The Day of Wrath Part 10

The fat man stared at him, as though such insolence were unheard-of.

"Here," he roared to the corporal, "pitch this old hog into the Meuse.

He annoys me."

Meanwhile, one of the younger officers, a strapping Westphalian, lurched toward Irene. She did not try to avoid him, thinking, perhaps, that a pa.s.sive att.i.tude was advisable. He caught her by the waist, and guffawed to his companions, "Didn't I offer to bet you fellows that Busch never made a mistake about a woman? Who'd have dreamed of finding a beauty like this one in a rotten old mill?"

The Bavarians had collected their rifles and sidearms, and were going out sullenly. Each of the officers carried a sword and revolver.

Irene saw that Dalroy had risen in his corner. She wrenched herself free. "How am I to prepare supper for you gentlemen if you bother me in this way?" she demanded tartly.

"Behave yourself, Fritz," puffed the major. "Is that your idea of keeping your word? _Mama_, if she is discreet, will go to bed, and the young ones will eat with us.--Open that case of wine, orderly. I'm thirsty.--The girls will have a drink too. Cooking is warm work.--Hallo!

What the devil! Kaporal, didn't you hear my order?"

Dalroy grabbed Joos, who was livid with rage. The two girls were safe for the hour, and must endure the leering of four tipsy scoundrels. A row at the moment would be the wildest folly.

"March!" he said gruffly. "The _oberleutnant_ doesn't want us here."

"_Le brave Belge_ knows when to clear out," grinned one of the younger men, giving Dalroy an odiously suggestive wink.

Somehow, the fact that Dalroy took command abated the women's terror; even the intractable Joos yielded. Soon the two were in the yard with the dispossessed Bavarians, these latter being in the worst of temper, as they had now to search for both bed and supper. They strode away without giving the least heed to their presumed prisoners.

Joos, like most men of choleric disposition, was useless in a crisis of this sort. He gibbered with rage. He wanted to attack the intruders at once with a pitchfork.

Dalroy shook him to quieten his tongue. "You must listen to me," he said sternly.

The old man's eyes gleamed up into his. In the half-light of the gloaming they had the sheen of polished gold. "Monsieur," he whimpered, "save my little girl! Save her, I implore you. You English are lions in battle. You are big and strong. I'll help. Between us we can stick the four of them."

Dalroy shook him again. "Stop talking, and listen," he growled wrathfully. "Not another word here! Come this way!" He drew the miller into an empty stable, whence the kitchen door and the window were in view. "Now," he muttered, "gather your wits, and answer my questions.

Have you any hidden weapons? A pitchfork is too awkward for a fight in a room."

"I had nothing but a muzzle-loading gun, monsieur. I gave it up on the advice of the burgomaster. They've killed him."

"Very well. Remain here on guard. I'll go and fetch a rifle and bayonet.

Nothing will happen to the women till these brutes have eaten, and have more wine in them. Don't you understand? The younger men have made a h.e.l.lish compact with their senior. You heard that, didn't you?"

"Yes, yes, monsieur. Who could fail to know what they meant? Surely the good G.o.d sent you to Vise to-day!"

"Promise, now! No interference till I return, even though the women are frightened. You'll only lose your life to no purpose. I'll not be long away."

"I promise. But, monsieur, _pour l'amour de Dieu_, let me stick that fat Busch!"

Dalroy was in such a fume to secure a reliable arm that he rather neglected the precautions of a soldier moving through the enemy's country. It was still possible to see clearly for some distance ahead.

Although the right bank of the Meuse that night was overrun with the Kaiser's troops along a front of nearly twenty miles, the ravine, with its gurgling rivulet, was one of those peaceful oases which will occur in the centre of the most congested battlefield. Now that the crash of the guns had pa.s.sed sullenly to a distance, white-tailed rabbits scurried across the path; some stray sheep, driven from the uplands by the day's tumult, gathered in a group and looked inquiringly at the intruder; a weasel, stalking a selected rabbit as is his piratical way, elected to abandon the chase and leap for a tree.

These very signs showed that none other had breasted the slope recently, so Dalroy strode out somewhat carelessly. Nevertheless, he was endowed with no small measure of that sixth sense which every _s.h.i.+kari_ must possess who would hunt either his fellowmen or the beasts of the jungle.

He was pa.s.sing a dense clump of brambles and briars when a man sprang at him. He had trained himself to act promptly in such circ.u.mstances, and had decided long ago that to remain on the same ground, or even try to retreat, was courting disaster. His plan was to jump sideways, and, if practicable, a little nearer an a.s.sailant. The sabots rendered him less nimble than usual, but the dodge quite disconcerted an awkward opponent.

The vicious downward sweep of a heavy cudgel just missed his left shoulder, and he got home with the right in a half-arm jab which sent the recipient sprawling and nearly into the stream.

Dalroy made after him, seized the fallen stick, and recognised--Jan Maertz! "How now," he said wrathfully, "are you, too, a Prussian?"

Jan raised a hand to ward off the expected blow. "_Caput!_" he cried.

"I'm done! You must be the devil! But may the Lord help my poor master and mistress, and the little Leontine!"

"That is my wish also, sheep's-head! What evil have I done you, then, that you should want to brain me at sight?"

"They're after you--the Germans. They mean to catch you, dead or alive. A lieutenant of the Guard pulled me away from in front of a firing-party, and gave me my life on condition that I ran you down."

Here was an extraordinary development. It was vitally important that Dalroy should get to know the exact meaning of the Walloon's disjointed utterances, yet how could he wait and question the man while the Prussian sultans were feasting in the mill?

Dalroy stooped over Maertz, who had risen to his knees, and caught him by the shoulder. "Jan Maertz," he said, "do you hope to marry Leontine Joos? If so, Heaven has just prevented you from committing a great crime. She, and her mother, and the lady who came with me from Aix, are in the mill with four German officers--a set of foul, drunken brutes who will stop at no excess. I'm going now to get a rifle. You make quietly for the stable opposite the kitchen door. You will find Joos there. He will explain. Tell me, are you for Belgium or Germany in this war?"

The Walloon might be slow-witted, but Dalroy's words seemed to have pierced his skin.

"For Belgium, monsieur, to the death," he answered.

"So am I. I'm an Englishman. As you go, think what that means."

Leaving Maertz to regain his feet and the stick, Dalroy rushed on up the hill. The unexpected struggle had cost him but little delay; yet it was dark, and the miller was nearly frantic with anxiety, when he returned.

"Is Maertz with you?" was his first question.

"Yes, monsieur," came a gruff voice out of the gloom of the stable.

"Do you know now how nearly you blundered?"

"Monsieur, I would have tackled St. Peter to save Leontine."

"Quick!" hissed Joos, "let us kill these hogs! We have no time to spare.

The others will be here soon."

"What others?"

"Jan will tell you later. Come, now. Leave Busch to me!"

"Keep quiet!" ordered Dalroy sternly. "We cannot murder four men in cold blood. I'll listen over there by the window. You two remain here till I call you."

But there was no need for eavesdropping. Leontine's voice was raised shrilly above the loud-clanging talk and laughter of the uninvited guests. "No, no, my mother must stay!" she was shrieking. "Monsieur, for G.o.d's sake, leave my mother alone! Ah, you are hurting her.--Father!

father!--Oh, what shall we do? Is there no one to help us?"

CHAPTER VI

THE FIGHT IN THE MILL

As Dalroy burst open the door, which was locked, the heartrending screams of the three women mingled with the vile oaths of their a.s.sailants. He had foreseen that the door would probably be fastened, and put his whole strength into the determination to force the bolt without warning. The scene which met his eyes as he rushed into the room was etched in Rembrandt lights and shadows by a lamp placed in the centre of the table.