The Guns of Europe

"It's lucky," said John, "that this army has flying machines of its own. If it didn't the Germans would be raining bombs upon us."

Carstairs shuddered.

"There's something heathenish and uncanny about it," he said. "Soldiers, by Jove, have to watch nowadays. If you're on the ship looking for an enemy of your size the little submarine down under the water may blow you to pieces, and if you're on the land holding your own against another army a little aeroplane away up in the sky may drop a bomb that will shatter you into seven million pieces."

"It's a hard world, Carstairs," said Wharton, "but I think discomfort rather than danger will come out of the sky tonight. The clouds are piling up and there'll be heavy rain. John, you little old flying man, won't that stop the Taubes?"

"They wouldn't venture much in a heavy rain, and I think we're safe from them, but you know that what their fliers can do ours can do too."

"That being the case I'll settle myself for rest and sleep. The French show us a lot of consideration as we've volunteered to fight for them, and there are tents for the Strangers. You're to have a place in ours."

John was grateful and said so. The strain of the last few days would have overpowered him, but luckily he was exceedingly strong and tenacious. Yet he was so tired that he could scarcely walk, and he was very very glad to go into the tent with Carstairs and Wharton. He received two blankets, and, putting one under him and the other over him, he lay near the open flap, where he could get a good view of much that was going on outside.

He soon saw that it was to be no storm of thunder and lightning, but a heavy soaking rain. The air too had turned colder, and he was grateful for the blankets. He was becoming inured to hardship so fast that they and the tent were as luxurious to him as a modern hotel would have seemed two weeks before.

Carstairs and Wharton, after a short combat in words, fell sound asleep, but John lingered a little. He saw the fires burning smokily, and French soldiers passing before the blaze. From where he lay he could also see far out upon the plain that lay before them. But everything there was veiled in heavy mists and low clouds. Although an army of perhaps a hundred thousand men was only a short distance away the night disclosed no trace of it.

The rain began to fall soon, coming down as John had foreseen in a strong, steady pour. The sound on the heavy canvas was so soothing that his nerves relaxed and he slept. He was awakened at an unearthly hour by the strong hand of Captain Colton pulling at his shoulder.

As soon as John realized that it was his commanding officer he sprang to his feet and saluted, although his eyes were yet heavy with sleep. It was still raining and the water poured from a heavy cape coat that Captain Colton wore over his uniform. Carstairs and Wharton were already on their feet.

"You three are chosen for a mission," said Captain Colton, "and I'll tell it to you as briefly as I can. We've received news tonight that another German force is coming from the northeast. If it gets upon our flank we're lost, but there is a French army, and perhaps an English force with it or near it to the west. If they can be brought up in time they will protect our flank and save us – and also themselves. But we must have trusty messengers. The flying machines can do little in the storm. So we fall back on the ancient agencies. Can you ride, Mr. Scott?"

"Yes sir."

"Then you three are to go at once. Other messengers will ride forth, but I should feel very proud, if it were the Strangers who brought help."

The little appeal was not lost on the three. He rapidly gave them instructions about the point, at which the second French force was supposed to be, and told them to ride for it as hard as they could, giving to them sealed despatches also. Their own army would be falling back meanwhile.

"Both Carstairs and Wharton know this region and the roads," he said to John, "and you keep with them. Are you ready?"

"Yes sir," answered the three together.

They stepped out into the rain, but forgetful of it. An orderly was holding three horses. In an instant, they were in the saddle and away. They passed through the lines and came out upon one of the splendid French roads, the three abreast. The rain was beating in their faces, but the orderly had tied cloaks to their saddles, and now they wrapped them about their bodies.

But John minded neither darkness, cold nor rain. Sensitive and quiet there was some quality in him that always responded to the call of high adventure. His mind was never keener, never more alert, and all his strength of body had returned. Wharton and Carstairs rode on either side of him, and he felt already as if they had been friends of years, knitted to him by a thousand dangers shared.

He looked back once at the intrenched camp, but the descent and curve of the road already hid it in the darkness. He saw nothing but the black outline of the hills, and low clouds floating across the whole horizon. Ahead was a blank. He was in one of the most thickly populated regions of the world, crowded with cities, but in the darkness and storm it looked like a wilderness.

Neither of his comrades spoke for a long time. He stole a look at his watch, and saw that it was three o'clock in the morning. They crossed two small rivers, foaming like torrents, and at the bridges reined into a walk, lest the hoof-beats be heard too far. But they did not meet any human being. Save for the road and the bridges the aspect of a wilderness was complete. John knew that numerous villages lay near, but in such a world war the people would put out their lights and keep close in their houses.

They turned after a while into a smaller road, leading more toward the north.

"The Uhlans may be in our rear," said Carstairs. "They seem to be everywhere, and we don't want to be cut off just at the beginning of our ride."

"Rein in," said Wharton. "I hear cavalry passing on the road we've just left."

"Speak of Uhlans, and they appear," whispered John.

They were Uhlans, no doubt. John recognized the helmets, but the men were riding back toward the armies. He and his two comrades kept their horses in the shadow of the bushes, and were in dread lest some movement of their animals betray them, but the droning of the rain was the only sound made. The Uhlans, about forty in number, rode on and the darkness swallowed them up.

"Since they've gone about their business we'd better go about ours," said Wharton.

"Those are the first wise words I've heard you speak in a half hour," said Carstairs.

"It's the first time I've spoken at all in a half hour," said Wharton.

"Which way do we go now?" asked John.

"Over a hill and far away," replied Carstairs. "To be more explicit we're coming to the hill now, and about daylight we'll reach a little village, where I think we'd better get food and news. You'll like the country, John, when it stops raining and the sunlight comes. Oh, it's a fair land, this land of France."

"I've seen enough of it to know that," said John. "Lead on, and I'll be glad to reach the next village. A wind has set up, and this rain cuts cruelly."

Carstairs rode in front, and for more than an hour they breasted the storm almost in silence. They climbed the hill, passed down the other side, crossed numerous brooks, and then saw reluctant daylight appearing through the rain.

John with the new caution that he had learned looked up. But the clouds were so heavy that he saw nothing there, not a dirigible, not a Taube, nor any form of aeroplane. Traveling, even on the business of an army, was still better on land.

"There's our village," said Wharton, pointing to a pleasant valley in which tiled roofs and the spire of a church showed.

"And there we'll be in fifteen minutes," said Carstairs. "I'm full of enthusiasm for the mission on which we ride as you two are also of course, but it will fairly overflow after I have a good warm breakfast."

Despite the earliness of the hour peasants were up and they watched with curiosity the three horsemen who approached. But enough of the uniform of the strangers showed, despite their cloaks, to indicate that they belonged to the French army, and they were welcome. An old man with a scythe, pointed toward an inn, and the three, increasing their speed, rode straight for it.

"I hope they'll have good coffee," said John.

"And fine bread," said Carstairs.

"And choice bacon," said Wharton.

"And plenty of eggs to go with the bacon," said John.

It was but a little village, forty or fifty houses, set among the hills, but in times of peace many people must have gone that way, because it had one of the best road inns that John had ever entered. They were early but the landlord soon had the flames going in a wide fire-place, before which the three stood, warming themselves and drying their clothes. And the heavy aromas arising promised that the coffee, bacon and all the rest would be everything they wished.

A boy held their horses near the main door which stood open that they might see. The three were a unit on this precaution. If by any possible chance their horses were lost their mission in all likelihood would be lost too. John, new recruit, nevertheless felt the full importance of watching. He stood with his back to the fire, where he could see the sturdy French boy, the reins of the three horses in his hands.

But he did not forget how good that fire felt. The great cape had not been able to protect him wholly from the rain, and, despite the excitement of their ride, he had become conscious that he was cold and wet. Now the grateful warmth penetrated to his bones, and vitality returned.

As he remained there, turning about a little before the fire but always keeping his eyes on the door, he saw the villagers come down in the rain and look in, some at the open door and some at the windows. None of them spoke, but all gazed intently at the three in French uniform who stood before the fire.

John knew why they had come and he was singularly moved by their silent, pathetic stare. They were hoping to hear good news, at least one little bit of it – these good French villagers whose soil was trodden again by an enemy who seemed invincible. Just as the breakfast was being laid upon the table the landlord said to them:

"Have you nothing for these brave people of ours, who, as you see, wait at the windows? They are the old men, the very young and the women. All the others are gone to the war. Yesterday we heard the sound of guns for a long time. Have you no success to report for France?"

The three shook their heads sadly and Wharton replied for them.

"Not yet," he said. "We belong to the French army engaged in the battle that you heard yesterday. But it was driven back again. The Germans come in overwhelming force, and we cannot withstand their numbers, but we were able to draw off with all our guns and leave them no prisoners."

The landlord said nothing in reply, but presently all those wistful and waiting faces disappeared. Then the breakfast was ready, and a fourth traveler, wet and cold as they had been, arrived. John saw him give the reins of his horse to the waiting boy before he came to the door, where he stood a moment, awaiting the landlord's welcome.