CHAPTER XV
FURRY RESCUERS
The satisfaction that Tom felt at having in his pocket the confessionof Martel helped to make his imprisonment much more bearable in theweek that followed. His heart warmed at the thought of the delightFrank would feel in clearing up the matter that had long laid heavyupon his mother's mind.
For the conviction never left him that some time he was going to putthat confession in his friend's hand. He had escaped before fromGerman captivity, not once but twice. What he had done then he woulddo again. And every minute of his waking hours found that active brainof his working hard at the problem.
He confessed to himself that the solution would not be easy. Theguards were many and were changed frequently. The windows of the oldbarracks where he slept were fortified with steel bars, and the opencamp where the prisoners were employed in outside work was surroundedwith wires through which a strong electric current ran. To touch themwould mean instant death, and they were so close together that it wouldbe impossible to squeeze through without touching.
He fell to studying the routine of the various conveyances that wereconstantly arriving and departing. Some of them brought bales ofgoods, others barrels. The latter were especially common. They werein a part of the country that abounded in vineyards, and greathogsheads of wine were being constantly brought in to supply thedemands of the division stationed there.
They did not stay full long. The German officers were notoriouslyheavy drinkers, and there were days when there were great drayloads ofempty hogsheads ready to be taken away to be refilled.
Tom developed a great interest in these hogsheads. The work of loadingthem on the drays was performed by prisoners, and he managed to be inthe vicinity as often as possible to help. He was stronger than mostof the prisoners and he worked with such good will at loading the bulkyhogsheads that little by little it became a habit with the guards toassign him to this work whenever it was to be done.
A day came when the rain poured down in torrents. Tom had waited andprayed for just such a day. The air was full of fog and a cloud ofsteam rose from the horses' backs. Everything in the prison yard wasdim and gray and spectral. The guards were enveloped in heavyraincoats and the flaps of oilskin on their caps fell halfway overtheir faces.
Tom had managed to get on one of the trucks and was tugging at one ofthe hogsheads to make room for others further back. Other prisonerswere lifting on the last hogsheads. Tom leaned over one of thehogsheads and suddenly let himself go into it headfirst. It was allover in a flash.
There was an awful moment of suspense. Had anyone seen him? Helistened intently. No shout was raised. Nothing happened out of theusual.
The driver climbed up to his seat and the horses started. There was amomentary delay as the gates were opened to let him pass. Then thehorses started on a jog trot and the truck was bumping its way over anuneven country road. A thrill of exultation shot through Tom,crouching at the bottom of the hogshead. He had made the first step onthe road to freedom.
He was still in the most imminent danger. At any moment he might hearthe clattering of horsemen in pursuit. And he knew the kind oftreatment he would get if he were recaptured.
How to get out of the hogshead without detection was another problem.But this worried him least of all. He felt sure that the driver wouldstop at the first tavern he came across to refresh himself. Then hewould make his break.
His faith was justified, for before long the truck came to a halt andthe driver got down. The weather had driven all the tavern idlersindoors and the streets of the little hamlet were deserted. Like aneel, Tom squirmed over the edge of the hogshead, dropped into theroadway on the side of the truck away from the tavern, and, withassumed carelessness, went on down the road.
A few rods brought him into the open country. He had not the leastidea where he was. In the gloom he could not tell which was north orsouth or east or west. But for the moment he was free.
He made his way across some fields in the direction of a dark fringe ofwoods. There he would find shelter for the present. It would be apoor kind of shelter, but just then Tom asked nothing better. The daywould bring counsel.
For some days past he had been stowing away fragments from his scantymeals in his pockets. They were only dry and mouldy crusts, but theywould at least sustain life.
Up in the streaming woods he hollowed out a place under a fallen tree.He was drenched to the skin, but he was so exhausted with the strain hehad undergone that no bodily discomfort could prevent his fallingasleep.
When he awoke the rain had ceased and the sun was striking through thebranches of the trees. With the morning came new courage. He wouldyet win through.
He studied the sun and got a general idea of the direction in which hemust go. He knew that the American lines lay to the south and west.He could hear the distant thunder of the guns.
All that day he traveled in the friendly shadow of the woods. He didnot dare to approach a cottage or go to any of the peasants he couldsee working in the fields. Some of them, he felt sure, would befriendhim, but at any moment he might come in contact with one of theoppressors who held the land in their grip. He would take no chances.
His food was almost gone now although he had husbanded it with thegreatest care. But he tightened his belt and kept on.
On the morning of the second day he was crossing a small brook and wasjust stepping up on the other side when a wet stone rolled beneath hisfoot and threw him headlong. His head struck a jagged stump and he laythere stunned.
When he regained consciousness, he found himself looking into the faceof a German officer who was amusing himself by kicking the youth.
"Awake, are you, Yankee pig?" the officer greeted him. "It's time. Ihad half a mind to give you a bayonet thrust and put you to sleepforever. You needn't tell me how you came here. I know. You're theschweinhund that escaped two days ago. Here," he called to some of hismen, "tie this fellow and throw him over a horse. We'll settle hiscase later on."
The command was promptly obeyed and poor Tom found himself once more inthe grasp of his foes. And from this captivity there seemed littlepromise of escape. The deadly purpose of the brute who held him in hispower had been plainly written on his face.
After what seemed an endless journey, the party reached a farmhouse.The detachment took possession of the place and an orgy of pillage anddestruction ensued. Tom was taken to an upper room and thrown roughlyon the floor. Here he lay bound hand and foot. He could hear cries ofterror and smashing of furniture going on below.
He had no companion but his own thoughts, except when some of thedrunken roysterers invaded his room to remind him of the rope that hungover the tree near the well and to drive home the information withkicks of their heavy boots.
His thoughts were black and bitter. This, then, was the end. He wasto be hung to furnish an occasion of laughter to a horde of drunkenbrutes. Well, there would be no whine from him. He would show themhow an American could die.
His attention was attracted by a pattering of tiny feet. He looked inthe direction from which the sound came.
A rat had emerged from a hole in the corner and was busy nibbling alump of cheese that had been dropped by one of the soldiers who hadjust left. The nibbling ceased as Tom turned his head and the ratscurried back to the corner. There he stayed, his bright eyes lookinglongingly at the cheese.
A thought shot through Tom's mind that set him tingling from head tofoot. Was it possible? Of course it was only a forlorn hope. But hewould try it. He would be no worse off if it failed.
He rolled himself over to the cheese and rubbed the rope that tied hishand in the soft substance until it was thoroughly smeared with it.Then he lay on his side with his hands outstretched and pretended tosleep.
Through his nearly closed lids he watched the rat. For some minutes itstayed motionless. Tom never moved a muscle. Then the rat creptstealthily forward, and, with many half retreats, at
last started in tonibble at the rope to get the cheese. Soon another rat came and thenanother.
Tom conquered the sense of repulsion that their close proximityinspired in him. His life depended on his self-control. The leastmovement might send them scurrying back to their holes. And out in theyard there was that rope that hung from the tree near the well!
So he nerved himself and his reward came at last. He could feel thetension of the rope yielding as one strand after another was torn bythe tiny teeth of his unknowing rescuers.
Finally they ceased and sat up on their haunches washing their faces,and the need for inaction had passed. With a mighty effort Tomstrained at the rope and it snapped.
He could have shouted with exultation. He waved his arms in the airand the frightened rats vanished. He rubbed his hands and arms untilthe circulation came back. It was an easy matter then to untie therope that bound his feet.
The noise on the floor beneath had ceased, He stole to the window andlooked out. No one was stirring in the space around the house. Heshuddered as he saw the dangling rope on the tree near the well.
There was the sound of a stealthy step below. Tom drew his head fromthe window. Standing in the shadow of the frame he could see a younggirl emerge and run swiftly away.
Where were the others? Consulting perhaps as to how they could get themost enjoyment from the spectacle of his hanging.
There was only one way of exit that promised safety. He must escape bythe window.
He measured with his eye the distance from the ground. It seemed to beabout eighteen feet. He himself was six feet high. That would leave aclear drop of twelve feet. He could probably make it without injury.At any rate he had no choice.
He let himself down gently with his hands and dropped. The shockbrought him to his knees, but he arose unhurt.
The next moment he was racing for the woods with the speed of the wind.
Army Boys on the Firing Line; or, Holding Back the German Drive Page 15