CHAPTER XVIII
THE GERMAN PRISONER
There was fighting that night all along the line, but nothing in the way of a battle developed and the engineers did not participate in the contest any further than that they were called on to repair some bridges along the roadway where the shell-fire of the enemy made several telling hits.
“The Huns are certainly showing some strong resistance to our advance,” remarked Roger, while the bombardment was going on.
“Oh, I shouldn’t be surprised if they contested every foot of the ground,” returned Dave. “They thought they were going to walk right into Paris, and it makes them more than mad to be driven back this way.”
“One thing is certain,” said Phil. “These old Hindenburg trenches are marvels of completeness.”
“I heard of one German dugout that was fitted, out like a first-class hotel, with a bath and even a billiard-table! Those high muck-a-mucks certainly take care of themselves.”
“Yes, and they take mighty good care that they are not hit, too!” added Ben. “They let their common soldiers take all the hard knocks. You very seldom hear of anybody connected with the royal families getting even a scratch.”
Early in the morning there was a sortie on the part of one of the American battalions. They had located some Germans hidden in a patch of wood, and after some fierce fighting succeeded in surrounding a part of the enemy and making them prisoners. A little later these fellows, to the number of thirty, with a lieutenant and a sergeant, were marched to the American rear.
At the time the prisoners were brought in, Dave and his detail were at work on the roadway which the prisoners and those in charge of them used. Along this roadway was also stationed the company of soldiers to which Lieutenant Gebauer and Nat Poole belonged.
As Dave went about his duties he passed Gebauer and Nat several times. Both of them glared at him, but no words passed. However, five minutes later Dave saw Nat approach the lieutenant, and an earnest conversation followed. Both looked several times toward our hero, and Dave felt certain that the pair were talking about him.
“And it’s dollars to doughnuts they are not saying anything very nice,” mused our hero. “Probably they are plotting as to what they can do to get the better of me. I suppose I had better keep my eyes open as long as they are around.”
A little later he had occasion to give Phil and Ben some directions, and the latter called Dave to one side.
“I suppose you’ve noticed that Nat Poole and Lieutenant Gebauer are around?”
“Yes indeed! I have passed them several times, Ben.”
“I went by them, too, and I heard your name mentioned. I believe they are hatching up something.”
“If I were you I wouldn’t stand any nonsense from either of them,” put in Phil.
“I don’t intend to!”
“Don’t you think you had better report them?”
“No; I intend to fight this out alone. Of course, if they do anything that is too outrageous, I’ll have to mention it to those higher up.”
A few minutes later it was announced that the German prisoners were coming, and, as was customary, all the Americans in that vicinity lined the roadway to get a look at those who had been captured.
For the most part the prisoners appeared a silent and thoughtful crowd. A few of them were decidedly sullen, as if ready to break out at any moment, and these the guards watched closely, for it was remembered that on one occasion a prisoner had suddenly gone violently insane, killing one of his captors and then inflicting injury on himself from which he had later died. On another occasion several prisoners had made a wild dash for liberty but had been shot down before they could get any great distance.
When the prisoners came up close to where Dave and his chums were standing, the officer in charge for some reason or other called a temporary halt. Then began a good-natured gibing between the soldiers on both sides, a few of the Americans being able to talk German and one or two of the prisoners answering in broken English.
Dave was looking over the brought-in men and noting how starved and ill-clad they were when he became interested in one man who was gazing with wide-open eyes at the Americans. Following this man’s gaze, Dave saw that the prisoner was looking intently at Lieutenant Gebauer.
“Gebauer! Max Gebauer! What are you doing here?” called out the German in his guttural language.
At the mention of his name Lieutenant Gebauer gazed at the prisoner, and Dave felt certain that he started as he did so. Then, with swift steps, Gebauer came to the prisoner’s side. There was a low exchange of words which Dave could not catch, even had he known the German language better than was the case. Gebauer looked much annoyed, while the prisoner’s features betrayed great astonishment.
A short argument ensued, but in the midst of this the American lieutenant suddenly put up his hand and motioned for the prisoner to keep quiet. Then, as he stepped back, he made other motions as if to draw a wallet from his pocket and count out imaginary bank-notes. Then he placed a finger across his lips, turned and walked away.
Roger, Phil, and Ben, as well as Dave, saw all of these actions, and were of course tremendously interested. They realized at once that Gebauer and the German prisoner were well acquainted.
“It’s as plain as day that Gebauer wants that fellow to keep his mouth shut about something,” remarked Phil, when the prisoners had resumed their march to the rear.
“Yes. And it’s equally plain that he proposes to pay the fellow for doing it,” returned Dave.
“What do you suppose it is all about?” came, with a puzzled look, from Ben.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered the young lieutenant.
“I wonder if it’s possible that Gebauer is some sort of a spy and that soldier knows it,” mused Roger.
“Anything is possible, Roger. But that fellow may be nothing more than some business acquaintance. More than likely the Gebauer Jewelry Company had a connection in Germany previous to the war—a great many of those German-American firms had. That fellow may be nothing but a business friend.”
“But why would he make a motion as if to pay him money and motion to him to keep his mouth shut?” questioned Phil.
“Maybe Gebauer doesn’t want folks generally to know he had a German connection,” said Ben.
“Don’t you think this ought to be reported?” questioned Roger.
“I’ll speak to Captain Obray about it,” answered Dave. “And then I am going to see if I can’t get a chance to talk to that German prisoner.”
“Can you talk enough German to do it, Dave?”
“I can get an interpreter.”
Our hero lost no time in mentioning what he had seen to Captain Obray, and that afternoon obtained permission to visit the place where the German prisoners were being kept that night. This was in a barbed-wire compound hastily laid out for that purpose by some of the engineers.
Dave had taken a good look at the German who had spoken to Max Gebauer, and he had little trouble in picking the fellow out from the one hundred and twenty men who filled the wire enclosure. He took Roger with him, and also one of the engineers who could speak fairly good German.
He found the prisoner to be a man of about forty, tall and thin, with light hair and watery blue eyes. When questioned he gave his name as August Besswig, and said that he had been a bookkeeper for a large manufacturing firm in Frankfort.
“Ask him how it is that he happens to know a man by the name of Max Gebauer,” said Dave to the interpreter.
When this question was put to the prisoner he looked rather disturbed and then shrugged his shoulders.
“Max Gebauer? Who is he?” he returned after a pause.
“He is the man you were speaking to on your way to this camp,” said the interpreter, after some words with Dave.
“Oh, that man! I don’t know him very well.”
“How do you happen to know him at all?” was the next question put.
“Well, it’s this way, if you must know. Some years ago I worked for a large jewelry firm in Germany. We did business with the Gebauer firm in America. That is how I got to know Mr. Max Gebauer. He used to come to our place once a year or so on business.”
“Did he come after the war broke out?”
“He was there when that happened, but he got out very quickly,” answered August Besswig.
After that he was questioned at some length regarding Gebauer, but made evasive answers. It was evident that he knew something about Gebauer which he did not wish to mention, but what it was there was no telling. At last Dave had the interpreter bring the interview to an end.
“That German prisoner is a foxy one,” was Roger’s comment. “I believe he could tell a great deal if he wanted to.”
“That’s exactly my idea, too,” answered Dave. “One thing is certain, he and Gebauer have something in common.”
“Exactly, Dave. And the next question is—has that to do with the present or the past?”
“Oh, I’m inclined to think it has something to do with the past,” replied Dave. “From what I can find out, this Besswig is nothing but a private soldier who was forced into the army. That being so, it is not likely that he would have anything to do with Gebauer if the latter were up to some shady work for the Government. I think it concerns something that took place in the past, and it looks to me as if it was something which Gebauer wants this Besswig to keep quiet about.”
Dave thought he might have another interview with the prisoner later; but on the following day August Besswig was marched off to a camp twenty miles distant and he had no opportunity for further talk with the fellow. He tried to keep an eye on Gebauer, but his duties as an engineer prevented this, and consequently he did not know an important fact, which was that two days later Gebauer got a twenty-four-hours leave of absence and hurried off to find out what had become of August Besswig and to go to see the prisoner.
When Gebauer came back to camp he was in both a thoughtful and an ugly mood. He smoked one cigarette after another in a nervous manner, and then interviewed Nat Poole.
“Your friend Porter seems to be a pretty fresh sort of individual,” grumbled the lieutenant, as he paced up and down in front of Nat.
“Don’t call him a friend of mine, Max,” was the quick reply of the money lender’s son. “I like him about as much as I like a hop-toad.”
“He’s doing his best to get me into trouble,” continued Gebauer.
“Why, what has he done now?” questioned Nat, with sudden interest.
“Oh, a whole lot of things. Do you remember those prisoners that came in a few days ago?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I happen to know one of those fellows very slightly—a fellow who was connected with a jewelry concern in Germany with which our concern in Philadelphia used to do a little business.
“Well, Porter saw me say a few words in a friendly way to that fellow, and he at once had the prisoner interviewed and did his best to make out that I had some sort of a German connection. Of course, he’s doing his best to get me in Dutch with the military authorities!” stormed the lieutenant.
“Well, he didn’t find out anything to your disadvantage, did he?” questioned Nat.
“Of course not! How could he? I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“Well, then, what are you afraid of?”
“What am I afraid of? Don’t I know the kind of fellow Dave Porter is? He wouldn’t like anything better than to cook something up with that prisoner so as to get me in bad. I know him! I’ve a good mind to fix him!”
“Let’s do it!” Nat’s eyes began to shine with expectancy. “I’d like nothing better than to put one over on him. He’s getting altogether too big for his boots. Now that he is a lieutenant, he thinks he can lord it over everybody. I suppose when he gets back to Crumville he’ll put on airs something fierce. According to the stories he’ll tell, he’ll have been the one to win the whole war.”
After this the two continued their conversation for the best part of an hour. Both were exceedingly bitter against Dave, Nat on account of the many things which had happened ever since he had gone to Oak Hall, and Gebauer because of the way he had been given the cold shoulder by Jessie Wadsworth.
“If you are game to do it, Nat, I think we can put a good big one over on Porter,” said Gebauer at last. “Of course, it will require a little nerve to do it.”
“What do you propose to do?”
“Oh, that isn’t exactly clear in my mind yet. But I’ll hatch out something before long. But how about you? Are you willing to stand by me?”
“Sure I am! Unless, of course, you should want to go too far,” answered Nat Poole, his natural cowardice suddenly asserting itself.
“Oh, we won’t go too far. We’ll only do something that will get him in bad with those higher up. Then maybe he’ll be placed in disgrace, and possibly reduced to the ranks.”
“Gee, that sounds good to me!” cried Nat. “Let’s go and do it!”
“Then you’ll work with me?”
“I sure will! And the sooner you get at it, the better.”