CHAPTER XIX
NICK RABIG UNDER ARREST
It might have been expected that a sleepless night would have followedthe raid. But the young Americans were far too healthy and theirnerves were already becoming too well steeled to let the Germans, likeMacbeth, "murder sleep." Their eyes closed almost as soon as theirheads touched the pillows, not to open again until reveille sounded thenext morning.
They were a little more subdued than usual, however, as they dressed,for there was poor Fred's empty cot and some dark red blotches on thefloor to remind them of their comrade's plight and their own narrowescape.
"I wonder how Fred's getting along," said Tom, voicing the generalthought.
"All right, I hope," returned Frank. "It will make him sore to becooped up now with a broken leg, just when the boys are putting thefinishing touches on their training."
They were relieved to find on inquiry after breakfast, that Fred wasdoing finely, that the wound in his head was negligible and that thebreak in his leg was a simple fracture so that in six weeks he wouldprobably be as well as ever.
"The old scout will have one satisfaction, anyway," said Bart. "He'sthe first one in our bunch who has actually shed his blood for UncleSam."
"Gee, he beat us to it," agreed Tom. "But don't worry, we'll haveplenty of chances later on."
In the interval before drill, they strolled about the old mill, seekingtraces of the visitation of the night before. These were easilyvisible for there were immense shell holes where the bombs had buriedthemselves in the earth.
They found one of the missiles that had not exploded. Bart was aboutto pick it up when Frank shouted a warning.
"Nix on that funny business!" he cried. "You never can tell when thosefellows will start working."
"Yes," added Bart. "Those fingers of yours will come in handy lateron. You'll need them in your business."
"Yes," remarked their corporal, Wilson, who sauntered up to them at themoment. "For all we know that thing may have been fixed so that itwouldn't explode when it struck the ground but would the minutesomebody picked it up and commenced fooling with it. The only safe wayis to give them all a wide berth.
The corporal was popular with the men directly under him, and althoughhe was a strict disciplinarian and kept the men up to their work, therewas nothing petty or tyrannical about him. And the respect the men hadfor him was heightened by the stories that were told in the regiment ofthe adventures he had undergone.
For he had been a rover over the earth, and in his short life of thirtyyears had passed through more exciting scenes than fall to the lot ofmost men in a lifetime. He had been a miner in Australia, had riddenthe ranges in Arizona, "mushed" in the Klondike, and been at one time amember of the famous Canadian Mounted Police. He was quiet andreserved, never boasting of his exploits and extremely efficient inanything he set about to do. He was a dead shot and could shoot fromthe hip with either hand. A coin tossed into the air at a distance offifty feet he could clip four times out of five.
On one occasion the boys had been astonished eye witnesses of hisshooting. The nine of clubs had been pinned to a tree sixty pacesdistant and Wilson, pulling the trigger so quickly that the eye couldscarcely follow, had wiped out the spots in nine successive shots.
He was as courageous as he was skilful, and in case of trouble could becounted on as one of the most valuable members of the regiment.
So that when he showed a disposition to depart from his usual reserveand take part in the conversation the boys made room for him withalacrity.
"Fritz is full of cunning little tricks," the corporal continued."They played the fountain pen game and got a lot of our fellows beforethe Allies got wise to it."
"That's a new one on me," said Frank. "What is the fountain pen game?"
"Why," answered Corporal Wilson, as he seated himself comfortably on anearby rock and struck a match for his pipe, "the Heinies in the firstline trenches when our boys went over the top and drove them out usedto leave behind them a lot of their stuff because they usually skippedin a hurry.
"One of our boys would find a fountain pen among other things and thinkhe had a prize, but the first time he started to unscrew the cap thething would explode and smash his hand to bits. We've got a good manycripples in the ranks on account of that. But the game's played outnow, and they'll have to think up a new one."
"We ought to get even with them for that," said Tom.
"Oh, we've got even all right," grinned the corporal. "We worked themon the hand grenades. You know how it is sometimes, when the firstline trenches are facing each other. A Frenchman or a Britisher throwsover a hand grenade, the Hun catches it on the wing, as it were, if itsa long time fuse and throws it back in the hope that it will explode inthe Allied trenches and thus become a boomerang."
"Rather a risky game I call it," said Billy. "It wouldn't be any funto have one of those gentle little things go off in your hand."
"That's where the trick comes in," said the Corporal. "You know ofcourse, there are two kinds of fuses. The short time fuse has redthreads in it, the long time fuse hasn't. If the German sees thatthere are none of these red threads in the fuse of the grenade thatdrops near him he figures he's got time to throw it back.
"Well, one of the British Tommies had a bright idea and he carefullypicked all the red threads out of a short time fuse. Then he zipped itover. Of course the Heinie picked it up, thinking it was a long timerand that was about all for Heinie. It blew him and all the men nearhim to German headquarters."
"To German headquarters," said Bart, wonderingly. "I don't get you."
The corporal grinned.
"Haven't you heard that?" he said. "A British Tommy wrote home thathe'd had pretty good luck through the war for he'd sent a dozen Germansto Hades. The British censor scratched out the word, 'Hades' and wroteabove it, 'It is not permitted to refer to German headquarters'."
The boys laughed.
"And yet they say the British haven't a sense of humor," commentedFrank.
"That's why I say," summed up the corporal, "that you've got to bemighty careful in handling all these contraptions. A fool and hisfingers are soon parted."
"Does he mean me?" asked Bart with a grin.
"You've said something," agreed Billy, with unflattering frankness.
The corporal strolled on.
"Fine fellow, that Wilson," remarked Frank.
"He's all of that," agreed Billy, who having been with him when theregiment was on the Mexican border knew him better than his companionsdid. "That fellow could lick his weight in wildcats. There isn'tanything he's afraid to tackle. I heard a story about him once thatyou fellows wouldn't believe if I told you."
"Let's hear it," said Bart.
"Shoot," chimed in Tom. "We'll see about believing it after we'veheard what it is."
"It happened down in Nicaragua," went on Billy. "Caribtown, I think itwas, or some place near there. There was some little dinky revolutiongoing on and Wilson it seems had gone down there on some filibusteringexpedition. He drank pretty freely in those days though he doesn'ttouch a drop now.
"It seems he was in one of the town resorts when he heard talk about aboa constrictor that had recently been captured and confined in a bigcage. The snakes down there don't measure more than ten or twelvefeet, but they can easily crush a man if they get their coils aroundhim.
"Wilson just then had got into a condition where he was ready to fighta regiment, and he sneered at their fear of the snake. They egged himon until he boasted that he would be willing to meet the snake in aclose room with nothing but a knife. The riffraff there called hisbluff and it was arranged that the fight should take place the nextmorning."
"Some contract!" ejaculated Tom.
"Is this straight goods, Billy, or are you getting us on a string?"asked Bart suspiciously.
"On the dead level," answered Billy. "I had it from a fellow who wasdown there at the time and knew all about it."
"Well," continued Billy, "when Wilson woke up the next morning herealized what he was up against. But he was as game as a pebble, andthough he knew the odds were against him he wouldn't back out.
"The snake, that had been teased and irritated until it was burstingwith rage, was dumped from its cage into a back room of the resort.Then Wilson, armed only with a long knife that they had lent him, wentin and shut the door behind him, while the natives crowded around thewindows to see the fight.
"The instant the snake saw Wilson he reared up almost to the ceilingand flung himself at the man's throat. Wilson dodged and the fangscaught him in the shoulder. Wilson slashed savagely at the coils thatwere trying to coil themselves around his body and they staggeredaround the room. But the knife failed to reach a vital spot andfinally one of the folds got around Wilson's legs and he fell to thefloor, still stabbing savagely. The snake had won the first round, andit promised to be the last."
There was a gasp from Billy's listeners but their interest was tootense to permit of any interruption.
"Just then," continued Billy, "something happened. One of the nativeswho had a little more humanity than the rest of the crowd had sculledoff to an American gunboat that was lying in the harbor, and told ofthe scrap that was going to be pulled off. The captain sent over asquad of marines with a rush and they got there just in time to breakin the door and hack the snake to pieces with their cutlasses. Anotherminute and it would have been all over. As it was, Wilson wasunconscious, and it was some weeks before he came around ship-shape."
"What a daring thing that was to do!" ejaculated Frank.
"He certainly was there with the nerve!" exclaimed Bart.
"I'll bet he hasn't had any use for snakes since then," added Tom.
"In one way it was a good thing," said Billy, "for it made Wilson swearoff from drinking and he's never touched liquor since. You see how heis now, as steady as a church."
"Well," commented Bart, "he'll have all the fighting he wants from nowon."
"Yes," agreed Frank with a laugh, "with snakes that wear helmets."
"Look who's here, boys!" exclaimed Tom suddenly, as they saw foursoldiers approaching with a prisoner under guard.
"Why, it's Nick Rabig!" they exclaimed in unison as they recognized theburly figure that slouched sullenly along between the quartetteguarding him.
"What has he been up to, now, I wonder?" questioned Billy curiously asthey sauntered forward to intercept the party.
Rabig favored them with a scowl that had rarely been absent from hisface since he had been caught in the draft.
"What's the trouble?" asked Frank of the leader of the file, whom hehappened to know.
"Insubordination," was the terse response. "Refused to salute anofficer."
"Putting him in the jug on general principles," volunteered another,who was more communicative. "He's been shirking ever since he gothere."
"A bad egg," added the third. "It's lucky there aren't many of histype among the boys. The Huns would have an easy job if they were alllike him."
They passed on to the building that served as a guardhouse, and which,be it said to the credit of the boys in France, had very few inmates.For the discipline of the camp was strict and the spirit of the men wasgood. They felt that they stood to the French for what America was andthey tried to live up to the high standards laid down for them bygenerations of American ancestors.
"I think that's the best place for Nick," commented Tom as the doorsclosed behind the prisoner. "He's a surly brute and he might affectothers. One rotten apple in a barrel can spoil the whole barrelful."
"He's no good," said Bart. "Remember how he used to talk on the otherside? I'll bet at this minute he'd rather be wearing a Prussian helmetthan an American uniform."
"Sure thing," said Billy. "'_Die Wacht am Rhine_' is the only music hecares to hear."
At this moment Corporal Wilson returned with a paper in his hand uponwhich he had been noting down the assignments of the day.
"Two of you fellows are in for guard duty," he said, consulting hislist. "You, Sheldon, and Raymond will serve till after mess."
He passed on and Bart made a wry face when his back was turned.
"Sweet job!" he muttered.
"Orders are orders," replied Frank, as they shouldered their guns andmarched down to the guardhouse.
They began to pace back and forth, exchanging a word now and then atthe point where their beats adjoined.
Nick Rabig was lounging at the barred window in an evil temper. Ifanything could have added to his anger it was the fact that the twoyoung soldiers he most detested had been chosen to stand guard over himand witness his humiliation.
Frank's generous nature sensed the prisoner's feeling, and hestudiously avoided catching his glance or taking any notice of him.
But Rabig, incapable of appreciating Frank's motive, chose to interpretthis as studied contempt, and his rage flamed forth in a coarse epithetthat Frank only half caught but that brought him up all standing.
"What's that you said?" he demanded quickly.
"None of your business!" snarled Rabig, but before the glint in Frank'seyes he did not venture to repeat the insult.
"Now look here, Rabig," said Frank, sternly. "Cut out that sort ofstuff. I heard what you said and if you were outside here and weren'tin uniform I'd thrash you within an inch of your life."
"Talk is cheap," sneered Rabig. "Why didn't you do it when you were onthe other side? You had chance enough."
"I had my reasons," replied Frank, "but they're reasons that a fellowlike you couldn't appreciate. As it was, you came within an inch ofgetting what was coming to you. Some day you will get it, Rabig, andwhen I cut loose you'll know there's something doing!"
Army Boys in France; or, From Training Camp to Trenches Page 19