene- 
 my's nearness. 
 
 Standing close up to the trunk of a tree, he 
 saw what he thought must be the British camp 
 in the distance a great sweep of country cov- 
 ered with dense blotches not trees, but every- 
 thing that would indicate the presence of his 
 countrymen; but all more or less undefined in 
 this faint light of day-dawn. 
 
 That was the place where his journey would 
 end, and where for a time he would be out of 
 danger. It did not seem so far away, but Mau- 
 rice was faced with the fact that a hundred 
 dangers menaced him before he could deliver 
 his message and give his warning. 
 
 How was he to cross that open space f Could 
 he dare make the venture? Yet it was death 
 for himself if he stayed where he was. Ger- 
 mans were possibly swarming in this forest 
 behind him, having probably broken through 
 at some part of the British lines. But apart 
 from himself was that knowledge that had come 
 since he discovered Raidt's treachery. 
 
 He did not hesitate now. He meant to make 
 the venture; but the question which was so 
 difficult to answer was, whether he should ride, 
 or go on foot! On foot he would have no 
 chance if the Uhlans saw him, for they would 
 speedily ride him down. 
 
 "Why not use the cycle? I'll have a chance,
 
 115 
 
 with putting on full speed, of beating the fast- 
 est of the German horses. If by any means one 
 comes too close well, I have this." 
 
 His fingers touched the revolver at his belt. 
 
 "I'll ride!" 
 
 Hurrying back to the bush, he brought out 
 the machine, and in the darkness felt every 
 working part with dexterous fingers. Every- 
 thing was in order. 
 
 With a muttered prayer for help, he set the 
 machine going, sprang into his seat, and made 
 the dash just as some horsemen rode out of 
 the forest a few hundred yards away. They 
 saw him, and with a shout they set the horses 
 at the gallop. The riders evidently had no care 
 for the fact that if they fired at Maurice so 
 near to the camp, they might bring out a strong 
 force of British cavalry. With them the in- 
 tention was to shoot down this cyclist, who 
 must be a messenger, or cut him off. 
 
 But this latter was a thing they could scarcely 
 do, for Captain Kenyon's machine seemed to 
 leap onward, and bade fair to outstrip the 
 fleetest of their horses. Shots came. Maurice, 
 looking in the direction of the Germans, saw 
 two of the riders pull up and take deliberate 
 aim; then something whizzed past his face. A 
 moment later he felt a scorching pain in his 
 ear, like a redhot pin piercing the lobe, and 
 the blood splashed on his cheek. But he did 
 not look up. He looked to his machine to see 
 whether any greater speed was possible, and 
 he brought it out to the last ounce, while he
 
 116 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 tore on towards the other side at a terrific pace. 
 Any accident which would throw him would 
 mean death or maiming, but he could not think 
 of that, for duty was like a spur. He must 
 not, he dared not, fail if any effort would carry 
 him through. He must go on, with all the 
 risks, and trust to God to keep him. 
 
 Shots came all the time ; some falling short ; 
 some going wide, and others a long way on in 
 front. It was not to be expected that the gal- 
 loping horsemen could take any true aim, but 
 doubtless the Uhlans were firing on the chance 
 of a hit. 
 
 Tremendous as the pace was, Maurice 
 thought he would never cross those yards of 
 ground which lay between him and the forest 
 on the other side. Gripping the handle-bar, 
 while the motor-cycle was throbbing in every 
 part, he ventured to look round; then he saw 
 that while the riders were struggling up the 
 slope, some were galloping for the forest edge 
 he was riding towards, in the hope of cutting 
 him off. Unless he could clear the space in 
 time, he would be captured or killed. 
 
 And he was bound to ride to one point, which 
 the riders knew; for elsewhere there were Ger- 
 man sentries. 
 
 A few yards more would bring him to the 
 trees for which the horsemen were riding, but 
 he thrilled when he saw a horseman close on 
 him on a side from which he did not think to 
 be assailed. The soldier's horse was plunging 
 on madly, while the rider was holding his lance
 
 THE RIDE FOR THE CAMP 117 
 
 for a thrust. Unless Maurice swerved, which 
 meant the risk of a fall, the cavalryman would 
 drive his lance home. 
 
 In an instant the machine swerved and Mau- 
 rice escaped the thrust, and he cried out in 
 exultation when he saw the lancer fly out of 
 his saddle and come down on the ground with 
 a crash. Maurice, whose heart throbbed at 
 the thought of his escape, was still in danger, 
 for in the act of guiding his machine, he felt 
 something in his left arm. It was a shot, and 
 he screamed involuntarily with the pain; but 
 he thought of the importance of his errand, of 
 all that hung on it, and he gripped the handle- 
 bar so much the tighter. Before long he was 
 among the trees. 
 
 Afraid to ride there, where the morning light 
 had not yet penetrated, with the possibility of 
 smashing into a tree, and being more maimed 
 than he already was, he jumped off, and with- 
 out a hand to guide it, the motor-cycle fell with 
 a crash. He left it where it was, and knowing 
 his bearings, having seen the camp from the 
 other side, he ran in among the trees and bore 
 in that direction, trembling at the knees with 
 the rush of that terrific ride. In his eagerness 
 to get away he forgot everything the throb- 
 bing pain in his bandaged head, the burning 
 heat in his wounded ear, and the arm through 
 which a shot had gone. His one thought was 
 centered on escape in case the Uhlans dis- 
 mounted and ventured into the wood. 
 
 It was what they would probably do in their
 
 118 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 daring, and when, as he paused a moment to 
 avoid a bush, he looked behind, he saw what 
 lent speed to his progress. The German 
 horsemen were at the edge of the forest, for 
 he could see their forms, shown up in the early 
 morning light in which they moved. Some had 
 already dropped out of their saddles, leaving 
 their panting horses to stand, and then they 
 scattered among the trees to find him. 
 
 Regardless of the branches which sometimes 
 struck his face, and the roots over which at 
 odd times he stumbled, Maurice went on; but 
 unexpectedly a cry of dismay broke from his 
 lips. 
 
 "I am surrounded!" he exclaimed; for he 
 saw, not very much deeper in the forest, some 
 horses moving swiftly in and out among the 
 trees, some as if moving towards him, and 
 others travelling on through the denser parts 
 towards the topmost portion of the great open 
 space he had just crossed in such peril. But 
 before many moments had gone, while the 
 horses seemed to come on endlessly, another 
 cry this time of joy escaped him. The riders 
 proved to be in khaki, and he knew that the 
 cavalrymen were British soldiers. 
 
 "Stand back!" came a loud call from an 
 officer who rode on in front, and Maurice, obey- 
 ing the order, hurried out of what was likely 
 to be the path of the horsemen. While doing 
 so he heard a shout of dismay, and glancing 
 backwards, he saw the German soldiers, who 
 had followed him into the forest, racing back
 
 THE RIDE FOR THE CAMP 119 
 
 with the intention of getting to their horses. 
 But at the moment came the order to advance, 
 and there was a rush of British cavalry through 
 the woods, the horsemen clearing every ob- 
 stacle, and moving among the trees as though 
 they knew every inch of the way. For the 
 time Maurice forgot himself, and was fasci- 
 nated with the fight which followed. Those 
 who had been his pursuers were overwhelmed, 
 and such as were not killed in that hot melee 
 were taken prisoners. 
 
 Exultant at the undoing of the Germans who 
 had so nearly become his captors, Maurice 
 stepped backward to have a clearer view of 
 what was being done lower down the valley; 
 but something unexpected happened. He had 
 not seen how near he was to danger, and he 
 felt himself rolling down a slope. In the 
 downward plunge he was suddenly flung out 
 in mid-air, only to crash somewhere lower 
 down. A few seconds later he was struggling 
 in deep water, and when, with a swimmer's 
 instinct, he struck out and came to the surface, 
 he found himself in a broad stream, with high 
 and precipitous banks on either side. 
 
 The cold water revived him, and swimming 
 to the further side, away from the cliff down 
 which he had plunged so unexpectedly, he 
 crawled out painfully. While doing so he 
 heard the challenge of a sentry. 
 
 "A friend!" Maurice cried. "I want to get 
 to Headquarters," he gasped, water streaming 
 from every corner of his clothes.
 
 120 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 "What did you say about Headquarters !" 
 the soldier exclaimed, alert, his bayonet point 
 at Maurice's breast, and his fingers danger- 
 ously near to the trigger of his rifle. 
 
 "I have dispatches from General Medway, 
 and it's a matter of life and death that the 
 General gets them at once," said Maurice, full 
 of pain, and brushing the water from his eyes. 
 
 "You're hurt," said the soldier, changing to 
 a kindly torie, dropping the butt end of his rifle 
 on the ground, and tenderly holding up Mau- 
 rice's face to look at him. "What! And this 
 arm done for? Look here, old chap ! Suppose 
 you climb up that path, and when you get to 
 the top, make for the ambulance tents straight 
 away. You'll find them over yonder," the sol- 
 dier added, pointing out the direction. 
 
 "Not till I've seen the General in Command," 
 said Maurice sturdily, although his knees were 
 trembling, and he was shifting the wet bandage 
 a trifle with a shaking hand. 
 
 "Then hurry on, old fellow," the soldier ex- 
 claimed, struck with Maurice's determination. 
 "When you get to the top, bear away a little 
 to the right, and you ought to find some horse- 
 men, and a battery of artillery. I'd go with 
 you, but I dare not leave my post. A lot of 
 Germans are about here somewhere, and there's 
 going to be a bit of rough fighting soon. But 
 go ahead, and tell 'em what you've just told 
 me." 
 
 In spite of his pain and exhaustion, Maurice 
 struggled up the winding path, sometimes
 
 121 
 
 clutching at tufts of grass and jutting pieces 
 of rock to keep himself from slipping back to 
 the river, and after what seemed to him an 
 endless climb, he stood on the top. A sentry 
 stopped him the moment he set his foot on the 
 grass up there; but before Maurice could an- 
 swer the challenge he had to hold tight to a 
 tree to steady himself. He was soddened, still 
 dripping, and scarcely able to stand. 
 
 A horseman rode forward while the sentry 
 gave his challenge. 
 
 "Who goes there?" the rider cried, his re- 
 volver gleaming in the early morning light. 
 
 "I am come from General Medway," Mau- 
 rice faltered, as the horse pulled up suddenly 
 at his side. "I am bringing urgent dispatches 
 for the Divisional Commander." 
 
 "You seem to have had a rough time of it," 
 said the officer kindly, bending low in his sad- 
 dle, for he saw how Maurice swayed, and saw, 
 as well, that he was badly hurt. "Give me the 
 papers, and I will take them to the General, and 
 send a man with you to the hospital." 
 
 "I can't do that, sir," Maurice said, saluting, 
 but clutching at the Captain's stirrup to keep 
 on his feet. "The General's orders were that 
 I was to give the dispatches into no other 
 hands than the General's, and rather than the 
 Germans should get them, I was to swallow 
 them." 
 
 The Captain laughed. 
 
 "You came pretty near to eating point, by 
 the look of you," he said; then turning in his
 
 122 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 saddle, and resting his hand on his horse's 
 flank, he called to a corporal. 
 
 "Take this plucky fellow straight to the Gen- 
 eral. No one is to hinder him, and tell any- 
 body who thinks to do so that I say he is to 
 see the General at once, because his business is 
 a matter of grave importance. 'Tis that, isn't 
 it?" he added, turning to Maurice. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Maurice, quietly, gripping 
 the stirrup still more tightly, and even then 
 finding it difficult to keep on his feet. He was 
 wondering how he was to go as far as Head- 
 quarters, which were miles away. 
 
 "Put him into a saddle at once. Find a 
 motor-car if you can, Simson, and commandeer 
 it. It will save time for one thing, and make 
 the going for him easier, for another. But 
 stay," the Captain added, with concern, look- 
 ing down at Maurice, and noticing how blood 
 was running over the hand which hung help- 
 lessly at his side. "There's a bit of First Aid 
 wanted before you leave us." 
 
 The officer dropped out of his saddle as he 
 spoke, and slitting up the sleeve with his 
 pocket-knife, he looked at Maurice's wounded 
 arm. 
 
 "I'll make it easier, old man," he said, with 
 a kindness which made him so much loved by 
 his men; but at the moment, when he chanced 
 to look round, he saw a Ked Cross nurse ap- 
 proaching. 
 
 "The very thing!" he cried. "Here, Sister! 
 We want a bit of quick work, for time is
 
 THE RIDE FOR THE CAMP 123 
 
 precious. Come and look at this wound, and 
 bandage it to last an hour or two; but don't 
 be more than three minutes about it!'* 
 
 The Sister came up to them swiftly, and 
 with dexterous and gentle hands she bound up 
 the wound, and a few moments later Maurice, 
 feeling the relief, found himself being lifted 
 by two men into a saddle. 
 
 "Go as hard as he can stand it, Simson, but 
 commandeer the first motor you see," said the 
 Captain, giving the reins into Maurice's un- 
 injured hand. "Do your business with the 
 General, and then go into hospital." 
 
 He stood back and watched Maurice ride 
 away. 
 
 * ' The plucky chap ! " he muttered. ' ' At most, 
 in spite of his size, he's only a boy. But he's 
 got some grit in him. And he will have run 
 the gauntlet with those Uhlans on the slope."
 
 AT HEADQUARTERS 
 
 "TT TOW far is it to the General's quar- 
 ters'?" Maurice asked Simson, when 
 they were fairly on the road. 
 
 "A matter o' four miles," the corporal an- 
 swered, kindly, looking at his companion with 
 great concern, wondering to himself whether 
 he could hold out long enough to cover the dis- 
 tance. "I'll look out sharp for a motor-car, 
 an' we'll get there in no time if we're that 
 lucky." 
 
 The soldier gazed about in all directions, 
 trying to find some easier and quicker mode of 
 transit than the horses, but he could see none. 
 
 "We'll come across somethin' presently," 
 he said, to encourage Maurice, who felt the jar 
 to his wounds as the horse he rode covered the 
 ground at a good pace. He wanted to go more 
 quickly still. He was so eager that he would 
 have urged the horse to a gallop, whatever the 
 pain; but Simson would not allow it, and bent 
 sideways more than once to catch at Maurice 's 
 rein to make his horse slacken speed. 
 
 Maurice rode on more like one in a dream 
 as they wound in and out among the lines of 
 motor-vans, and the enormous stores that were 
 all around them. Gun batteries, horses pick- 
 
 124
 
 AT HEADQUARTERS 125 
 
 eted, bodies of troops on the move, aeroplanes 
 ready for flight, or undergoing repairs, shoe- 
 ing forges, with horses waiting to be shod, 
 rows upon rows of ammunition wagons, and 
 amid it all soldiers who were not too tired to 
 sing, and in such splendid spirits that it was 
 difficult to believe that they had been face to 
 face with death not many hours before. And 
 over it all the dim and distant sounds of artil- 
 lery, always heard and never ceasing. 
 
 Maurice took no notice of any of it, for he 
 was in too much pain. He was trying his hard- 
 est to keep his head, as he put it to himself 
 to hold out until he had told his story of that 
 plan to get the troops into ambush, and hand 
 in his dispatches. But it was difficult work. 
 Presently he shut his eyes, leaving it to the 
 corporal to look after his going, and take him 
 to his destination. 
 
 He opened his eyes when the soldier shouted 
 unexpectedly : 
 
 "Hi! Stop there!" 
 
 Maurice looked about and saw a motor-car 
 coming to a standstill, and the driver, gripping 
 the wheel, staring back to know what he was 
 wanted for. 
 
 " Where are you goin'?" Simson asked, as 
 he drew up alongside the car. 
 
 "To British Headquarters." 
 
 "That's the ticket!" the corporal cried. 
 "I'll fasten these 'osses somewheres, an' then, 
 old man, you'll take us both aboard an' drive 
 for all you're worth to the General. There's
 
 126 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 the safety of a army at stake, an' this wounded 
 soldier's got a dispatch as is marked ' ur- 
 gent.' " 
 
 The cavalryman had dismounted, and was 
 looking round to see where he could fasten the 
 horses. His sharp eyes found a place, and 
 lifting Maurice out of his saddle, heavy though 
 he was, he carried him gently to the car. 
 
 "I've bin a railway porter in my time, an' 
 used to carryin' 'eavy weights," he explained, 
 as he put Maurice down on the seat, and 
 climbed up to make him comfortable. 
 
 11 'E's badly 'urt, but we'll make 'im easy. 
 Them lovin'-'earted Germans tried to pot 'im, 
 as they know'd 'e 'ad some valuable writin'- 
 paper stowed away somewhere," he said, as 
 he rearranged Maurice in the corner, to make 
 him easier. "An', my word! they came pretty 
 nigh to it!" 
 
 Maurice felt the intense relief of being able 
 to lie back against soft cushions, instead of 
 having to sit up stiff in a saddle. 
 
 "Any mischief moving?" the chauffeur 
 asked, when he had carefully tucked the rug 
 round Maurice, wondering how he came to be 
 soaking wet, since there had been no rain for 
 several days. 
 
 The chauffeur gave him something to drink 
 out of his flask, and it so revived Maurice that 
 he was able to 'talk, telling briefly the story of 
 the night ride and the fall into the river. 
 
 The men stared at him in amazement. 
 
 "They'll give you a medal, or a cross, or
 
 AT HEADQUARTERS 127 
 
 somethin' o' that sort, chappie," the corporal 
 exclaimed, speaking from the footboard, where 
 he was sitting, not to make Maurice uncom- 
 fortable. 
 
 "The road looks clear now," said the chauf- 
 feur presently. "I'll let her go at top speed, 
 if the moments are as precious as that! I've 
 heard that a scout that beast of a German 
 you've told us of came in to say that all was 
 clear, and the Commander, anxious about Gen- 
 eral Medway holding out against the fierce at- 
 tacks, has ordered a whole division." 
 
 "Has it started?" Maurice asked eagerly, 
 and in the forgetfulness of his wounds leaning 
 forward suddenly, only to gasp with pain. 
 
 "Not yet. There's to be a lot of artillery 
 as well, and that takes time, which is a bless- 
 ing for once," the chauffeur exclaimed, sending 
 the car on still more rapidly. 
 
 The car pulled up, and Maurice, half dream- 
 ing that his mother was by his side, became 
 wide awake. He was alert in an instant, and 
 in spite of the pain he pulled himself together 
 and looked about. 
 
 "Headquarters?" he asked the corporal, who 
 was already off the car, and carefully moving 
 the rug away from Maurice's body. 
 
 "Yes, old man. 'Tis here you'll find the 
 British General. He came here yesterday. 
 Don't you see them two wisps o' flags over the 
 door? Excuse me a minute. There's a Staff 
 Officer yonder, an' I'll tell 'im what your busi- 
 ness is."
 
 128 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 Maurice leaned forward in his seat, and saw 
 the kind-hearted soldier step up to an officer 
 and salute him. What the corporal said he 
 could not tell, but the officer, who seemed a 
 giant alongside the cavalryman, came forward 
 with swift strides, and standing by the car, re- 
 turned Maurice's salute. 
 
 "The corporal tells me you have dispatches 
 for the General," he said kindly, looking in 
 surprise at Maurice's bandaged head and 
 slinged arm. "You seem to have been in the 
 wars," he added, in some concern. "Don't 
 move. Give me the dispatches, and you shall 
 be driven straight off to hospital." 
 
 "I daren't give them to you, sir," said Mau- 
 rice, in a tone which surprised the officer, and 
 assured him that he had a soldier before him 
 who might well have ranked as an officer by 
 his tone. "General Medway said that I was 
 to give my verbal message and his dispatch into 
 no hands other than the General at Headquar- 
 ters, and I must obey orders, sir." 
 
 The officer laughed. 
 
 "If it's that way you shall see the General 
 at once. He has just come from a round of 
 inspection, but he is in the house. Let me give 
 you a hand, and we'll go to him." He said as 
 much about the "hand" because he saw Mau- 
 rice's face drawn with pain, and his intense 
 weariness in spite of his effort to appear 
 alert. 
 
 He felt that Maurice's clothes were sod- 
 dened.
 
 AT HEADQUARTERS 129 
 
 " What's the meaning of that?" he asked, in 
 surprise. 
 
 "I had to swim the river, sir." 
 
 "Then go at once to the hospital, my lad, and 
 get out of your wet things. You'll be having 
 rheumatic fever, or something of that sort," 
 the Colonel said, in great concern. 
 
 "Let me give in my papers to the General, 
 sir, and tell him something that is startling 
 and serious, and then I think I'll be glad to 
 go," said Maurice, the weariness of whose voice 
 did not escape the Staff Officer's attention. He 
 helped him out of the car gently, and set him 
 on his feet, but Maurice staggered. 
 
 "Take my arm, lad, and lean hard," said 
 the Colonel. "Are you ready?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Going through the gateway, and along the 
 path to the old chateau, where officers and sol- 
 diers loitered, and motor-cycles were on their 
 props, ready for instant use, the Colonel paused 
 before they had walked far. 
 
 "This won't do, my lad," he said quietly. 
 "I'll have to carry you, or you won't have 
 strength left even to talk to the General." 
 
 Bending down, he picked Maurice up in his 
 strong arms, and in spite of his weight, carried 
 him gently up the steps to the terrace, into the 
 hall, and passing through it, entered a room 
 at whose door a sentry stood. 
 
 The General looked up, and was taken by 
 surprise, like others who were standing in the 
 room receiving instructions.
 
 130 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 "What's the meaning of this?" he asked, his 
 eyes wide open, and his face full of astonish- 
 ment at seeing one of his Staff Officers so bur- 
 dened. 
 
 "A messenger, General, who is lucky to have 
 got through alive. He comes from General 
 Medway with dispatches which he was strictly 
 ordered to give into no hand but yours. He 
 has been badly knocked about by the Germans, 
 and I thought it best to bring him in like this, 
 since it seemed so difficult and painful for him 
 to move." 
 
 While the Colonel spoke he set Maurice on 
 his feet, but although Maurice saluted, Colonel 
 Newton barely saved him from falling. 
 
 " Where are the dispatches?" the General 
 asked, looking grave when he saw how roughly 
 the young messenger had been treated. 
 
 "Here, sir." 
 
 Maurice attempted to pull them out of their 
 different hiding-places, while those who stood 
 around watched intently, and thought how 
 young he was, in spite of his stalwart frame 
 which had taxed Colonel Newton's strength to 
 carry. One of the officers saw how difficult it 
 was for him to stand, and brought a chair. 
 
 "Sit on that. It will be better for you," 
 he said kindly. 
 
 Colonel Newton drew the papers away, limp 
 and sodden, and while the General opened them 
 the others waited in silence. 
 
 "That is serious," he exclaimed; "but is the 
 division ready to start, Colonel?"
 
 AT HEADQUARTERS 131 
 
 "Yes, sir. The Commander only awaits 
 final instructions from you, sir. He is going 
 to take the defile as the shortest cut, since it 
 is free of Germans." 
 
 "He must not!" cried Maurice eagerly, and 
 every eye was turned on him, all in the room 
 amazed at his temerity. 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" asked the 
 General ; his knowledge of men, and quick com- 
 prehension, told him that there was a reason 
 for that outburst. 
 
 "The defile is ambushed, General!" 
 
 Without waiting for questions, Maurice, for- 
 getful of pain and weariness, told of his pas- 
 sage through the defile and the forest, of Car- 
 ter being left behind, of Baidt's treachery, and 
 of the danger that awaited the division if it 
 moved up the ravine. 
 
 4 ' Tell me what this man whom you call Eaidt 
 was like," said the General, leaning forward 
 on the table, watching Maurice, and convinced 
 of the truth of his statement. His wounds 
 were evidence of the reality of his story that 
 the Germans were near. 
 
 "I saw his face, General, as we rolled him 
 over into the ravine. There was a sword slash 
 across his forehead and down his cheek; and 
 while I was tying his hands I saw that the third 
 finger on his left hand was gone." 
 
 The General sat back, stern and silent. What 
 he said a few moments later Maurice did not 
 hear, for the room and everything in it the 
 General, the table at which he sat, the officers
 
 132 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 standing round were swaying. Then to Mau- 
 rice the room, although the sun was shining 
 through the window, was plunged into absolute 
 darkness, and he felt himself falling forward. 
 A moment more, and all consciousness was 
 gone.
 
 XI 
 
 PEOMOTION 
 
 "T SUPPOSE I'm in hospital," said Mau- 
 rice, when he opened his eyes and saw 
 that he was in a great and beautifully 
 decorated room like a banqueting hall, which 
 evidently was part of an old French chateau, 
 and now was crowded with pallet beds in which 
 wounded soldiers were lying. Red Cross 
 nurses were moving in and out among the beds, 
 bending over the soldiers to do something for 
 the poor fellows who were smarting with the 
 pain of the wounds they had received in the 
 trenches. 
 
 "How did I get here?" he asked, with a 
 puzzled look on his face. "I can't remember. 
 Yes, but I do ! " he said, a minute later, wincing 
 with pain, because he had happened to move in 
 his bed. "Let me see," he went on, knitting 
 his brows to think more clearly. "Yes, that's 
 it. I was standing in the room telling the 
 General about my ride, and the ambush, when 
 the room went round and round; so I suppose 
 they brought me here." 
 
 "How did I come here, nurse?" he asked of 
 a bright-faced girl in nurse's costume, and a 
 red cross on her breast, when she came to his 
 bedside in answer to his beckoning hand. 
 
 133
 
 134. AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 "They brought you in two days ago, and you 
 were in a dreadful state," she answered pleas- 
 antly; "but not half so bad as some of these 
 poor fellows. There's one there," she said in 
 half a whisper, "who will never get better; 
 perhaps he won't get through the day; nor that 
 one in the fourth pallet from here. But never 
 mind that. Let me talk about yourself. We 're 
 soon going to get you better," the nurse added 
 briskly, putting Maurice's pillow comfortable, 
 and gently smoothing the bandage at his fore- 
 head. 
 
 "I don't remember coming, not in the least," 
 said Maurice, turning to look at the nurse more 
 easily, but the movement gave him such pain 
 that he winced, and the nurse had to wipe the 
 dampness off his face. 
 
 "I don't suppose you do, for Colonel Newton 
 what a great, strong man he is ! brought you 
 in his arms, and you're not a small one by any 
 means," the nurse added, smiling. "He set 
 you down in this spare bed, and undressed you 
 as gently as though he had been a woman, and 
 then told us to take care of you because you 
 had done something heroic, and they want you 
 well again." 
 
 Maurice's face grew hot, and in spite of his 
 pain he thrilled with pleasure to think that he 
 had this reward after that dangerous night 
 ride. 
 
 "Here is Colonel Newton coming," the nurse 
 said, a few moments later, when she had given 
 Maurice something to drink, for his mouth was
 
 PROMOTION 135 
 
 hot and parched, and he was thirsty beyond 
 words. The Colonel came to his side and sat 
 on the bed gently, not to jar Maurice with the 
 movement. 
 
 ''You've come to yourself again, Millard," 
 he said, having shaken Maurice by the hand 
 with a friendly greeting. "The General asked 
 me to see how you were getting on. I came 
 yesterday, but you were either sleeping, or still 
 unconscious." 
 
 "Unconscious, Colonel," exclaimed the nurse 
 who was bending over the soldier in the next 
 bed, but heard what was said. ' ' He only came 
 back to himself ten minutes ago." 
 
 Maurice was eager to ask some questions. 
 
 "Did I come in time to save the reinforcing 
 division from going up the defile?" he asked 
 eagerly. 
 
 The Colonel smiled. 
 
 "Just in time. They were told to take an- 
 other route, but although it took longer, they 
 got to General Medway at the right moment. I 
 hear that what followed was one of the finest 
 bits of work we have had for some time. The 
 Germans were hurling themselves on General 
 Medway, wave after wave on his narrow front. 
 What began as a bit of a scrap ended in a 
 tremendous battle, and for a time it was a toss- 
 up who was going to win ; but our fellows held 
 their ground magnificently all through the 
 night while you were riding to us. During the 
 morning the reinforcing division came up, and 
 from defending, Medway 's men, as soon as they
 
 136 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 saw the reinforcements coming, made such a 
 rush that the Germans scurried off like rabbits 
 to find shelter in their second line trenches. 
 The new men came up, in spite of their tiring 
 march, and getting close on the Germans ' heels, 
 bayoneted many of them. In running they 
 threw away everything 'all their ballast' as 
 one of the men put it.'* 
 
 In spite of his pain Maurice smiled to think 
 his mission had not failed. 
 
 "I expect those Germans on the defile were 
 put out, sir?" he said presently, looking into 
 the Colonel's smiling face. 
 
 "Put out in more ways than one, Millard. 
 You can trust our Chief for knowing how to 
 frustrate the Germans. He put ten thousand 
 men on the move within the hour, after he had 
 carefully studied his map, and it came to be a 
 case of the biter bit. Our men got completely 
 round the defile, and unknown to them, since 
 everything was done so well and so quietly, the 
 Germans were hemmed in completely. Before 
 they were aware, and while, indeed, they were 
 lying low, not to be seen, a battalion of our 
 men was seen approaching from the wood. The 
 Germans were waiting to give them a warm 
 reception when they were amazed to find them- 
 selves within a ring of British gun fire. A rain 
 of shells poured on them, and the destructive 
 work of our machine guns filled them with 
 panic. 
 
 "I was there and saw a great deal of it. 
 Whichever way the Germans looked there was
 
 PROMOTION 137 
 
 no sign of men ; yet our infantry were close on 
 them, and at the firing of a rocket the cry broke 
 from thousands of lips, there was a rush, and 
 a terrific hand-to-hand fight began. The guns 
 ceased fire, or they would have destroyed our 
 own men as well as Germans. It was some- 
 thing to hear our men cheering, and above all 
 the noise of guns to hear the skirl of the pipes, 
 and then to see our charge into the midst of the 
 German troops with the bayonet. There was 
 only one end possible, for those of the enemy 
 who were not killed flung up their hands and 
 became prisoners." 
 
 Maurice 's eyes kindled as the story went on. 
 He so far forgot himself that he sat up in the 
 bed to watch the Colonel, and even the pain of 
 the movement was forgotten in his exultation 
 at this ruin of the enemy's plan. 
 
 "What about Carter, sir?" he asked 
 anxiously. 
 
 "We found him in a great state of exhaus- 
 tion, and he's here, somewhere; not in this 
 ward, ' ' the Colonel added, when he saw Maurice 
 looking at the beds about him. "They say he's 
 doing well. The fact is, I found him myself, for 
 you told us so plainly where to look for him." 
 
 "And Raidt, sir?" 
 
 "The traitor?" exclaimed the Colonel scorn- 
 fully. "We found him, too, and he was shot 
 within an hour of being court-martialed. He 
 had papers and plans on him which accounted 
 for one or two disastrous episodes which none 
 of us at Headquarters could understand."
 
 138 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 The Colonel shook Maurice by the hand when 
 he got up from the bedside to go away. 
 
 "By the way, Millard, the military authori- 
 ties have awarded you a commission. You are 
 a sub-lieutenant now; and something more is 
 coming, for they have received a report of your 
 rescue of Major Grey in the trenches, and have 
 mentioned you in the dispatch which went to 
 England this morning. ' ' 
 
 It was almost more than Maurice could bear. 
 There was that splendid news of the victory at 
 the front, which alone repaid him for all the 
 danger he had braved in his night ride; and 
 then there was that surprise for the Germans 
 who planned the ambush. To crown it all there 
 was this unexpected promotion for himself. 
 Before he could recover from his astonishment 
 the Colonel was gone, and was disappearing at 
 the doorway when Maurice looked up. 
 
 In two or three days Maurice was able to 
 write home, and among the many things he had 
 to tell as to his adventures "somewhere in 
 France" was this news of his promotion. 
 There were some loving words for his mother, 
 and some anxious questions about Marjorie. 
 When this was done, he sank in his bed, and did 
 what his nurse told him was best to do rest 
 and sleep and get well, the sooner to put on 
 his new uniform. Long before he was fit to 
 leave hospital, but able to sit up, or lounge in 
 the sunshine, he was deep in the study of some 
 handbooks the Colonel brought him, as to his 
 duties as a young officer.
 
 PROMOTION 139 
 
 A letter came one morning from home which 
 gave him pleasure, but also made him anxious. 
 
 DEAR BOY, (the letter ran), 
 
 "Your mother and I are proud of you. The 
 General was too busy to write, for he has so 
 many things to do, and so much on his mind, 
 but he asked Colonel Newton to write for him, 
 to tell us of your night ride and what it cost 
 you. Your mother was for going to France 
 that same day to nurse you, but we dissuaded 
 her, especially since arrangements were made 
 to let us hear every two or three days how you 
 are getting on. 
 
 "It was nothing more, my boy, than what we 
 expected of you. That fine idea which a soldier 
 ought to have to do his duty without counting 
 the cost to himself has been the one thing we 
 know you would not forget ; and you see what it 
 has led to. Your General's army was saved, 
 and the German ambush ruined. Now you are 
 what we hoped you would be, and what we are 
 prouder of because you won your new rank. 
 
 "Your mother is glad to think that you 
 treasure her Bible. It was something to know 
 it was a protection to you. It will be of still 
 greater service if you live up to what is printed 
 in its pages. You say you will try, and we 
 believe you will. 
 
 "We are anxious about Marjorie. I left 
 home, as you know, to find her; but while I had 
 permission to travel as far as Paris, thinking 
 to get on from there to the town where her 
 school was, things were so serious, and the 
 roads so blocked, that the authorities, while 
 very kind, and anxious to oblige me if they 
 could, declined to give me a permit to go for-
 
 140 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 ward. But they promised to send orders on 
 that she and all who were in the school should 
 be removed out of the danger zone. That was 
 better than nothing !" 
 
 Maurice read the last paragraph about his 
 sister again and again, and wondered where 
 Marjorie was, or whether she had fallen, like so 
 many others, be-fore the German onslaught, 
 when the enemy came on so ruthlessly, batter- 
 ing down houses, ill-treating and murdering all 
 they came across. Before the day was out he 
 was thrilling with anxiety, for news came 
 that, weeks before, the Germans had marched 
 through the town where Marjorie was at school, 
 and with their usual cruelty had driven out or 
 killed the people who remained there, and then 
 had set fire to the half-timbered houses, leaving 
 the place in ruins, and the streets full of the 
 dead. 
 
 The one hope with Maurice was that, when 
 news came that the Germans were marching 
 on the town, the teachers had gone elsewhere 
 by train, taking the girls away with them to 
 some safe place. 
 
 Maurice asked Colonel Newton what he 
 thought about Marjorie 's chances, and his 
 answer was an encouraging one. 
 
 "I hear that the nuns in many convent 
 schools have done that, and it seems to me 
 that the teachers in your sister's school will 
 have gone away by train the moment they heard 
 of the German advance." 
 
 Colonel Newton spoke with such confidence
 
 PROMOTION 141 
 
 that Maurice felt in better spirits, and wrote 
 home to tell them what the Colonel thought. 
 
 The day came when the doctors declared that 
 Maurice was fit and well again, and in accord- 
 ance with special orders he reported himself at 
 Headquarters in his new uniform. He was the 
 more surprised and pleased to find that on the 
 cuffs of his jacket there were two stars instead 
 of one. 
 
 " There's some mistake," he exclaimed, look- 
 ing at it when he was buttoning his jacket. 
 
 "It's no mistake at all," said the doctor, who 
 was watching him, and wondering whether he 
 would notice this. 
 
 ' ' I was to be a sub-lieutenant, and this must 
 be somebody else's jacket, because it has the 
 two stars of a full lieutenant. ' ' 
 
 "That's your rank, Millard," the doctor said, 
 with an amused look, after looking at Millard 's 
 puzzled face. "Captain Marginson, who came 
 in when the orderly brought in the suit and 
 your whole uniform, said that the one star was 
 for the ride and saving Major Grey's life, and 
 the other for the warning as to the German 
 ambush. ' ' 
 
 Maurice's eyes grew dim with delight and 
 pride. 
 
 "Please God, I'll prove my right to all this 
 kindness," he exclaimed, his voice choking a 
 little as he fastened his belt. 
 
 "I am sure you will, my boy. It's in you. 
 You wouldn't have done what you did if duty 
 hadn't counted with you for a great deal."
 
 142 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 Maurice made no answer. He gripped the 
 hand of the nurse who had waited on him night 
 and day, and thanked her again and again for 
 all her kindness. Then a shake of the hand of 
 the doctor before he took his first walk in the 
 open in all the glory of an officer's uniform. 
 
 When he came to Headquarters he saw a 
 motor-car at the door, ready for service, as 
 if waiting to carry someone to any part of the 
 British camp where his business might carry 
 him. Maurice looked at it, and thought what 
 a capable machine it was; but he moved on, 
 thinking most of what the General, who had 
 sent for him, would say.
 
 xn 
 
 RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 
 
 THE Commander was busy giving orders, 
 and receiving messages on the telephone, 
 when Maurice entered his room, so that 
 he stood aside and watched until his own turn 
 came. He had seen the famous soldier that 
 morning when he was brought in, wounded and 
 helpless, but he was so dazed and worn then, and 
 smarting so much with his wounds, that he had 
 no thought of what the General was like. His 
 one anxiety was to give in his report, and make 
 sure that he was not too late. 
 
 At last he looked up and saw Maurice. 
 
 "Aren't you Lieutenant Millard!" he asked 
 kindly, smiling a little when he noticed that 
 Maurice flushed at hearing himself so spoken to 
 for the first time. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Maurice, giving a private's 
 salute. 
 
 "An officer's salute now, Lieutenant," said 
 the General, with a little laugh, and giving it 
 himself for Maurice's guidance. "Come here, 
 my boy," he said, in such a kindly tone, and a 
 look which touched Maurice greatly, making the 
 General's face appear blurred because of the 
 mist in his own eyes. 
 
 148
 
 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 Maurice stepped forward, and saw the 
 General's outstretched hand. 
 
 "Lieutenant," he said, as he gripped Maurice 
 by the hand, and held it thus while he spoke, "it 
 was a service beyond all praise which you rend- 
 ered us by that heroic ride of yours. We saved 
 General Medway, who is one of the best we 
 have, and was doing wonders against over- 
 whelming odds ; and that was something. Then 
 that knowledge of the intended ambush was 
 providential, and for that I thank you, too. And 
 listen, Millard, my boy," the General went on, 
 in a low voice, "I want you to wear this uniform 
 as a gentleman and a soldier ; never to sully it ; 
 to go on and do your noblest and your best in 
 this tremendous task set for us against the 
 enemy. But I am sure you will. I can see it 
 in your face." 
 
 Before Maurice could falter out his answer 
 the telephone-bell rang, and the General, listen- 
 ing to the message, sent back his answer, prom- 
 ising a fresh battalion and machine guns to a 
 hard-pressed officer in the trenches. He was at 
 liberty again, and turned his attention to 
 Maurice once more. 
 
 "Lieutenant, they tell me you speak French 
 freely," he exclaimed, testing Maurice by put- 
 ting this to him in that language. "Is it so? 
 Can you converse well in it?" 
 
 Maurice answered instantly in French, and 
 the General nodded approvingly. 
 
 ' ' Then I am going to give you a bit of work 
 where your French will come in useful. These
 
 RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 145 
 
 papers must go to General Joffre with all 
 dispatch. ' ' 
 
 The General lifted an envelope from the 
 table and handed it to Maurice. "I want you 
 to take this. Avoid the enemy as much as 
 possible, but under every consideration, if you 
 should chance to be captured, destroy them. 
 They must not fall into German hands. Colonel 
 Newton will see that you set out on your 
 journey. ' ' 
 
 With one more salute Maurice, with this new 
 and important errand on hand, left the General, 
 who was busy again before Maurice got to the 
 door. 
 
 "You will go in a motor-car this time," 
 said the Colonel, who seemed to have adopted 
 Maurice as his special protege; "and it is ready 
 and waiting. Here it is," he exclaimed, as 
 they stepped into the open, and into the sun- 
 shine. 
 
 It was the car which Maurice had seen when 
 he entered the house. 
 
 The chauffeur saluted the young Lieutenant, 
 and when Maurice stepped in and took his seat, 
 the Colonel gripped his hand and bade him 
 God-speed. 
 
 * ' The driver knows his way about all through 
 these lines, and will take you the best road for 
 General Joffre 's Headquarters. Don't forget 
 what was said about those, Millard," he said, 
 pointing to the dispatches in Maurice's hand. 
 "Stow them away at once, for fear of an ac- 
 cident. A dozen things might happen a swing
 
 146 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 of the car, or an inadvertence of some sort, and 
 they are gone ! ' ' 
 
 Colonel Newton watched Maurice button them 
 up safely inside his tunic, then stood back and 
 waited until the chauffeur sent the trembling 
 car onward. 
 
 It proved to be one of the best, strong and 
 swift, a machine made for roads that were war- 
 worn, and before long Maurice was going for- 
 ward on his new errand at a speed which 
 promised to bring him to the French Head- 
 quarters before daybreak the next morning. 
 
 The way was safe for miles, for everywhere 
 in the early part of the journey the men they 
 met were all in khaki ; but there was the inces- 
 sant noise of guns, and again and again they 
 had to slacken speed because of long lines of 
 troops that streamed along the roads. 
 
 In some places there were signs of German 
 havoc, where the enemy in their first great rush 
 had not been satisfied with marching through 
 the country, intending to get to Paris, but had 
 wantonly fired the houses, and even used their 
 heavy artillery on villages that offered no re- 
 sistance, for mere wickedness, not to leave any- 
 thing standing, and turning happy homes into 
 heaps of ruins. 
 
 "The wickedest set of fighting men one ever 
 set eyes on," said the chauffeur, who was an 
 old soldier. "I went through the South Afri- 
 can War, but there was never anything like 
 that. And I went through the Soudan, and the 
 Arabs were not as bad."
 
 RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 147 
 
 He drove on, and Maurice, in spite of the 
 sounds of heavy artillery in action, began to 
 feel that his errand was not going to lead him 
 into any startling adventures. He would get 
 to General Joffre's Headquarters, give in his 
 dispatches, and return with only the experience 
 of a long ride and the pleasure, perhaps, of 
 seeing the great French Commander. 
 
 The driver put on the pace wherever the road 
 would allow, but had to slow down where it was 
 winding and deeply rutted. 
 
 "There's some heavy fighting somewhere," 
 he said, while the car was climbing a stiff hill, 
 but when they reached the crest he stopped 
 suddenly. 
 
 "I didn't know of that," Gibson exclaimed; 
 for in the valley below, where he expected to 
 find a camp of French troops, he saw a mass 
 of Germans with cavalry and artillery. ' ' There 
 must be twenty thousand of them," Gibson 
 said; and Maurice, gazing at them while they 
 were moving not only on the roads, but across 
 the fields, trampling down the wheat, and every- 
 thing that was in the way, thought there must 
 be twice as many. It was an army on the move, 
 and up the hillsides they could see what ap- 
 peared to be the French slowly falling back. 
 
 The shells fired by our Allies ripped the sky. 
 Sometimes they distinguished a high tearing 
 note; sometimes great salvoes came from the 
 batteries; shrapnel was pouring forth, and 
 Maurice could see the curly white clouds which 
 crept along the fields and slowly made their
 
 148 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 way towards the Germans, or had dropped in 
 the midst of the dense moving masses of men, 
 dealing out death. 
 
 Before long these two armies would be at 
 closer death-grips, the Germans determining 
 to force the pass, and the French, with their 
 magnificent heroism, making a stand such as 
 has already ruined so many of the German 
 plans. 
 
 "What shall we do, Gibson?" Maurice 
 asked after they had watched the French hurri- 
 cane of fire. The road he meant to travel was 
 swarming with Germans, who were moving on, 
 while the French were as persistently falling 
 back. 
 
 "The only course is to turn to the right, but 
 it's rather bad even there," said Gibson. 
 
 He was watching the enemy, while his hands 
 gripped the steering-wheel. Then a smile came 
 to his face. 
 
 "The Germans think the French are running 
 away," he chuckled; "but they'll soon find their 
 mistake. They are going to make a stand where 
 it suits them that spot yonder, sir. Do you 
 see it?" 
 
 Gibson pointed to some low hills to the right, 
 and Maurice, who was looking through his field- 
 glasses nodded. 
 
 "The Germans are marching they don't 
 know where. The French will let them get 
 there, and when it suits them will let go, and 
 with their 75 's and their splendid machine 
 guns, and one of their heroic charges, they will
 
 RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 149 
 
 drive the Germans back. The retirement will 
 be an eye-opener to them, for they will, most 
 likely, find themselves hemmed in by something 
 they know nothing of." 
 
 "What do you mean 1 ?" asked Maurice, look- 
 ing all round the country and seeing no signs 
 of any French troops likely to cut up the 
 Germans in their retreat. 
 
 "I mean that in their rear they will possibly 
 be hemmed in by the marshes, the most treach- 
 erous spot I know in this part of France," said 
 Gibson. "But we must get on before all that 
 comes, sir." 
 
 Maurice nodded again, and for the first 
 time he began to think of the safety of his 
 dispatches. He was really in touch now with 
 the enemy, and there was danger. 
 
 "Go as hard as you dare, Gibson, and since 
 you know the road, I must leave it to you." 
 
 "All right, sir," said the chauffeur, and the 
 car went down another slope, a long, winding 
 lane, deep-rutted with farmers' carts, but evi- 
 dently untouched as yet by any war wagons 
 because the lane was too narrow. 
 
 Gibson went cautiously, lest an advanced 
 guard of the enemy might have reached the 
 neighborhood already, and in that case his 
 whole skill as a driver would be put to the 
 test. 
 
 "The road's clear, sir," he exclaimed pres- 
 ently, when he turned a corner in the lane, and 
 saw that no Germans were in view, save in the 
 very far distance, where, from the spouts of
 
 150 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 rifle fire and the burst of shells, some fighting 
 was going on. 
 
 Gibson sent the car forward at its topmost 
 speed, hoping to get round behind the hills into 
 the midst of the French forces before the Ger- 
 mans reached the low land. The noise was 
 great as the car plunged on, and suddenly 
 Maurice and his companion exclaimed together 
 in surprise. A shot sounded, sharp and clear, 
 and whizzed past Gibson's face, but he did not 
 slacken speed. He sent the car forward madly, 
 although it bumped and shook, and threatened 
 to tumble to pieces with the roughness of the 
 road. 
 
 Another shot came. A third. Then they 
 heard an imperative cry to halt, which left no 
 doubt as to the nearness of the enemy. 
 
 "That was German," exclaimed Gibson. 
 "Must I stop?" he asked, turning his own 
 determined face to Maurice. 
 
 "Certainly not," cried Maurice. "Drive on 
 as fast as she will go. We're not going to be 
 caught like that." 
 
 He drew his revolver out while he spoke, and 
 Gibson looking at Maurice's face, understood 
 how the tale of his heroism came to be so much 
 talked about, and why he obtained his promo- 
 tion, although in spite of his fine frame he was 
 certainly not more than eighteen. 
 
 * ' He deserved all he got, and more in the way 
 of praise," the old soldier thought. "If that's 
 the sort of stuff our young officers are made of, 
 we're going to win this war."
 
 RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 151 
 
 "I can't put more speed on her," he ex- 
 claimed aloud, and the car fairly rocked as it 
 plunged on down the lane. With all his skill 
 he was startled in his own mind lest there 
 should be a breakdown or a smash-up in one of 
 those ruts ; but he kept the wheels out of them, 
 and watched keenly for any stones that might 
 jerk the car and throw her over. He left it to 
 Maurice to keep a lookout for any further signs 
 of the enemy. His whole body was tense while 
 he was doing this, and Maurice, with his re- 
 volver in hand and his eyes searching for any 
 indications of the nearness of the enemy, urged 
 him to take the risks and drive on. Even thus 
 he had to grip the side of the car as it rocked. 
 
 Shots came. He could hear them fly by. One 
 hit a wheel, but not the tire. Another carried 
 Gibson's cap away, while a third struck the 
 body of the chassis. Then came another call 
 to halt. 
 
 "We shall have to take the forest, sir," cried 
 Gibson, when the bottom of the lane was 
 reached. 
 
 "Yes, I see!" exclaimed Maurice, whose 
 blood was up. What the old Saxons and 
 Vikings used to call the Berserker spirit was in 
 him and was all on fire the spirit that loved 
 a fight, and did not know of anything like fear 
 in the midst of battle. "The plain is full of 
 Germans!" he went on. "And see! They're 
 facing the French there! I can see the blue- 
 gray uniforms and the red trousers of Joffre's 
 men; but they're holding the enemy!"
 
 152 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 He almost clapped his hands when he saw 
 a German battalion, which had got part of the 
 way up the slope, waver and turn, flinging away 
 their arms when the gallant Frenchmen charged 
 down the hill with their bayonets. 
 
 When Maurice and Gibson drove into the 
 forest they had the feeling that they were in 
 more danger than before. Who could tell 
 what they might find in the path which wound 
 among the trees? For the moment, when the 
 memory of it came to him, Maurice shuddered. 
 It reminded him of that ride on his motor-cycle, 
 and this might well be as dangerous a place as 
 that. Still, his task had been set for him, and 
 he would not shirk it one jot. 
 
 "I must slow down a bit, or we shall come 
 to grief with some of the spreading roots of 
 the trees," said Gibson. 
 
 Again and again they had to bend low to 
 avoid the low-hanging branches, but they 
 breathed with relief when they found that they 
 were coming to the edge of the forest without 
 having seen or heard any more of the Ger- 
 mans. 
 
 " Which way will you go now, Gibson?" 
 Maurice asked, putting back his revolver, think- 
 ing that now they had got out of reach of the 
 enemy, who were evidently concentrating their 
 attention on the hills which the French were 
 holding so finely, barring the enemy's progress 
 to the south. 
 
 Gibson was going to answer, but he swerved 
 the car so suddenly that Maurice was thrown
 
 RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 153 
 
 heavily in his seat against the arm of the 
 driver. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Gibson," Maurice cried, 
 quickly righting himself, but he caught sight 
 of the chauffeur's face. "What's wrong?" he 
 asked. 
 
 1 'Look to your left, sir." 
 
 Maurice looked, and a low whistle escaped 
 him. 
 
 "Germans everywhere," he exclaimed. He 
 saw a sentry a hundred yards away to the left, 
 and behind him a patrol, moving slowly. Some- 
 where, but from which direction neither he nor 
 Gibson knew, was the faint sound of horsemen, 
 the jingle of steel on the harness, and in the far 
 distance, on the right, they saw the German 
 cavalry coming on a great body of them but 
 moving slowly. 
 
 "We shall have to run the gauntlet now," 
 cried Maurice. " 'Tis death or prison for us 
 both to go back. We can't ride tamely up to 
 that sentinel and the patrol behind him; and 
 there are all those cavalrymen! Let her go, 
 Gibson!" 
 
 On went the car, but although Maurice felt a 
 thrill when he saw the great body of horse, he 
 marveled that they did not give chase, and he 
 said so to Gibson. 
 
 "They think we're Germans," the soldier 
 answered. "They don't expect anybody like 
 Englishmen on what they have the audacity 
 to call German soil." 
 
 "And French at that," exclaimed Maurice,
 
 154 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 who was looking at the enemy beneath his hand. 
 " Don't slow down, Gibson. I believe they are 
 coming after all. I should think there must be 
 twenty just started out of the ranks, and they're 
 coming at a gallop, but they are straggling, and 
 I may pick off a few if they come too near. I'll 
 empty this into them." Maurice was examin- 
 ing his revolver while he spoke. 
 
 "The car will beat 'em," said Gibson. "I 
 can put on an extra ten miles an hour at a 
 pinch, and I guess the best horse in the German 
 army won't last out if they come for us." 
 
 "I'm sure of it!" cried Maurice exultantly, 
 when the car put on that extra spurt, and they 
 were flying along. "We're leaving them be- 
 hind already." 
 
 "Hold tight, sir," said Gibson presently, by 
 way of warning. "I'm going to take this lane. 
 It's a short cut, and if we can get to those hills 
 yonder, we ought to be fairly near to General 
 Joffre's Headquarters. Are they coming on?" 
 
 "No," Maurice answered, swinging in his 
 seat, and gripping the side of the car tightly 
 to keep himself from being pitched out. The 
 wonder was that the chassis did not break up 
 with the terrific shaking and strain. "I say, 
 Gibson, you nearly sent me flying out that 
 time," he cried, when he had recovered him- 
 self, and had tumbled into the corner of his 
 seat. 
 
 "Couldn't help it, sir. If those fellows were 
 in sight " 
 
 "They weren't. I haven't seen a German
 
 RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 155 
 
 for the last five minutes. They must have given 
 us up as a bad job." 
 
 "I hope they have," said Gibson, who was 
 bending forward over his steering-wheel and 
 peering straight ahead. 
 
 It was growing dark now, and they found 
 themselves in a straight descending lane, with 
 high hedges on either side. 
 
 "Where do you think this lane leads, 
 Gibson !" 
 
 "To those hills in front." 
 
 "It looks to me," said Maurice, peering for- 
 ward, "as though we were coming to fields, and 
 nothing else. I can't see any road." 
 
 "I can, sir. There's one lying away to the 
 left, in the direction I want to take, and I 
 should say that this lane leads into it." 
 
 "All right then, on you go," said Maurice, 
 slipping his revolver back to its place, since 
 there seemed to be no present need for it. 
 "Gibson, what would a policeman say if he 
 saw us now, and stopped us for exceeding the 
 limit?" Maurice asked, and the two laughed 
 loudly. 
 
 "He'd take our number, sir, and report us to 
 the Kaiser," said Gibson, turning a slight bend 
 and sounding his horn. He was a bit jubilant 
 at the thought of having left the Germans be- 
 hind, and had tumbled back into ordinary road 
 ways again. 
 
 The car went on. In the growing darkness 
 they seemed to be on the road, and their confi- 
 dence was unshaken, because already in the east
 
 156 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 the moon was rising behind the trees, faint as 
 yet, but ready to be helpful more and more as 
 the night came on. But after a while the 
 motor-car began to go heavily. Her full 
 speed was on, but she was not covering the 
 ground as swiftly as before. 
 
 "Anything gone wrong, do you think?" asked 
 Maurice anxiously. "Are we going to have 
 a breakdown? Listen! We are splashing 
 through water." 
 
 It had grown dark so quickly that it was 
 impossible to see what was around them. The 
 road seemed all right, yet the car was laboring, 
 as if plowing along on soft ground. 
 
 "Suppose you pull up, Gibson," said 
 Maurice. "I'll jump out and look round. 
 It's just possible we're off the road, or on the 
 edge of a pond." 
 
 Gibson brought the car to a standstill, and 
 Maurice jumped off, but he called out in 
 surprise : 
 
 "I'm standing in water!" 
 
 Gibson leaned aside and looked at Maurice in 
 quick alarm. 
 
 "You don't say so, sir!" 
 
 "I do. Listen to this;" and Gibson heard 
 the swish of water as Maurice kicked one of his 
 feet to and fro. "What's more, I think I'm 
 sinking. Yes, I am!" he exclaimed, almost in 
 the same breath. "We are in a bog, or some- 
 thing of that sort. ' ' 
 
 Just then the moon, which for a time had 
 been hiding herself behind some clouds, lit up
 
 RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 157 
 
 the country the distant hills, and the forest 
 they had run through at such peril, and the 
 meadows; but what attracted the attention of 
 Maurice and his companion was the glitter of 
 the moonlight in pools of water everywhere 
 about them. Bits of grass, or rushes, or reeds 
 showed here and there, but on and on, to left 
 and right, and far behind, were these pools 
 which spelled out danger. 
 
 "We're in the marshes," exclaimed Gibson, 
 and this was the first sign of terror Maurice had 
 noticed in the soldier. The shots from the 
 enemy, and the danger which had dogged them 
 for so many miles, had put him on his mettle, 
 and he seemed to glory in disappointing the 
 Germans when they failed to hit him or the 
 gallant young officer at his side. But this bog ! 
 It was fearful. 
 
 "Step away a bit to your left," said Gibson. 
 "I think you will be on solid ground there." 
 
 Maurice did as the chauffeur suggested. 
 
 "That's right," he exclaimed. "And here's 
 a road which, somehow, we missed by a few feet 
 in the darkness. It came on so sudden that I 
 don't wonder at it." 
 
 "Stand where you are, sir," exclaimed 
 Gibson. "I'll try to get the car back on the 
 road," he added, turning in his seat to look 
 behind. "Ten yards will do it." 
 
 He gave his whole attention to the car, while 
 Maurice stood on the hard road and watched 
 while Gibson tried to back out ; but although she 
 made a tremendous noise in her frantic efforts,
 
 158 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 she did not budge. All that she did was to sink 
 deeper and deeper, and while Maurice looked 
 on, he saw that she was doomed. The wheels 
 went down and down into the ooze and mire, 
 which in time covered the footboard. The 
 engine ceased to work as the water began to 
 wash about Gibson's feet on the floor of the car. 
 
 "It's all up with her, Gibson," cried Maurice, 
 who found it impossible to lend a helping hand. 
 "You must come away and leave her to her 
 fate. Come, while you have the chance, or you 
 will go down with her ! ' ' 
 
 Gibson left the wheel, and stepping to the side 
 nearest to Maurice, he jumped; but at the 
 moment the car shifted, and his leap was 
 broken. Instead of landing on the solid bit of 
 ground where Maurice stood, he fell midway 
 in the slush of the marsh. The fall brought the 
 ooze and water to his waist, and he could find 
 nothing solid for his feet to rest on. 
 
 "I'm going down," he cried, digging his 
 fingers into what looked like a clump of solid 
 rank grass ; but it gave way at his clutch. 
 
 Maurice wondered what he could do. Had 
 it been water, where his limbs would be free to 
 move, he would have plunged in for the sinking 
 soldier ; but this was danger for both, where one 
 could not save the other, and where the slough 
 sucked its victims down. 
 
 He flung himself full length on the ground, 
 reaching over as far as he dared. 
 
 "Catch hold of my hand, Gibson," he cried, 
 and the sinking man just managed to touch the
 
 RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 159 
 
 stretched-out fingers. Even then they both saw 
 how he was going down, and the distance be- 
 tween the hands increased. However much, 
 and dangerously, Maurice reached out, Gibson 
 was getting farther away. 
 
 Maurice's ready resourcefulness served him 
 in this terrible extremity. He sat back on his 
 heels swiftly, and unfastened his belt ; then fall- 
 ing prone on the ground again, he threw out the 
 end for Gibson to grip. 
 
 "Clutch at that," he cried, and Gibson, who 
 by this time had the ooze up to his arm-pits, 
 clutched at it frantically. It was his last 
 chance, and when he felt his fingers close over 
 the buckle he knew that the struggle for life 
 would be in his favor if the boy Lieutenant at 
 the other end of the belt had strength to pull 
 him out. 
 
 "Grip tight, Gibson. Both hands! Don't 
 let go. Try, if you can, to set your feet on 
 something. That's right." 
 
 The chauffeur's hands gripped the belt, and 
 Maurice began to draw him in. 
 
 It was slow and dangerous work. Maurice, 
 lying full length, hauled in with all his strength. 
 He felt a weakness in the arm that had been 
 wounded, but he would not suffer himself to 
 think of that. The thing was to save this man 
 who was sinking to death, and would be gone 
 beyond all recovery if he failed to pull him out 
 of the bog. He dug his own feet into the road, 
 but although it was sloppy, it was hard, and he 
 had a fear lest, if he did not use great care, the
 
 160 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 chauffeur's weight would pull him in also. 
 Even then he was determined not to let the sol- 
 dier slip from his grip. 
 
 "Hold tight," he cried, when he determined 
 to change his position; and with infinite effort 
 he contrived to swing his body round, so that 
 he might dig in his heels and have a better 
 chance. 
 
 * ' You are coming, "he exclaimed. * ' Hold 
 tight!" 
 
 He tried all those tricks they used to try 
 when he was at school at Ellingham in the tug- 
 of-war, and at last Gibson's body rested on 
 solid ground. 
 
 "Dig your fingers in, Gibson," Maurice 
 cried ; but half afraid for him to loosen his hold 
 on the belt, lest he should slip back again. 
 
 It was only a momentary slackening before 
 Maurice was gripping him by the hands, and 
 drawing him out slowly; and not until the 
 man's knees were over the edge did he allow 
 him rest; while, for himself, he sank down in 
 an exhausted state, every limb seeming to 
 throb, and, unknown to Gibson, the old wound 
 apparently broken open again. 
 
 The moon came away more clearly from be- 
 hind the clouds, and lit up everything like day. 
 Then it showed them something more than the 
 endless mud pools of the marshes. They saw 
 each other, and laughed uproariously in spite 
 of the danger they incurred of being seen or 
 heard by any Germans who chanced to be near. 
 
 They had just come out of the jaws of death
 
 RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 161 
 
 from the pursuit of the enemy and the rain 
 of shots, and from the horrors of the bog; yet 
 they looked so different now to what they did 
 when they set out from Headquarters, spick 
 and span. 
 
 Suddenly the unexpected happened. A body 
 of horsemen came round the corner of the wind- 
 ing road. Drawing back into a hedge, and slid- 
 ing down into the ditch, where the water came 
 above their boots, they waited, wondering 
 whose the horsemen were our Allies, or 
 Germans ? 
 
 "They are Frenchmen," Gibson exclaimed, 
 after watching them keenly. 
 
 "Are you sure?" 
 
 "Certain." 
 
 Maurice took him at his word, for he had 
 already suspected this from what he had seen. 
 He sprang into the road, and walking swiftly, 
 with his hands uplifted, he drew up before the 
 foremost horseman. 
 
 "I want your Commander," he cried in 
 French. 
 
 "He is here," exclaimed a horseman who 
 advanced at a canter, for he had seen two sol- 
 diers spring out of the hedge. "What is your 
 business!" he asked, pulling up his charger. 
 
 "I am carrying an important dispatch for 
 General Joffre, but in trying to avoid the Ger- 
 mans, I lost my motor-car in a bog, and we 
 have had to come the rest of the way on foot. ' ' 
 
 "Ha! May I see the package, monsieur?" 
 asked the rider.
 
 162 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 " 'Tis here, monsieur," was Maurice's 
 answer, and he drew the package from its 
 hiding-place, and held it so that the super- 
 scription could be read. "And here is my 
 pass." 
 
 "Pass on, monsieur. You will find the Gen- 
 eral half a mile along the road. I will send 
 someone with you. ' ' 
 
 Maurice went forward, carrying the dis- 
 patch in his hand. As he looked at it, he was 
 half ashamed to offer it to the Commander-in- 
 Chief of the great French army, it looked so 
 much the worse for wear, and mud-splashed. 
 In some inexplicable way the mud had got in- 
 side his tunic and down his neck in at every 
 conceivable opening, so that it was streaked and 
 splotched all over, as well as crumpled because 
 of the many postures he had put himself into 
 to escape notice from the enemy on the way. 
 
 "Father Joffre," as the French soldiers 
 called him affectionately, saw the whimsical 
 look on Maurice's face, and guessed what was 
 in his mind. He met Maurice 's hesitation with 
 a smile. 
 
 * ' It looks like yourself, monsieur, as If it had 
 been in the wars; but it is the inside that 
 counts." With that he took the package and 
 broke away the covering. 
 
 As he read the contents, forgetful of every- 
 one around, and walked slowly to and fro, read- 
 ing the dispatch, the officers standing by, and 
 even a mud-splashed rider halting, waiting 
 until the General looked up, saw that Joffre 's
 
 RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 163 
 
 face brightened. He said no word to anyone 
 while he leisurely folded up the sheets of paper 
 when he had read them all, and replaced them 
 in the envelope, and thrust the package into his 
 bosom. 
 
 ' ' Monsieur, walk at my side, and tell me what 
 you saw while on the road, ' ' he exclaimed, com- 
 ing to Maurice; and Maurice knowing how 
 precious the General's time was, and what 
 claims there were on his attention, told the 
 story quickly of his ride and the view he had 
 of the battle, the loss of his car, as well as the 
 presence of Germans near at hand. 
 
 There was a slight frown on Joffre's face, 
 but his quick and decisive order came the mo- 
 ment Maurice had ended, for he turned to the 
 officer who, at his desire, had walked to and fro 
 with him. 
 
 "General Moulin, you hear what this young 
 officer says as to the Germans being so near!" 
 
 "Yes, monsieur." 
 
 "Then take a sufficient force and sweep the 
 district. The enemy must not be suffered to 
 remain. By the time Lieutenant Millard is 
 ready to return with my answer the country 
 must be clear." 
 
 He turned away. He had given his order. 
 He knew General Moulin 's fine capability ; knew 
 that he would do his work well, and left him to 
 do it in his own way. Then he spoke to 
 Maurice. 
 
 "Lieutenant Millard, you and your orderly 
 must go into the house, have food and a bath.
 
 164 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 Sergeant," he exclaimed, turning to one near s& 
 hand, "see that these messieurs are attended 
 to, and put them into more comfortable trim. 
 And have a motor-car ready for their return." 
 
 General Joffre smiled as he looked again at 
 these mud-stained messengers. 
 
 " 'Tis good, clean French mud, monsieur," 
 he added, and then turned to know what a rider 
 on a foam-covered horse had brought in thej 
 way of news.
 
 xm 
 
 THE FIGHT FOR THE MILL 
 
 WHEN Maurice handed in the message 
 from General Joffre, he thought of 
 proceeding to the trenches to join his 
 new regiment, but found the men taking billet 
 rest, expecting, however, to be sent away to do 
 some hard fighting at any hour. 
 
 The order came the next day, when they were 
 dispatched in haste to reinforce the troops at a 
 point where they were hard pressed by the 
 enemy. Sounds of heavy artillery fire were 
 heard long before they came to the village amid 
 two forests, and Maurice and his men found 
 themselves by an old mill whose wheel was still 
 standing, since those who lived in it had fled on 
 the approach of the enemy. 
 
 A number of his men were sent to the mill 
 itself, to keep a sharp lookout in case the 
 Germans sought to cross the stream. In a 
 very little while the machine guns were placed 
 at every possible spot for offering a strong 
 front to the enemy, on the gallery of wood, and 
 at the stone gateway of the yard, which was 
 surrounded by sheds and stables and store- 
 houses. 
 
 It was a dangerous spot for many reasons, 
 for if the Germans were bold enough to use the 
 
 165
 
 166 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 boats moored to the bank on the other side of 
 the broad stream, and came sufficiently near to 
 pour in some of their liquid fire, the old mill, 
 whose timbers cracked as the soldiers moved 
 round the wooden gallery, or climbed to the 
 upper floors, would soon be in a blaze, and no 
 amount of valor would permit the men to hold 
 the place. 
 
 "Those boats are a menace, sir," said one of 
 the sergeants, an old soldier who had seen 
 plenty of fighting before Maurice was born. 
 "If the Germans get at them, and come over 
 here, we can't hold the mill." 
 
 "What can we do with them?" Maurice 
 asked. 
 
 1 ' Send some men in those two boats and bring 
 the whole lot over here, sir. ' ' 
 
 Maurice jumped at the idea. 
 
 "I'll go over myself," he exclaimed. 
 
 "I wouldn't sir, if I were you. You ought 
 to be here with the men, and look out for emer- 
 gencies," was the old soldier's advice. "I have 
 an idea, from what I saw in the upper floor of 
 the mill just now, that there's a big company 
 of Germans down by the village, making for 
 this very spot. Let me go, sir, and you keep a 
 sharp lookout while I am gone." 
 
 "Very well," said Maurice, looking longingly 
 across the stream, wishing he might go himself, 
 but realizing that the kindly advice of the sea- 
 soned sergeant was best. "Get away as quick 
 as you can, Gibbons. If they were that near, 
 they'll soon be here."
 
 THE FIGHT FOR THE MILL 167 
 
 The sergeant went off the gallery at a run, 
 calling to a man here and there as he ran, and 
 Maurice saw him hurrying down the broken 
 stairway to the landing-stage, where a couple 
 of crazy boats were fastened. He could see 
 their movements through the cracks and holes 
 of the floor on which he was standing. To 
 watch more clearly what was going on, having 
 told his men to be alert for anything that might 
 chance, he ran up the ladder to the upper floor 
 of the mill, and then he saw what thrilled him. 
 
 What seemed to be a body of five hundred 
 Germans were advancing straight on the mill, 
 wearing their packs and full field-kit, and mak- 
 ing for the boats. He was relieved to find that 
 they had no heavy guns, for had they brought 
 them, the mill would be a mass of broken 
 timber in ten minutes, and not one of the de- 
 fenders would be left alive. But as things 
 stood, he could put up a big fight and hold the 
 mill. 
 
 He knew that the Lieutenant-Colonel of the 
 battalion could not see what was passing here 
 because of the dense forest on either side, in 
 which his soldiers were distributed, and 
 Maurice sent one of his corporals to suggest 
 that some heavy cannon might sweep the space 
 on which this large force of Germans was mov- 
 ing. But meanwhile he and his men would hold 
 the mill. 
 
 Turning his attention now to Gibbons and 
 his party in the rotten boats, he saw some of 
 the men pulling hard with the broken oars
 
 168 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 across the stream, and before long they were 
 close .to the bank where the other boats were 
 fastened. Suddenly, out of the midst of the 
 rushes he saw a German helmet spring into 
 sight; another; then many; and forty or fifty 
 Germans came on at a rush towards the spot 
 where Gibbons was closing up with the boats. 
 Less than fifty yards of bank had to be tra- 
 versed by the Germans, and then the men at 
 the boats would be engaged in a hand-to-hand 
 fight. 
 
 "Pick off those in the front line if you can," 
 cried Maurice, and catching up a rifle that was 
 standing by the wooden wall, he leveled it, aim- 
 ing for the front man, who was five or six yards 
 in advance of the others. His shot went uner- 
 ringly, just as it did when he was firing with his 
 School Eight at Bisley, and the foremost man 
 whirled round, his gun flew out of his hand, 
 and Maurice saw him fall backward in the 
 midst of some rushes. 
 
 "Look to that second man," he exclaimed to 
 the soldiers about him. "That will give Gib- 
 bons time to cut some of the boats away." 
 
 While he spoke a soldier at his side fired; a 
 little puff of smoke floated into Maurice's face, 
 but leaning forward, he saw that the second 
 German was hit, and sprawling on the ground, 
 face downwards. 
 
 "Give me your gun, and load that one," 
 cried Maurice to a soldier who was as brave as 
 any among them, but no great shot, and the man 
 in an instant put his weapon in Maurice 's hand.
 
 THE FIGHT FOR THE MILL 169 
 
 A report rang out, and the third soldier fell. 
 But the mass was coming on by this time a 
 score or two of them and as yet Gibbons had 
 barely touched the boats. 
 
 ''Try the machine guns!" Maurice shouted; 
 "but don't hit our men. Blaze away into that 
 crowd and stop them!" 
 
 The rattle of the machine guns started before 
 he had ended, and the shots reached the Ger- 
 mans, who staggered before the unexpected fire. 
 Some threw up their hands and fell, but even 
 then, determined to get to the boats, others 
 dropped on their hands and knees, and moved 
 forward that way. They could be seen at times, 
 going on, bending low or crawling, to hide be- 
 hind the rushes ; but with the machine guns and 
 the rifle fire they stood little chance. Yet, when 
 there were not half a dozen yards between them 
 and the boats, a score of Germans came for-, 
 ward with a rush. Even these would have been 
 enough to overwhelm Gibbons and his dozen 
 men, with their hands occupied with the boats. 
 It had been an affair of minutes, but now the 
 little cutting-out party could not be supported 
 lest, in the melee, friend and foe might be shot 
 down by the fire from the mill. All that could 
 be done now was to stand and watch, and wait 
 for their chance. 
 
 "Is there a Bisley man among you?" 
 Maurice shouted, when he saw that Gibbons' 
 men seemed doomed, exposed now to the fire 
 from a score, from a hundred, perhaps, in a 
 few minutes; for other Germans were advanc-
 
 170 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 ing. It was possible with some good shots to 
 hold them back while Gibbons got away. 
 
 "I'm one, sir," cried a private, hurrying for- 
 ward. "Another, sir," came a voice, and the 
 soldier, halting suddenly, while Maurice was 
 leveling his own gun, put his rifle to his 
 shoulder, took swift aim, and fired. It caught 
 a German in the act of leaping off the bank into 
 the boat to which Gibbons had jumped, with his 
 knife drawn to cut the rope. The man fell close 
 by the sergeant in a heap. Maurice saw it, but 
 there was another coming, and he turned to him 
 instead, and as the rifle snapped and the smoke 
 came in a little puff, the German shot down the 
 bank, and his feet struck hard against the bows 
 of the boat next to Gibbons', just as a young 
 soldier had severed its rope, so that it bounced 
 out into the stream. 
 
 Gibbons had every boat free by this time, and 
 then, in spite of the hurried and chance firing 
 from the Germans, each craft was well in hand, 
 and each, with a man in it working at the oars, 
 was crossing to the mill. 
 
 The Germans blazed away at them, but only 
 three men were hit, and each of these, with one 
 exception, still pulled. The third man lay still 
 across his oars, and the boat was drifting. 
 Whether alive or dead no one could tell, but 
 Gibbons, who was nearest, went after him, 
 caught at the rowlocks, slipped his hand rapidly 
 along the gunwale, got hold of the painter, tied 
 it, in spite of the shots that were flying around 
 him, to his own rowlocks, and pulled both boats
 
 THE FIGHT FOR THE MILL 171 
 
 to the steps where already all the other boats 
 had been safely tied. 
 
 He was greeted like his comrades with rous- 
 ing cheers; but Maurice was thinking of the 
 Germans who were standing on the other bank, 
 exasperated at their failure. 
 
 "We must clear those fellows out," cried 
 Maurice, not waiting for Gibbons and his 
 men to come up the rickety steps. "Keep 
 up a continuous fire! Make it warm for 
 them!" 
 
 But now the Germans had come up by hun- 
 dreds, and sent a hot fire across the water to the 
 mill. A concentrated fire followed, again and 
 again repeated, bringing away great pieces of 
 the boarding of the rotten old building, and 
 smashing in two or three of the shutters. 
 Maurice went through the mill to see how his 
 men were faring, and found that several of 
 them had been seriously wounded. He did 
 what he could for them in the way of First 
 Aid, but there were demands on him every- 
 where, and he had reluctantly to leave the poor 
 fellows to their chance. Then he went to the 
 gallery again. 
 
 Gibbons came to him when the boats had been 
 made secure. 
 
 "That was splendidly done, sergeant," 
 Maurice cried, lowering his rifle, after having 
 just picked off the officer in command. He had 
 paused to see the fellow fall headlong off the 
 bank into the stream. "But I'm afraid we 
 shan't be able to hold on to the mill. We are
 
 172 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 within too easy a range for the enemy. What 
 do you think?" 
 
 "I should advise you to draw the men and 
 machine guns away, sir, and get to the mill 
 yard, where we shall have some shelter." 
 
 Gibbons had barely spoken when there came 
 a fierce volley of musketry, and the side of the 
 mill nearest to the stream was riddled; but 
 every shot had gone too high. 
 
 "Get out of this, sharp!" Maurice cried. 
 4 * Take those guns into the yard." 
 
 While this heavier task was being accom- 
 plished, Maurice and the other men rushed 
 down to the mill yard, sheltering behind every 
 bit of cover that offered, but having a full view 
 of the baffled enemy on the farther bank of the 
 stream. Ten minutes later the yard had be- 
 come a fortress to which the Germans sent an 
 almost harmless fire. 
 
 "It's all right now, Gibbons, unless they 
 bring up their heavy guns," said Maurice. 
 "Did you see any signs of them?" 
 
 "I can't say that I did, sir," the old soldier 
 answered, looking with admiration on this 
 plucky boy lieutenant who was showing such 
 cool courage, and so much resourcefulness. 
 "Suppose we keep blazing away at them? 
 We've any amount of ammunition, and they 
 can't get at us, since we've got the boats." 
 
 Maurice turned to his men in a lull that 
 followed. 
 
 "We won't waste our ammunition," he said. 
 "If any of you see something to hit, fire away
 
 173 
 
 for all you are worth,'* lie went on; and the 
 men some of them had been turned into sea- 
 soned soldiers in South Africa looked at their 
 boyish lieutenant with pride, and could not 
 repress a cheer. 
 
 "You see, it's this way, men. They can't 
 get at us, for we've got the boats, on which they 
 evidently counted, and they can't do us much 
 harm unless they bring up their heavy guns. 
 And if they do, this rotten old mill will last no 
 time. ' ' 
 
 A shot whizzed past Maurice while he spoke, 
 and smashed against the wall near by, scatter- 
 ing the mortar, which spread away in a little 
 cloud of dust. Shots came continually from 
 the Germans, who had gone away from the open 
 and had taken shelter among the rushes and 
 some clumps of bush, from whence they sent a 
 perpetual rain of bullets. Shots slapped up 
 against the stonework where Maurice and his 
 men lay low, always on the keen watch, and 
 firing whenever they saw a German helmet or 
 a face appear. Sometimes the bullets from the 
 opposite bank hit the wheel of the mill, or broke 
 away in splinters some of the woodwork. 
 
 Gibbons had disappeared, and Maurice had 
 looked around for him anxiously, afraid lest so 
 fine an old soldier was lying dead on the stones, 
 like some of his men. But presently he came 
 from the mill, down the staircase of which he 
 had come almost headlong. Maurice saw by his 
 face that he had serious news. 
 
 "They're bringing up some heavy guns, sir,"
 
 174 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 he cried; "and there's full five hundred more 
 Germans coming out of the forest on the right. 
 They mean to clear us out some way." 
 
 "We'll stick it just the same, Gibbons. What 
 do you say, men?" 
 
 "Stick it, sir," came the instant answer, for 
 'the soldiers had heard the sergeant's word. 
 "Corporal Spink ought to have got to the 
 Colonel by now." 
 
 It was one of the sergeants answering for the 
 men, who heard him, and backed him up with 
 a loud cheer. Then a volley followed, at 
 Maurice's call, from rifles and machine guns, 
 right into the rushes. A score of Germans 
 leaped from their cover, and many fell with a 
 splash into the stream. 
 
 A surprise came while the sound of that last 
 fusillade was dying away. The gates of the 
 mill yard had been left wide open, and through 
 the gateway, the sound of their coming having 
 been covered by the noise of the firing and the 
 deadening softness of the grass, some horses 
 came at a gallop, bringing in some field guns. 
 An officer rode at the head. 
 
 "Where are the Germans, Lieutenant?" he 
 cried, pulling up when he saw Maurice, who 
 had gone forward to meet him. The Major was 
 taken by surprise when he saw how youthful 
 the officer was who was in command, and had 
 held the mill. His quick eye saw the disposi- 
 tion of the men, and he wondered all the 
 more. 
 
 "Among the rushes, yonder, sir, and among
 
 THE FIGHT FOR THE MILL 175 
 
 those bushes farther back, and on towards the 
 forest ; five hundred, sir, and another five hun- 
 dred coming on with some guns," Maurice 
 answered decisively, and with a coolness which 
 took the Major aback. 
 
 "We'll have them out of it, but it's pretty 
 close range. Clear your men away, Lieu- 
 tenant, and let me line up my guns, ' ' the artil- 
 lery officer cried. Then his voice rang out. The 
 men he brought with him seemed to move like 
 clockwork; the guns were swung round, and 
 almost before Maurice realized what was hap- 
 pening the storm of shells began. 
 
 "I'd like a longer range," the Major cried; 
 "but we must deal with it as we have it. Sup- 
 pose you come with me to the mill, and we'll 
 see what the outlook is like." 
 
 He strode with Maurice to the mill door, 
 tramped up the creaking staircase to the gal- 
 lery, went round it with him in spite of the 
 shots they drew upon themselves ; then, since it 
 gave him no clear view of the country, the of- 
 ficer moved away, and Maurice, still with him, 
 mounted to the upper part of the mill. 
 
 Meanwhile the guns in the yard were belching 
 out their shells, shaking the old mill, so that 
 the floor rocked beneath their feet. They 
 mounted yet higher, and climbing into the cap, 
 had a view of the landscape for miles, observ- 
 ing the heavy guns lumbering towards them, 
 just as Gibbons had reported. 
 
 "We'll stop them, Millard," said the Major. 
 "Suppose you post yourself here, with this
 
 176 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 shutter wide open. You can see us in the mill 
 yard, and tell us what our range is like. But 
 see! Our guns have cleared them out!" he 
 cried exultantly. "Did you ever see anything 
 like it?" 
 
 He pointed to the other side of the stream, 
 where the shells were bursting. The ground 
 among the rushes had become a shambles. The 
 Germans had been stricken down by scores, and 
 now, panic-stricken, were rushing away, throw- 
 ing down their arms and packs, in spite of the 
 threats of their officers, who shot them down 
 mercilessly in the endeavor to drive them back 
 to the stream. 
 
 "I must be going," said the Major, striding 
 to the ladder. "Ill send one or two signalers 
 up, and then you can come down to me, 
 Millard." 
 
 Before long Maurice saw him in the yard, 
 giving his men directions for long-range firing. 
 Maurice kept his eyes on the advancing guns. 
 
 "They are halting, swinging into position," 
 he cried, in the lull that had come, for the 
 German infantry at the stream were scattering 
 like frightened sheep in a panic, and it was not 
 worth while to waste shot on them. 
 
 A gun thundered in making a trial shot, but 
 it fell short. Maurice gave the signal, and the 
 next shell was nearer to the mark. A third had 
 found the range, and then the attack came be- 
 fore the Germans were ready with their own 
 guns. Maurice heard an artilleryman mount- 
 ing the ladder, his spurs jingling as he came;
 
 THE FIGHT FOR THE MILL 177 
 
 and then a sergeant stamped across the tremb- 
 ling floor. 
 
 "Splendid!" the soldier cried. "They've 
 got the range exactly. Ha! that hit the gun. 
 It's smashed! We shan't hear from you 
 again ! " he exclaimed exultantly. * ' Come here, 
 corporal," he said to a soldier who had just 
 entered the place. "What do you think of 
 that?" 
 
 He pointed to a battery which had drawn up 
 in the open space between the forests, where 
 the shell fire from the mill yard was getting 
 home with marvellous precision. The artillery 
 pounded away at these guns, and again and 
 again the soldiers in the cap of the mill gave 
 their signals, telling of the damage our shells 
 were doing. 
 
 The gunners fed the breeches, and the guns 
 poured out their shells, whereas the Germans, 
 either by bad practice or because their guns 
 had been so knocked about, sent but few shells 
 into the mill yard. 
 
 Yet, when these missiles rushed through the 
 air with a shriek, and burst either on the other 
 side of the stream or above the stream itself, 
 lumps of earth and sheets of mud leaped up and 
 bespattered Maurice and those who were near 
 him. Sometimes, too, a shrapnel shell burst, 
 the fragments falling on the mill cap, rending a 
 great hole in it. 
 
 "A bit more of that and there will not be any 
 mill left," one of the artillerymen muttered. 
 He had scarcely spoken when a shell crashed
 
 178 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 into the yard, and one of our guns was de- 
 stroyed ; but there was an exultant cry when the 
 sergeant in the mill cap announced that five of 
 the enemy's guns were now disabled, that 
 almost every horse was killed, and not men 
 enough were left to work the guns which 
 remained. 
 
 "Give them a parting salvo!" cried the 
 Major, who had gone up to the mill cap to see 
 the execution his guns had done. The order 
 was obeyed, and the old mill rocked with the 
 reverberation. There was a clatter of falling 
 wood in places in consequence of the tremen- 
 dous shock ; but as the sound died away the ser- 
 geant 's voice came sharp and clear: 
 
 "The guns are deserted. What men are left 
 are scampering off as hard as they can go!" 
 
 "Then give them another!" the Major cried, 
 and a storm of shells went hurtling through the 
 air, carrying with them death and destruction, 
 and the assertion of a triumph for our own 
 artillery.
 
 XIV 
 PRISONERS OF WAR 
 
 THE night which followed was one of in- 
 cessant strife, for the exasperated enemy 
 were determined to win back what they 
 had so unexpectedly lost. Apart from the con- 
 tinuous bombardment, in which some splendid 
 young fellows were killed or wounded, there 
 came times when hand-to-hand fighting took 
 place, desperately fierce in its character, and in 
 which the Germans were outclassed. The loss 
 on both sides was terrible, but the British held 
 the ground, and the Germans had to fall back 
 in panic. 
 
 The hours went on, and there was no such 
 thing as rest. The heavy bombardment by 
 enemy guns, before the infantry came on in 
 that wild and almost overwhelming rush, had 
 done terrific damage to the trench, for the para- 
 pets, and trench walls, and dugouts were 
 smashed up to such an extent that the fighting 
 was almost among ruins. Still, it was ground 
 to be held, and they were not going to suffer 
 the Germans to take it from them. 
 
 In the lull the Captain set his men to work 
 in strengthening their defenses, and putting the 
 battered places into such order as was possible. 
 But before it was half done there was some- 
 
 179
 
 180 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 thing moving in the darkness which made every 
 man realize that it was life or death this time. 
 The Germans were coming on in a mass so 
 dense that while the machine guns and rifles 
 mowed them down at every step, their number 
 seemed in no way decreased, and it looked as 
 though our soldiers in the trench would be com- 
 pelled either to fall back or fight to the death. 
 
 They chose the latter alternative, and it 
 seemed to Maurice, at the moment when they 
 shouted that they would not retreat, that noth- 
 ing could save them. Yet, when all seemed 
 doomed the Germans wavered ; then, before the 
 merciless fire, they turned and fled, leaving the 
 ground covered with their dead and wounded. 
 
 "They will come again, men, but we won't 
 fall back!" the Captain cried. 
 
 His words were greeted with a cheer which 
 must have surprised the Germans, who for one 
 long hour made no further attack, giving the 
 defenders time to look to their wounded and 
 put the trench in better order. 
 
 "We are ready now, men, and they can come 
 as soon as they please," the Captain said; but 
 the words had scarcely left his lips when a mine 
 exploded, and the trench became once more a 
 heap of ruins. Maurice was stunned, and when 
 he came to himself he found that he was almost 
 buried beneath loose earth and broken sand- 
 bags. He struggled to get free from the debris, 
 and when he had done so he looked around. 
 
 How many of his comrades were dead he 
 did not know. He could see the men lying
 
 PRISONERS OF WAR 181 
 
 about him, some groaning, but others not mov- 
 ing, and in the heap of earth and sandbags, 
 with a machine gun lying amid it all, he saw a 
 hand which moved. It was something living, 
 and dropping on his knees, he worked away 
 frantically, until he had set a soldier free, bat- 
 tered and bleeding, but able to stand. He saw 
 another, and he, too, was released. A third was 
 dragged out, and a fourth as well. 
 
 But the dismay was complete when Maurice 
 saw that the German mass of men had come on 
 again when the fragments had ceased to fly 
 after the explosion, and, leaping over the 
 trench, had cut off those who were in it, and 
 ended by sheer weight of numbers in over- 
 powering those who were not too seriously 
 wounded to fight. 
 
 Maurice realized that he was cut off com- 
 pletely, and, what at the moment was worse 
 than death, that he was a prisoner of war ! He 
 wondered whether it was possible to break 
 away, but he saw three or four of his comrades 
 making the attempt, and they were shot down. 
 The thought came again that he might throw 
 himself down among the debris, and, crawling 
 under some of the sandbags, hide himself until 
 the chance came of stealing away on hands and 
 knees back to his own lines. 
 
 It was useless, for a score of Germans were 
 returning from the place where the British 
 were fighting against the overwhelming force. 
 They each approached with fixed bayonet, and 
 every rifle was pointed at him and his bruised
 
 182 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 and bleeding companions, while the officer in 
 command of the detachment called aloud in 
 English: 
 
 "Hold up your hands, or we will shoot!" 
 
 Five minutes later Maurice and the others 
 were ringed in with steel; a German sergeant 
 approached, and drawing the revolver from 
 Maurice's belt, and tossing it away, he made 
 him stand aside while he examined the others 
 to see that they were unarmed. When that was 
 done the little knot of prisoners were marched 
 towards the German trenches, halting under a 
 bunch of trees, out of the firing-line, but near 
 enough to see how the fighting went. 
 
 In spite of their own misfortune in becom- 
 ing prisoners, they watched with exultation. 
 The great tide of Germans had swept the 
 ruined trench, only because of that unexpected 
 mine explosion; but the men who had held it 
 so gallantly, and were compelled to fall back, 
 were making a stand in the trench they had 
 originally occupied. 
 
 "They're holding up the Boches," muttered 
 one of our men, speaking low lest the Germans 
 should hear. The ground was so high that in 
 the light of the daydawn they could see all that 
 was passing. 
 
 "Isn't that Bedmayne?" cried Maurice in 
 amazement. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said one of the soldiers, leaning 
 forward and gazing keenly. 
 
 "I left him in hospital," Maurice exclaimed; 
 but he broke off and watched, with his lips
 
 Redmayne Put Forth His Splendid Strength and Hurled 
 Him Back.
 
 PRISONERS OF WAR 183 
 
 parted. The Germans had rushed at the 
 trench, only to be thrown back with bayonet 
 thrusts and machine-gun fire; but one of the 
 enemy's officers (a man of rather small stature) 
 managed to leap into the trench. Redmayne 
 was on the spot, and standing his rifle against 
 the wall of the trench, he caught hold of and 
 lifted the German in his hands, and swaying 
 for a moment with the weight, put forth his 
 splendid strength and hurled him back, so that 
 he fell heavily to the ground, where he lay, 
 bruised and stunned. 
 
 It was a magnificent effort even for so strong 
 a man, and a moment later Redmayne had 
 caught up his rifle, and was holding his part 
 with the energy of a hero, regardless of his 
 wounded hand. 
 
 A great hope sprang up in Maurice's breast 
 the hope of escape after all from the misery 
 that was the well-known lot of a prisoner among 
 the Germans. The enemy were being swept 
 back, for a fresh battalion had come forward 
 to support the struggling men in the trench. 
 While the defenders bent low, the newcomers 
 leaped across, and Maurice thought he had 
 never seen such a splendid sight. With bayo- 
 nets gleaming in the morning sun, they plunged 
 the keen steel forward, and the Germans drew 
 back to avoid the deadly thrusts. Then the 
 battalion came on, never wavering, and shout- 
 ing, driving the Germans before them. Nothing 
 could stop them till they had come to the 
 ruined trench.
 
 184 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 There they paused, for as the retreating 
 Germans drew away from the front of their 
 own trenches, leaving the intermediate space 
 clear (save for the dead and the wounded that 
 lay there, and the weapons which some of the 
 scared soldiers had thrown away in their 
 flight), a withering fire burst on them. Rifles 
 from what had once been a German trench, and 
 the concentrated gun-fire of shrapnel from 
 some artillery created such a curtain of fire 
 that advance to retrieve their losses was im- 
 possible. 
 
 The hope which Maurice had now died away. 
 Even while the British soldiers leaped into the 
 ruined trench to hold it against all comers, the 
 sergeant and half a dozen men came to Maurice. 
 
 "Do you speak German?" the non-commis- 
 sioned officer asked roughly. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then tell these men of yours that we are 
 going to the base, where you will be put with 
 other prisoners of war; and be sharp about 
 it!" he added angrily; for this German, like 
 the others who were with him, was filled with 
 chagrin to think that they had been foiled, and 
 so roughly mauled when success seemed so 
 assured. 
 
 "Can't you give us some food?" said Mau- 
 rice, for he and his men were feeling famished. 
 Nothing had passed his lips for many hours 
 and the long night had passed in incessant 
 fighting. 
 
 "I could, but I won't !" the German answered
 
 PRISONERS OF WAR 185 
 
 curtly. ' ' Tell your men to move on. We have 
 six miles' marching to do." 
 
 He stood impatiently, and at last the little 
 company was on the move. A mile away from 
 the bunch of trees, where they had watched the 
 fight, they came to a village, and while they 
 marched down the long and narrow street, the 
 people come out of their houses to curse them 
 for Englishmen. Four miles farther on, after 
 a tramp along a dusty road, choked in places 
 with wagons, and heavy artillery, and ammuni- 
 tion-carts, and jeered at while they halted by 
 the Boches, who counted it fine sport to abuse 
 and spit on their gallant enemies, they came 
 to a railway station, where two or three hun- 
 dred English prisoners were already waiting. 
 Some of them were wounded, and had been 
 roughly attended, while many, worn out with 
 their march, and the intensity of their pain, 
 squatted in the dusty road, or on some boxes 
 of shells and ammunition that were waiting to 
 be carried forward to the front. 
 
 "Get off that!" cried a fussy officer, when 
 he saw what the worn-out men were doing. 
 "I'll have none of that here," he added sharply. 
 
 "Can't you see that the poor fellows are 
 wounded, every one of them?" protested an 
 English Major, who was among the prisoners. 
 
 "I don't care for that!" came the snappy 
 answer. "What are English swine to me?" 
 he asked a moment later, turning on the officer, 
 his face purple with sudden passion. "If you 
 dare to talk to me I'll have you shot," he cried,
 
 186 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 in an access of anger, for he was told that this 
 Major, with his men, had flung the escort-ser- 
 geant's company back in wild confusion a day 
 or two before. He had a riding-whip in his 
 hand, and, raising it, slashed the officer across 
 the face, and left a livid line there. 
 
 It was more than flesh and blood could stand. 
 Regardless of the consequences, the Major 
 flung out his hand, clutched at the wrist which 
 held the whip and gripped it so tightly that the 
 German screamed with pain. He tore the whip 
 from the man's grasp and still holding his 
 wrist lashed at him until the fellow writhed 
 and cried for mercy. 
 
 It was a mad thing for an English officer 
 to do even under such provocation. As he 
 wrenched the whip away, he hurled the German 
 headlong from him. The man staggered back- 
 wards, and unable to hold himself on his feet, 
 struck heavily against the wheel of a wagon. 
 The blow, as his head crashed on it, stunned 
 him, and he lay there, still and helpless, until 
 some of the guard, who came too late to inter- 
 fere, went to his help. 
 
 A Colonel rode up, his face dark with fury. 
 He had seen and heard it all, and knew how 
 great the provocation was, but that was noth- 
 ing to him. The fact that a prisoner of war 
 had dared to lift his hand against a German, 
 brutal though he had been, was warrant in his 
 estimation for anything. He called up some 
 soldiers, and without a word beyond a protest 
 that he would not stand that sort of work from
 
 PRISONERS OF WAR 187 
 
 a hateful Englishman, ordered the men to form 
 in line. 
 
 The Major was standing proudly with his 
 back to the station wall, facing the Colonel. 
 He knew he had done unwisely, but he was 
 ready for the consequences. He made no ex- 
 planations, and none were asked for. There 
 was no trial, and no time for prayer. The 
 order came sharply, and half a dozen rifles were 
 levelled at him. 
 
 "Fire!" exclaimed the officer; and at the 
 word there were flashes, the loud report of a 
 sudden volley, and the Major fell dead upon 
 the stones. 
 
 " 'Tis murder!" came an angry cry from 
 the English prisoners, and even the wounded, 
 some scarce able to stand, sprang to their feet 
 to make their protest ; but another sharp order 
 came, and the German soldiers, whose rifles 
 were still smoking, swung round, the weapons 
 were charged again, and the shining mouths 
 of the rifles were seen by the unarmed, help- 
 less men. 
 
 Dazed and exhausted, hungry and unhappy, 
 Maurice shivered with horror. If this was a 
 foretaste of the prison-life in store for him and 
 his comrades, would it be possible that he would 
 ever get home again? He had heard of German 
 brutality, and sometimes thought it must be 
 exaggerated; but it was here, before his eyes, 
 and his heart sank at the prospect. 
 
 As yet the body of the Major lay on the 
 stones, and no one save Maurice, who was
 
 188 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 nearest, went to him. He dropped on his 
 knees to feel the pulse, and knew that he was 
 dead ; but while he knelt he felt himself roughly 
 kicked. 
 
 "Get out of that," same a snarling cry, and 
 looking up, Maurice saw the scowling face of 
 the sergeant who had brought him there. 
 
 1 'I thought he might not be dead," Maurice 
 protested spiritedly, too proud to allow this 
 German to know how much he had hurt him. 
 
 "I don't care what you thought. Get up, 
 or I'll empty my revolver into you." 
 
 The man's fingers played with the weapon 
 at his belt, and Maurice, rising slowly to hig 
 feet, turned his back on the soldier and moved 
 away. 
 
 A call came from the Colonel, and the ser-. 
 geant went up to him, just as an empty train 
 ran into the station. Maurice, smarting with 
 the vicious kick, looked at it. It was made up 
 of little better than cattle-trucks, some with 
 rough forms, but many with none at all. The 
 wounded and unhurt alike were ordered into 
 the station, and told to go into these uncom- 
 .fortable trucks. There was no straw for any 
 of them to lie down on, and many were wounded 
 so sorely that when they stumbled it was im- 
 possible for them to get on their feet again 
 without being lifted by those who had received 
 no injury. Even that small attention irritated 
 the Germans who had to pack away the pris- 
 oners. 
 
 "Why do not you give the prisoners some
 
 PRISONERS OF WAR 189 
 
 food before they start on their journey!" an 
 English Captain exclaimed, jumping out of the 
 van where he had been crowded in with the 
 other men, and stalking to the spot where the 
 German Colonel, still in the saddle, was super- 
 intending the loading of the train. 
 
 "Go back at once," was the insolent retort. 
 1 'If you dare to put questions to me, I'll do 
 with you as I have done with that Major yon- 
 der." He pointed to the body which lay still 
 at the foot of the wall. German soldiers were 
 standing around, smoking their pipes, officers 
 and men alike, and at this answer there was 
 a loud burst of derisive laughter. The Cap- 
 tain, however, answered with spirit: 
 
 "You know as well as I that were you a pris- 
 oner among my countrymen, you would be 
 treated as a gentleman." 
 
 His face colored at the fresh burst of insult- 
 ing jeers and mocking laughter, but he turned 
 and, walking away, clambered into the cattle- 
 van with his men. 
 
 The train moved on, and no attention had 
 been given to the wounded. Maurice was the 
 only one in his van who was able to lend First 
 Aid, but the unwounded prisoners helped him 
 to clear a space to which they shifted those 
 who were suffering from all sorts of wounds; 
 and, to make the lying easier for them, covered 
 the bare, boarded floor with their overcoats. 
 Maurice's experience as a Scout served him 
 in splendid stead, but in spite of his skill he 
 could do but little for the men because he had
 
 190 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 no dressings. The worst of their sufferings 
 seemed to be from thirst, but the other men 
 sent up what little stock of water they had, and 
 Maurice served it out as sparingly as possible, 
 not knowing how long the journey before them 
 might be. 
 
 Again and again the train was run into sid- 
 ings to allow heavy loads of ammunition to 
 go by. Trains went past, packed with soldiers 
 who were being hurried from the Kussian front 
 to take part in those fierce but fruitless attacks 
 on the British lines, and when one so loaded 
 chanced to slow down near to the siding, and 
 they saw the British prisoners, the soldiers 
 hurled shameful epithets at them, and several 
 pointed their rifles in their direction. 
 
 No food was served, although the journey 
 was lengthened out to nine long hours. 
 
 "Can you not give my men something to 
 eat?" an officer asked of one who had just 
 stepped out of a luxurious saloon carriage at- 
 tached to the train. 
 
 The German chuckled. 
 
 "I could if I would. Yonder is an hotel, 
 capable of serving every man here with capons, 
 beef, luscious fruit a score of good things, and 
 it would be served on the instant were I to give 
 the order; but I do not mean to do so," he 
 exclaimed, lighting a cigar leisurely. "Any- 
 thing more to ask?" he said, as he tossed the 
 match away. 
 
 "Yes. There are scores of wounded men 
 here, some near to death, and every man suffer-
 
 PRISONERS OF WAR 191 
 
 ing excruciating pain, aggravated by thirst. 
 Can't you do something for them?" 
 
 "I tell you I could if I would; but I won't," 
 was the callous answer, and the German spat 
 on the ground to show his contempt. He 
 turned away and strolled back to his saloon 
 just in time to step in before the train began 
 to move. 
 
 At a siding, where the train was shunted to 
 make room for some German Eed Cross trains 
 to pass on in haste for the front, the tenth the 
 prisoners had counted in that tormenting jour- 
 ney, Maurice saw two buckets standing near to 
 a tap which dripped its water on the stones. 
 The intolerable thirst of the wounded soldiers 
 in his van rendered him daring. He clambered 
 out, dropped on the line, then ran to where the 
 buckets stood. One was full, but he placed the 
 second under the tap, filled it, and hurried to 
 his truck, handing up the buckets one by one, 
 brimming with clear water. As the last one 
 left his hand, and he began to climb back to the 
 van, a shot whistled past him, while a cry of 
 execration burst from the lips of those who 
 saw the soldier begin to reload his weapon. 
 Hands were put out to pull Maurice in, and he 
 had barely been drawn out of danger when a 
 second shot came, but missed, striking the side 
 of the truck, and tumbling to the railway track. 
 
 "It would have been a big price to pay for 
 a drop of water," exclaimed a non-com., who 
 made room for Maurice at his side. 
 
 "The water is worth something for the poor
 
 192 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 fellows over there," said Maurice, nodding 
 towards the wounded, while he pulled his dis- 
 ordered tunic into place. 
 
 He had barely said this when the officer they 
 had so often seen came stalking along the line 
 with a face that was dark with anger. 
 
 "Where is that water?" he cried, in fluent 
 English. 
 
 "It is being served out to the wounded and 
 dying in this truck," responded the Captain 
 who had done so much to second Maurice's ef- 
 forts to give the poor fellows ease. 
 
 "Hand it back at once," the German cried. 
 
 "What!" exclaimed the English Captain, 
 scandalized. "Do you mean what you say?" 
 
 "I never say what I do not mean," was the 
 angry retort. "I will have those buckets 
 back." 
 
 There were menacing sounds among the pris- 
 oners, and the German inadvertently stepped, 
 back, as though he expected rough treatment, 
 for he saw the scowling faces of those who 
 looked at him, not only from this van, but from 
 others to right and left. 
 
 The bucket was not handed back, even when 
 he repeated his demand, and with a loud cry 
 he called up a couple of soldiers to his side. 
 
 "I repeat my demand," the German cried, 
 beside himself with fury. "Hand out those 
 buckets, or I will order my men to fire among 
 you." 
 
 Silence that was ominous followed, but to 
 refuse was impossible.
 
 PRISONERS OF WAR 193 
 
 1 * Give the buckets back, ' ' exclaimed the Cap- 
 tain, and the water came, untasted. 
 
 "Ye want the water back?" cried an Irish- 
 man, whose face had been working with indig- 
 nation. "How will ye have it, Colonel?" 
 
 There was laughter at the question, angry 
 though the prisoners were; but louder yet it 
 came, a burst of uproar almost hysterical, 
 when the soldier turned the first bucket over 
 and drenched the German officer. At that mo- 
 ment the train began to move. The officer was 
 too taken by surprise to notice the fact, but 
 stood there, dripping, until the trucks and vans 
 swept past at such a pace that, although he ran 
 swiftly, he was left behind.
 
 XV 
 
 THE PRISONERS' HOSPITAL 
 
 THERE was such a shortage of doctors 
 and nurses at the hospital to which the 
 wounded prisoners were taken that or- 
 ders were sent to the prison camp to send up 
 the most expert among the English in First 
 Aid. It meant that Maurice was one, since it 
 was known how he had tended those who were 
 in the train. 
 
 In that way he escaped many of the miseries 
 the other prisoners endured, but he was kept 
 at his work so incessantly that he sometimes 
 nearly dropped with fatigue. Had it not been 
 for the favor he won from the nurses, who 
 grew to like him, in spite of his being an Eng- 
 lishman, he must have broken down by reason 
 of the amount of hard work which was heaped 
 upon him. 
 
 It was galling to hear what some of the sick 
 men told him who were brought up from the 
 prisoners ' camp ; the abominable food that was 
 served out, and the restrictions which in reality 
 were worse than they appeared to be when read 
 out by one of the German officers once a week. 
 
 "You are prisoners of the great German 
 Empire. If you are found with any imple- 
 ments of war, such as knives, nails, revolvers, 
 
 194
 
 THE PRISONERS' HOSPITAL 195 
 
 bayonets, or the like, the penalty is death by 
 shooting. For disobedience to German officers 
 the penalty is death. English prisoners may 
 not correspond with their friends unless by 
 special permission of the Commandant of the 
 camp. Those who are of good behavior will 
 be fed and clothed. In the event of disobe- 
 dience the penalty will be isolation cell for 
 such a term as the Commandant may fix." 
 
 Maurice had heard this read when he and 
 his fellow prisoners stepped out of the train, 
 before any food was served, and before any 
 attention was given to the wounded, whose pain 
 had been aggravated by the journey in the 
 blazing heat of a summer's day. It was read 
 by an officer who stood in the doorway between 
 two wards where Maurice was engaged, and 
 w r here the majority of those who suffered and 
 groaned on their beds were wounded English- 
 men. He thought himself fortunate in having 
 escaped the experience of the other prisoners, 
 whose hair was cropped close, as if they had 
 been convicts. 
 
 Worn out with incessant work, Maurice be- 
 came homesick, like nine out of every ten of 
 the poor fellows who were lying in the hospital 
 so full of pain. One of the nurses took him to 
 her room and told him to lie there and rest, 
 since she was on duty for the night, and her 
 room was free. 
 
 "There's writing-paper, and ink, and en- 
 velopes," she whispered, as she stood in the 
 doorway, looking all ways to see that no one
 
 196 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 had watched him enter. "I'll lock the door, 
 lest anyone should find you," she added, closing 
 the door on him. 
 
 His mind was full of home, and although he 
 was tired out, he sat at the table and wrote 
 a letter in which he described all that had hap- 
 pened since he had been taken a prisoner. His 
 whole heart went into that letter, and the act 
 of unburdening his mind eased him greatly. 
 
 When he flung himself on the bed he slept 
 a dreamless sleep, but was awakened roughly. 
 He opened his eyes, and saw the startled face 
 of the nurse, who was bending over and shaking 
 him. 
 
 "Wake up, and come at once! The Com- 
 mandant of the camp is going the round of 
 the wards on a surprise visit. He thinks we 
 are too kind in this hospital, and wants to see 
 for himself." 
 
 Maurice sprang off the bed, wide awake with 
 the news. The nurse stood in the doorway 
 and looked down the passage. 
 
 "Go at once, ' ' she whispered back. * ' There 's 
 time if you are quick. If the Commandant or 
 anyone else should see you here you will be 
 sent to the cells, and they are horrible. Oh, 
 horrible! Go!" 
 
 Maurice brushed past her while she spoke, 
 and going into the ward, began to busy himself 
 among the patients. He was bending over a 
 sick soldier when the Commandant entered. 
 
 "Who are you?" he asked sternly, turning 
 to Maurice.
 
 THE PRISONERS' HOSPITAL 197 
 
 "I am Lieutenant Millard." 
 
 "An Englishman?'* 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What are you doing here?" 
 
 "I was sent here because men who under- 
 stood First Aid would be useful," Maurice 
 answered. 
 
 The Commandant looked him up and down, 
 but Maurice bore himself quietly, showing 
 nothing like obsequiousness. 
 
 "What is that?" the German asked, and put- 
 ting out his hand, he drew a letter out of one 
 of Maurice's pockets. It was the letter he had 
 written home. 
 
 " 'Tis a letter I was going to send home to 
 my father and mother, provided I had your 
 permission, which I understand is necessary," 
 said Maurice, finding it difficult to speak with 
 restraint. 
 
 "That is perfectly true," said the Com- 
 mandant, but Maurice went hot when the sol- 
 dier broke open the envelope. 
 
 1 * Excuse me, sir, ' ' he protested. ' * The letter 
 is private." 
 
 "Indeed!" said the other, lifting his heavy 
 eyebrows. "Allow me to tell you that nothing 
 is private where a prisoner is concerned." 
 
 He opened the letter and read it, long though 
 it was, page by page, missing nothing; and 
 Maurice, watching the man's stolid face, could 
 not tell whether he was pleased or angry. But 
 his hand went out involuntarily when the Com- 
 mandant deliberately tore the sheets in half,
 
 198 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 and then across again, and tossed the pieces 
 into the stove close by. 
 
 "You have destroyed my letter," exclaimed 
 Maurice, who felt a hot spot on each cheek. 
 
 "Tell me something I do not know," said 
 the Commandant callously, not heeding the 
 gleam in Maurice's eyes, which gave the sus- 
 picion of tears. "I will tell you something on 
 my own account. You will write no more let- 
 ters. Do you hear?" 
 
 Maurice did not trust himself to speak, and 
 the Commandant said more. 
 
 "If by any means you write a letter, and it 
 is discovered that you have done so, I will have 
 you put into solitary confinement for twenty 
 days. ' ' 
 
 The Commandant pulled out a note-book and 
 wrote something in it. 
 
 "What did you say your name and rank 
 were ? ' ' 
 
 "Lieutenant Millard." 
 
 There was no answer. Maurice heard the 
 snap of the elastic band about the note-book. 
 It was dropped into the officer's pocket, and 
 without a word the Commandant moved on, 
 looking keenly to right and left, missing no 
 one, but pausing again and again to pro- 
 test against what he called superfluous com- 
 fort. 
 
 Maurice expected to be called away from the 
 hospital work, and set like other prisoners to 
 heavy tasks about the camps, but no change 
 came until he was summoned at five minutes'
 
 THE PRISONERS' HOSPITAL 199 
 
 notice to go to a prisoners' camp twenty miles 
 away. 
 
 ''God help you, dear boy," exclaimed the 
 head nurse, who had done much to lessen the 
 trouble for Maurice, and now held out her 
 hand, while her eyes brimmed with tears. 
 " 'Tis horrible there, so we are told." 
 
 Maurice shook her hand and turned away. 
 A few hours later he was in the camp the nurse 
 had mentioned, and under .vent the indignity of 
 a search which ended in his being short of 
 everything he possessed, save the clothes he 
 stood up in. His money was taken from him, 
 and he was left penniless. If he had wished 
 to write home he had nothing with which to 
 pay the postage, so that he faced his searchers 
 no better off than the beggar he might meet 
 on the road. 
 
 "Your quarters are there," said the officer 
 who took him in charge as soon as the search 
 was over, and he had been registered. Stand- 
 ing in the doorway, the German waited until 
 Maurice stepped past him into a room which 
 would have been miserable in the eyes of the 
 most beggarly of tramps, who would have been 
 almost willing to put up with anything. 
 
 "You will find the quarters comfortable, 
 Lieutenant," said the German, with a sneer; 
 "good enough at all events for such swine as 
 the English. By the way, here is a copy of 
 the regulations, and I should advise you to 
 study them well, unless you wish to run the 
 risk of being led out some morning to the wall
 
 200 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 yonder, where yesterday four like yourself 
 stood blindfolded, and were shot for disregard 
 of orders." 
 
 He held out a dirty-looking pamphlet, and 
 Maurice, hesitating, took it in his hand. 
 
 ''When shall I have something to eat?" he 
 asked quietly, for he was feeling faint with 
 hunger. 
 
 1 'When the others get theirs," was the inso- 
 lent reply. "To-night, perhaps. Probably not 
 till to-morrow morning. Food is too scarce, 
 owing to the British blockade, and you will find 
 here that it is German first, in the way of food, 
 and English prisoner next, if any food is left. 
 Here is your ward." 
 
 The officer pulled the door after him, and 
 Maurice was left standing just within the door, 
 and looked about with dismay. The floor was 
 filthy; the windows were broken, but in places 
 some of the prisoners had contrived to patch 
 the holes with paper, or had stuffed them with 
 rags to keep out the rain. All around were 
 mattresses which were unfit for anything hu- 
 man to lie upon. 
 
 "Is that Lieutenant Millard?" a soldier 
 asked, coming out of a corner and making his 
 salute. 
 
 "Why, it's Cross!" Maurice exclaimed, put- 
 ting out his hand and gripping that of the sol- 
 dier, which came out reluctantly. 
 
 "It's hardly proper, sir, for a private to 
 shake hands with the officer of his own pla- 
 toon," the man protested.
 
 THE PRISONERS' HOSPITAL 201 
 
 1 'Anything is proper, Cross, now that we are 
 brothers in misfortune. You look a lot worse 
 for the fight," said Maurice, gazing at the sol- 
 dier 's bandaged hand and his wan face a man 
 who ought to have been in bed, and not having 
 to rough it as he was doing now. "I'll tell 
 them you ought to be in hospital," Maurice 
 exclaimed indignantly. 
 
 "It wouldn't make a scrap of difference," 
 said Cross. "Besides, the hospital is full up 
 to the door. They have Russians there, Bel- 
 gians, and Frenchmen, as well as Englishmen 
 and Serbians; and what with neglect and bad 
 food, and rough treatment, and no proper 
 bandages and medicine, the place is no better 
 than a fever den." 
 
 The door opened and a couple of Germans 
 came in noisily, carrying a basket filled with 
 black bread, and covered buckets which con- 
 tained a steaming liquid. 
 
 "Stand in a row for rations," a sergeant 
 cried. 
 
 "That's what they call tea, sir," said Cross, 
 who stood by Maurice, knowing that it was the 
 only way to get food. Bad though it was, it 
 was better than starvation; something to keep 
 body and soul together until the real joy-day 
 came, when the war would be over and they 
 could go home. 
 
 Maurice was among the first to be served, 
 being nearest to the door, and his allowance 
 was handed to him a chunk of black-looking, 
 unwholesome bread, made of bran and potatoes.
 
 202 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 "Where's your can?" the sergeant asked, 
 staring at Maurice. 
 
 "I haven't one. I have but just arrived, and 
 none has been given to me, ' ' Maurice answered 
 in German, which made the soldier stare the 
 more. 
 
 "Then you go without, unless you care to 
 scoop up a handful, ' ' he said, in an unpleasant 
 tone. 
 
 "That is impossible," Maurice said, in real 
 surprise at the suggestion. 
 
 "Then you go without, unless there's an 
 empty can anywhere about. Where's the cup 
 belonging to that Russian who was buried this 
 morning?" the sergeant cried. 
 
 "It's here," exclaimed a man at the other 
 end of the row, coming forward with a tin can 
 at quick strides. 
 
 "Give it to that English fellow," said the 
 soldier, pointing insolently to Maurice. 
 
 Maurice took it from the Russian with a 
 word of thanks, but looked doubtfully at the 
 cup. It was filthy, and to drink out of it, 
 knowing that the man who last drank from it 
 had died of a virulent fever, was impossible. 
 
 ' ' Come, smarten up ! " cried the German im- 
 patiently. "I can't stand here all the evening. 
 Hold out your cup and get your allowance." 
 
 "It is impossible until it has been cleaned." 
 
 "Then go without," came the brutal re- 
 sponse, and the soldier's hand pushed Maurice 
 back roughly. 
 
 "You shall share with me, sir," said Cross,
 
 THE PRISONERS' HOSPITAL 203 
 
 as the soldiers moved down the line, made up 
 of war prisoners of different nationalities. 
 
 "Then you go short." 
 
 "I shall be sorry if you say 'no,' because of 
 that, sir," Cross said, holding out his cup. 
 "Drink first, please." 
 
 "I'll not touch it until you have had some, 
 Cross." 
 
 "Then let us sit down on my mattress, and 
 we can sip as we eat." 
 
 The food at the hospital, where Maurice had 
 been taking nurse duty, had been almost loath- 
 some, but this, served out to the ordinary pris- 
 oners, was worse. It was only absolute hunger 
 which compelled Maurice to eat it. 
 
 Worn out, wondering, too, how he was to 
 endure a life like this for months, perhaps 
 years, if the war lasted so long, Maurice flung 
 himself on his filthy mattress and slept until 
 Cross shook him gently. 
 
 " 'Tis six o'clock, sir, and we are supposed 
 to get up." 
 
 Maurice felt better for his sleep, and he 
 sprang to his feet. 
 
 "Where shall I get a wash, Cross?" he 
 asked, staring about, and wondering by which 
 door he should go out to find soap and water. 
 
 "Nowhere, sir." 
 
 "What! Do you mean that!" Maurice cried, 
 his eyes opening wide with astonishment. 
 
 "It's the German way, sir. Part of their 
 kultur is to reduce cleanliness to a minimum, 
 and bring down human pride to the finest point
 
 204 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 of nothingness," said Cross, with sarcasm. "I 
 haven't had a wash for a week. It's just pos- 
 sible, if we chance to have a good-natured offi- 
 cer to march us out for exercise, that he will 
 allow us to dabble about in any stream we come 
 to, but it's only a chance. Even then there's 
 no soap to be had for love or money." 
 
 "I have no money. They took it all away 
 nearly five dollars in gold and silver, ' ' Maurice 
 explained despairingly. 
 
 1 1 1 haven 't a cent, either, ' ' said Cross. ' ' I 've 
 been wanting to write home to my wife, 
 but although they took all I had they wouldn't 
 give me a stamp. See! There's the letter, 
 waiting for the stamp." 
 
 Cross pulled an envelope from his pocket. It 
 had gone black at the edges with keeping, and 
 much hopeless looking at for so many weeks, 
 and fine a fellow as Maurice had known him 
 to be, he noticed how one tear rolled down 
 his cheek, and another splashed on the en- 
 velope. 
 
 The week went on, every day the same, but 
 the misery accumulating. Cross grew weaker, 
 and had to walk on Maurice's arm; but in re- 
 sponse to Maurice's protest to the officer who 
 was in charge when they were out on so-called 
 exercise, he was allowed to take the poor fellow 
 across to the hospital. 
 
 Two English doctors were there, men who 
 were looking worn-out with incessant work 
 which was enough to keep ten times their num- 
 ber busy night and day.
 
 205 
 
 ''Is that Millard!" one of the doctors asked, 
 as Maurice was turning away. 
 
 He swung round when he heard his name 
 mentioned. 
 
 "Is it Carnforth?" he exclaimed, for he 
 knew the man. He had seen him many a 
 time among the Red Cross vans at the front, 
 and at the base, and stalking dlown the 
 wretched-looking ward to meet each other, the 
 two shook hands, like old friends meeting in 
 a strange land, and glad to see a familiar 
 face. 
 
 "How came you here, Millard?" Carnforth 
 asked. 
 
 "We got into a German trench, but were cut 
 off a lot of us ; and here I am. ' ' 
 
 "In the most horrible of all the prisoners' 
 camps in Germany! There's typhus here. 
 They have weeded out all of our physicians, 
 making them come to the hospitals to help us, 
 and the Germans have left us to it," said Carn- 
 forth. "We are supposed to cure the poor 
 fellows without supplies, without any of the 
 necessaries for sick men, with barely food 
 enough to keep body and soul together, and we 
 are at our wits' end to know what to do. We 
 think it a miracle if we discharge one poor 
 fellow as convalescent, and send him back to 
 the hut to undergo his course of misery there; 
 but for every one that is said to be cured, 
 thirty die! Look at this." 
 
 Carnforth went to a table, and pulling a 
 drawer open, he showed Maurice a list of the
 
 206 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 men who had died that week a list which hor- 
 rified him. 
 
 "We're short-handed. That's one of the 
 bad things out of the many," Carnforth said, 
 thrusting the drawer in again. "They have 
 told us to send round for volunteers, and a 
 few have come, but we could do with ten times 
 as many, for the sickness is terrible." 
 
 Maurice looked down the ward, and saw two 
 or three tired-looking nurses, Carnforth, and 
 another doctor. 
 
 "Do you mean to say that you are the small 
 handful to deal with all this?" he asked. 
 
 "We have it for sixteen hours at a stretch, 
 and eight hours for sleep and recreation," was 
 the discouraging answer. 
 
 "Will you take me on for what I'm worth!" 
 Maurice exclaimed, after one more look along 
 the ward. 
 
 Carnforth 's eyes brightened. 
 
 "Do you mean that, Millardl" 
 
 "Yes. If I get leave, I'm ready. I'll have 
 a wash, if you don't mind, and start at once, 
 if I am allowed to stay." 
 
 "That's easily arranged, old man. I'll get 
 on the telephone and speak to the Commandant, 
 because what he says is law here, and nobody 
 dares to interfere with him." 
 
 Carnforth went to the other end of the ward, 
 and Maurice heard the bell ring; then Carn- 
 forth 's voice. When he had rung off, the doc- 
 tor walked down the ward quickly, his face 
 expressing his satisfaction.
 
 THE PRISONERS 5 HOSPITAL 207 
 
 1 'It's all right. And wonder of wonders! 
 I am to have some medicine when it comes to 
 camp; by Christmas Day, probably," he added 
 discontentedly. "Now let me get you that 
 wash, and some food, such as I can obtain for 
 you, and then I'll set you going. You can't 
 tell how glad I am to have you."
 
 XVI 
 A CHOICE FOE LIFE OB DEATH 
 
 A MONG the patients in the fever-stricken 
 A\ hospital was a sergeant of the Flying 
 Corps, whom Maurice had known well 
 when they were at the base. He was esteemed 
 one of the best flyers in the English camp, and 
 his flights had been among the most daring. 
 Immelmann, said to be the finest of the German 
 aviators, had more than once turned away in 
 flight with a crippled machine, and even his 
 record did not come up to Quinton's, which 
 accounted for a dozen enemy aeroplanes. 
 
 He had started on one raid, and since he 
 never came back, he was returned as "miss- 
 ing," and it was generally supposed that his 
 machine had been shot down. 
 
 Throughout all those hospital days, when the 
 fever raged, and the sick prisoners were dying 
 daily by scores, and doctors and nurses alike 
 fell victims to the epidemic, none of the Ger- 
 mans came near. The Commandant's duty was 
 to go through the camp and visit every hut and 
 hospital ward, but as for the latter he never 
 entered. The fever was so terrible that he 
 contented himself with speaking on the tele- 
 phone. The food was brought up to the hospi- 
 
 208
 
 A CHOICE FOR LIFE OR DEATH 209 
 
 tal by the prisoners, for no German would 
 approach the place. 
 
 "They are as cowardly as they are brutal," 
 Carnf orth exclaimed one morning, when he had 
 telephoned, asking the Commandant to come 
 and see for himself how terrible were the rav- 
 ages of the disease, and thus take steps to save 
 the lives of the poor fellows whose misfortune 
 it had been to be sent to this death-stricken 
 camp. ' ' Not one among them all has the pluck 
 to face the fever, while the men are dying off 
 like flies." 
 
 The telephone-bell rang while he was saying 
 this, and the message came through. 
 
 "Have you an aviator on the convalescent 
 list named Quinton?" the Commandant asked. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Send him to me at once." 
 
 "You must send a soldier up for him," said 
 Carnforth, smiling sarcastically at the sug- 
 gestion. "Quinton is better a lot better but 
 not strong enough yet to go without having a 
 man's arm to lean on." 
 
 "I can't risk any of my men up there," the 
 answer came. "Send one of your men with 
 him; someone who is quite free from fever; 
 and send him at once." 
 
 The bell rang off, and Carnforth shrugged 
 his shoulders. 
 
 "The Commandant the bravest of the 
 brave! they call him won't risk his precious 
 health and come up here to see how Quinton 
 is, so I have to send him down, and someone
 
 210 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 free of fever must take him. Will you go, 
 Millard?" 
 
 Maurice jumped at the chance, for he had 
 been tied up day and night for weeks, and he 
 longed to get away to breathe freely, if only 
 for an hour. 
 
 "I'll go." 
 
 Before long Quinton was ready, so far as it 
 was possible to make him so. 
 
 "What does it mean, Quinton?" Maurice 
 asked, as the sick man walked with him, leaning 
 on his arm, and going slowly. 
 
 "I have been a gentleman at ease long 
 enough, so I am going to the workshop to earn 
 my living, making shells, perhaps, to shoot 
 down those cowardly Englishmen, or to help 
 to make Zeppelins to damage the fortresses of 
 England," said Quinton, laughing. "You will 
 see that before a fortnight is gone the British 
 workman will turn out such superior work that 
 they will raise my wages, and give me a brand- 
 new uniform, and double my rations, and give 
 me a feather-bed to lie on at night." 
 
 Weak though he was, the idea tickled him 
 immensely, and Maurice joined him in his 
 mirth. 
 
 The Commandant was in the workshop where 
 the German engineers were working at top 
 speed, making all manner of things required 
 in fitting up flying-machines of various types. 
 He looked at the two Englishmen as they en- 
 tered Maurice, fagged with his incessant work 
 in the hospital, but very fit in spite of the
 
 A CHOICE FOR LIFE OR DEATH 211 
 
 work and the shortage of nourishing food. But 
 Quinton was by no means robust yet. 
 
 "I shall have to give you something easy to 
 start with," he said, turning to Quinton. 
 "Move along the benches and see what sort 
 of work suits you best until you are stronger." 
 
 It sounded considerate, but there was no 
 kindness behind it. The Commandant wanted 
 work done, but if he put this man, who was 
 known to be a practical engineer, to hard work 
 at once, he knew he would have a dead man on 
 his hands. 
 
 Leaning on Maurice's arm, Quinton looked 
 at the various benches, the Commandant at his 
 side. 
 
 " Until I am stronger I can work at this," 
 said Quinton, stopping at one of the benches. 
 
 "Then take that. But by the look of you, 
 you will want help ; but will you need a skilled 
 workman?" 
 
 ' ' No, but I shall want one with some brains, ' ' 
 said Quinton, who sat on the stool, glad to rest 
 after the journey, which was a long one for a 
 sick man. "Still, it is scarcely a task to be 
 set for an Englishman, to make military aero- 
 planes to fight my own countrymen," Quinton 
 exclaimed boldly, looking into the Command- 
 ant's face without flinching. 
 
 1 * If you talk like that I will have you marched 
 out of this and shot," cried the German, whose 
 eyes blazed with anger. 
 
 Quinton shrugged his shoulders a habit 
 with him when perplexed but he said nothing.
 
 212 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 He was anxious to go home, when the war was 
 over, to his wife and little ones. He knew that 
 there was no choice for him, and that it was 
 the German way to ignore all honor and Inter- 
 national Law, but to do whatever fell in with 
 their own plans. 
 
 "You want someone to help you, so take this 
 young fellow, and make use of him." 
 
 "I am busy in the hospital, and they are 
 already short-handed," exclaimed Maurice, 
 thinking of the consequences if he did not re- 
 turn to help Carnforth. 
 
 "What is that to me?" cried the Command- 
 ant, in angry tones. "Who are you, that you 
 should tell me what you think you ought to do, 
 or ought not? You will help this man." 
 
 The Commandant called to the officer who 
 was in charge of the workshops, and what he 
 said to him aroused the spirit of Quinton and 
 Maurice. 
 
 * * If either of these two demur over anything, 
 telephone to me, and I will give orders as to 
 what you are to do with them." Then he 
 swung round to Maurice and his companion. 
 "Look out of the window. Do you see that 
 tree?" 
 
 They nodded, wondering what was to fol- 
 low. 
 
 "The man who was working at this bench yes- 
 terday was one of your countrymen. He dis- 
 obeyed orders, and made himself awkward, and 
 at six o 'clock this morning he was hung on that 
 tree. See that you are not served the same,"
 
 A CHOICE FOR LIFE OR DEATH 213 
 
 he added; and turning on his heel he walked 
 away. 
 
 The work began at once, Maurice, for Quin- 
 ton 's sake, aiding him in every possible way; 
 but in a few days the sick man, with more fresh 
 air to breathe, grew stronger. The walk to 
 and from their miserable quarters a wretched 
 little hut just big enough for two night and 
 morning revived him, and where at first he had 
 to lean on Maurice's arm, and sit on the work- 
 man's stool most of the day, he was now able 
 to walk alone, and stand more and more to 
 his work. 
 
 The longing for liberty grew on them both, 
 the more so, perhaps, because they were not 
 permitted to go to that part of the camp where 
 the other prisoners of war were stationed. 
 
 "If a chance came for escape I'd take it, 
 whatever the risks were," said Quinton one 
 evening, after a trying day, when the German 
 workmen had been unusually exasperating, 
 telling of a terrible defeat of the British fleet, 
 the death of Sir John Jellicoe, the sinking of 
 thirty or forty warships, the loss of thousands 
 of British blue-jackets, and the bombardment 
 of four or five important towns on the Eastern 
 coast. With it came the news that the Ger- 
 mans had broken through to Calais, and that 
 General Joffre had not only been defeated, but 
 was a prisoner, now on his way to Berlin. 
 
 "Do you believe it, Quinton?" Maurice asked 
 anxiously. 
 
 Quinton shrugged his shoulders.
 
 214. AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 " We've heard similar tales before, haven't 
 we? I am disposed to call them German lies; 
 but true or not true, the thing on my mind is 
 this to get out of this horrible place, if pos- 
 sible, and try to find our way to the English 
 camp, or the French, whichever offers best." 
 
 "We haven't a ghost of a chance, Quinton," 
 said Maurice, who was walking at his side, his 
 hands deep in his pockets, and his head hang- 
 ing down, his whole appearance one of de- 
 jection. He was thinking of Marjorie. If this 
 was his experience starvation, torment of the 
 meanest sort, lies, as he hoped they were, 
 served out every week, with no way of proving 
 them such, what might not his sister be endur- 
 ing, if by any chance she had fallen into the 
 hands of these fiends? 
 
 That night, instead of being allowed to sleep, 
 they were called away from the hut to do some 
 special work, and they were busy the whole 
 night through. In the workshop was a German 
 who had been surly beyond words from the 
 moment they had come down from the hospital, 
 and Grobner never failed to make things awk- 
 ward if the opportunity offered. 
 
 Grobner was working alone in the shop when 
 they arrived that night, busy at the lathe, as 
 far away from Maurice and Quinton as he could 
 get, because the presence of two Englishmen 
 was hateful to him. 
 
 The work which Maurice helped Quinton with 
 had in it a sheet of polished steel, so clear and 
 bright as to reflect like a mirror. Everything
 
 A CHOICE FOR LIFE OR DEATH 215 
 
 was silent save the occasional sound of the 
 tools, and the scream of Grobner 's lathe. 
 
 Maurice nudged Quinton, who looked round 
 sharply. 
 
 "Look at that," said Maurice, going on with 
 his work, but pointing to the steel mirror, and 
 Quinton, looking, whistled. 
 
 A man was creeping among the benches be- 
 hind them, compelled at times to come away 
 from something which served to hide him; but 
 the fact that he was bending low and going 
 stealthily was sufficient to assure those who 
 were watching the polished steel plate that 
 something wrong was meditated, especially 
 when they saw a dagger in the fellow's hand. 
 
 "He means murder," Quinton whispered, 
 dropping his tool, "and it's Grobner he has in 
 mind. I'm going to put a stop to that." 
 
 He turned away carelessly, and going behind 
 the benches, catching up a sharp tool as he 
 moved, he got among another row of benches, 
 where he could move unseen; then he went for- 
 ward swiftly, and came to where he could see 
 the creeping man. His impulse was to give 
 the alarm, but he feared he might be mistaken, 
 and would make an enemy without winning any 
 goodwill from Grobner. He heard a move- 
 ment behind him, and turning his head he saw 
 Maurice at his heels, coming as silently as 
 possible. 
 
 The man they were watching was pausing, 
 but out of their sight. They knew that he was 
 standing still, or he would have appeared be-
 
 216 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 yond a stack of steel plates and pass an open 
 space, the length of one of the benches. 
 
 1 'Why not shout to Grobner?" whispered 
 Maurice. 
 
 "And perhaps be called a fool for our 
 pains." 
 
 Suddenly the man came away from his shel- 
 ter with a swift stride, and the weapon he had 
 been carrying gleamed in the electric light at 
 Grobner 's bench. Six yards more, half a dozen 
 steps, quickly taken at the pace he was going, 
 would bring the fellow to Grobner, who was 
 working the lathe unconscious of his danger. 
 
 There was no time to lose. 
 
 "Grobner, beware!" shouted Quinton; and 
 with that he hurled the tool he had been carry- 
 ing against the would-be murderer. It crashed 
 against his left arm, which fell helpless, and 
 he yelled with pain; but even then he would 
 not be turned from his purpose. He leaped 
 towards Grobner, who had turned at Quinton 's 
 call, and saw his danger. He flung the tool he 
 was using at the fellow's face; a moment more 
 and the two men grappled with each other, and 
 in the fierceness of the struggle, fell to the 
 ground. Grobner 's assailant, who was upper- 
 most and who had dropped his weapon, sought 
 to get at the knife, but Maurice and Quinton 
 ran forward. Maurice thought to snatch at 
 the weapon, but was too late, for the man's 
 fingers closed over it, and lifted it, ready to 
 strike. 
 
 Foiled in this, Maurice clutched at the hand
 
 A CHOICE FOR LIFE OR DEATH 217 
 
 which held the dagger, but the man's grip on 
 the weapon was such, and he was so powerful, 
 that it was impossible for Maurice to wrench 
 it away. The man tore his hand away and 
 threw it back in readiness to strike. Quinton 
 managed to grip the wrist, there was a cry of 
 pain, the weapon was wrested away, and the 
 man's hand dropped, helpless. He was flung 
 on his back, bruised by his fall, and Grobner 
 was able to get on his feet again. 
 
 1 'We '11 bind him hand and foot," said Grob- 
 ner, reaching for a rope, while Quinton and 
 Maurice held the struggling man on the floor; 
 and before long he lay helpless. 
 
 "That's the second time, but it will be the 
 last," said Grobner. "If you will watch I will 
 go for the guard, who will take him to the 
 Commandant. ' ' 
 
 The German stalked out of the workshop, and 
 before long the man was carried away. Mau- 
 rice and Quinton had gone back to their bench, 
 but when they were alone with Grobner, the 
 man came to them. 
 
 "You are Englishmen, and I ought to hate 
 you. It's a part of our creed to do so with 
 everyone who belongs to your country," he 
 said, standing at the bench. "But I owe my 
 life to you." 
 
 There was a strange look on the German's 
 face, half anger, half annoyance. 
 
 "I ought to be thankful for what you have 
 done for me," he said ungraciously; "and so 
 I am. But I could have wished it had been
 
 218 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 one of my own countrymen who had served 
 me, rather than any Englishman, for I hate 
 your race from my very soul. And now I am 
 under obligation!" he exclaimed, and his voice 
 quivered with resentment. He said no more, 
 but swung round on his heel and went back 
 to his lathe. 
 
 "The surly, ungracious beast!" said Quin- 
 ton, between his teeth, but afraid to speak 
 aloud, lest he should bring down further re- 
 sentment on Maurice and himself. 
 
 The story spread as to what they had done, 
 but it made no difference in the attitude of the 
 men in the workshop. They resented it, rather 
 than approved, and as for Grobner, he was no 
 more amiable than before. If anything he was 
 more surly. He could not do much to make 
 their lot any happier, but he might have done 
 something, and that little he did not do. His 
 attitude made Maurice and Quinton half wish 
 they had left him to fight out his quarrel, but 
 they put away the thought with something like 
 horror as being unworthy of an Englishman. 
 
 There was a surprise in store one early 
 morning for them both. The door of their hut 
 was flung wide open, and Grobner entered, 
 gruff as ever, and carrying a bundle under his 
 arm. He looked about eagerly at the door 
 when he had tossed the bundle on the floor. 
 
 "I have to take your photographs in German 
 clothes," he exclaimed, when he had closed 
 the door. "Throw off those things of yours 
 quickly and get into these. Be quick! I have
 
 A CHOICE FOR LIFE OR DEATH 219 
 
 to be at the workshop in half an hour to see 
 the Commandant." 
 
 Wondering what this meant, they both 
 obeyed, looking askance at the man from time 
 to time, thinking how deep was the German 
 hate for England and all belonging to it. Then 
 they stood, and as the morning light poured in 
 through the window, they stared at each other, 
 thinking how un-English they looked in these 
 German peasant suits. 
 
 Grobner called them to sharp attention. 
 
 "Stand there, Millard," he exclaimed, point- 
 ing to a spot where the light made it possible 
 for Maurice to be photographed. Before many 
 moments had gone the snap of the kodak-shut- 
 ter was heard. 
 
 "I'll take another," said Grobner. Then 
 came the second snap. "Quinton, take your 
 stand in the same place." 
 
 Quinton went through the ordeal, and Grob- 
 ner turned to go. 
 
 "Get out of those things and hide them. I 
 don't want them any more. Some day they 
 may be useful to you, but not yet, for weeks 
 to come, or you will be shot down." 
 
 His face and voice softened, but barely per- 
 ceptibly, and turning, he went to the door, 
 looked out cautiously, and walked away. 
 
 "That's queer," muttered Quinton. "Do you 
 think he really meant that we could use these 
 things some day?" he asked, in an incredulous 
 tone. 
 
 "I should say so," exclaimed Maurice.
 
 220 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 "Perhaps he thinks he might serve us a good 
 turn, and get rid of that obligation which so 
 annoyed him. We'll hope he does, for it would 
 be splendid if we could get away from this 
 horrible place." 
 
 Maurice pointed through the grimy window 
 to the distant hospital, out of whose door a 
 rough wooden coffin was being carried, showing 
 that one more poor sufferer had gone to rest, 
 and would never go back to England. 
 
 They looked round for a hiding-place, for 
 Grobner's suggestion of escape put hope into 
 them. They could never expect to get away 
 in their soiled and torn khaki suits, but they 
 might contrive to do so dressed as Germans, 
 and especially since it was their good fortune 
 to speak the language of the country well. 
 
 "What about hiding these things?" Quinton 
 asked, when they had changed into their old 
 khaki quickly, startled into action when they 
 saw a dozen German soldiers marching from 
 point to point to relieve the sentries. Suppose 
 in some unfortunate moment the officer made 
 up his mind to halt at the hut and look in? 
 For in the ordinary way the relief would pass 
 the door. Before long they were dressed as 
 they were wont to be, ready for the clanging 
 of the bell to call them to the workshop. They 
 rolled up the German suits and hid them in 
 their blankets, which, as usual, they laid on 
 the mattresses. 
 
 By this time the tramp of the soldiers was 
 clearly heard, and they went hot at the thought
 
 A CHOICE FOR LIFE OR DEATH 
 
 that the officer should -call a halt, come in, and 
 search the place. It was a possible thing, for 
 he had done so once before, and why not now! 
 When they glanced at the rugs it seemed to 
 them that they were so displaced as to make 
 it certain that something was there, making the 
 bundles bigger than they ordinarily were. 
 
 It happened as they feared. The officer 
 called a halt, and throwing open the door with- 
 out ceremony, stepped in and stared about him. 
 
 "Why are you not at your work?" he asked 
 roughly. 
 
 "We are waiting for the bell," said Maurice. 
 
 The soldier looked at his wrist-watch. 
 
 "It only lacks ten minutes. Get out of this, 
 and go!" 
 
 He waited for them to pass, and because it 
 .was useless to remonstrate they crossed the 
 open space with unwilling steps. 
 
 "Suppose they rummage about in the hut 
 and find those things, Quinton, while we are 
 at work?" said Maurice anxiously. "We shall 
 be punished." 
 
 "I pray it may not come to that," Quinton 
 answered quietly. It was useless to put on a 
 brave face, to pretend a confidence he did not 
 feel. He was afraid of the worst; afraid, too, 
 that this was a treacherous pretense to grati- 
 tude on Grobner's part, and that he had told 
 the officer that clothes were hidden away in the 
 hope of escape. The consequence might be 
 prison, which was said to be a terrible thing; 
 it was just as likely that they would be shot.
 
 222 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 The day seemed a never-ending one, and their 
 minds were on the hut without a moment's 
 interval. Whenever there was any unwonted 
 sound they half expected to see some soldiers 
 enter to march them off to the Commandant. 
 
 When the hour came to put down tools and 
 go back to the hut for the night, an order came 
 that Quinton and Maurice were to give two 
 hours' extra help to some engineers at the 
 lathes. They were already sick with anxiety. 
 Were they found out? And was this delay 
 meant to add to their mental torture? 
 
 They put as brave a face on it as possible, 
 and at last the work was done. They returned 
 to the hut, with slower steps than usual, not 
 to awaken suspicion, whereas they wanted to 
 race as hard as their feet would carry them. 
 Quinton 's hand trembled when he lifted the 
 latch, and each expected to see that the rugs 
 were unrolled and their secret discovered. 
 
 " Thank God!" they both exclaimed, in the 
 same breath, when they entered and saw every- 
 thing as it had been left; but had they been 
 tampered with in spite of appearances? No, 
 for as they unrolled each bundle they saw the 
 German clothes exactly as they had left them. 
 
 4 'This is something for which to thank God," 
 said Quinton reverently. "Millard, I would 
 not go through another day like this for a lot 
 of money. It has worn me out." 
 
 He threw himself on the mattress like a tired 
 man, and covered his face with his hands. 
 
 " Quinton," said Maurice presently, "don't
 
 A CHOICE FOR LIFE OR DEATH 223 
 
 you think we ought to think of some place in 
 which to hide these things'? We don't want 
 another anxious day." 
 
 "I've thought it out," Quinton replied, 
 springing to his feet, and telling at once what 
 he suggested. 
 
 The hut floor had a hole in it, where once a 
 great caldron had been sunk for some purpose. 
 The hole had been filled, but the earth was dry 
 and crumbly, so that it could be scooped out 
 with their hands. They lost no time, but 
 worked frantically to get the hole empty before 
 anyone should come to the hut ; then the clothes 
 were dropped in. A German newspaper which 
 had been given to them telling them of disas- 
 trous British reverses and great German vic- 
 tories, served as a cover to the bundle, and 
 over this the earth was pushed in and lightly 
 beaten down. 
 
 They looked at it in the early morning light, 
 drew their mattresses over the hole, as before, 
 and sat down to their miserable six o'clock 
 breakfast of coffee made with ground burnt 
 acorns, and a chunk of bread made of bran and 
 potatoes. 
 
 "I pray that the chance may come soon," 
 Maurice said quietly, lifting the mattress to 
 make sure that there were no signs of disturb- 
 ance on the floor. 
 
 "I say 'Amen,' 1 ' Quinton responded seri- 
 ously. "But it will come. I've prayed about 
 it, Millard, and what does it say in that Book 
 your mother gave you! Everything to make
 
 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 one believe that a downright earnest prayer 
 doesn't fall flat on God's ears." 
 
 They went to their work, and did it honestly, 
 but their thoughts were not altogether free 
 from anxiety, because of their secret. When 
 the day's task ended, and only Grobner and 
 they were left in the shop, as often was the 
 case, he being the foreman, the German came 
 to their bench and stood between them, bending 
 down as if examining their work. 
 
 1 'Where did you hide those things?" he 
 asked, looking at Maurice. 
 
 "In the floor under our mattresses." 
 
 "Put this with them, and take care of it. It 
 may be of service to you both." 
 
 He said it so ungraciously that they resented 
 the tone, and it was only by an effort that the 
 hot words were kept back. A large-sized en- 
 velope was lying on the counter, placed there 
 stealthily by Grobner, who had drawn it out 
 of his vest when he had looked up and down 
 the shop to assure himself that they were alone, 
 and therefore no one could see what he was 
 doing. Then he walked away. 
 
 They looked after him in amazement. He 
 was as surly as he had ever been, not in 
 pretense but reality. He was altogether a 
 puzzle. 
 
 Quinton picked up the envelope, opened his 
 jacket and thrust it inside, out of sight. 
 
 Tired out with the day's toil, and feeling the 
 extra strain because of their scanty and un- 
 nourishing food, as well as the extra tasks,
 
 A CHOICE FOR LIFE OR DEATH 225 
 
 which became harder as the days went on, they 
 walked slowly to the hut. 
 
 Was this so much mockery? Was Grobner, 
 in his inveterate hate for England and for all 
 Englishmen, playing with them? 
 
 It was still light when they stepped into the 
 hut. They closed the door before they exam- 
 ined the contents of the envelope, but as they 
 drew it out they stared in blank amazement. 
 There were two separate documents, each a 
 passport for a German, deputed to move from 
 military factory to military factory, according 
 to orders. On one of them was pasted a por- 
 trait of Maurice in his German clothes, identi- 
 fying him as a workman named Muller ; on the 
 other was Quinton's portrait, and his name 
 was marked down Goert. 
 
 " 'Tis the queerest thing I ever knew," Quin- 
 ton exclaimed, while they stood at the window 
 with the papers in their hands, and stared at 
 them. "That fellow hates us like poison, and 
 he hates to think that he is under some sort 
 of obligation which he must repay; and now 
 he is giving us the chance to get away." 
 
 "You will take it, of course?" Maurice asked. 
 
 "Rather! There will be no obligation on 
 either side, and I am longing to get back and 
 have a look at the dear ones at home," said 
 Quinton, with a tremor in his voice, and he 
 brushed his hand across his eyes. Maurice 
 could not see him very well, for his own eyes 
 were blurred, and he was thinking of the little 
 mother and his father. If only he could see
 
 226 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 them ! If only, too, he could find out what had 
 become of Marjorie! 
 
 Each placed his passport safely in his bosom, 
 and threw himself on his mattress to sleep. 
 They went to their work in the morning, full 
 of hope, and while the day's task was as exact- 
 ing as ever, it did not seem quite so hard, be- 
 cause of that dream of escape. 
 
 Towards the hour when it was time for work 
 to cease the Commandant came into the work- 
 shop and walked straight to the bench where 
 they were working. His words were abrupt 
 and startling, and so loudly spoken that the 
 Germans in the shop could hear everything that 
 was said. 
 
 "I am going to change your work. I want 
 a military biplane made after the English pat- 
 tern, so accurate in all its details that it would 
 be impossible for it to be mistaken for a Ger- 
 man if it passed over the English lines." 
 
 Quinton and Maurice dropped their tools, and 
 looked at the Commandant with a question in 
 each face. 
 
 "Need I make any further explanation?" 
 asked the officer, gazing at them both, and the 
 look he gave them was disquieting. 
 
 ' ' It would be well for you to be explicit, sir, ' ' 
 Quinton replied slowly, but with no sign of 
 flinching. Every eye in the place was on him, 
 and on Maurice, and work in the shop had 
 ceased. What was going to happen? For the 
 Germans knew what manner of man the Com- 
 mandant was.
 
 A CHOICE FOR LIFE OR DEATH 227 
 
 "You must be dull of comprehension if you 
 want me to say more," the officer retorted 
 sharply. "I want the machine made after an 
 exact English pattern, and you will have every- 
 thing you require to hand, and every possible 
 help in getting the work well done." 
 
 There was silence in the workshop, for no 
 one seemed to stir. All were listening for the 
 answer of the Englishmen. 
 
 "Can't you speak?" cried the Commandant 
 sharply. 
 
 "Do I understand that you want us to make 
 this machine?" asked Quinton. 
 
 "Who else would do it?" was the question; 
 and the German officer's voice vibrated with 
 anger, for he anticipated the response that was 
 coming when he saw the faces of the two Eng- 
 lish prisoners. "You and Millard are to make 
 it!" 
 
 This time the silence was more tense than 
 before. Quinton was standing with his back 
 to the bench, and Maurice 's hand rested on the 
 lathe. Quinton broke the silence. 
 
 "What Lieutenant Millard may choose to 
 say I cannot tell; but speaking for myself, 
 I say deliberately that I will not work to 
 my countrymen's harm. I will not betray 
 them." 
 
 "Nor will I," said Maurice, drawing nearer 
 to Quinton, as if to emphasize his determina- 
 tion. 
 
 The Commandant stared at them, his breath 
 coming and going quickly with suppressed fury.
 
 228 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 His hand went to his revolver, as if he would 
 shoot them where they stood. 
 
 "You do not seem to know that the penalty 
 of refusal is death," he said, struggling to con- 
 trol himself. 
 
 "I do not want to die, and I am sure that 
 Lieutenant Millard does not," said Quinton, 
 turning to look Maurice in the face. He saw 
 that he could speak for him as well as for him- 
 self, although the young soldier's face was 
 white and strained at this sudden and unex- 
 pected call for a great decision. "But if it 
 must be death it must be. Neither of us will 
 buy our lives at such a price." 
 
 Suppressed oaths were heard among the 
 workmen, and for a time the Commandant 
 stared at them. He had not expected such a 
 reply, especially from this boy lieutenant, as 
 he chose to call him. His words, when they 
 came, surprised everyone. 
 
 "I will put the question to you in the morn- 
 ing. Go to your hut and think things over. 
 You are to remain there until ten in the morn- 
 ing, when I shall be free to attend to you. I 
 will put the question, and on your answer your 
 lives depend. Say 'no,' and you will both be 
 shot ! You may go ! " 
 
 The Commandant waited to see them go out 
 of the workshop. Their meager food allow- 
 ance was on the bench, and they took it with 
 them, and walking slowly to the hut, they en- 
 tered it and shut the door.
 
 xvn 
 
 THE GERMAN GUIDE 
 
 WHEN the door was closed, Quinton 
 swung round and held out his hand 
 to Maurice. 
 
 "Millard," he exclaimed, as they clasped 
 hands, "I knew that you had pluck, and now 
 you have proved it." 
 
 "How could we do or say less?" Maurice 
 asked, looking Quinton in the face. "I would 
 rather die, as we are going to do, than work 
 as the Commandant desires." 
 
 "We are not going to die, dear boy," said 
 Quinton, his face brightening at a sudden 
 thought. "We shall use those German clothes 
 and get away." 
 
 Maurice was startled. For a moment or two 
 the suggestion frightened him now that it came 
 to be a reality that the attempt to escape was 
 to be made. He foresaw difficulties and dan- 
 gers he had not thought of when they were 
 talking the thing over before. The sentry 
 might challenge them, and what then? He 
 would fire, and one of them might be hit. The 
 camp would be aroused by the night shot, and 
 the other, if he managed to avoid the sentry, 
 would sooner or later be run down, only to be 
 taken back, perhaps to be flogged brutally, as 
 
 229
 
 230 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 other prisoners had been, and then shot. Yet 
 they would die if they remained in the hut, and 
 there was certainly what Quinton called "a 
 sporting chance" if they tried to escape. 
 
 "When shall we start?" Maurice asked, 
 standing at the dust-begrimed and cobwebbed 
 window, looking through to try to discover the 
 most promising direction to take when they 
 should steal away from the hut. 
 
 "When it is too dark for anybody to see us. 
 We'll keep clear of that sentry; and as for the 
 barbed wire entanglements, I have this. I 
 cribbed it yesterday, in anticipation of our bid 
 for freedom, and it will cut the wire, so that 
 we shall not be torn with it." 
 
 Quinton showed Maurice a strong wire-cut- 
 ter, but produced it stealthily, although they 
 were alone in the hut. 
 
 "And what about our khaki clothes'?" Mau- 
 rice asked. "If we leave them here they will 
 guess we are wearing other garments, not to 
 look like Englishmen." 
 
 "We'll carry them away and toss them 
 somewhere into a pond, or down a well." 
 
 Quinton 's mind was alert. He had been 
 thinking the thing over all day, and when they 
 sat down on one of the ragged mattresses he 
 explained his plans. 
 
 Maurice quailed at the thought of what was 
 before them, for the dangers were so great. 
 They might be fortunate enough to get past 
 the sentries and the barbed wire entangle- 
 ments, but there were other perils even when
 
 THE GERMAN GUIDE 231 
 
 they were outside the camp. They might be 
 tracked by bloodhounds that he had some- 
 times heard baying in the camp, down by the 
 Commandant's quarters, and either mauled 
 by their great fangs, or be cornered until 
 their pursuers arrived. Still, it was death to 
 stay. 
 
 They stood at the window until the daylight 
 faded, watching the country, carefully taking 
 note of the roads and the river, and deciding 
 on the way they would take. 
 
 "You are talking of our traveling west, or 
 east," Maurice whispered, half impatiently, 
 "yet our army lies away to the south." 
 
 "Won't they guess that we shall make for 
 the south if they miss us?" Quinton asked. 
 "They will never suppose that we shall go so 
 wide of the mark; and not one of them will 
 think us so mad as to travel away from the 
 place we are naturally anxious to reach. We 
 have everything in our favor. We can both 
 speak German like natives. We shall have 
 German clothes on. We have passports, and 
 I have some German money. Our chances are 
 fairly good, I think, especially if we don't show 
 ourselves nervous." 
 
 It is said that the best-made plans often go 
 astray, and consternation filled them almost 
 while they spoke. They heard the tramp of 
 soldiers' feet, and at the officer's call for a 
 halt, the door of the hut was flung open noisily, 
 the officer entering, followed by two of his men, 
 the others remaining outside.
 
 232 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 ' 'Follow me!" he exclaimed, standing a step 
 or two away from Quinton and Maurice. 
 
 ' ' What are you going to do with us 1 " Quin- 
 ton asked, with a studied carelessness. Had 
 the officer answered his question he would not 
 have been surprised if he told them they were 
 to be shot off-hand. But he made no reply. 
 He stood stolidly, with his sword drawn, and 
 in the dim light Maurice saw how his hand 
 rested on the revolver at his belt. 
 
 They stepped forward among the soldiers, 
 more than one of whom muttered something 
 under his breath, and spat on the ground in 
 token of contempt. 
 
 1 ' Silence ! ' ' exclaimed the officer sharply, and 
 the march began. 
 
 Maurice and his companion felt that this was 
 their last march, and death was not far away; 
 but to their surprise they were marched 
 through the town, and halted at a somewhat 
 pretentious-looking hotel. Leaving them in the 
 hall, under guard, the officer went away, and 
 when he returned the prisoners were ushered 
 into a handsomely furnished and brilliantly 
 lighted room, where the Commandant was sit- 
 ting at the table. 
 
 He went straight to the business in hand. 
 
 "You have had time to think things over," 
 he said abruptly. "No doubt death is not a 
 pleasant prospect, although it will resolve it- 
 self into a certainty if you maintain the atti- 
 tude you displayed in the workshop. You have 
 changed your minds, I suppose?"
 
 THE GERMAN GUIDE 233 
 
 "My mind has not changed," said Quinton 
 quietly, and there was no doubt as to his firm- 
 ness. 
 
 "Not with the death penalty in front of 
 you?" exclaimed the Commandant, betraying 
 his surprise. 
 
 1 * I stand by what I said. I will not work at 
 a task which means harm to my countrymen." 
 
 The soldier sat in silence for a while. 
 
 "What of you?" he asked, pointing his fore- 
 finger at Maurice. 
 
 "I say the same as when I was in the work- 
 shop. I will not work against my own coun- 
 try, and I ought not to be asked to do so," said 
 Maurice, with spirit. It was said quietly, and 
 there was no insolence in his words, nor in his 
 tone. 
 
 The Commandant called across the room to 
 the officer who was standing at the door. 
 
 "Take these men to that room I spoke of. 
 They must have prison fare, and remain there 
 until the morning. That will give them time 
 to think. Then I will have them here for their 
 final answer." 
 
 Shut up in a room so dark when they entered 
 that they did not know whether it had a window 
 in it, or a mattress, or whether they would 
 have to lie on the bare boards, they stood for a 
 while just within, in absolute hopelessness. 
 There was nothing now but death, for both 
 were resolute not to work treacherously against 
 their country. A key turned in the lock before 
 long, and a soldier, standing in the doorway
 
 234 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 with a lantern in his hand, held out a tin can 
 of water and a loaf of black bread. 
 
 "I wouldn't have given you this much if I 
 had been the Commandant," the man said, spit- 
 ting in contempt, like the others outside the 
 hut. 
 
 In their glance round the room when the 
 lantern-light briefly lit it up, they saw a couple 
 of mattresses on the floor by the opposite wall, 
 and that was all the place contained. So far 
 as they could tell, it had no window, so that 
 the probabilities were that until ten o'clock in 
 the morning they would be in darkness. 
 
 Groping for the mattresses with their feet, 
 they sat on them and talked; but being hungry 
 they ate the nauseous bread. It was probably 
 their last meal, for they were determined not 
 to be coerced into this work. They thought of 
 that lost chance with the clothes that were hid- 
 den away in the hut. They were worthless 
 now. They could only wait, and trust to God, 
 who had brought men out of dangers quite as 
 great. 
 
 "I think I'll lie down," said Maurice, pulling 
 off his jacket when some hours had gone; but 
 he stopped, with his arms half-way out of the 
 sleeves. He had heard a peculiar sound, and 
 whispered to Quinton. He, too, had heard it, 
 and was listening. 
 
 The sound stopped, but came again, and 
 might very well have been caused by a rat 
 gnawing at the woodwork near the door. 
 
 "It must be rats," said Quinton, but while
 
 THE GERMAN GUIDE 235 
 
 he was speaking, a light flashed on them, so 
 dazzling after the dense darkness that they 
 had to turn away. Then they saw the walls, 
 the floor and the ceiling of this room, the floor 
 thick with dust, and the walls cobwebbed. It 
 had no window in it, and must have been empty 
 for years; but after that swift glance round, 
 they turned towards the light in the hope of 
 discovering who held it. 
 
 " Don't speak, but come to me quietly." The 
 words were gruffly spoken, and in a whisper. 
 
 " 'Tis Grobner, isn't it!" Maurice asked, 
 ignoring the warning. 
 
 "I told you not to speak," came the half 
 angry response. "Be quick!" 
 
 They walked towards the dazzling light which 
 was now turned to the floor, so that they might 
 see where to tread. Then the light flashed at 
 an opening which might have been a fireplace, 
 and they found that it was so when they drew 
 near, for Grobner, moving the light again and 
 again, showed that he was standing in a space 
 from whence the grate had fallen back far 
 enough, like an iron door on hinges, to allow 
 of their passing through. 
 
 "Move on," said Grobner, in an unamiable, 
 voice, but they took no notice of his manner, 
 for they had never heard him speak in any 
 other tone to them. The thought with them 
 was that they had left that dark room which 
 was in reality a condemned cell for the time 
 being, and were now in a plainly furnished bed- 
 room.
 
 236 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 "Hold this," said Grobner, handing the 
 heavy flash-lamp to Maurice. The German's 
 movements were swift, but stealthy, not to 
 make any sound, and to their amazement those 
 who looked at him saw the doorway fall back 
 in its place, and a sound followed like the click 
 of a latch. They looked now on an ordinary 
 bedroom fireplace, the natural part of this 
 room to which they had come. 
 
 "If there had been time you would see that 
 no one would suspect that the grate would 
 move like that. Nobody in the hotel out of 
 which I have brought you would think of it, 
 and if they miss you they will think and think 
 till they are gray before they will discover how 
 you got away. They will say you climbed up 
 the chimney on to the roof; but I'll show you 
 something better than that presently. But 
 we'll get to business. There's no time for 
 talking. Get out of those tell-tale khaki clothes 
 and be quick about it. These are the clothes I 
 gave you, and which you left in the hut. Get 
 into them." 
 
 Grobner was no more friendly in tone or 
 look than before while he lit the candles in the 
 room. They looked at him, and he was the 
 same gruff, unsociable German engineer they 
 knew him to be in the workshop, and no one 
 would have thought, from the scowl on his face, 
 that he owed his life to these two Englishmen 
 who were standing in the room with him. 
 
 "Time's precious," said Grobner impa- 
 tiently, since they both appeared to be dazed
 
 THE GERMAN GUIDE 237 
 
 with this unexpected release from what was to 
 all intents and purposes a condemned cell. 
 
 With this reminder they dressed quickly, and 
 Grobner, standing well back to get a full view 
 of them, nodded with satisfaction. 
 
 "You'll do. Look in that glass, and see for 
 yourselves," he exclaimed, pointing to a big 
 mirror neither of them had noticed before. 
 The sight of two German peasants took them 
 by surprise, for the transformation was so 
 complete. 
 
 "Where are your passports?" Grobner 
 asked. "I looked for them, but could not find 
 them with your clothes." 
 
 "They are here. But what next, Grob- 
 ner?" Maurice asked, trembling with excite- 
 ment. 
 
 "Follow me, and you will soon know," was 
 the almost surly rejoinder. Nothing seemed 
 to thaw this stolid German, who turned his back 
 on them and led the way out of the room. They 
 went after him into a passage, lit up by the 
 flash-lamp, and coming to some steps, they 
 descended to the lower part of the house. 
 
 Wondering whether they were to be ushered 
 into the street and left to shift for themselves, 
 and feeling nervous at the prospect of possibly 
 running into the arms of some of the soldiers, 
 they saw Grobner turn to a door under the 
 stairs. The steps now were of stone, and they 
 went down until they found themselves in a 
 cobble-floored cellar. The unspoken question 
 as to what was next was soon answered, for
 
 238 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 Grobner pulled up some of the cobbles, and 
 lifting a square stone, bade them look down. 
 They saw a black hole, but throwing a light 
 into it he beckoned to them to follow him. The 
 steps they now descended were slippery with 
 the moisture which oozed out of the walls, and 
 left a slime which rendered the footing dan- 
 gerous. 
 
 "How do you account for this?" Quinton 
 asked, while they moved on, slipping at almost 
 every step. At first Grobner made no answer, 
 but one came when they had gone farther. 
 
 "The hotel you have just left was once the 
 home of the ruler of the province, and he had 
 this passage made, so I was told by my father, 
 in case he might want to escape in a hurry. 
 He was a tyrant, and had a fear that some day 
 the people would rise and want to murder 
 him." 
 
 Further on, the water dripped from the ceil- 
 ing, and splashed into pools on the floor of the 
 passage, while the walls were still heavily cov- 
 ered with moisture. 
 
 "We are under the river," said Grobner. 
 
 The passage began to rise, and the going on 
 the incline was treacherous to the feet until 
 they reached some dry steps which led to an- 
 other passage, at the end of which was a blank 
 wall. 
 
 "Trapped!" exclaimed Quinton in dismay, 
 but Grobner growled something ungraciously. 
 
 "Look overhead," he said, pointing to a 
 square plate of iron. "That's the way out,
 
 THE GERMAN GUIDE 239 
 
 but before I open it I must put out this light. 
 I'm not keen on being found out and getting 
 shot." 
 
 They stood in darkness while Grobner spoke, 
 but hearing a creaking of rusted hinges, they 
 presently saw the moonlight, and as the plate 
 rose higher the stars came into view. 
 
 Grobner scrambled through the opening, and 
 the others, following, found themselves in the 
 open air among some bushes. Near by was the 
 river, gleaming like silver in the moonlight, 
 and behind it the city from whence they had 
 just escaped. Away in the distance, in front 
 of them, were the mountains. 
 
 "Hush!" exclaimed Grobner, shaken out of 
 his stolidity by some unexpected alarm. From 
 among the trees on the other side of the meadow 
 came some horsemen, moving along a road 
 which led to the city. More horsemen followed 
 after an interval, by hundreds, and with them 
 a battery of field howitzers, the heavy gun car- 
 riages shaking the ground. 
 
 Those who watched had to stand in hiding 
 among the bushes for more than an hour before 
 the last soldier passed by. 
 
 "You can venture now," said Grobner, who 
 had become increasingly impatient while this 
 great body of troops filed past. ' ' Away beyond 
 those mountains are your own men accursed 
 Englishmen!" he exclaimed, between his teeth, 
 and they saw how his hands were clenched, and 
 how his face, surly at its best, was dark with 
 hate. "You must win your own way through
 
 240 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 now," he said, mastering Ms passion. "I've 
 done all I can for you. I must go back, for I 
 shall be missed if I stay longer." 
 
 He turned to go, but Quinton put out his 
 hand to keep him. 
 
 "Don't go, Grobner, until we have thanked 
 you." 
 
 "I don't want any thanks," exclaimed Grob- 
 ner, almost resentfully. "It was an accursed 
 ill chance which put me under such obligations 
 to you both, as to land me in this predicament. 
 I had to do something in return. I had to pay 
 off that debt somehow, and I've done it now; so 
 we're quits." 
 
 "You've saved our lives, Grobner," said 
 Maurice, who was watching the man's face, lit 
 up by the moon, with wonder. "We should 
 have had to die in the morning, and you have 
 kept us from that. The least we can do is to 
 tell you from the bottom of our hearts that we 
 thank you more than words can tell." 
 
 "I don't want your thanks. I wouldn't have 
 done this but for the obligation you put me 
 under. I would have watched you both go out 
 to be shot, and not be sorry; but I couldn't do 
 that because you kept that fellow off in the nick 
 of time. That put me in your debt, and I 
 had to pay it off somehow. Well, I've done 
 it, and we're quits. Now look to your- 
 selves. ' ' 
 
 "Won't you shake hands?" Quinton ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 "I?" cried Grobner. "I touch the hand of
 
 THE GERMAN GUIDE 241 
 
 an Englishman in friendship? Never! I am 
 going, and my feeling is what it has been all 
 through the war -God strafe England!" 
 
 He swung round, went to the hole in the 
 ground, and disappeared, leaving Maurice and 
 Quinton alone among the bushes.
 
 XVHI 
 THE GERMAN FARMHOUSE 
 
 THEY remained in the bunch of bushes for 
 several minutes after Grobner had left 
 them, afraid to stir, lest they might be 
 seen and challenged. Although they were 
 wearing such a disguise, which transformed 
 them, and had their passports, they had the 
 overpowering fear that they would be discov- 
 ered as escaped English prisoners, and would 
 be marched back to the camp to be shot. Yet 
 it was just as dangerous to stay where they 
 were. 
 
 "We can't stay here all night, Quinton," 
 said Maurice, when they had watched 
 anxiously, and saw no signs of anything 
 human. The only living things were some 
 horses feeding or sleeping in the meadow, and 
 in the distant fields some cattle, and a number 
 of pigs. "We must take the risks. That surly 
 fellow may have gone back to betray us. He 
 cleared his debt, but after having salved his 
 conscience, he may set the soldiers after us, 
 telling some trumped-up tale to clear himself. ' ' 
 "I never thought of that," said Quinton. 
 "Let us start at once. But if he should betray 
 us, he will think we made for our camp in the 
 direction of the mountains. We had better 
 
 842
 
 THE GERMAN FARMHOUSE 243 
 
 take the risks, trust to our disguises, and go in 
 the opposite direction, and get to our own 
 people by degrees, when the danger of pursuit 
 is over." 
 
 Maurice agreed, and making for a bit of 
 forest land, every step taking them farther 
 away from the British lines, they tramped on 
 and on, getting out into the open presently, 
 crossing the river by a bridge, to reach some 
 hills near by. 
 
 After a while they came to a bit of rising 
 ground, and paused to look back. The moon 
 was shining in a cloudless sky, and they had 
 an uninterrupted view of the country for miles. 
 In the distance they saw the camp in which they 
 had spent so many months of misery and 
 tyranny, and the town where the Commandant 
 had his quarters ; but they had not been watch- 
 ing many moments when Maurice laid his hand 
 on his companion's arm. 
 
 "Quinton, look yonder!" he exclaimed, in a 
 horrified whisper. "Grobner must have be- 
 trayed us!" 
 
 They watched. They could see the bushes 
 in which they had been hiding, and on this side 
 of them were a score of horsemen, and as many 
 foot soldiers, searching everywhere, but vainly. 
 
 "They are looking for us," said Quinton. 
 "If they come this way we have no hiding- 
 place. See how open the country is, but for 
 that bit of forest, and those scattered hedges 
 along the roadside. ' ' 
 
 "They will not come this way," Maurice
 
 244 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 whispered eagerly. "See! they think we have 
 made for the hills the nearest way home!" 
 
 4 'The longest, if we had taken it, or at all 
 events the quickest to death, and longest to 
 safety," muttered Quinton; and both now were 
 crouching low, to get some shelter behind a low 
 bush, through which they could see all that was 
 being done. 
 
 The horsemen had spread out in wide-open 
 order, and were galloping towards the hills, 
 some halting at the bushes to search among 
 them, and others riding in all directions, but 
 always moving nearer and nearer to the south. 
 The infantry were following, spreading out and 
 searching more carefully than the cavalrymen, 
 and in the same direction. But none of them 
 came towards the spot where Maurice and 
 Quinton were in hiding ; for who would suppose 
 the escaping prisoners would be mad enough, 
 even if disguised, to go farther away from their 
 own lines 1 
 
 "We'll make the distance between ourselves 
 and those German soldiers as great as pos- 
 sible," said Quinton. "Shall we start?" 
 
 "I am ready," said Maurice; and they 
 tramped away. 
 
 They crossed the empty road, and did not 
 venture to travel on it, lest that, too, might be 
 searched. They struck away into the meadows, 
 down the sides of cornfields, among the pota- 
 toes, past farms, even down village streets, 
 making as far as possible a straight line which 
 ran parallel to the mountains, but farther away
 
 THE GERMAN FARMHOUSE 245 
 
 from them, rather than nearer, when, as some- 
 times happened, they had to decide on one of 
 two roads. 
 
 "We must be miles away by .now," said 
 Maurice, who was beginning to feel tired with 
 the tramp over such rough country, and would 
 willingly have sat down to rest. He was hungry 
 moreover. 
 
 "A mile or two more, old man," Quinton 
 exclaimed eagerly. ' * The farther we go the less 
 likely they are to think of our whereabouts. 
 They will guess we had a start of hours, and, 
 showing two pairs of clean heels, got away." 
 
 They came to a road and decided that they 
 would travel on it for a time, as being easier 
 than across the fields of all sorts, where the 
 going was so heavy; but they had not gone far 
 before they heard sounds which made them pull 
 up suddenly. 
 
 "We must hide," exclaimed Quinton; and 
 they crawled through the first break in the 
 hedges which lined the road. 
 
 The sounds drew nearer, growing in volume, 
 and they knew that it was not the tramp of a 
 few men, but the passing of an army. Some 
 soldiers came into view, the German helmets 
 first showing as the leaders marched up the hill. 
 Those who passed the spot where they lay in 
 the deep shadows were infantry in full march- 
 ing equipment. Battalion after battalion moved 
 onward, towards the hills. They were there by 
 hundreds by thousands and beyond, on an- 
 other road, they saw others like these Germans
 
 246 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 traveling in the same direction. Beyond, on 
 another road again, were soldiers. It was a 
 mighty army on the move, intent on joining 
 those who were in the lines facing the Allies. 
 
 Then came the cavalry, splendid in their uni- 
 forms, although they were somewhat battle- 
 worn, the helmets gleaming in the moonlight. 
 The tramp of thousands of horses ' hoofs, shak- 
 ing the ground, made a sound which rendered it 
 impossible for Quinton and Maurice to speak 
 to each other. But they did not want to talk. 
 They were glued, as it were, to that sight 
 that on-moving mass which might shortly be 
 hurled on the English or French lines, ac- 
 cording to the plan of the German Crown 
 Prince, who was said to be in supreme com- 
 mand. 
 
 The cavalry were succeeded by artillery of 
 all sorts field batteries made up of guns which 
 were spoken of as unequalled by any in the 
 world, but heavy, enormous, and going slowly 
 because they were so cumbersome. 
 
 Wherever they looked, here, in this road, in 
 the hedge of which they were hiding, and be- 
 hind them in the roads they had already 
 crossed, as well as those which were on in front 
 of them, the two fugitives saw that the squa- 
 drons were going at a trot, taking the field when 
 the artillery proved too slow, the great guns 
 rolling on in endless array, their ammunition 
 wagons in their wake. 
 
 After a while the cavalry that came up be- 
 hind left the roads altogether, and moved
 
 THE GERMAN FARMHOUSE 
 
 across the fields, regardless of destruction to 
 the crops. Some of them came so near Maurice 
 and his companion that they drew up closer to 
 the hedge, hiding in the dense shadows. The 
 horses came so near at times that the riders 
 brushed the branches, and Maurice had a fear 
 lest his feet might be trampled on by the iron 
 hoofs. 
 
 "We're booked here till the sun rises, I'm 
 afraid," said Quinton anxiously, putting his 
 lips close to Maurice's ears, and speaking 
 loudly, confident that he could not be heard by 
 the soldiers. 
 
 "Then we shall be caught, unless we make 
 a pretense of being countrymen going off to our 
 work," was Maurice's answer; but, like Quin- 
 ton, he was doubtful as to the outcome. 
 
 The last soldier went, however, and but for 
 a few stragglers they were alone. The roads 
 on all sides were thinning out. It was evident 
 that the army was moving in haste, bent on 
 some great effort, or to reinforce another which 
 was thinking to beat its way through to the 
 south, to get to Paris or to Calais. 
 
 The road became empty when they had been 
 lying cramped like this for hours, and they 
 rose stiffly, wondering what their next course 
 should be. 
 
 "Why not make for some farmhouse and get 
 some food?" said Maurice. 
 
 "I'm ready. There's one over there, a long 
 way off any road, and possibly they will be will- 
 ing to serve us, since I have a bit of money.
 
 248 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 Germans are not likely to turn their backs on 
 that in war time." 
 
 Quinton spoke easily, but his mind was not 
 as confident as his words sounded. They 
 tramped over the fields, looking about in all 
 directions for any signs of another body of 
 troops approaching, and at last they reached 
 the farmhouse. It was in a quiet spot, far 
 away from any road, and there was a woman 
 moving about, but not a man in sight. 
 
 She started when she saw two men moving 
 in at the gate, and she set down the bucket of 
 water she was carrying across the yard. 
 
 "What's your will?" she asked. 
 
 "We want something to eat, if you can sell 
 us some, ' ' speaking as much like a countryman 
 as was possible. 
 
 "I can only sell you some black bread and 
 milk, ' ' said the woman doubtfully, as if search- 
 ing about in her mind for what was in her 
 larder. ' * There 's some cheese and a little 
 bacon, but no fresh meat. ' ' 
 
 "Anything that's eatable," said Maurice. 
 "We are hungry, and tired, too, and we must 
 be off. Didn't the army go by just now?" 
 
 "Yes. They're for the front. 'Tis said 
 the Crown Prince is going to break through to 
 Paris, and this time he won't be hindered. But 
 come in!" 
 
 They followed the woman into the kitchen. 
 Everything was spotlessly clean, but there was 
 a strange silence about the house. There was 
 no sign of any men, and the woman, when she
 
 THE GERMAN FARMHOUSE 249 
 
 set what food she had on the table, seemed to 
 answer their unspoken question. 
 
 "I can't give you much attention. I've only 
 my own pair of hands to do all the work; and 
 there's my boy of six to look after, as well. 
 The men are gone to the army, and all I can 
 do is to feed the cattle, milk them, and keep 
 things from going to rack and ruin. War's a 
 dreadful thing, even when we are victorious, 
 and are driving those accursed English back to 
 the sea, and the French are being swept like 
 sheep to their proud city of Paris, which they 
 say will be taken in a month or two. ' ' 
 
 They sat down to the frugal meal and talked, 
 when presently a little fellow came in and 
 stared at them; then trotted away down the 
 slope to the river, where he played on the bank. 
 Maurice and Quinton watched him and went on 
 with their conversation. If they had spoken in 
 German all would have been well, but they 
 spoke in English, and the woman, who had 
 come in unknown to them, stood and stared; 
 then she burst in on their words. 
 
 "You are Englishmen!" she cried. "You 
 are spies!" and the clamor of her voice seemed 
 to fill the house. 
 
 "What?" cried Quinton, going hot at the 
 woman's protest and their danger. 
 
 "I tell you, you are English ! Get out of my 
 home 1 ' ' 
 
 She came to the table, and in her anger she 
 overturned it, and stood before them, panting 
 in her fury.
 
 250 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 "You are English spies!" she cried again. 
 
 Quinton flung down a coin at her feet, and 
 with Maurice at his heels he left the house. 
 Suddenly a cry of horror burst from the 
 woman's lips, for she had followed them to the 
 door, and now she ran past them down the 
 slope. 
 
 "My child! my child!" she wailed, as she 
 went. 
 
 Maurice and Quinton saw what had hap- 
 pened. The child had been playing by the 
 river, which was deep, had climbed on some 
 railings, and then in a spirit of bravado was 
 standing on the topmost bar, but clutching at 
 a drooping branch of an overhanging tree with 
 one hand, and waving the other in triumph. 
 
 "He'll fall in!" cried Maurice; and yet they 
 both felt that they ought to hurry away, lest 
 the woman should rouse the countryside against 
 them, and that would mean death in the event 
 of capture. 
 
 "He is in!" exclaimed Quinton, for the 
 branch broke while Maurice spoke. The child 
 swayed. The wonder in that brief moment 
 was as to which way the boy would fall this 
 side, to the bank, or the other way, into the 
 stream. The mother saw what had happened, 
 and a cry of despair came when she saw the 
 danger, and then the worst, for the child fell 
 into the deep river. 
 
 Maurice bounded forward, and although the 
 mother was racing on frantically, he passed 
 her. After him came Quinton, only a few paces
 
 THE GERMAN FARMHOUSE 251 
 
 behind. When he came to the river-bank, the 
 boy was beating about, but he threw up his little 
 hands and sank. Maurice did not hesitate. 
 Just as he was, without throwing off his heavy 
 boots, which were clogged with mud after the 
 long night-tramp, he plunged in headlong, and 
 brought up the child, as the mother reached the 
 bank, wringing her hands in despair. 
 
 "Stand back, or you will slip in," Quinton 
 cried to the woman, flinging himself full length 
 on the back, in readiness to clutch at the boy 
 when Maurice came within reach. 
 
 Maurice had the child safely, and struck out 
 for the bank, but the stream was strong, and it 
 was difficult to come in. He was a fine swim- 
 mer, and in spite of his clothes and the heavy 
 boots, he drew nearer. 
 
 "Can you reach him?" he asked Quinton, 
 after a hard struggle to get nearer. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Quinton reached out far, but, overbalancing, 
 fell in headlong. 
 
 "I have him," he cried, a moment later, 
 clutching at the child's clothes, and putting him 
 on the bank into the hands of the mother, who 
 gathered the little fellow, wet and streaming, to 
 her bosom. 
 
 ' ' My boy ! my darling ! ' ' she cried, kissing his 
 wet cheeks and lips. Then she saw Maurice, 
 whom Quinton was helping out of the river. 
 The debt she owed them brought about a revul- 
 sion, and she spoke in the instant, while she 
 held her boy more closely to her breast :
 
 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 "Oh, I recall what I said. Come into my 
 house I Come in, though you are enemies! I 
 am for ever in your debt !" 
 
 She ran up the slope to the farmhouse, but 
 at the door she turned to Maurice and his com- 
 panion, who were pausing, wondering what 
 their course should be. 
 
 "Come, in the dear Lord's name! Come! 
 You are welcome! I will not betray you 
 now. ' ' 
 
 They took her at her word, and followed her 
 into the house. When they stood in the door- 
 way she was stripping the whimpering child, to 
 dry him ; but as they stood and watched, bring- 
 ing her whatever she asked for, and following 
 her 'instructions as though she had spoken no 
 harsh words, and had no power to do them 
 harm, she looked at them with great concern. 
 She saw that the boy had taken no harm, and 
 as soon as she had rubbed him dry, and dressed 
 him in warm clothes which they brought to her 
 out of a box in a room upstairs, she turned her 
 attention to them. She set the boy down, now 
 laughing at his adventure, and threw out her 
 hands to them. 
 
 "You are Englishmen!" she cried; "I know 
 you are; but you have saved my boy, my only 
 child, and from my very heart I thank you. 
 Come upstairs, and I will find you towels and 
 clean clothes." 
 
 She led the way, and as they stood with their 
 soddened garments clinging to them, she knelt 
 at a box, out of which she took clothes in abun-
 
 THE GERMAN FARMHOUSE 253 
 
 dance, which her husband had worn before he 
 joined the army for the war. 
 
 "Choose what you want," she exclaimed, her 
 face wet with tears. " Nothing is too good for 
 those who saved my boy. And here are some 
 towels. ' ' 
 
 She left them, and when they came down the 
 stairs they found that bacon and eggs were 
 sizzling on hot plates at the fire. 
 
 "Eat, and be welcome," she said, as she set 
 the food on the table. 
 
 She watched them, her eyes misty with tears, 
 and with her boy on her lap, now boisterous 
 with fun, she asked them who they were. It 
 was useless to hide the truth from her, and 
 Quinton told how they had escaped from the 
 prison camp. 
 
 "They will make a search, and if they find 
 you they will shoot you. ' ' 
 
 They had ended their meal, and Quinton, 
 pulling out his purse, drew out a coin. 
 
 "What!" cried the woman, with an angry 
 protestation. "Would you offer me money? 
 You, who have saved my child? You, to whom 
 I shall be under obligation till I die?" 
 
 Quinton put back his purse. A thought came, 
 and he spoke. 
 
 "They may be after us, and will find us. Do 
 you think you could let us hide somewhere, and 
 sleep, until night comes?" 
 
 The woman sprang to her feet. 
 
 "How thoughtless of me!" she exclaimed. 
 "I should have let you go, and it would have
 
 254 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 been to your death two brave men who saved 
 me so much sorrow. Come, and I will show 
 you where you may hide and sleep, and at sun- 
 set I will come and call you." 
 
 She stood at the door and gazed in all direc- 
 tions. The country was deserted. Look where 
 she would she saw no living human being ; then 
 she beckoned to them. Leading the way along 
 the side of the house, leaving the boy asleep in 
 his wooden cot, she took them into the hayloft. 
 Maurice and Quinton cleared away the hay, 
 making a passage to the back, where they might 
 lie in security. She left them there, near to a 
 tiny window out of which, if they cared to do 
 so, they might gaze and see the country for 
 miles. 
 
 They smoothed out their soddened passports, 
 and spread them on the floor to dry. After a 
 while, worn out with the toilsome journey of the 
 night and the excitement of their experiences, 
 they fell asleep. They slept until Maurice felt 
 a hand on his shoulder, and someone shaking 
 him. 
 
 "Wake up!" he heard someone say; and 
 opening his eyes, and staring about him in a 
 bewildered way, wondering where he was, he 
 slowly recalled what had happened. The 
 woman was bending over him, and with her 
 other hand she was rousing Quinton. 
 
 " 'Tis a shame to wake you," she said regret- 
 fully, "but it has to be. In an hour it will be 
 getting dark, and you ought to be on your way 
 by then. I would let you stay here a week, or
 
 THE GERMAN FARMHOUSE 255 
 
 more, if you wished to do so. I would do any- 
 thing to show how I appreciate what you did 
 for my child, but it won't be safe. I have just 
 heard that soldiers are going the round of 
 farms, commandeering all the hay and food 
 stuffs for the army horses, and they may come 
 here at any hour, and I have nowhere else to 
 hide you. Get up soon, and come to the house. 
 You shall have something to eat before you 
 start on your journey.'* 
 
 She left them, and they heard her feet on the 
 steps of the loft, and then they pulled them- 
 selves together. Folding their passports, they 
 crawled along the little tunnel of hay, went 
 down the steps and into the house, where a 
 substantial meal was waiting for them on the 
 table the more generously provided because 
 food was growing scarce in Germany because 
 of the British blockade. Two bundles were on 
 the table also, which she placed in the canvas 
 bags they carried across their shoulders. 
 
 " 'Tis food," she explained. "If you have 
 to buy on the way you may betray yourselves. 
 People will find you out as I did, and they will 
 give you short shrift. There will be no trial, 
 but a quick order. They will find a tree to 
 hang you on, or a well to stand you against 
 and shoot you. You can't think how my coun- 
 trymen hate the English. I hate them, too, with 
 all my soul. There isn't a night but what I 
 kneel by my bedside and pray to God to punish 
 England. But I can't pray that for you, be- 
 cause you saved my little one ; and when I pray
 
 256 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 to-night I shall pray that same prayer, but pray 
 as well that you may both get to your camp in 
 safety. After that you must take the full for- 
 tune of war, and live or die, just the same as 
 my husband and my brothers are doing. ' ' 
 
 They were eating while she spoke, but when 
 the meal was ended they rose from the table, 
 flung their bags over their shoulders, and were 
 ready to go. 
 
 "You will let me pay you for this food," 
 said Quinton, pulling out his purse. 
 
 "I won't touch any of it," the woman pro- 
 tested. 
 
 "But we have eaten so much, and food is 
 dear and scarce. It was so scarce that they 
 gave us very little in the prisoners' camp; 
 barely enough to keep us going," Maurice 
 urged. "Take a little to please us." 
 
 "I won't touch it," the woman cried, stand- 
 ing back, and putting her hands behind her. 
 "Can't I do some little thing to repay you for 
 what you did for me ! " 
 
 She went to the door, from whence she could 
 see for miles. 
 
 "There's no one in view. Now go, while you 
 have the chance. Make for that forest over 
 there, and go carefully. You may have need of 
 something with which to defend yourselves." 
 
 She took down a couple of hunting-knives 
 from the wall, one for each of them. 
 
 "Now go, and God speed you." 
 
 They left her, and by this time the twilight 
 was deepening. Before long it was dark. The
 
 THE GERMAN FARMHOUSE 257 
 
 moon would not rise for a couple o'f hours, and 
 consequently they would have to go cautiously, 
 not only for whom they might meet, but to 
 guard against the likelihood of some unlucky 
 accident which might make escape impossible. 
 
 They avoided the road which led straight 
 into the forest. The safer way was to move 
 on the field side of the hedges, where they 
 could hide if anyone passed them on the way. 
 
 It took them some time to reach the forest, 
 but once there they had a greater sense of 
 safety. It was so dark that they could not be 
 seen, and if they were alert for sounds, it would 
 be possible to tell whether Germans were 
 near, in which event they could move farther 
 back into the depths of the forest. But it 
 seemed empty and still. Even the animals 
 which the woman said infested it, especially at 
 night, were gone. They had been frightened 
 into their lairs because of the passing of the 
 army, and no doubt the frequent presence of 
 bodies of troops, going to or coming from the 
 front, made them shy of coming out. 
 
 When the moon began to show herself, and to 
 light up the road through the forest, shining 
 in at every possible opening, they climbed a 
 tree, startled at what they heard, and then by 
 what they saw. Men were on the move, but 
 whether soldiers or civilians they could not tell. 
 There were sounds of horses' hoofs, and the 
 roll of wheels, as if approaching from the front 
 where the fighting was going on. Then horses 
 came into view, the riders sitting limp in their
 
 258 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 saddles. As they passed the tree Maurice and 
 his comrade saw from their shelter among the 
 branches that all the riders were wounded. 
 Foot soldiers passed, going wearily, some hold- 
 ing on to the stirrups of the riders, all their 
 accoutrement flung away because they were too 
 weak from loss of blood to carry anything but 
 themselves, and that they could scarcely do. 
 Later on, while they remained among the 
 branches, because they still heard sounds, the 
 great ambulance-vans rolled by, loaded with 
 the more seriously wounded, whose groans 
 were heard above the noise of the motor- 
 engines. 
 
 The last van passed, and, the forest having 
 settled down into night-silence again, they 
 dropped out of the tree and went forward. 
 
 "There must have been some heavy fight- 
 ing," said Quinton, when they came to a break 
 in the forest and saw a double railway line, on 
 which an enormously long Red Cross train was 
 traveling, drawn by two strong engines. It 
 was lit up brilliantly, and they could see the 
 beds filled with wounded men, and the nurses 
 moving from bed to bed ; and in the swift glance 
 some doctors working in the operating- van. 
 
 Here they paused, for coming round the 
 curve was another train as full as that which 
 had passed, and behind it a third. Whatever 
 the result of the fighting, the Germans had suf- 
 fered terribly. Before an hour had gone, as 
 they wended their way among the trees, they 
 met parties of wounded able to move on horse- 
 back, or on foot, but no less than seven ambu-
 
 THE GERMAN FARMHOUSE 259 
 
 lance trains had swept by when they crossed 
 the line at various points. 
 
 After the traffic had ceased the forest settled 
 down into silence, and Maurice opened his heart 
 to his companion. 
 
 "I know you won't laugh at me, Quinton, but 
 I have the feeling that before long I shall find 
 my sister Marjorie. I've never ceased to pray 
 for her, night and morning, and many a time 
 in between. And father has always said that if 
 we put our whole soul into our prayers they can 
 never fail. I am praying to see her dear face 
 again. ' ' 
 
 "And with trust such as yours, depend upon 
 it you will," said Quinton, with such an assur- 
 ance in his voice that Maurice exclaimed as 
 they tramped along, "Yes, something seems to 
 tell me that I shall soon find her, and, please 
 God, take her home." 
 
 At last they came to the edge of the forest, 
 and in the scoop of it saw a great mansion 
 standing, no light in any of its windows, and 
 bearing evidence of being deserted. The place 
 seemed to have gone to rack and ruin, both the 
 garden and the building. The shutters hung 
 half on their hinges at some of the windows. 
 Some were gone altogether, and ivy or some 
 huge creeping plants were having their wild 
 way with the place, even thrusting themselves 
 in at the broken windows. 
 
 "What do you say to our going in there, 
 Millard?" Quinton asked. "It will be day- 
 dawn in an hour, and we may be wiser only to 
 travel by night, if we can manage it."
 
 XTX 
 THE GERMAN WAR-PLANE 
 
 ENTERING at the broken gateway, and 
 going cautiously up the winding car- 
 riage-drive, they came to the garden, 
 which was entangled in such a way as almost 
 to make a passage through it impossible. 
 Everything was in such a state of ruin that 
 they thought the chance very great that the 
 house was empty. Who would live in such a 
 place? Or in a house so lonely? They might 
 creep in and find a room to hide in, eat spar- 
 ingly, sleep if they cared to, and move on 
 towards the Allies' camp when night came on. 
 They could then take their chance of getting 
 through the German lines and into the English 
 or the French camp. 
 
 A terrace ran along the front of the house, 
 and Maurice and Quinton sought to reach it. 
 They were anxious to get some rest, for they 
 were dog-tired. The rose-trees barred the way, 
 however. By the look of things, months, but, 
 more possibly, years had passed since any 
 human being had gone through the garden to 
 the terrace, for the thorns were an effectual 
 hindrance. 
 
 They tried elsewhere, and by going carefully, 
 avoiding the thorns, and crawling when possible 
 
 260
 
 THE GERMAN WAR-PLANE 261 
 
 among the soft undergrowth, which they cut at 
 with their hunting-knives, they reached the ter- 
 race steps. They were broken, and the wild 
 lilies had forced their way through the joints, 
 splitting the stonework and shifting it from its 
 place. 
 
 The terrace was dilapidated, and they had to 
 go carefully. Here and there were some of the 
 broken shutters, fallen from the windows, and 
 smashed on the stones. But at last Maurice, 
 who was in front, stood in the open doorway. 
 The moon was still shining, and he was look- 
 ing into a hall where the light came through 
 the windows, showing as much ruin within as 
 without. The tesselated floor was broken, the 
 steps of the grand staircase were either worm- 
 eaten or had been torn away to light a fire by 
 some tramp who wanted warmth while shelter- 
 ing in the mansion. 
 
 They stepped inside and listened, but there 
 was not a sound. 
 
 "We will go the round of the place, and per- 
 haps find somewhere to lie down and sleep," 
 said Quinton, looking in at a half -open door. 
 The room was empty, and the next. The room 
 beyond it was empty, also. Wherever they 
 looked it was the same. 
 
 "What a wretched place," exclaimed 
 Maurice, sitting on the stairs. He stopped 
 suddenly, for he heard a noise like the slam- 
 ming of a door and the twisting of a key in a 
 lock. Then came sounds like running foot- 
 steps.
 
 262 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 "Let us get out of sight," whispered Quin- 
 ton, who had been standing at the foot of the 
 stairs facing Maurice, who seemed very much 
 worn out with the hard night tramp. They had 
 barely slipped behind some rotting curtains at 
 one of the windows when they saw a woman 
 come down the stairs laughing, and as she came 
 slowly and carefully because the steps were so 
 broken, those who were watching, unknown 
 to her, saw her face as the moonlight fell 
 on it. 
 
 She was German, and there was something 
 vindictive in her looks. 
 
 "Now that accursed English girl can starve, 
 and so much less vermin will be in the world ! ' ' 
 she cried, not thinking that anyone would hear 
 her in that lonely mansion. 
 
 She paused at the foot of the stairs to listen. 
 She laughed aloud when she heard a girl 's voice 
 calling to be let out, and beating heavily on the 
 door. 
 
 "Cry out, my beauty! No one will hear 
 youl" the woman screamed, and she laughed 
 again. Then she turned on her heel and, mov- 
 ing down the hall, went out on the terrace. 
 
 Maurice followed softly to see where she 
 went. He saw her pass along the terrace and 
 down the steps, and then she made her cautious 
 way through the entangled garden, laughing 
 mockingly as she heard more and more faintly 
 the cry and the knocking of the imprisoned 
 girl. 
 
 Maurice hurried back.
 
 THE GERMAN WAR-PLANE 263 
 
 "You heard what she said!" he asked, and 
 Quinton saw the startled look on his face. 
 
 "Yes. We must go to her. She will be 
 terrified to death, to be shut up in this dreadful 
 place," said Quinton, who moved up the stair- 
 case before he ended ; and Maurice, forgetful of 
 his weariness, brushed past him. 
 
 At the bend of the stairs he had to go more 
 slowly, for it was dark, and he did not know 
 how broken the floor might be. The girl's cries, 
 and the sound of her loud knocks on the door, 
 guided him to the spot. 
 
 "Are you a prisoner in that room!" he cried. 
 The girl's calls ceased, and she no longer beat 
 upon the door. 
 
 "Yes. A woman who had charge of me de- 
 coyed me here, and I am locked in. She tells 
 me I am to stay here and die." 
 
 Maurice started at the voice. 
 
 "Who are you 7" he cried, and by this time 
 Quinton was at his elbow. 
 
 "My name is Marjorie Millard. I am an 
 English girl, and supposed to be interned." 
 
 Maurice felt himself trembling at the words. 
 
 "Did you say 'Marjorie Millard'?" he ex- 
 claimed, wondering whether he dreamed, or had 
 heard aright. 
 
 "That is my name. Can you let me out?" 
 
 Maurice felt about the door. The woman 
 was empty-handed when she passed through the 
 hall, and he wondered whether she had left the 
 key in the lock. As his hand smoothed over the 
 woodwork a cry of relief came:
 
 264 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 1 'The key is here!" 
 
 He twisted it, lifting the ornamental latch at 
 the same moment. 
 
 "We are English, too," he called, while he 
 was doing this, thinking it would remove any 
 fear that she might have lest in coming out of 
 one danger she might fall into another with a 
 stranger. 
 
 By this time the door was opened. 
 
 "And I am your brother Maurice," he ex- 
 claimed, as the door fell back on its hinges, and 
 he stood in the doorway. 
 
 "My brother Maurice?" cried Marjorie. 
 With a cry of joy, seeing him in the moonlight 
 which shone into the room, flooding it with pale 
 light, she went to him and threw her arms 
 about his neck. 
 
 "Maurice I" she cried again. "Is it really 
 so? Come to the window, and let me see you. 
 You are dressed like a German countryman," 
 she said, half hysterically; "and yet it is 
 my brother's voice. Ah, yes! and it is his 
 face!" 
 
 They took the risks of discovery, all three of 
 them, and sat and talked. Maurice explained 
 how it came that he and Quinton were there, 
 and why they wore the garb of German farm 
 laborers instead of wearing khaki. The joy of 
 finding each other was so great that they forgot 
 their danger; that at any moment someone 
 might intrude on them and discover them, and 
 carry them back to captivity again. The thing 
 that absorbed them was this fact, that Maurice
 
 THE GERMAN WAR-PLANE 265 
 
 had found his sister, and that she was able to 
 tell how she had sought shelter with the Sisters, 
 but had been overtaken by the Germans in their 
 attempted flight, and carried away a prisoner 
 with the others, first to be treated with a cer- 
 tain easiness, and their treatment growing 
 harder week by week, until it became positive 
 cruelty. 
 
 It was Marjorie 's lot to have a woman as her 
 wardress in the prison, not far away from this 
 deserted mansion, whose hate for everything 
 English was intense and monstrous. She de- 
 signed constant unkindnesses, until life became 
 almost unbearable. Then it ended in this decoy 
 to the deserted mansion on the plea that she 
 would receive warrant for release, but was left 
 there to starve and die. 
 
 The starvation was likely to be very real, for 
 Marjorie had had no food for twenty-four 
 hours, and after her excitement had subsided, 
 she began to feel faint. Maurice pulled out his 
 bag, and dusting the table before opening it, he 
 spread out what he had for her to take her 
 choice. Quinton had food also, but it was dif- 
 ferent, so that Marjorie could take what most 
 she liked. 
 
 By the time the food was packed back into 
 the bags it was daylight, and they began to talk 
 of their plans for getting away. They feared 
 to go in the daytime. Their only chance was 
 to go by night, drawing if possible nearer to 
 one or other of the Allied armies ; for whether 
 English or French it would be deliverance.
 
 266 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 They moved from room to room, always 
 listening for any sound or sign to indicate 
 danger, but none came. They found a bed- 
 chamber at last, and Marjorie, shifting a table 
 by the bedside and close by the wall, spoke in 
 a tone of surprise which attracted the others, 
 who were looking about to see whether it would 
 be safe to stay there. The table moved heavily, 
 but with it came a portion of the oaken board- 
 ing from the table top down to the floor. When 
 Maurice went to his sister's side he saw that 
 there was a chamber beyond this one, lit dimly 
 by a small window, the glass of which was 
 nearly covered by the ivy outside. He crawled 
 in, and pulling the window open, tore away, 
 some of the leaves to let in the light more 
 freely. 
 
 "There's more here than meets the eye at 
 first," he said, realizing the possibilities. 
 "Come in, both of you, but push the bolt in 
 that door, to keep out intruders, if any should 
 come." 
 
 They looked around. In the wall opposite 
 that awkward entrance was a door, and when 
 they opened it they saw some stone steps lead- 
 ing downwards. Groping their way down in 
 the darkness, they came to a door which was 
 bolted on the inside. Drawing it open as softly 
 as possible, since the hinges were rusted, they 
 found themselves in a small plantation, and 
 beyond it a great meadow, and beyond that 
 again what had the appearance of an aero- 
 drome.
 
 THE GERMAN WAR-PLANE 267 
 
 "Have you seen that before, Marjorie!" 
 Maurice asked. 
 
 "Many a time. They practice every day 
 when the aeroplanes are not all out ; but for the 
 last four days I have only seen one, and that 
 has the appearance of an English machine. It 
 starts from this meadow, and generally very 
 near to the plantation. Do you see that big 
 building a quarter of a mile away!" 
 
 Maurice and Quinton looked in the direction 
 in which she pointed. 
 
 "What is it?" Quinton asked. 
 
 "The prison where the Sisters and I were 
 interned." 
 
 They moved forward cautiously to see what 
 was beyond the wall which cut off the view, and 
 what they saw took them by surprise, and they 
 hurried back to the door, entered, fastened it 
 on the inside, and went to the hidden chamber, 
 where they watched from the window. 
 
 A powerful aeroplane was under the wall, 
 with its face turned to the open country, due 
 south. It was fitted with a revolving gun, and 
 a German pilot and an observer were looking 
 to the ammunition, and carefully examining the 
 gun which was fixed to a platform which re- 
 volved around the observer, enabling him to 
 fire backwards, sideways, or forwards, and at 
 any angle in case of a fight in the air. 
 
 "I never thought much of a German's readi- 
 ness to play the game," Quinton exclaimed 
 scornfully; "but here is proof of his disregard 
 of what is honorable in fighting."
 
 268 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 He pointed to the aeroplane, which was Ger- 
 man built, but disguised to deceive the Allies, 
 and make them think it was an English 
 machine. The Allies' mark was painted on 
 the wings, and also on the fusilage. 
 
 The two men were getting the aeroplane 
 ready for a flight, and they were laughing to 
 think how they would not only deceive but sur- 
 prise their enemies, because they had on board 
 a plentiful supply of bombs. 
 
 From the window above every word that was 
 said could be plainly heard. 
 
 "She is in full working order now," said the 
 pilot. "We can set her going in three minutes, 
 so we will go and have a meal before we start. " 
 
 1 ' The best thing possible, ' ' said the observer, 
 getting out of his seat in the gun platform. 
 "We shall startle the English a bit this time, 
 unless we take a turn with Joffre. ' ' 
 
 "We'll talk that over while we eat," said the 
 pilot, and they walked off, laughing, not aware 
 of the eyes that watched them. 
 
 Maurice spoke in a whisper. 
 
 "Here's a chance, Quinton." 
 
 "I know what you are going to say," Quin- 
 ton exclaimed. "You think we could appro- 
 priate that machine, and get away from here ? ' ' 
 
 "That's the ticket!" said Maurice excitedly. 
 "I propose that as soon as those two fellows 
 are out of sight, we slip through the plantation 
 and round the wall. You can act as pilot, I can 
 be observer, and Marjorie can sit with me, if 
 she doesn't mind a bit of squeezing."
 
 THE GERMAN WAR-PLANE 269 
 
 Marjorie clapped her hands softly, and her 
 pretty face beamed with fun. 
 
 "Won't that be spoiling the Egyptians!" she 
 said. "Look, Maurice. They are gone. Now 
 is the time, for fear they should come back be- 
 fore we can settle in our places. ' ' 
 
 She did not wait for the others. Time was 
 precious, and groping her way down the steps 
 she opened the door, and looking about in all 
 directions, she hurried through the plantation, 
 with the others at her heels. 
 
 "Follow me," she exclaimed, her voice vi- 
 brating with excitement; for her swift glances 
 showed her that no human being was nearer 
 than the aerodrome into which the Germans 
 had disappeared. 
 
 She stood by the side of the aeroplane im- 
 patiently waiting for Maurice to climb into his 
 place. Before many moments had gone she 
 was settling down by his side, shrinking into 
 as small a space as possible, to give him free- 
 dom, if he had need to use the gun. Quinton, 
 now in his element, was in his seat, and already 
 the aeroplane was trembling, ready for her 
 rise. 
 
 "Are you ready?" he asked, from behind. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 1 * Then we are off. ' ' 
 
 1 ' Take her over the hangar, and drop a bomb 
 on it," suggested Marjorie, who was so excited 
 that she could not sit still. 
 
 "I will, if I can manage it. I have to get 
 used to this machine. Yes, I see! She's all
 
 270 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 right. Now I am going to climb. I'll get above 
 that cloud if I can, and be out of reach of any 
 rifle. You aren't frightened, are you?" Quin- 
 ton asked. 
 
 "Frightened!" said Marjorie protestingly. 
 "I am all for flying; thousands of feet high if 
 you like, Mr. Quinton. Anywhere, so long as 
 we leave those cruel Germans behind us and get 
 home. For I'm dreadfully homesick," she 
 added; and Maurice, turning to look, saw that 
 his sister's face was very white. 
 
 "Isn't it delightful!" she cried, as they 
 circled the field, headed into the wind, and were 
 off, climbing up to the clouds. It seemed to her 
 that the nose of the aeroplane was pointing to 
 them. But she exclaimed with a catch of her 
 breath : 
 
 "They have come out to see what the noise 
 means, Maurice!" 
 
 She pointed downwards to the Germans who 
 had been getting ready for this trip. They 
 had come to the door of the aerodrome and saw 
 what was an amazement to them, unless it was 
 some other machine. They must have glanced 
 across to the meadow and seen that the place 
 was empty; that this was their own aeroplane. 
 Those who were in it, mounting high, could see 
 that they realized the fact, for the men were 
 dancing about in a rage, until one ran into the 
 building and brought out a rifle. 
 
 "Drop a bomb on them, Millard," Quinton 
 cried ; but the bomb was already on its way. It 
 struck the aerodrome full on the roof; there
 
 THE GERMAN WAR-PLANE 271 
 
 was a tremendous explosion, and the place was 
 a heap of ruins. 
 
 Quinton did not loiter but flew on. They 
 reached the cloud, drove into it and above it, 
 and for a little while saw nothing of what was 
 below, until they once more got into clear air 
 again. Far below they saw the fields tiny 
 squares of green, and villages full of what 
 appeared to be toy houses. Quinton dropped 
 a little lower, knowing that he would be in no 
 danger so long as he kept clear of camps and 
 towns. 
 
 On and on they went, the aeroplane flying 
 splendidly. 
 
 "Where do you think we shall get?" cried 
 Maurice. 
 
 "Over the German lines, and into the 
 French. If you have the chance drop some- 
 thing where there's likely to be a bang. It will 
 help to pay back a lot of our misery and their 
 wanton cruelty.*' 
 
 "You need not tell me that," said Maurice, 
 who was alert. ' ' The German lines are yonder. 
 They won't touch us, for they must know all 
 about this faked aeroplane. They will very 
 likely know we belong to them although we 
 wear the English colors." 
 
 They were not to get away, however, unchal- 
 lenged. As they swept over the German quar- 
 ters, where stores were accumulated in enor- 
 mous quantities, an aeroplane began to rise. 
 She was coming up to inquire whether this was 
 a German machine.
 
 272 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 "Got your gun ready?" Quinton asked. 
 
 "Yes. But if you could manage to bring us 
 right over the German flyer I might singe his 
 wings for him. Ah, you 've done it ! " he cried, 
 a few moments later, and a bomb dropped. It 
 did not hit the machine full in the center, but 
 it broke through one of her wings and tore a 
 hole in it. It exploded, and the machine seemed 
 to crumple up, and fell headlong thousands of 
 feet. 
 
 "I'm going to put her full speed on, but keep 
 a hand on the gun. Drop some bombs over 
 those munition wagons if you can," cried Quin- 
 ton, who was piloting with all his old skill. He 
 was a master in an aeroplane, and this one 
 answered to his call as though it were a crea- 
 ture with life in it. When he wanted it to be 
 stationary, it yielded, and a bomb went down, 
 but missed the mark by a few yards. Even 
 thus, however, there was an explosion. An- 
 other followed, aimed with precision, and they 
 saw clearly the havoc it wrought. 
 
 "Now make for camp," cried Maurice; and 
 the aeroplane went swinging on. Her propeller 
 was whirling at fourteen hundred revolutions 
 a minute, and she seemed to leap on. A sound 
 came to them like the report of a revolver, and 
 there was a burst of shrapnel below; but none 
 of it touched them. Marjorie clasped her 
 hands, and gazed into her brother's face, but 
 he was so calm and unconcerned that her own 
 courage returned. 
 
 "There's nothing to fear, Sis, for Quinton
 
 THE GERMAN WAR-PLANE 273 
 
 is mounting out of reach. Look down and see 
 that!" 
 
 When she looked, she saw -the shrapnel 
 bursting very far below. 
 
 "Shall we be long now?" she asked, looking 
 round to Quinton, who smiled when he saw the 
 anxiety in her face. 
 
 "Less than half an hour." 
 
 The German lines were left behind them 
 while he spoke. Below them were the French 
 trenches, and Quinton, now that danger had 
 passed, and liberty was won, descended, 
 spiraling gracefully; and before long the aero- 
 plane had ended her journey, and was still. 
 
 The aeroplane had descended in the midst of 
 a number of French soldiers who had just been 
 withdrawn from the trenches. The sight of an 
 Allies' war-plane merely aroused interest, but 
 when they saw two men in German peasant 
 garb getting out of the machine, there was a 
 shout, half of execration and half of triumph, 
 and then a disorderly rush to hem in these two 
 enemy men who, for some reason or other, had 
 been forced to descend within the French lines. 
 
 While Maurice was helping Marjorie to step 
 out from her place two officers approached, each 
 with a drawn revolver, and simultaneously they 
 called on these supposed Germans to surrender. 
 
 By that time Marjorie had safely landed on 
 the grass, and her face was bright with laughter 
 after the great strain she had undergone, and 
 with the thought that she was now among 
 friends. She was startled for the moment to
 
 274 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 see two Frenchmen holding revolvers in readi- 
 ness, and the fierce looks of the soldiers who 
 were ringing them round, with loud and threat- 
 ening cries. But the moment he had safely 
 landed his sister, Maurice swung round, and 
 seeing the menace in the faces of the soldiers, 
 he burst into laughter. 
 
 ' 'Surrender!" cried one of the officers, laying 
 a hand on Maurice's shoulder, but at the same 
 time surprised to see that the supposed Ger- 
 mans' eyes were dancing with amusement. 
 
 "It's a mistake," cried Quinton, when the 
 other officer gripped his arm. "We are Eng- 
 lishmen. Be silent for one moment," he ex- 
 claimed, for the clamor around the little group 
 was so great that his words were not likely to 
 be heard. 
 
 "Silence," roared the loud-voiced senior 
 officer, who was staring at Marjorie, whose 
 pretty face was that of an English girl, just as 
 her dress was. She was certainly not German. 
 
 The noise died down, the only sounds being 
 that incessant roar of artillery and the rattle 
 of rifles in the trenches. The soldiers were 
 eager now, as they crowded around the pris- 
 oners, to hear what the explanation might be. 
 
 "You say you are Englishmen?" exclaimed 
 the officer, who was staring hard at Marjorie. 
 
 "Yes," said Quinton. "If you will give us 
 five minutes, we will explain; but pray, mon- 
 sieur, do not dig your fingers quite so fiercely 
 into my tender flesh. We have had plenty of, 
 rough treatment from German hands, and do
 
 THE GERMAN WAR-PLANE 275 
 
 not want a repetition at the hands of our 
 friends. ' ' 
 
 He spoke with a nonchalance which made the 
 Frenchmen stare at him in greater surprise. 
 
 "He doesn't look German," said one of the 
 soldiers. 
 
 ' ' Of course he 's German, ' ' another muttered. 
 "Look at his clothes made in Germany." He 
 stopped abruptly when his officer, taking his 
 hand from Maurice, swung round and faced the 
 speaker. 
 
 "Jacques, the order was for silence," he said 
 sharply. 
 
 "Pardon, monsieur. I only meant to whis- 
 per, but the sight of two Germans was too 
 much," was the whimsical answer, and the sol- 
 dier, whose head was bandaged, shrugged his 
 shoulders. 
 
 "Now for your explanation, monsieur," said 
 the Major. 
 
 In a silence that was intense, wherein the 
 Frenchmen listened spellbound, the story came, 
 and when it ended there was a roar of applause. 
 The soldiers gazed at these three, the pretty 
 English mademoiselle and the two supposed 
 German peasants ; then they turned their atten- 
 tion to the aeroplane, and their execrations at 
 the shameless deception rendered it impossible 
 for Maurice and the others, for some minutes, 
 to make themselves heard when they wished to 
 speak to the officer. 
 
 "Come with me," said the Major; but even 
 these words were not heard; and he moved
 
 276 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 away, holding Marjorie by the hand, and 
 beckoning to the others to follow. 
 
 "I fear, mademoiselle, you are tired," he 
 said gently, while they were going forward. 
 
 " Tired, monsieur!" exclaimed Marjorie, now 
 at ease, and her fears all gone. "I could lie 
 down anywhere here, among all this debris 
 and sleep. I think I could sleep on and on 
 for twenty-four hours; and oh, I am so 
 hungry!" 
 
 "I think we could eat our boots," said 
 Maurice, who had drawn level with the officer; 
 for in the excitement of their escape they had 
 left their bags of food in the hidden room of the 
 deserted mansion. "But for what we had in 
 that woman's farmhouse, we have not had a 
 good, square, wholesome meal since we were 
 made prisoners of war. And as for money to 
 buy one, we are stony broke. I have not so 
 much as a centime about me, but Quinton, 
 here, is the proud possessor of five German 
 marks." 
 
 "Four only," said Quinton, smiling, and 
 pulling out what loose coins he had in his 
 capacious pockets, and holding them in the 
 palm of his open hand for the Major to see. 
 "I had more, but lost them in our adventures, 
 when we had to put ourselves into all sorts of 
 postures." 
 
 The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and 
 laughed. 
 
 "You shall do what you English people call 
 what is it? Is it not 'go on tick'? You
 
 THE GERMAN WAR-PLANE 277 
 
 shall have a meal, mademoiselle, fit for a prin- 
 cess, and then sleep if you will for a week, and 
 wake to find that we have won several of the 
 German trenches, and made fine use of that 
 counterfeit aeroplane. Ah ! but here we are at 
 the General's quarters. A thousand pardons 
 for keeping you at starvation point ten minutes 
 longer, but it is my duty to report my prisoners 
 of war." 
 
 He laughed loudly, and passed into the house 
 with his companions, at whom the sentry 
 scowled, thinking them Germans, but looking 
 surprised to find an English girl among them. 
 
 "A spy!" Maurice heard him mutter, and 
 then the soldier spat on the ground in his con- 
 tempt. 
 
 The General was the Colonel, but now pro- 
 moted, who had met with Maurice when he 
 brought in his dispatch for General Joffre after 
 that dangerous ride and adventure in the bog; 
 but he did not recognize him in this compromis- 
 ing garb. He listened to the story as the Major 
 told it; then bade Maurice come forward. He 
 stepped up to the table, and then, at the wish 
 of the General, went to his side, where he stood 
 in the sunlight which played on his face. 
 
 "It is true!" he exclaimed, after a few mo- 
 ments' scrutiny. " 'Tis Lieutenant Millard!" 
 His hand went out and met Maurice's in a 
 hearty grip. "And is this your sister!" he 
 asked, turning to Marjorie. When Maurice 
 assured him that she was, he bade her and the 
 others follow.
 
 278 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 "Mademoiselle says she is hungry, General, 
 and could sleep for twenty-four hours on end," 
 said the Major, smiling. 
 
 "She shall have food and sleep. This lady 
 and these gentlemen are my guests until they 
 are rested sufficiently to travel to the British 
 camp," the General declared, leading them to 
 his own apartments, and handing them over to 
 the care of the maid. 
 
 Three days later Maurice and Quinton re- 
 ported themselves, and what knowledge they 
 brought with them of the enemy was carefully 
 noted by the British Staff. 
 
 "I think, Lieutenant Millard, you could do 
 with a rather prolonged leave of absence. You 
 and Quinton look as though you needed a bit 
 of rest, and you may start at once. Take 
 your sister with you, Lieutenant, and set your 
 father's and mother's minds at rest," said the 
 Commanding Officer in a tone so kind that all 
 three were greatly touched by his gentle con- 
 sideration. 
 
 They turned to go. Their papers were to be 
 sent to their billets that night, and arrange- 
 ments Would be made for them to start for 
 England in the morning. 
 
 "One word, Quinton," said the General, as 
 they were moving towards the door. "What 
 IB your rank!" 
 
 "Sergeant in the Flying Corps, General." 
 
 "Then you are promoted to a lieutenancy. 
 Will you see to that, Colonel Newton, and see,
 
 THE GERMAN WAR-PLANE 279 
 
 as well, that Lieutenant Quinton goes home 
 fully habilitated as such? And you, Millard. 
 Reports came in of your fighting in the 
 trenches. I have already sent forward a 
 recommendation for the Distinguished Conduct 
 Medal. I shall mention you again, and it will 
 count for promotion later on. When you re- 
 turn from leave I hope to hear that it has been 
 given into your hands. As for you, Quinton, 
 I cannot speak too highly of your fine stand 
 against the threat and temptation to disloyalty 
 in that German workshop. In my next dis- 
 patch, which goes to-night, you will be recom- 
 mended for the medal. Good-by." 
 
 The journey began next morning to Havre, 
 the idea being that the ship in which they sailed 
 should proceed to Plymouth. Before they left 
 Havre, Maurice sent a long telegram home, 
 telling them he was safe, and would some 
 day be home on leave, bringing Marjorie with 
 him. 
 
 "We'll give them a surprise, Sis, and get in 
 on the heels of that telegram," said Maurice, 
 as they came out of the telegraph office. Their 
 faces were full of happiness, for they were 
 thinking of the home-going, and of the joy of 
 being with the dear ones again after facing so 
 much peril. 
 
 The steamer was full of soldiers also going 
 home on leave, and she went out of the harbor 
 in the full glare of the sunshine which made the 
 waves sparkle. 
 
 "Isn't it lovely!" exclaimed Marjorie, as the
 
 280 
 
 ship rolled in passing out of the port. She 
 opened her mouth wide and breathed in the 
 salt sea air. ''It's better than the German 
 air," she said, turning her laughing eyes to 
 Maurice. "I shall never want to leave home 
 after this!"
 
 XX 
 HOME AGAIN 
 
 A FEW days later a taxicab drove up to the 
 floor of the house where Marjorie and 
 Maurice hoped to find their mother and 
 father. It was nearly breakfast time, and as 
 they entered the hall the maid, who received 
 them with a cry of delight, lifted her finger by 
 way of warning. 
 
 "We are at family prayers." 
 
 They crept to the door and opened it softly. 
 Their father was praying, and they heard the 
 words : 
 
 "Our trust is that the dear ones may come 
 home safely some day. We left them in God's 
 hands. ' ' 
 
 A moment more and the prayer was ended. 
 Marjorie could wait no longer. She flung the 
 door wide open, and entering, with Maurice at 
 her heels, they went to the arms of those who 
 had waited and prayed for their safe return. 
 
 The joy of that meeting was beyond words, 
 the first that were spoken coming from their 
 mother's lips. 
 
 "How shall I thank God enough?" she ex- 
 claimed, as she sat and watched the sun-burnt 
 travelers. "There never was a day in which 
 we did not ask God to take care of our dear 
 
 281
 
 282 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 ones. And just before you opened the door 
 your father was praying for your safe return. ' ' 
 
 "We heard him, mother," exclaimed Mar- 
 jorie, whose eyes were bright with tears, 
 although her face was full of smiles. Her 
 hand stole across to her mother's, and lifting 
 it she kissed it lovingly. 
 
 "Mother, I thought I should never see you 
 again, when the Germans took me to their 
 prison." 
 
 "But we were praying for you, dear." 
 
 "I knew you were, and that must be why we 
 are here, after all that Maurice and I have been 
 through. ' ' 
 
 Their father was sitting at the table watch- 
 ing. His heart was almost too full for him to 
 speak, but after a time he exclaimed : 
 
 "Tell us something of what you have gone 
 through, my dears," and Maurice, whose 
 fingers played with the lapel of his breast 
 pocket, waited while Marjorie told her story of 
 the storming of the school, and then of the 
 escape with the nuns, as well as of the days 
 which followed, when the German cavalry 
 swept into the yard of the Convent where the 
 Sisters had hoped the girls would be safe. It 
 was the beginning of new troubles for them all, 
 and those who listened to Marjorie's story felt 
 themselves thrill with distress when they heard 
 of her dangers and the persistent cruelties to 
 which she had been subjected, and the hatred 
 which was heaped upon her because she was an 
 English girl. But through it all she had striven
 
 HOME AGAIN 283 
 
 hard to keep up her courage, and day and night 
 she prayed that her father or brother would 
 come and fetch her, or that God would open up 
 the way of escape, so that she might get home 
 again. 
 
 And my dear brother came!" she exclaimed, 
 looking at him proudly. 
 
 "He came because God heard her prayer, 
 mother," said Maurice huskily. Then he told 
 of his own experiences, and of that question of 
 betrayal of his country in the German work- 
 shop. 
 
 "I am proud of my boy," said his father 
 quietly. "Yet it was what I expected, since 
 honor was so dear a thing to my son." 
 
 Maurice felt his heart throb at his father's 
 words, but his mind was on something else. He 
 drew out the Bible from his pocket and set it 
 down by his mother's hand. It was battered, 
 mud-stained, shabby, and broken with the shot 
 that had pierced it; but his mother, when she 
 saw it, picked it up and kissed it lovingly. 
 
 "You kept your promise," she said, in a 
 trembling voice, putting out her hand to draw 
 him close to her. 
 
 "Yes, mother," Maurice exclaimed. "I 
 promised and I never forgot; but more than 
 once I almost lost it." 
 
 "I was always proud of my boy and girl," 
 his mother cried, "but I am prouder than ever 
 now;" and when she looked at them they saw 
 that her eyes were gleaming. 
 
 Mr. Millard got up from the table and went
 
 284 AT HIS COUNTRY'S CALL 
 
 to the bureau. Unlocking it, he drew out a 
 tiny leather case and an official envelope. 
 
 "This is yours, Maurice, but because you 
 were away we opened it; and because of what 
 is there, your mother and I have been doubly 
 proud, and we have prayed more than ever that 
 you might be spared to come home and receive 
 them." 
 
 Maurice looked at his father. 
 
 ' * Open it, my boy, ' ' said Mr. Millard, his face 
 glowing with loving pride; and Marjorie by 
 this time had come round to see what these 
 things might be. Her arm went over her 
 brother's shoulder while he opened the tiny 
 case, which looked very much as though it con- 
 tained a jewel. He gasped when he saw on the 
 little velvet cushion the beautiful silver medal 
 of the Legion of Honor, and still more when he 
 opened the slip of paper which accompanied it, 
 saying that it came from the French Com- 
 mander in token of his valor in carrying the 
 dispatch to him that night when he lost his 
 motor-car in the marsh. 
 
 Marjorie picked it up and fastened it on his 
 khaki tunic, and stood back to look at it. 
 
 "Mother, isn't it beautiful?" she exclaimed 
 in ecstasy. 
 
 "There's something more yet," said her 
 father, and Maurice drew out the letter from 
 the official envelope. The letter was to tell him 
 that the report and recommendation had been 
 sent because of his service in so many ways. 
 Maurice was to receive the medal for distin-
 
 HOME AGAIN 285 
 
 guished conduct, and notice would be sent to 
 him as to when he was to come to London to 
 receive it. 
 
 1 'Father, it's too good to be true!" Maurice 
 cried, as the paper dropped from his fingers; 
 "but I feel I am not deserving of so great an 
 honor, though I have tried to do my bit in 
 answer to my Country's Call." 
 
 "And you have done it nobly and well, my 
 boy. Now we will kneel together and thank 
 God for all He has done for us, and to ask that 
 His blessing may be vouchsafed to each of us 
 in the future even as it has been in the past." 
 
 THE END 
 
 Printed in the United States of Amtriea
 
 FICTION, JUVENILE, ETC. 
 
 J. J. BELL Author of " Wee Macgresor" 
 
 Cupid in Oilskins 
 
 I2mo, cloth, net $1.00. 
 
 "Much of the charm of "Wee Macgreegor' and 'Oh 
 Christina' is found in this satisfying atory of love and war 
 'Charlie* is a gunner on a British patrol boat who is inspirec 
 to attempt the sinking of an enemy submarine partly from 
 devotion to a lass admired by many a lovelorn sailor. There 
 is fun in the story with patriotism and a high sense of honor 
 and withal a tenderness for which Bell's heroes and hero- 
 ines are noted." The Continent. 
 
 PROF. EDWARD A. STEIN ER Author of" The Immi- 
 
 grant Tide" etc. 
 
 The Doctor Dog 
 
 i6mo, boards, net SQC. 
 
 A famous author in a new vein. Taking for a theme his 
 possession when a boy of a little fox-terner. Prof. Steiner 
 furnishes some altogether delightful pictures of the land of 
 his childhood, and of the quaint manners and customs obtain- 
 ing in the land of the Carpathians. The story is given an 
 American application sequel, in which all Prof. Steiner's rich 
 endowment as a powerful and sympathetic writer finds full play. 
 
 A. FREDERICK COLLINS 
 
 The Magic of Science 
 
 Profusely Illustrated. I2mo, cloth, net $1.25. 
 
 Time will never hang heavily on the hands of the boy who 
 owns this book. It is a work that will appeal to every boy 
 r girl from nine to ninety. Its pages open up a practically 
 unending vista of entertainment, which is as much valuable 
 knowledge as k is diversion and amusement. Nearly one hun- 
 dred and fifty sketches illustrate the text. 
 
 FLORENCE PELTIER 
 
 Through the Rainbow 
 
 A Fairy Story. With Illustrations in color by 
 Clara P. Wilson, and in black and white by Jewel L. 
 Morrison. Small quarto, cloth, net $1.00. 
 
 In some respects the reader is reminded of "Alice in Won- 
 derland"; in others, met only by new, original fancies. A 
 book of sheer, unalloyed delight. To a captivating story told 
 in the freshest, most charming sort of way, an added wealtb 
 of illustrations, done both in color and black-and-white, com- 
 plete a "straight cut" to the heart of a cbild.
 
 FICTION 
 
 CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY AND SON 
 
 "WVh of Sfrfe1 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 
 w eo oi oieei THE K , NNEYS 
 
 A Story About a Father and Son by a Father and 
 Son for All Mankind, izmo, cloth, net $1.35. 
 
 "All who delight in adventure stories will find a thrill in 
 every chapter in this story by Cyras Townsend Brady." 
 Des Moines Capital. 
 
 ABE CORY 
 
 The Trail to the Hearts of Men 
 
 A Story of East and West. Illustrated, I2mo, 
 cloth, net $1.35. 
 
 A story of action and power with the scenes laid in China. 
 The hero is a man of high ideals, determined upon a life of 
 high purpose. Social ties including a sweetheart endeavor 
 to hold him, and he has to come to the cross-road of decision. 
 He chooses for his higher ideals to find in the long run, the 
 other things are his. There is much_of the spell of adventure 
 in the story, and some quickly-moving scenes that grip and 
 hold the reader with undiminished interest. 
 
 S. HALL YOUNG Author / "Alaska Dan with J,hn Mulr" 
 
 The Klondike Clan 
 
 Illustrated, I2mo, cloth, net $1.35. 
 
 Out of his wonderful experiences in the great Northwest, 
 Dr. S. Hall Young has evolved a story of breathless interest 
 dealing with the days of the Great Stampede to the Yukon in 
 the days of the gold craze. Dr. Young's adventures are real 
 adventures, through which he and those of whom he writes 
 literally passed. A book of vigour, interest and power. 
 
 WJTB "JUTCBENXR'S MOB* 
 
 Wee Macgreegor Enlists 
 
 Illustrated, I2mo, cloth, net $1.00. 
 
 "A rare and rollicking book, is this one. For all its fun, 
 it gives a graphic picture of present-day Scotland and the 
 Scotch. But, oh, it's the wee Mac and Private Thompson 
 and Christina that belong in the Caledonian Hall of Famel" 
 Evening Sun. 
 
 CHARLES H. LERRIGO Doe William's Stronghold 
 
 The Castle of Cheer 
 
 I2mo, cloth, net $1.25. 
 
 "One resounding note of optimism." "Doc Williams is a 
 benefactor of the race, for in these pages he succeeds in 
 instilling a note of cheer into the soul of a fellow-mortal. It 
 is a strong, inspiring, invigorating story, spicy with romance 
 and humor." The Continent.
 
 A 000124940 8