Army Boys on German Soil: Our Doughboys Quelling the Mobs - BestLightNovel.com
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"Yum-yum!" murmured Tom after his second cup. "Nectar has nothing on this."
"I'll say so," agreed Billy, with a blissful expression on his face.
"We never knew how good it was until we thought we couldn't get it," grinned Bart.
"Maybe this isn't a contrast to things as they were an hour ago, eh, fellows?" laughed Frank. "Listen to the wind screaming round this building, mad because it can't get at us."
"I wonder what the rest of the bunch are thinking about us just now," remarked Billy.
"I suppose they're worried to death, because we didn't turn up,"
replied Frank. "They've probably got squads out hunting for us at this minute. They've probably guessed what happened when we failed to catch up with them."
"Well, there isn't a chance in a thousand of their striking this place," said Tom, yawning. "In the meantime, I'm all tired out and vote that we hit the hay."
"There isn't any hay to hit, worse luck," said Bart, looking about him ruefully. "It's the stone floor for us to-night, all right.
But it's warm and dry, and we'll make out with our blankets. It'll beat traveling around in the snow all night, any way."
"Let's get some more wood so that we'll have enough to last all night," suggested Frank, and followed by the others he suited the action to the word.
"How about some of us standing watch?" remarked Bart, when the huge pile of branches had been heaped within easy distance of the fire.
"Don't see any need of it," remarked Tom, rubbing his eyes. "We're probably miles away from any living thing and there's nothing to watch for except ghosts. There ought to be plenty of those around in a place so old as this. But who wants to watch for ghosts? I'd rather be asleep than awake if any of those old codgers come perambulating around."
"Quit your kidding," replied Frank with a laugh. "But I think we ought to stand watch, turn and turn about. There's a bare chance that some of the detachment may come this way, though I don't think it's likely. Then again we're really in an enemy's country, and it wouldn't be good soldiering for all of us to go to sleep.
Besides, the fire has got to be kept up."
They felt the force of this and agreed.
"Let's see," remarked Frank, as he consulted his radio watch, "I figure it will be about eight hours till daylight. That'll be two hours for each of us."
"You fellows go to sleep," broke in Bart, "and I'll stand watch all night. That's only right, for I'm the fellow who got you into this fix."
"Nonsense!" said Frank. "That doesn't go with this bunch. We'll share and share alike, or else there's nothing doing."
Bart still persisted, but the others overruled him and he had to give in.
Frank drew a memorandum book from his pocket, tore out a page and made four strips of different lengths. The one that drew the shortest was to stand the first watch and the others were to take their turn according to the length of their strips. Bart drew the shortest, and Billy, Tom, and Frank followed, the latter having the longest slip remaining in his hand.
"If you go to sleep, Bart, you'll be shot at sunrise," joked Billy.
"I'm all right then," retorted Bart, "for I never get up that early."
Frank, Billy, and Tom spread their blankets as near the fire as was safe, and rolled themselves in them. The bed was hard, but this bothered them little, and they were so tired that they were asleep almost as soon as they stretched themselves out.
Bart, too, was more exhausted than he ever remembered being in all his life before, and from time to time he looked enviously at the forms of his sleeping comrades. The two hours that stretched before him would be very long ones.
At times he would pace slowly about the room, stopping now and then to replenish the fire. His foot still hurt him a little, and he frequently sat down in a corner to rest himself. He found, however, that this was dangerous, for an almost uncontrollable drowsiness would steal over him, despite all his efforts to keep awake. The only way he could feel sure of staying awake was to keep on his feet.
An hour pa.s.sed and half of another.
He was counting the minutes now before he would be relieved, when suddenly, as he was pa.s.sing the entrance that opened on the corridor, he heard a sound that startled him.
He stood stock still, every trace of sleepiness gone in an instant and all his faculties keenly on the alert. But nothing happened and he relaxed.
"Pshaw!" he said to himself impatiently. "What's the matter with me? Am I letting what Tom said about ghosts get on my nerves?"
Then the sound came again, and this time Bart knew that he was not mistaken.
CHAPTER V
CONSPIRATORS
What Bart heard was the sound of human voices.
At first the thought flashed across him that they might be those of some of his comrades, sent back by Lieutenant Winter to look for the missing men.
But he dismissed this thought almost as soon as it was formed.
There was a peculiar quality about the tones that was not American, a coa.r.s.e guttural sound such as he had grown only too familiar with in the streets of Coblenz. Those who were talking were Germans.
He listened intently.
It was evident from the varying tones that there were quite a number of men in the group. At times the conversation seemed animated, and then again there would be a lull. Once he thought he heard them quarreling.
What could these men be doing here in the dead of night? Was it possible that some part of the castle was inhabited after all? Or had they gathered together for some secret and lawless purpose?
Bart thought at first that he would wake his companions and tell them what he had heard. On second thought, however, he concluded that he would do a little reconnoitering on his own account. They were so utterly tired that he hated to wake them for what after all might prove to be not worth while.
Carefully looking to his weapons, he stole from the room and moved in the direction of the voices.
But this was not so easy a matter as he thought. The old castle proved to be a perfect maze of rooms, some connected and others detached, and again and again he found himself going further away from the sounds and having to retrace his steps. Then too he was afraid to flash a light, and had to grope his way over the uneven floor and amid piles of debris.
At last, however, he found himself on the right track. A faint ray of light from a distant room gave him the clue. Moving with the stealth of an Indian on the trail, he crept forward until at the end of a distant corridor he found what he sought.
In a large room, lighted by a fire that blazed on the hearth and by three or four candles, were a number of men engaged in animated conversation. A glance at their features showed that all were Germans. Some of the men were in civilian clothes, but others wore old, dilapidated army uniforms.
They were a rough looking lot, and Bart saw at a glance that most of them were armed. They were gathered about a man with a red, bushy beard, who seemed to be the leader. He had a map spread on a table improvised from boxes, and was pointing out places indicated by red dots.
Bart counted the men. There were nine burly fellows, who looked desperate and as though they could give a good account of themselves in rough and tumble work. In one of the guns standing against the wall Bart noted a red flag thrust in the muzzle--the symbol of the German revolutionary element that was spreading terror throughout the former empire.
He could hear distinctly now what the speakers said, but his knowledge of German was limited and he could not get the full meaning. He heard repeatedly however the words "Coblenz,"
"Liebknecht," and "Spartacide." He knew what was meant by those baleful words. They meant the overthrow of law and order, a program of blood and ma.s.sacre. And they were discussing this program evidently with reference to Coblenz, where the American Army of Occupation had its headquarters.
Bart pondered what he should do. It was out of the question for him alone to attack these conspirators. They were too many for any single man. He must arouse his comrades at once.