Dave Porter's war honors

“Where in the world am I and what happened to me?”

This was the first thought that coursed slowly through Dave’s mind as he gradually returned to consciousness. He lay perfectly still, not moving for several minutes.

All was pitch dark around him, and by the way his whole body hurt he knew he had been tumbled over some rocks. He put his hand to his head and found quite a swelling there. Then his fingers traveled to his left temple and felt something sticky, which he knew was blood that had started to congeal.

Presently a faint recollection of what had occurred crossed his mind. He remembered stooping to pick up the notebook belonging to Captain Obray and then catching a flitting glimpse of two figures behind him. Then had fallen several blows upon his head, and he had gone down in a heap.

“Maybe they were a couple of Germans who attacked me,” he reasoned. “Perhaps I am their prisoner.”

But then he remembered something else, which was that even in that passing glimpse of his assailants he had noted that they wore khaki and not the grey of the enemy.

“They were two of our own fellows,” he told himself. He knew he had no enemies among the engineers, and his mind at once reverted to Lieutenant Gebauer and Nat Poole. Would they be mean enough to make such an attack?

“It doesn’t seem possible! And yet, if they didn’t do it, who did?” was our hero’s thought.

But now was no time for further speculation on the subject. Dave felt that he must find out where he was and do what he could to get back to the engineers’ quarters. He did not know how long he had been unconscious, but thought it must have been for some time, possibly an hour or two.

He lay on some sloping rocks, and it was not without considerable difficulty that he arose to his feet. As he did this he felt in his pocket for Captain Obray’s notebook and discovered that it was gone.

“I remember now I didn’t have time to pick it up,” he told himself. “Hang the luck, anyway! If those fellows went off with that notebook, what will the captain say? He told me it was very valuable. I suppose it must have some of our specifications in it.”

Dave had brought neither a weapon nor a pocket flashlight with him. He, however, had a waterproof match-safe, and this was about half full of matches. Bringing one of these forth, he struck it on the rocks with care, and then, as the small light flared up, he took a look at his surroundings.

He was in a long, low passageway of the abandoned mines. To one side of him was a V-shaped opening. One passageway of this opening was very rocky and at one point had a sudden descent of ten or twelve feet. The other passageway sloped upward at considerable less of an angle.

“I guess I must have come down that passageway on the right,” he reasoned, “because if I had come down the other way more than likely I would have broken my neck.”

Dave was mistaken in his reasoning, and that mistake cost him dear, as we shall presently see. He had really come down the rougher way of the two, and that he had not lost his life in the fall was certainly miraculous.

The young lieutenant counted his matches and found he had seven left.

“I’ll have to be very careful of those,” he told himself. “It would be awful to be lost down here in the dark. Why, if that happened I might never find my way out!”

This possibility caused him to become very grave and thoughtful, and without lighting another match he crawled upward along the passageway which he had noted and which he thought must be the way by which to get out of that part of the abandoned mines.

With nothing to guide him, our hero’s progress was necessarily slow. He had to feel ahead every foot for fear of knocking his head on some of the rocks.

But even though his matches were few, Dave would have done better had he lit one of them and surveyed his surroundings again before proceeding further. As it was, he was just thinking of coming to a halt to make up his mind what was best to do next when suddenly his foot came in contact with nothing more substantial than air. He made a wild clutch to save himself, but the next instant slid down and down over some rocks and loose dirt, coming finally to a halt with a shock that knocked nearly all the breath from his body.

“Great Cæsar, that was some tumble!” he muttered, after he had somewhat recovered. “I’ve got to make a light, and that is all there is to it. If I don’t, I may break my neck down here.”

In his pocket Dave kept a packet of letters which he had received from Jessie. He could not bring himself to think of burning the letters, but took each out of its envelope and stowed them safely in his bosom once more. Then he tore the envelopes apart, and made of each a long, curled taper. Having done this, he lit one.

He discovered what had happened. At some time or other, probably while the mines were in operation, a shaft had been cut from one gallery to that at a lower depth. This shaft was a sloping one, and he had rolled down to its bottom.

To get back to the upper level did not look easy, and after Dave had tried it several times he looked about for some other means of getting out of the abandoned mines.

Presently our hero reached a point which filled him with encouragement. He came out upon a much larger passageway, and there saw the remains of a small railroad track, one which had evidently been used for mine cars.

“This track must lead out into the open air,” he reasoned. “I remember seeing one of the tracks around the mines the first day we came to this vicinity.”

Alongside of the track Dave found some bits of wood and dried brush, and he lost no time in fixing himself a sort of torch by tying some of the brush to a stick with a bit of string he chanced to be carrying in his pocket.

Armed with the torch, he set off along the mine track and followed this for a considerable distance. Then he came to where the track branched in two directions, and once more came to a halt. Which track to pursue he did not know, and consulting his pocket compass did not help him in solving the problem. Finally he concluded to follow the track on the right, and so continued his journey underground.

He had gone but a short distance when he came upon a decidedly gruesome object. This was the body of a dead German soldier huddled up in a heap among the rocks. The fellow had been dead for some time, probably weeks, if not months, and our hero lost no time in putting distance between himself and this awful reminder of the realities of war.

At last he felt he ought to be near one of the openings of the abandoned mines. The track was now much broken, and a short distance further came to an end at a point where several other galleries crossed that in which he was traveling.

“Here’s a fine state of affairs,” he murmured to himself. “Now what’s to be done?”

It must be admitted that Dave was growing somewhat alarmed. The blows on the head and the tumble he had taken a short while before had weakened him, and he could hardly keep his feet.

He opened his canteen and took several swallows of water, and also bathed his forehead. This refreshed him for the time being; and he moved on again, this time taking a passageway which pointed southward.

“If I keep on moving southward I’m bound to get out of this old mine sooner or later,” was the way he reasoned. “And I’ll be coming out somewhere in the vicinity of our quarters.”

But the passageways of the abandoned mines were by no means straight, and soon our hero became so mixed up that he did not know which way to turn. He tried to get back to the gallery where the track was located, thinking to follow it in the opposite direction. But now the track had vanished completely.

At last he had to sit down and rest. He wondered if it was still dark outside.

“If I only had my watch to tell the time by,” he mused. He had not yet replaced the timepiece which had been lost.

The day’s work and the subsequent events had so exhausted our hero that at last he concluded he had better lie down and rest. As he progressed he had picked up several sticks of wood and some more dry brush, and this he placed beside him so that he might have it ready for use if needed. Then by the dying flare of the torch he was using he managed to arrange something of a couch at the side of the gallery, and there lay down. He thought he would not be able to sleep, but after lying there for the best part of half an hour he dropped off into troubled slumber.

When the young lieutenant awoke it was still as dark as ever around him. He lost no time in fixing himself another torch, and, feeling hungry, ate a portion of the emergency ration he carried, washing it down with a few swallows of water.

As he advanced he noticed that the passageway he was following sloped gradually upward, and this gave him some encouragement.

“If it keeps on going up it certainly ought to come out into the open air sooner or later,” was the way the young officer reasoned.

He had gone but a short distance further when a sound came to his ears which filled him with surprise. There was a sharp bark, followed by several others.

“Dogs—or else foxes!” he exclaimed.

The sounds came closer, and holding up his torch Dave made out the forms of two lean and hungry-looking dogs. At first he thought they might belong to some Red Cross contingent, but soon threw this idea to the winds.

“They are just stray dogs, and pretty wild and hungry at that,” he told himself. “I wish they hadn’t come this way. I don’t like their looks at all.”

The dogs had evidently scented him, and now they came closer, barking furiously and showing their teeth. Evidently they, too, were lost underground, and most likely had not had food for some time.

“Get out of there, you beggars!” cried Dave, as the dogs came still closer, snapping and snarling at him.

He stuck out his torch, and both animals leaped back. But then they began to circle around, as if to attack him from the rear. This was a new peril, and one which Dave realized might prove grave. The dogs were large, and if really starving they might do their best to lay him low.

With the torch in his left hand, Dave gathered up a stone and threw it with all force at one of the beasts. It took the dog in the side, and he leaped back, yelping with pain. Then Dave threw another stone at the other dog, catching him in one of his forelegs. Then he made a leap as if to thrust the torch into the dogs’ faces, and in sudden panic the two animals turned tail and fled down one of the galleries of the mine.

Having thus got rid of the dogs, at least for the time being, the young lieutenant continued on his course. He kept his eyes open for more brushwood, or anything with which he might make a torch, but without avail. He lit the last stick he was carrying with a heavy heart. What should he do when that was consumed?

An hour later found our hero in anything but a satisfied state of mind. He had traveled one gallery after another of the abandoned mines, and hardly knew how to turn or what to do next. The idea of being thus buried underground was horrible. Then, of a sudden, came a change. He reached a turn of a passageway, and far ahead saw a streak of light.

“An opening at last!” he cried joyously, and his heart gave a bound of delight. He fairly ran forward, so eager was he to get out into the open air once more.

And then almost before he realized it the unexpected happened.

Dave found himself close to one of the openings of the abandoned mines, but at a point which was a long distance from the quarters of the engineers. Although he did not know it, he had traveled for several miles under the hills in that vicinity.

“Who goes there?” shouted a voice in German; and a minute later the young lieutenant found himself surrounded by half a dozen of the enemy.