CHAPTER X
The Uhlan Patrol
Rollo was standing by his chum's motor-cycle when Kenneth left theColonel's quarters--a cottage standing well apart from the rest of thevillage.
"Thought you'd be off somewhere when the Colonel sent for you, oldman," he said. "Well, I could go with you, but I feel absolutelyrotten. Look here," and Barrington opened his coat and displayed thetops of two soda-water bottles, "I managed to get hold of these. Takeone."
"No, thanks," replied Kenneth. "You want them a jolly sight more thanI do."
"But you must," persisted Rollo. "It's fearfully hot to-day. Besides,I think I can get hold of some more."
"All right," agreed his chum reluctantly, and taking one of the bottleshe placed it in the outside breast-pocket of his coat, resolving torestore it intact upon his return.
The request of the Colonel of the 9th Regiment was most essential. Tothe north of Omal was a gap of nearly two miles in the Belgian line, asa portion of one of the brigades had failed to take up its allottedposition. Omal was a salient angle in the defenders' formation, andshould the village be carried by the Germans the Belgian army would besplit asunder by the wedge-like advance of their far more numerous foes.
Although the country was fairly open Kenneth rode cautiously. It was anerve-racking ordeal, since every bush or tree might be affordingconcealment to the Uhlans, who were known to have already penetratedfar into the country. Almost as dangerous were the Belgian guerrillas,who often fired indiscriminately upon any man in a uniform that theyfailed to recognize.
But beyond being twice stopped by Belgian patrols and made to producehis military pass, Kenneth reached his destination without beingmolested. He delivered his message, receiving a reply that amachine-gun detachment would be sent off as quickly as possible, andset off on his return journey.
Perhaps the fact that he had but recently passed along the same roadwithout difficulty made him slightly reckless. He increased his speedtill the motor-cycle was travelling at nearly forty miles an hour.
Soon he came to a straight, narrow road lined with gaunt trees--one ofthe avenues that are a common feature in the eastern part of Belgium.Suddenly he gave a gasp of surprise. A horseman had just appeared atthe farthermost end of the avenue. At first the lad took him to be oneof the Belgian lancers, whose similarity to the German Uhlans wassomewhat pronounced, but a rapidly nearing view assured him that theman was one of the enemy.
Another Uhlan joined the first. They both lowered their lances andwaited.
Kenneth slipped out his clutch and applied both brakes. Themotor-cycle came quickly to a stop, the engine running furiously, whilethe open "cut-out" emitted a rapid succession of sharp reports like thedetonations of a Maxim-gun.
There was yet time to turn his cycle, remount, and escape by the way hehad come, he reasoned; but, even as he was in the act of facing about,he made the additionally disconcerting discovery that his retreat wascut off. Five or six Uhlans had evidently been in ambush, and, havingallowed the solitary dispatch-rider to pass them, were waiting toassist in his capture. The ditch and the trees formed an impassablebarrier for the heavy motor-cycle; while without it flight was almostout of the question, when it was the case of a man on foot pursued bythe fleet Uhlan horses.
For one brief instant the thought of surrendering tamely flashedthrough the lad's mind. He bore no written dispatch; his capture wouldresult in no important information being gained by the enemy. Itseemed the easiest solution to the problem.
"I'm dashed if I do," ejaculated Kenneth, banishing the temptationalmost as soon as it suggested itself. "Here goes; it's neck ornothing."
He was back in the saddle in double-quick time. With the clutch in andthe engine barking furiously he tore towards the two Uhlans, who weresitting on their horses at a distance of about fifty yards from eachother.
Kenneth drew his revolver. With his right hand thus occupied, throttleand air lever had to take care of themselves. At thirty miles an hourhe tore towards the nearmost of his antagonists.
The Uhlan lowered his lance-point. He was trembling to such an extentthat the glittering point was describing erratic curves in thesunlight. His resolution had vanished at the sight of therapidly-approaching motor-cycle. His horse began to rear, alarmed bythe loud and rapid pulsations of the engine.
Kenneth's hopes rose. He saw the possibility of being able to slippast the plunging, terrified animal, and in order to improve hischances he let fly a couple of shots, both of which missed their mark.
No longer was the long lance a menace. The Uhlan's whole efforts werecentred in trying to keep his seat, while the now maddened animalsnorted and plunged in a most frantic manner.
Still grasping his revolver, although he made no further attempt to useit, the young dispatch-rider placed his wrist upon the righthandle-grip in order to steady the steering. He shut his jaw tightly.The critical moment was nigh.
Suddenly the horse backed, barring the narrow path to safety. Kennethsaw in the fraction of a second that a collision was inevitable. Hehad a momentary glimpse of the Uhlan's panic-stricken face, his staringeyes and wide-open mouth--then crash!
KENNETH HAD A MOMENTARY GLIMPSE OF THE UHLAN'SPANIC-STRICKEN FACE ... THEN CRASH!]
Hardly knowing whether he was injured or not, Kenneth scrambled to hisfeet. His motor-cycle was on its side within a yard of the prostrateand still kicking horse. His revolver had vanished. In his fall ithad flown from his grasp into the ditch. The Uhlan lay upon the groundmotionless--whether killed or merely stunned the lad knew not; nor hadhe an opportunity to ascertain, for in front of him was another German,and four hundred yards behind him the five or six who had cut off hisretreat.
The man in front had succeeded in regaining control over his lessstartled horse and, lance in rest, bore down upon the defencelessmotor-cyclist.
Hardly knowing how he did it, Kenneth cleared the ditch and sought atemporary refuge behind a tree. He realized that the respite would bebut a brief one, for on the approach of the rest of the patrol his"number would be up". Infuriated by the mishap to their comrade, thesavage Uhlans, whose chief mission it was to strike terror into theinhabitants of a conquered district, would not be likely to givequarter.
Suddenly Kenneth's hand came in contact with the soda-water bottle thatRollo had pressed upon him. He drew it from his pocket, and as theUhlan rode up to the edge of the ditch he dashed it to the ground atthe feet of the restless horse.
The result exceeded the lad's wildest expectations, for the bottlebroke with a report almost equal to that of a small shell. Fragmentsof glass flew in all directions. The horse reared, maddened by theslight wounds caused by the sharp pieces of the broken bottle. Itsrider, quite as terrified, formed but one conclusion, that thedesperate Belgian (as he took Kenneth to be) was armed with bombs.Spurring his horse he rode for dear life towards his comrades, who,rendered cautious at the sight of two of their number being worsted,hesitated to advance.
Kenneth, too, was on the horns of a dilemma. To all appearances hiscycle was hopelessly damaged, and although the road was clear he stoodlittle chance of escaping from the rest of the Uhlans. To remain wherehe was was equally hazardous. With his revolver in his possession hewould readily have made a brave stand, but the weapon was lying in fivefeet of mud and water.
Suddenly came the tap, tap, tap of a machine-gun. The rest of theUhlan patrol broke and fled across the fields, leaving two of theirnumber writhing on the ground. Another had his horse shot under him,but, quite callous to their comrades' fate, the three remainingfugitives never slackened rein, their sole thoughts being for their ownsafety.
Kenneth recrossed the ditch--far less agilely than he had a few momentsbefore, for his thigh was aching dully. He could see no signs of hisrescuers. The fire had evidently been a long-range one.
He made his way to his motor-cycle. With considerable effort he raisedit and placed it on its stand. Upon examination he found that thedamage done
was not so great as he fully expected. The actualcollision had smashed the lamp and bent the stem of the handle-bars,but, thanks to the powerful springs, the front forks had stood thesevere strain of the impact. The controls were intact, while the onlyother damage was that the left foot-rest was bent. In falling sidewaysthe weight of the cycle had been thrown upon this exposed part, whichhad, to a great extent, saved the machine.
At the second attempt the motor fired. The hind wheel revolved withoutshowing any signs of wobbling. The lad gave a whoop of delight; hisprecious mount was still serviceable.
He next directed his attention towards the Uhlan whom, in navalparlance, he had "rammed". The fellow had been stunned by the fallfrom his horse, but was on the point of regaining consciousness.
"You look a tough customer, my friend," soliloquized the lad as helooked upon the coarse, brutal features of his vanquished assailant."I think you will be quite capable of looking after yourself, withoutrequiring any attention from me. I'll take your helmet as a souvenir,though; and, while I am about it, I think I'll stop you from doingfurther mischief."
With this Kenneth removed the Uhlan's sword, lance, and carbine. Thelance, being made of light steel, he broke into three pieces; the otherweapons and the German's ammunition he threw into the ditch to keepcompany with his own revolver.
While thus engaged the motor-cyclist perceived the approach of a bodyof men accompanied by dogs. They were the Belgian machine-gun batterywhose fire had effectually routed the Uhlan patrol.
"They'll be at Omal before me," thought Kenneth. "I suppose it wouldbe best to stop and explain matters; for if I made off they might takeit into their heads to pot me."
"So you have settled with one of this scum," exclaimed the Belgianmajor in charge of the detachment as he returned Kenneth's salute. "Mafoi! I am of a mind to shoot him."
"But he is a prisoner of war," expostulated the lad.
The Belgian shrugged his shoulders.
"You have but to go to that burning cottage"--he pointed to a buildingabout a mile and a half away--"to see what these wretches have beendoing. A whole family of inoffensive peasants shot--men, women, andchildren. Yes, children," he added, noting the incredulous look on theBritish lad's face.
"However, we Belgians must set an example to those savages," continuedthe officer. "We will at least take him with us, and put him on a fairtrial. But you are unarmed: how did you vanquish this fellow?"
Kenneth told him. The Belgian major and those of his men who werewithin ear-shot simply roared with laughter.
"Charged his horse with your motor-cycle, and frightened away anotherUhlan with a soda-water bottle!" exclaimed the officer when herecovered himself. "Excellent! It shows that these Germans are not aquarter as formidable as they would have us believe. Were you hurt?"
"Only bruised a little, sir. But, with your permission, I will go, oryour men will be with my regiment before I am."
The lad ran his cycle and vaulted into the saddle. The motor ran aswell as before, and, beyond a slight difficulty in the steering, it wasnone the worse for its rough handling. The damage to the lamp matteredbut little, as, by night, riding lights were forbidden, since theymight betray the rider to the enemy.
Having reported the success of his mission and the approach of thedog-drawn machine-gun detachment, Kenneth went to find his chum.
Rollo was sitting, in company with others of the dispatch-ridersection, in a shelter made of branches of trees and rough thatch.
"Hullo, old man!" he exclaimed. "What have you there--a Uhlan helmet?And what's the matter with your bike?"
Kenneth explained, and afterwards had to repeat his story in French forthe benefit of the others.
"I will help you to straighten the handle-bars," volunteered one of theBelgian cyclists, who was a motor-repairer by trade. "Meanwhile, ifyou are desirous of sending that helmet to your friends in England, youwill do well to pack it up at once. There is a dispatch leaving forBrussels within half an hour."
"I wonder what the governor will say to this," observed Kenneth as hedirected the bulky package. "My first trophy! Goodness only knowswhen we shall hear from home."
The lads had already written to their respective parents informing themof the drastic step they had taken, but, owing to the dislocation ofthe postal service, no reply had been forthcoming, and they had hardlyexpected one.
It took two hours' hard work in the blazing sunshine for Kenneth andhis Belgian friend to set the motorcycle to rights.
"If I hadn't been so inconsiderate as to throw that bottle ofsoda-water away we might have had a decent drink," observed Kenneth ashe fanned his perspiring brow.
"Never mind," rejoined Rollo. "You might have drunk it as soon as Igave you the bottle; in which case I don't suppose you would have feltthe benefit of it now."
"I don't suppose I would," agreed Kenneth grimly.
The Dispatch-Riders: The Adventures of Two British Motor-cyclists in the Great War Page 10