CHAPTER XIX.
RABBIT'S FOOT FOR LUCK.
FOR an hour the Russians in front of the rocky rise, where Schneiderand Henri stood sentinel over the prostrate Austrian officer, hadmaintained an ominous silence.
Not a shot had been fired in the mentioned time, and no opportunity hadbeen afforded the champion stone roller to make another ten-strike inrepulsing attack.
"You can put it in your pipe and smoke it that this brooding over theremeans no good to us."
While Henri was not addicted to the pipe, he accepted the figure ofspeech, and fully agreed with his companion that the calm had sinisterportent.
"The minute is about ripe," he volunteered, "for us to make ourselvesscarce."
That Schneider was in accord with the proposition had evidence inthe action of removing his boots. To cross a cavity that lowered twohundred feet or more on the unstable and untried support of a fallenpine warranted every precaution. There could be no crawling for theventuresome bricktop. He had human freight to carry on his back.
"Sorry to disturb you, captain," he apologized to the invalid soldier,"but it has to be done."
Henri, keeping watch at the front, sounded a note of alarm:
"Quick! I see what they're doing--it's a spread, and a three-corneredcharge--they've stolen to the bushes right and left, and the firinggang in the middle is prepared to pot us if we show head or hand!"
Schneider bent to the task of lifting Schwimmer, the latter groaning atthe movement.
Henri, balanced by Schneider's boots thonged over one shoulder and theknapsack swinging from the other, made a dash for the slender bridge.He had determined to first essay the perilous passage, and test thesolidity required to bear the fourfold weight that would follow.
A single misstep, and for the error maker there yawned a pit of death,a mangling on jagged rocks lashed by the ice-laden rush of a brawlingmountain stream.
But, sure-footed as the native chamois, with never a falter nor abackward look, the boy made the crossing, backed against the mound ofupturned earth in which the roots of the fallen pine were imbedded,and fixed apprehensive eyes upon the burdened Schneider bravely andsteadily advancing over the shaking bridge. Once the boy fanciedthat, with the earth clods tumbling from the mound behind, the wholestructure was about to give, and he instinctively reached out for whatwould have been a vain endeavor to prevent the threatened disaster.
A moment later, with mingled sighs of exertion and relief, the man andboy clasped hands--on solid ground once more. The wounded officer hadnot realized other than that he suffered by the necessary lifting ofhis nerve-racked body.
Hardly a second, though, for the silent congratulation. On the levelthe defenders had just quitted in such thrilling manner swarmed Russianpursuers, seeking with fierce activity those who had conducted bafflingresistance for several hours.
"Hear them yell," said Henri in suppressed tone.
"It's a sound better for the distance."
As Schneider made this comment he set shoulder against theroot-threaded mound that anchored the fallen pine. With cracking ofstraining sinew the powerful pusher put every ounce of his wonderfulstrength into the effort of dislodgment. Thrice he failed, and then,with a tearing, grinding give, the mass loosened; another heave, and,as the perspiring giant threw himself backward, just escaping the void,the great trunk left its moorings and crashed with a tremendous showerof soil and stone into the abyss.
Schneider in a jiffy, and breathing like a porpoise, dragged on hisboots, again picked up the feebly remonstrating captain, and led Henria merry chase around a rocky bend into the bush-grown level tabledbetween this and the next mountainous range.
Finally halting, and now beyond hearing of the whoops of thediscomfited Russians, apprised of the escape of their prey by thecrashing fall of the old pine, Schneider indulged in a cheer on his ownaccount.
"Tough sledding, my boy, but a clean pair of heels to the gentlemenwith the sheepskin overcoats. I don't know what's coming next, yet wecan count on a 'next' coming."
Henri had to put in a sad word, owing to the depletion of the foodstore--the knapsack contained less than two days' rations for one man.
The eyes of the two aviators met in meaning glance--meaning that theremaining food should all be reserved for the ailing soldier, nowsleeping quietly in his blanket roll.
Many a time in the hours of weary tramping did the aviators tightentheir belts, but without a single utterance of complaint or bemoaningof sad fate. To the gnawings of hunger happily were not added thetorments of thirst. Snow and ice served that desire.
The rations were sparingly fed to the invalid, who, unsuspiciousof the sacrifice of his slowly starving companions, appeared to begaining a measure of strength. He expressed sorrow that he must soburden Schneider in the march, noting that the latter had begun tooccasionally stumble and stagger under the load.
"Don't you bother a bit, captain," as often assured the valiantaviator, "we will run into a friendly camp before long, and you will bein fighting trim before the moon changes again."
On the quiet to Henri, however, the big fellow confided that rest hoursmust lengthen if he had to fare much farther as a carrier.
He had discovered that in one of his revolvers there were still twocartridges that had not been exploded, and this find was due to theintention of throwing away these weapons as useless and cumbersome anda lucky farewell inspection of the long-possessed arms.
Schneider was a famous shot, with these same pistols had won severaltrophies, and, too, in war service had with them seldom failed to stopan antagonist lusting for his own life.
"Two bullets and three human lives at stake," he mused, weighing therevolver in his right hand, and aiming it at some imaginary livingtarget. Several times during the day both Henri and himself had notedhare tracks in the snow, and Schneider even talked in a hopeful way ofrigging up some sort of trap in the night. While the boy was inclinedto be doubtful as to their possible success as trappers, under thecircumstances, he did not spoil sport, in the mind of his companion, byadverse argument.
Now there was something tangible in the anticipation that Schneidermight stalk and shoot a rabbit, and so hearten the weakened wayfarersto renew the battle for existence. They were beginning to lag withevery additional mile traversed.
"Here is a good place to rest," announced Henri, whose sharp eyes hadmarked the mouth of a cave among the bushes covering the sides of theridge, along which line the footsore travelers had been continuouslyplodding for an hour or more.
"We can't stop too quick to suit me," said Schneider, easing his livingburden to the ground.
The cave was shallow, but ample in dimensions for the three invaders,clean and dry, and containing a quantity of dried moss.
Comfortably placing the invalid, Schneider dropped like a log in histracks. He was completely exhausted, and knew no more of discomfort orthe waking world until roused by Henri vigorously tugging at his coatsleeve. "There's game in sight," excitedly whispered the boy, "bringyour revolver; crawl, and don't make any noise!"
The suddenly awakened sleeper rubbed his eyes, and, comprehending whatwas wanted, instantly produced the trusty shooting iron, and as quicklycrawled to the mouth of the cave. Henri pointed a trembling hand tothe little clearing a few yards below them.
Several hares, pure white, were hopping about, scratching and burrowingin the brown loam, there free of snow.
Schneider had for a second an attack of nerves, similar to that feverin the amateur Nimrod when first blundering upon the wallow of a buckdeer.
Henri gave the shaking marksman a poke in the ribs.
"Shoot, old scout, or give me the gun!"
By the poke and the hissed demand, Schneider was himself again.
He drew bead on the nearest hare, and with the puff of smoke fromthe revolver muzzle the little animal made a frantic leap, endingin a complete somersault and an inert heap of fur. Another whiplikecrack--and over went a second rabbit, stopped on the first jump tocov
er.
"Another cartridge or two and I would have potted the lot," boastedSchneider, "but even a pair of them is a mighty big draw for us."
Henri missed these remarks, for he was Johnny-on-the-spot to retrievethe game.
The pistol practice had startled Captain Schwimmer from a doze, and hewas under impression that his friends were fighting off another attackby the Russians. The captain had begun to take notice of and interestin what was going on about him.
Raising himself on his elbows, he saw the result of the shooting matchin the pair of plump bunnies swinging across Henri's shoulder when theboy capered into the cave.
It occurred to the captain to inspect the knapsack upon which his headhad been pillowed. "Is this all the food in the camp?" he questioned,handling the few scraps in the sack.
Henri nodded in the affirmative, taken unawares by the quick query.
"And I have been eating my fill regularly on this march, have I not?"
"I hope you have not been hungry, captain," evaded Henri, realizingthat the officer was putting two and two together.
"I see it all now," exclaimed the invalid, "you two have starvedyourselves that I might live."
"Shucks, captain, don't put it that way: the rations were yours in thefirst place, and, besides, look at the glorious feast we're all goingto have."
Henri's attempt to lightly pass the soldier's revolt against theself-denial practiced by Schneider and himself resulted only in theinvalid turning face downward on the nearly empty knapsack, his emotionshown by convulsive movement between the shoulders.
Schneider, wise unto himself, had kept out of the discussion, and hadpractically contributed to the settlement of the hunger question byneatly skinning and cleaning the hare meat.
A hasty fire of dried moss and twigs and Schneider's big knife utilizedas a spit raised a savory odor in the cave, and the picking of one setof bones that evening helped a lot to revive courage and hope. Thecaptain, "by the doctor's orders," was compelled to accept his share.
The other hare made the breakfast for the third day out. Schneideralleged that he had a hunch that this rabbit business had turned thescale of luck, and to insure the belief he carefully pocketed the lefthind foot of one of the animals.
During the morning the pedestrians, rested and fed, moved in fine stylefor the first few miles, Schneider stoutly holding to the efficacy of arabbit's foot as a luck producer.
At the foot of the summit finally cutting off the level over which theparty had been so long traveling, it was in order to do some climbing.
"It will give us a chance to look around," cheerfully observed Henri,"and which chance isn't coming to us down here."
Halfway up the height the boy was again heard from. He insisted that hehad seen a flock of eagles in the western sky.
"Eagles your foot," bantered Schneider; "whoever saw a flock of eagles?"
"Wild geese, then," insisted Henri.
"How many did you see?" quizzed Schneider.
"Five or six, maybe."
"Guess again," laughed the big fellow; "geese would be lonesome if thatwas all in a flight."
"Have it any way you please; I suppose you will be claiming next that Iam suffering with liver spots."
Henri was a bit nettled that Schneider did not take seriously his skystory.
About twenty minutes later, Henri called another halt. "Now, oldscout," he cried triumphantly, "just look up for yourself and say whatyou would call 'em."
Schneider, shading his eyes under a hand, scanned the blue expanseabove. "By the great hornspoon," he almost shouted, "I believe they'reaeroplanes!"
Henri was more than willing to be convinced that such was the fact.
"What do you think about it, captain?"
Schwimmer had from the first joined in the sky-gazing contest.
"I think our friend Schneider has solved the problem. I never saw areal bird with exactly that motion."
The blots on the sky were increasing in size.
"It's a sure thing," hurrahed Henri, "and they're circling for alanding!"
"Perhaps they're Russians," mildly suggested the captain.
"Not while I'm carrying this rabbit's foot," firmly asserted Schneider.
Our Young Aeroplane Scouts in Germany; or, Winning the Iron Cross Page 19