The Big Five Motorcycle Boys on the Battle Line Part 23

Those who were thus far uninjured kept pus.h.i.+ng ahead, even though they must realize that it was into the very jaws of death they advanced. And Rod found himself filled with sincere admiration for the bravery they exhibited. He had read of similar things many times, but seeing with his own eyes an exhibition of such wonderful valor was an entirely different matter.

Oh! how he hoped and prayed that in the end some of those Frenchmen might manage to reach the other sh.o.r.e which they aspired to gain. But when the German guns continued to roar and send torrents of iron hail into the ranks of the adventurous French it began to look very much as though not a single man might be able to accomplish the pa.s.sage of the disputed ford.

Hanky Panky could stand it no longer. He rolled over and hid his face, while thrusting the forefinger of each hand as deeply into his ears as he could, evidently with the hope of shutting out all that dreadful noise.

Not so Josh, who, though very white, and trembling with excitement, still continued to stand there, drinking it all in eagerly, as one might something that was fairly intoxicating his senses.

The war drama did not last long. Under that murderous fire the French soldiers in the water fairly melted away. Some managed to return safely to the side of the stream held by their comrades, but by far the larger number seemed to have vanished. Further down the river they could be seen, some of them struggling in the water, with others floating along significantly still.

The firing had almost ceased by now, because there was no further need of wasting precious ammunition on the part of the provident Germans. The charge of the impetuous French had been stopped, and if they still meant to carry the ford they must gather what was left of their force for a second attempt.

Still, while that one battery covered the crossing it seemed madness for them to risk the annihilation of their men in another effort.

"It was a fluke, after all!" Josh was calling out in bitter disappointment; "they never had a chance to get over while that awful battery covered the ford. Oh! how I wish a part of them at least had managed to get across. Look, Rod, as I live, one lone Frenchman did succeed in crossing. You can see him crawling along in the scrub there, his red breeches betraying his every movement. Just a single one of all that brave lot, and he'll be either killed right away or made a prisoner, like as not!"

Somehow both boys found themselves compelled to watch the progress of the crawling Frenchman. He seemed only a grain of sand on the seash.o.r.e compared with the mighty forces employed on both sides, and yet at that particular moment he occupied the centre of the stage in their minds.

Without knowing why this should be so they continued to follow his movements with their eyes.

Then suddenly Josh broke out again. He could make himself heard because there was little if any desultory firing now; the Germans were satisfied with the execution already accomplished, while the mortified French held their fire until further plans could be settled upon.

"Rod, what do you reckon that madman means to try and do?" he asked excitedly; "see how he keeps on creeping straight along toward where that battery is hidden behind some sort of barricade. Honest to goodness, now, I believe he means to tackle the entire business all by himself; just like a Frenchman for desperate bravery. He must be crazy to think he can do anything unaided, Rod."

"Don't be too sure of that, Josh," the other told him immediately; "unless I miss my guess that man has got some project he's meaning to put through, come what will."

"Oh! now I see what you mean, Rod; yes, as sure as anything he's carrying something in his hand, and I do believe it must be a bomb that he's meaning to throw over the barricade on to that battery! It's a great scheme, Rod, but with not one chance in ten to succeed."

With strained eyes they watched the creeping figure with the telltale red trousers that added so greatly to his peril. Shortly afterwards Josh broke out again in what might be called a lament.

"Too bad, too bad, Rod, they've glimpsed him at last, just as I was afraid they'd be doing. You can see some of their sharpshooters further back are sending a rain of b.a.l.l.s in that direction, for they make little puffs of dust fly up everywhere they strike. He's bound to be hit in a jiffy now. Oh! see that, would you?"

There could be no question but that one or more of the plunging bullets had reached their intended mark, for the creeping soldier had rolled over as if in agony.

"He's done for, poor chap, just as I expected!" cried the sympathizing Josh, while even Hanky Panky once more dared to lift his head and look; but almost immediately afterwards Josh changed his tune from despair to one of new hope--"no, he was only badly injured that time, and not killed, you see, because now he's going on again. Oh! I take off my hat to that gallant man! There never lived a braver chap, never; and now I do hope he'll get close enough up to fire that bomb he's carrying along with him on to that battery."

Perhaps the marksmen who were amusing themselves in trying to pick another foeman off did not realize what the French soldier really meant to do. Had they grasped the full situation a volley would surely have finished his career, and left his self-appointed mission unfulfilled.

Josh kept tabs of his movements. He even knew when again the crawling figure gave signs of having been struck once more by some of that leaden hail. This he could tell from the way in which the heroic fellow writhed as in pain.

"But, Rod, they just _can't_ keel him over, don't you see!" cried the admiring Josh, clapping his hands in his excitement; "twice now they've hit him, but he won't give up the game. Why, he has to drag that left leg after him all the while, showing where he's been hit. Oh! what wouldn't I give for a chance to help him out; but it's no use; he's just got to do it by himself!"

The seconds went on. Perhaps other eyes were following the slow and painful progress of that lone French hero as he crawled along foot by foot, suffering dreadfully no doubt with every movement, yet never for a minute dismayed. Perhaps the eyes of the French commander-in-chief may have been glued on him through his powerful gla.s.ses; and realizing what the success of the daring soldier's mission might mean for a second a.s.sault on the defenders of the ford, his heart would begin to pick up renewed hope the closer the private crept to the battery.

There could be no question as to the unflinching spirit that dwelt in the breast of that particular soldier. Rod remembered many things he had read in ancient history, but somehow they all paled into insignificance when with his own eyes he saw this wonderful exhibition of valor unparalleled. The heroic defense of the Pa.s.s of Thermopylae; the swimming of the h.e.l.lespont by Leander, yes, and other instances made famous in the annals of history had once struck the boy as wonders in their way, but somehow seeing things was a great deal more impressive than reading about similar happenings.

By now the French adventurer had managed to get close up to the place where the terrible offending battery was hidden. Doubtless he could see much better than the boys at a distance, and knew where it would be possible to throw his bomb so as to accomplish the maximum of damage.

"He's nearly there, Rod, and oh! I'm scared almost out of my seven senses for fear they'll get him before he can give that thing a whirl over. There, see, he's trying to get up on his knees now, though it's a hard thing for him to do, because he's so weak from loss of blood, I reckon. Bully boy! now you're going to take a fling, and here's wis.h.i.+ng you the greatest of luck!"

The brave soldier had indeed managed to raise himself part way and with all his reserve strength hurl the bomb he carried over to where the battery lay concealed.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE WINNING OF THE RIVER FORD.

Immediately there came a loud crash as the bomb exploded. The exhausted French soldier had no further strength to sustain him, for the boys saw him fall over as though he may have died in the climax of his success.

Then came the clear, piercing note of a bugle, like a clarion call. It was undoubtedly the signal for another attempt to force a pa.s.sage of the river, so essential to the success of the French pursuit of the retiring German armies.

Again did a host of active figures leap into sight from the coverts where until now they had lain concealed awaiting the success or failure of the first action. These were no doubt the reserves intended to be thrown into the breach after some of the others had managed to get safely across and engaged the enemy forces. Now they were taking the initiative in pus.h.i.+ng across the ford.

As the others had done these men also scattered when charging, so that no great collective damage might be wrought when the foe started to fire. They were speedily at the water's edge, and it was then that they antic.i.p.ated meeting with that sudden avalanche of flame and smoke, and the roaring sound of many guns.

Somehow it did not come in the volume expected; in fact, while rifles and quick-firing guns started to take their toll the one offensive battery remained singularly silent.

Rod and Josh did not need to be told that the bold Frenchman must in some way have succeeded in disabling all the units of that battery when he hurled his bomb over the redoubt. Perhaps that terrific crash may have been an ammunition supply exploding and scattering the guns right and left.

No matter what the cause the battery was as still as death, a fact that must have filled the anxious heart of the French commander-in-chief with a fierce joy; for its presence there intact promised to make all his work of no avail, despite the unrivaled valor of his men.

This time the story was to be quite different, it seemed. Some of the leaders in that mad rush were already almost over, and here, there, everywhere they were trying to shoot back as they found a chance to glimpse an enemy hidden amidst the bushes on the bank of the river.

Josh could hardly contain himself. He jumped up and down "like a flea,"

as Hanky Panky afterwards explained it in his peculiar fas.h.i.+on. Indeed, to hear Josh letting out shrieks and cries one would have imagined the whole battle of the Marne ford had been staged for his particular benefit, and that he was enjoying the lively scene with all his heart.

Now some of the Frenchmen were crawling up the bank. They found shelter, such as it was, and immediately began to make good use of their guns, aiming so as to cut down those who were rattling the quick-firing weapons not far away.

More and more came up out of the depths, some of them wounded it was true, but with undiminished ardor hurrying on. With the climax of their ambition at hand and an opportunity for a fight at close quarters with the hated enemy granted to them, why should they mind such a small thing as a bullet in the shoulder, or it might be a leg that dragged as they walked?

The fire and enthusiasm that filled their hearts prevented them from falling out of the line. Some in fact would not know they had been injured until it was all over but the cheering, and a weakness began to overcome them, with the excitement on which they had been living having pa.s.sed away.

Josh was waving his hat wildly now. Despite the noise and confusion he shouted out his views. In so doing he gave the "escape valve" something to do, and likely enough worked no harm.

"And to think it's all owing to the work of that one brave fellow!" was the burden of his outcries.

"I'm taking off my hat to _him_ right now. I salute him, living or dead! His family will be proud of him when they learn what a grand thing he really did. Talk to me about the Cross of the Legion of Honor; why, that man ought to be made a general--if he lives!"

The Germans had by no means given up, even when they realized that after all the French had won the pa.s.sage of the ford. They had been given the task of defending the crossing with their lives, and showed the customary German disregard for death in staying after all was lost.

But more and more French were getting over now. They came from every quarter, all filled with ardor and a desire to get in the fight over there. The guns too were being brought closer to the river, so that the retreating Germans might be sh.e.l.led warmly as they left the scene of their stubborn combat.

How they splashed across that shallow place in the stream Rod would never forget. Some, getting off the main ford, found themselves in water breast-high; others actually had to swim for it, holding their guns above their heads so that they might not get wet and refuse to continue the good work of chasing off the Germans.

It was an inspiring sight--of course only to those who favored the French, for to the enemy it must have proven a most discouraging one--to see those men wild to cross to where the engagement was being fought to a finish. Each one, as soon as he could set foot on solid ground, lost no time in starting up the bank and adding his quota to the force of the a.s.sailants.

And not one single shot had come from that important battery which, more than any other contributing cause, had brought about the first disaster to the French. There could be no question but what that one unknown private soldier, perhaps now dead, had saved the day for his side.