The Forest of Swords: A Story of Paris and the Marne

"Today is like yesterday," he said.

"How can you tell?" asked Weber.

"Because the fire on both flanks is slowly moving eastward, that is, the Germans there are yielding ground. My ears, trained to note such things, tell me so. My friend, I am not mistaken."

He spoke gravely, without exultation, but John took fresh hope from his words. Toward night the fire in their front died somewhat, and after sunset it sank lower, but they still heard a prodigious volume of firing on both flanks. John remembered then that they had eaten nothing since morning, but when some of the prisoners who spoke German requested food it was served to them.

Night came over what seemed to be a drawn battle at this point, and after eating his brief supper John saw the automobiles and stretchers bringing in the wounded. They passed him in thousands and thousands, hurt in every conceivable manner. At first he could scarcely bear to look at them, but it was astonishing how soon one hardened to such sights.

The wounded were being carried to improvised hospitals in the rear, but so far as John knew the dead were left on the field. The Germans with their usual thorough system worked rapidly and smoothly, but he noticed that the fires were but very few. There was but little light in the wood of Sénouart or the hills beyond, and there was little, too, on the ridges that marked the French position.

John kept near the edges of the space allotted to the prisoners, hoping that he might again see von Arnheim. He had discovered early that the Germans were unusually kind to Americans, and the fact that he had been taken fighting against them did not prevent them from showing generous treatment. The officer in charge of the guard even wanted to talk to him about the war and prove to him how jealousy had caused the other nations to set upon Germany. But John evaded him and continued to look for the young prince who was serving as a mere lieutenant.

It was about an hour after dark when he caught his first glimpse of von Arnheim, and he was really glad to see that he was not wounded.

"I've come to tell you, Mr. Scott," said von Arnheim, "that all of you must march at once. You will cross the Marne, and then pass as prisoners into Germany. You will be well treated there and I think you can probably secure your release on condition that you return to your own country and take no further part in the war."

John shook his head.

"I don't expect any harshness from the Germans," he said, "but I'm in this war to stay, if the bullets and shells will let me. I warn you now that I'm going to escape."

Von Arnheim laughed pleasantly.

"It's fair of you to give us warning of your intentions," he said, "but I don't think you'll have much chance. You must get ready to start at once."

"I take it," said John, "that our departure means the departure of the German army also."

Von Arnheim opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it again suddenly.

"It's only a deduction of mine," said John.

Von Arnheim nodded in farewell and hurried away.

"Now I'm sure," said John to Fleury a few minutes later, "that this army is going to withdraw."

"I think so too," said Fleury. "I can yet hear the fire of the cannon on either flank and it has certainly moved to the east. In my opinion, my friend, both German wings have been defeated, and this central army is compelled to fall back because it's left without supports. But we'll soon see. They can't hide from us the evidences of retreat."

The prisoners now marched in a long file in the moonlight across the fields, and John soon recognized the proof that Fleury was right. The German army was retreating. There were innumerable dull, rumbling sounds, made by the cannon and motors of all kinds passing along the roads, and at times also he heard the heavy tramp of scores of thousands marching in a direction that did not lead to Paris.

John began to think now of Lannes. Would he come? Was Weber right when he credited to him a knowledge near to omniscience? How was it possible for him to pick out a friend in all that huge morass of battle! And yet he had a wonderful, almost an unreasoning faith in Philip, and, as always when he thought of him, he looked up at the heavens.

It was an average night, one in which large objects should be visible in the skies, and he saw several aeroplanes almost over their heads, while the rattle of a dirigible came from a point further toward the east.

The aeroplane was bound to be German, but as John looked he saw a sleek shape darting high over them all and flying eastward. Intuition, or perhaps it was something in the motion and shape of the machine, made him believe it was the Arrow. It must be the Arrow! And Lannes must be in it! High over the army and high over the German planes it darted forward like a swallow and disappeared in a cloud of white mist. His hair lifted a little, and a thrill ran down his spine.

He still looked up as he walked along, and there was the sleek shape again! It had come back out of the white mist, and was circling over the German planes, flying with the speed and certainty of an eagle. He saw three of the German machines whirl about and begin to mount as if they would examine the stranger. But the solitary plane began to rise again in a series of dazzling circles. Up, up it went, as if it would penetrate the last and thinnest layer of air, until it reached the dark and empty void beyond.

The Arrow—he was sure it could be no other—was quickly lost in the infinite heights, and then the German planes were lost, too, but they soon came back, although the Arrow did not. It had probably returned to some point over the French line or had gone eastward beyond the Germans.

John felt that he had again seen a sign. He remembered how he and Lannes had drawn hope from omens when they were looking at the Arc de Triomphe, and a similar hope sprang up now. Weber was right! Lannes would come to his rescue. Some thought or impulse yet unknown would guide him.

Light clouds now drifted up from the southwest, and all the aeroplanes were hidden, but the heavy murmur of the marching army went on. The puffing and clashing of innumerable automobiles came from the roads also, though John soon ceased to pay attention to them. As the hours passed, he felt an increased weariness. He had sat still almost the whole day, but the strain of the watching and waiting had been as great as that of the walking now was. He wondered if the guards would ever let them stop.

They waded another brook, passed through another wood and then they were ordered to halt. The guards announced that they could sleep, as they would go no farther that night. The men did not lie down. They fell, and each lay where he fell, and in whatever position he had assumed when falling.

John was conscious of hearing the order, of striking the grass full length, and he knew nothing more until the next morning when he was aroused by Fleury. He saw a whitish dawn with much mist floating over the fields, and he believed that a large river, probably the Marne, must be near.

As far as he could see the ground was covered with German soldiers. They too had dropped at the command to stop, and had gone to sleep as they were falling. The majority of them still slept.

"What is it, Fleury? Why did you wake me up?" asked John.

"The river Marne is close by, and I'm sure that the Germans are going to retreat across it. I had an idea that possibly we might escape while there's so much mist. They can't watch us very closely while they have so much else to do, and doubtless they would care but little if some of us did escape."

"We'll certainly look for the chance. Can you see any sign of the French pursuit?"

"Not yet, but our people will surely follow. They're still at it already on the flanks!"

The distant thunder of cannon came from both right and left.

"A third day of fighting is at hand," said Fleury.

"And it will be followed by a fourth."

"And a fifth."

"But we shall continue to drive the enemy away."

Both spoke with the utmost confidence. Having seen their armies victorious for two days they had no doubt they would win again. All that morning they listened to the sounds of combat, although they saw much less than on the day before. The prisoners were in a little wood, where they lay down at times, and then, restless and anxious, would stand on tiptoe again, seeking to see at least a corner of the battle.

John and Fleury were standing near noon at the edge of the wood, when a small body of Uhlans halted close by. Being not more than fifty in number, John judged that they were scouts, and the foaming mouths of their horses showing that they had been ridden hard, confirmed him in the opinion. They were only fifty or sixty yards from him, and although they were motionless for some time, their eager faces showed that they were waiting for some movement.

It was pure chance, but John happened to be looking at a rather large man who sat his horse easily, his gloved hand resting on his thigh. He saw distinctly that his face was very ruddy and covered with beads of perspiration. Then man and horse together fell to the ground as if struck by a bolt of lightning. The man did not move at all, but the horse kicked for a few moments and lay still.

There was a shout of mingled amazement and horror from the other Uhlans, and it found its echo in John's own mind. He saw one of the men look up, and he looked up also. A dark shape hovered overhead. Something small and black, and then another and another fell from it and shot downward into the group of Uhlans. A second man was hurled from his horse and lay still upon the ground. Again John felt that thrill of horror and amazement.

"What is it? What is it?" he cried.

"I think it's the steel arrow," said Fleury, pressing a little further forward and standing on tiptoe. "As well as I can see, the first passed entirely through the head of the man and then broke the backbone of the horse beneath him."

John saw one of the Uhlans, who had dismounted, holding up a short, heavy steel weapon, a dart rather than an arrow, its weight adjusted so that it was sure to fall point downward. Coming from such a height John did not wonder that it had pierced both horse and rider, and as he looked another, falling near the Uhlan, struck deep into the earth.

"There goes the aeroplane that did it," said John to Fleury, pointing upward.

It hovered a minute or two longer and flew swiftly back toward the French lines, pursued vainly a portion of the distance by the German Taubes.

"A new weapon of death," said Fleury. "The fighters move in the air, under the water, on the earth, everywhere."

"The Uhlans are off again," said John. "Whatever their duty was the steel arrows have sent them on it in a hurry."

"And we're about to move too. See, these batteries are limbering up preparatory to a withdrawal."

Inside of fifteen minutes they were again marching eastward, though slowly and with the roar of battle going on as fiercely behind them as ever. John heard again from some of the talk of the guards that the Germans had five armies along their whole line, but whether the one with which he was now a prisoner was falling back with its whole force he had no way of knowing. Both he and Fleury were sure the prisoners themselves would soon cross the Marne, and that large detachments of the enemy would go with them.

Thoughts of escape returned. Crossing a river in battle was a perilous operation, entailing much confusion, and the chance might come at the Marne. They could see too that the Germans were now being pressed harder. The French shells were coming faster and with more deadly precision. Now and then they exploded among the masses of German infantry, and once or twice they struck close to the captives.

"It would be a pity to be killed by our own people," said Fleury.

"And at such a time as this," said John. "Do you know, Fleury, that my greatest fear about getting killed is that then I wouldn't know how this war is going to end?"

"I feel that way myself sometimes. Look, there's the Marne! See its waters shining! It's the mark of the first great stage in the German retreat."

"I wonder how we're going to cross. I suppose the bridges will be crowded with artillery and men. It might pay the Germans just to let us go."

"They won't do that. There's nothing in their rules about liberating prisoners, and they wouldn't hear of such a thing, anyhow, trouble or no trouble."

"I see some boats, and I fancy we'll cross on them. I wonder if we couldn't make what we call in my country a get-away, while we're waiting for the embarkation."

"If our gunners become much more accurate our get-away, as you call it, will be into the next life."

Two huge shells had burst near, and, although none of the flying metal struck them, their faces were stung by fine dirt. When John brushed the dust out of his eyes he saw that he was right in his surmise about the crossing in boats, but wrong about probable delays in embarkation. The German machine even in retreat worked with neatness and dispatch. There were three boats, and the first relay of prisoners, including John and Fleury, was hurried into them. A bridge farther down the stream rumbled heavily as the artillery crossed on it. But the French force was coming closer and closer. A shell struck in the river sixty or eighty feet from them and the water rose in a cataract. Some of the prisoners had been put at the oars and they, like the Germans, showed eagerness to reach the other side. John noted the landing, a narrow entrance between thick clumps of willows, and he confessed to himself that he too would feel better when they were on the farther bank.

The Marne is not a wide river, and a few powerful pulls at the oars sent them near to the landing. But at that moment a shell whistled through the air, plunged into the water and exploded practically beneath the boat.

John was hurled upward in a gush of foam and water, and then, when he dropped back, the Marne received him in its bosom.

CHAPTER VIII

THE SPORT OF KINGS

John Scott, who was suffering from his second immersion in a French river, came up with mouth, eyes and nose full of water. The stream around him was crowded with men swimming or with those who had reached water shallow enough to permit of wading. As well as he could see, the shell had done no damage besides giving them a huge bath, of which every one stood in much need.

But he had a keen and active mind and it never worked quicker than it did now. He had thought his chance for escape might come in the confusion of a hurried crossing, and here it was. He dived and swam down the stream toward the willows that lined the bank. When he could hold his breath no longer he came up in one of the thickest clumps. The water reached to his waist there, and standing on the bottom in all the density of willows and bushes he was hidden thoroughly from all except watchful searchers. And who would miss him at such a time, and who, if missing, would take the trouble to look for him while the French cannon were thundering upon them and a perilous crossing was to be made?

It was all so ridiculously easy. He knew that he had nothing to do but stand close while the men pulled themselves out of the river and the remaining boats made their passage. For further protection he moved into water deep enough to reach to his neck, while he still retained the cover of the willows and bushes. Here he watched the German troops pass over, and listened to the heavy cannonade. He soon noted that the Germans, after crossing, were taking up strong positions on the other side. He could tell it from the tremendous artillery fire that came from their side of the Marne.

John now found that his position, while safe from observation, was far from comfortable. The chill of the water began to creep into his bones and more shells struck unpleasantly near. Another fell into the river and he was blinded for a moment by the violent showers of foam and spray. He began to feel uneasy. If the German and French armies were going to fight each other from the opposing sides of the Marne he would be held there indefinitely, either to be killed by a shell or bullet or to drown from cramp.

But time passed and he saw no chance of leaving his watery lair. The chill went further into his bones. He was lonesome too. He longed for the companionship of Fleury, and he wondered what had become of him. He sincerely hoped that he too had reached a covert and that they should meet again.

No rumbling came from the bridge below, and, glancing down the stream, John saw that it was empty. There must be many other bridges over the Marne, but he believed that the German armies had now crossed it, and would devote their energy to a new attack. He was squarely between the lines and he did not see any chance to escape until darkness.

He looked up and saw a bright sun and blue skies. Night was distant, and so far as he was concerned it might be a year away. If two armies were firing shells directly at a man they must hit him in an hour or two, and if not, a polar stream such as the Marne had now become would certainly freeze him to death. He had no idea French rivers could be so cold. The Marne must be fed by a whole flock of glaciers.

His teeth began to chatter violently, and then he took stern hold of himself. He felt that he was allowing his imagination to run away with him, and he rebuked John Scott sternly and often for such foolishness. He tried to get some warmth into his veins by jumping up and down in the water, but it was of little avail. Yet he stood it another hour. Then he made one more long and critical examination of the ground.

Shells were now screaming high overhead, but nobody was in sight. He judged that it was now an artillery battle, with the foes perhaps three or four miles apart, and, leaving the willows, he crept out upon the bank. It was the side held by the Germans, but he knew that if he attempted to swim the river to the other bank he would be taken with cramps and would drown.

There was a little patch of long grass about ten yards from the river, and, crawling to it, he lay down. The grass rose a foot high on either side of him, but the sun, bright and hot, shone directly down upon his face and body. It felt wonderfully good after that long submersion in the Marne. Removing all his heavy wet clothing, he wrung the water out of it as much as he could, and lay back in a state of nature, for both himself and his clothing to dry. Meanwhile, in order to avoid cold, he stretched and tensed his muscles for a quarter of an hour before he lay still again.

A wonderful warmth and restfulness flowed back into his veins. He had feared chills and a serious illness, but he knew now that they would not come. Youth, wiry and seasoned by hard campaigning, would quickly recover, but knowing that, for the present, he could neither go forward nor backward, he luxuriated in the grass, while the sun sucked the damp out of his clothing.

Meanwhile the battle was raging over his head and he scarcely noticed it. The shells whistled and shrieked incessantly, but, midway between the contending lines, he felt that they were no longer likely to drop near. So he relaxed, and a dreamy feeling crept over him. He could hear the murmur of insects in the grass, and he reflected that the smaller one was, the safer one was. A shell was not likely to take any notice of a gnat.

He felt of his clothing. It was not dry yet and he would wait a little longer. Anyhow, what was the use of hurrying? He turned over on his side and continued to luxuriate in the long grass.

The warmth and dryness had sent the blood pulsing in a strong flood through his veins once more, and the mental rebound came too. Although he lay immediately between two gigantic armies which were sending showers of metal at each other along a line of many miles, he considered his escape sure and the thought of personal danger disappeared. If one only had something to eat! It is curious how the normal instincts and wants of man assert themselves even under the most dangerous conditions. He began to think of the good German brown bread and the hot sausage that he had devoured, and the hot coffee that he had drunk. One could eat the food of an enemy without compunction.

But it was folly to move, even to seek dinner or supper, while the shells were flying in such quantities over his head. As he turned once more and lay on his back he caught glimpses as of swift shadows passing high above, and the whistling and screaming of shells and shrapnel was continuous. It was true that a missile might fall short and find him in the grass, but he considered the possibility remote and it did not give him a tremor. As he was sure now that he would suffer no bodily ill from his long bath in the Marne he might remain in the grass until night and then creep away. Blessed night! It was the kindly veil for all fugitives, and no one ever awaited it with more eagerness than John Scott.

The sun was now well beyond the zenith, and its golden darts came indirectly. His clothing was thoroughly dry at last, and he put it on again. Clad anew he was tempted to seek escape at once, but the sound of a footstep caused him to lie down in the shelter of the grass again.

His ear was now against the earth and the footsteps were much more distinct. He was sure that they were made by a horse, and he believed that a Uhlan was riding near. He remembered how long and sharp their lances were, and he was grateful that the grass was so thick and tall. He longed for the automatic revolver that had been such a trusty friend, but the Germans had taken it long since, and he was wholly unarmed.

He was afraid to raise his head high enough to see the horseman, lest he be seen, but the footsteps, as if fate had a grudge against him, were coming nearer. His blood grew hot in a kind of rebellion against chance, or the power that directed the universe. It was really a grim joke that, after having escaped so much, a mere wandering scout of a Uhlan should pick him up, so to speak, on the point of his lance.

He pressed hard against the earth. He would have pressed himself into it if he could, and imagination, the deceiver, made him think that he was doing so. The temptation to raise his head above the grass and look became more violent, but will held him firm and he still lay flat.

Then he noticed that the hoofbeats wandered about in an irregular, aimless fashion. Not even a scout hunting a good position for observation would ride in such a way, and becoming more daring he raised his head slowly, until he could peep over the grass stems. He saw a horse, fifteen or twenty feet from him, but without rider, bridle or saddle. It was a black horse of gigantic build like a Percheron, with feet as large as a half-bushel measure, and a huge rough mane.

The horse saw John and gazed at him out of great, mild, limpid eyes. The young American thought he beheld fright there and the desire for companionship. The animal, probably belonging to some farmer who had fled before the armies, had wandered into the battle area, seeking the human friends to whom he was so used, and nothing living was more harmless than he. He reminded John in some ways of those stalwart and honest peasants who were so ruthlessly made into cannon food by the gigantic and infinitely more dangerous Tammany that rules the seventy million Germans.

The horse walked nearer and the look in his eyes became so full of terror and the need of man's support that for the time he stood as a human being in John's imagination.

"Poor old horse!" he called, "I'm sorry for you, but your case is no worse than mine. Here we both are, wishing harm to nobody, but with a million men shooting over our backs."

The horse, emboldened by the friendly voice, came nearer and nuzzled at the human friend whom he had found so opportunely, and who, although so much smaller than himself, was, as he knew, so much more powerful. This human comrade would show him what to do and protect him from all harm. But John took alarm. He too found pleasure in having a comrade, even if it were only a horse, but the animal would probably attract the attention of scouts or skirmishers. He tried to shoo him away, but for a long time the horse would not move. At last he pulled a heavy bunch of grass, wadded it together and threw it in his face.

The horse, staring at him reproachfully, turned and walked away. John's lively fancy saw a tear in the huge, luminous eye, and his conscience smote him hard.