Dave Porter's war honors

“Phil, it doesn’t look as if we were ever going to hear of Dave again.”

“Oh, Roger, don’t say anything like that!” burst out Phil Lawrence. “Why, it gives me a cold shiver just to think of it.”

“And don’t you suppose it makes me feel blue?” said the senator’s son, seriously. “Why, last night I hardly slept a wink just thinking about Dave’s disappearance.”

“I can’t help but reach the conclusion that he was captured by the Germans,” put in Ben, who sat near. “If it had been otherwise we would have discovered his body.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” answered the senator’s son. “He may have wandered off further than we suppose. And you must remember the underbrush is very thick in spots and conceals many openings among the rocks. He may have taken a long walk, and then have tried to get back by a short cut and lost his way. If that happened, it would be an easy thing for him to take some dangerous tumble in the dark.”

“And then remember, there are always those holes leading into the abandoned mines,” came from Buster. “He may have rolled into one of those and been unable to find his way out.”

“Oh, say, speaking of the holes leading into the mines puts me in mind of a story,” began Shadow. “Once there were three boys—” He stopped abruptly and looked contritely into the sober faces of his chums. “Confound it, anyway! what business have I got to try to tell a story at such a time as this? Excuse me, fellows. I—I feel just as bad over this as any of you do,” he added, lamely.

“Speaking about holes,” resumed Roger, after an awkward silence, “Phil and I examined two more of them yesterday, but got no trace whatever of Dave. That makes about the tenth time we have been out on a search.”

“And I have been out just as many times,” came from Ben; and Buster and Shadow nodded to infer that they had done practically the same thing.

Several days had passed since our hero’s disappearance, and the time had dragged heavily with his chums. Had it not been for the daily tasks assigned to them, they would have been a most miserable crowd. Even as it was, whenever they were off duty they invariably went on a hunt for their missing friend.

“Have you written anything to his folks yet, Roger, as you spoke of doing?” questioned Phil, a little later, when Shadow and Buster had left the others.

“No, I haven’t, Phil,” was the slow reply. “I can’t pluck up the courage to do it. What Dave’s folks and the Wadsworths will say when the news reaches them is something I hate to think of.”

“I’m with you in that,” answered the shipowner’s son. “I’m sure such bad news will put Jessie Wadsworth to bed.”

“And Laura, Phil. Don’t forget her. She thinks the world and all of her brother.”

“It’s too blamed bad, that’s what it is!” burst out Ben. “Oh, I do wish we could learn what has become of him!”

The young engineers had been kept fairly busy, for the American army and their allies were advancing steadily. The Americans had had one or two hot contests for the possession of several French villages. They had driven the Germans from the outskirts, and then from the villages themselves, and finally into the woods beyond, making an advance of ten or fifteen miles all along the front. The casualties had been heavy, and as a consequence the field hospitals were crowded with the wounded.

In these battles the engineers had had small part, but now they were sent once more to the front, to repair the roads and also make safe two of the villages, work which was as interesting as it was hazardous.

On the following afternoon Roger, Phil, and a number of the others found themselves in a small French village where they had been sent to clean up some of the wreckage in the main street, so that the army could use the thoroughfare for the passage of the artillery. A battalion of infantry was located at this village, and this included the company to which Nat Poole and Lieutenant Gebauer belonged.

“Hello! there is Nat Poole!” remarked Phil presently, when the young soldier in question came out of one of the half-wrecked buildings in that vicinity.

“Let us ask him if he has seen or heard anything of Dave,” returned Roger.

“I don’t think it will do a bit of good,” remarked Ben, who was with the others.

As soon as he saw his former schoolmates approaching, the money lender’s son attempted to evade them by passing around the corner of another ruined building. But all quickened their pace and soon caught up with him.

“Wait a minute, Nat!” called Roger. “We want to talk to you.”

The young soldier turned a startled and haggard face toward them.

“I don’t want to talk to you fellows,” he grumbled. “I want to be left alone.”

“See here, Nat, what’s got into you?” questioned Ben, coming closer. “You look scared to death.”

“It isn’t so!” cried the other quickly. “I’m not a bit scared! And I don’t want you to talk to me that way, Ben Basswood!”

“We were only going to ask you about Dave,” went on Roger. “He is still missing, and I wanted to know if you had heard anything at all of him.”

“Not a thing.” Nat’s face began to show greater alarm. “I want you fellows to leave me alone! You act just as if you thought I had something to do with Dave Porter’s disappearance.”

“Perhaps you did have something to do with it!” cried Phil, struck by a sudden idea.

“Has Lieutenant Gebauer seen him?” questioned Roger.

“I don’t know, but—er—I don’t think so,” added Nat falteringly. “Why don’t you ask him and find out for yourself?”

“I will,” said the senator’s son. “Where is he?”

“Humph! don’t ask me.”

Something in Nat’s manner caused his former schoolmates further surprise. Evidently he had something on his mind which he did not wish to have leak out.

“Isn’t Lieutenant Gebauer here?” questioned Ben.

“No.”

“Why not? Was he shot or captured?” queried Phil.

“No, he wasn’t shot or captured,” grumbled the money lender’s son. “He has lost his commission and been sent to the rear, if you must know!” he flared out.

“You don’t say!” burst out Roger and Phil simultaneously. Here was news indeed.

“What caused it, Nat? He must have done something awful to have such a thing happen to him,” remarked Ben.

“They said it was for cowardice in the face of the enemy. I don’t know anything about it, because I wasn’t with our company at the time. I ate something that didn’t agree with me and was on the sick list.”

“Who made the charge against Gebauer?” asked Roger, quickly.

“The major of our battalion. He was as mad as a hornet. Some one said he threatened to shoot the lieutenant. It seems Gebauer gave some sort of an order for the men to retreat when everybody wanted to advance. I guess he was terribly scared. Anyway, he started to run, and that threw all the men into confusion until the top sergeant came along and rallied our boys and sent them ahead again. It was a fierce mix-up, and Gebauer got it not only from the major, but also from the captain and some of the other officers of the regiment. Then they took him to headquarters, and the next thing I knew he had been sent to the rear.”

“Well, that sure is a come-down for Gebauer,” murmured Phil. “Gee! I wouldn’t have that happen to me for the world.”

“He’ll be disgraced for the rest of his life,” added Ben.

“I guess the best thing you can do, Nat, is to steer clear of such cattle,” said the senator’s son. “No one will ever want to forgive a fellow who was a coward in the face of the enemy.”

“Oh, I’m done with Gebauer; so you don’t have to preach to me about that,” growled the money lender’s son sourly. “I found out what he was quite some time ago.” And then, after a few more words, Nat Poole marched away from the others, looking anything but happy.

“He acts as if he had something on his mind,” was the way Ben expressed himself.

“Probably he is very much upset over the way Gebauer acted,” returned Phil. “The pair were quite chummy, if you’ll remember.”

“There was something about that Gebauer I never liked,” said Roger slowly. “He always made me think of a snake in the grass. I’ve got half a notion that he was a pro-German. Maybe his cowardice was all put on. He may have just been acting that way trying to help the enemy to a victory.”

“Gosh! If that’s so, he ought to be exposed!” cried Ben.

“Probably he has been exposed. They wouldn’t send him to the rear for nothing.”

The next day the battle was on again in all its fury. The Americans advanced through one of the villages, and then up a long hillside leading to some new positions which the Germans had fortified. There was much for both the infantry and the artillery to do, and the bombardment by the small and big guns kept up night and day, until the ground fairly trembled with the concussions.

There was much for the engineers to do, and Roger and his chums worked for sixteen hours, scarcely stopping to eat. They had a road to cut through one of the forests, and had also to build several small bridges.

It was highly dangerous work, and more than once a bomb exploded close to them, sending the dirt and rocks flying in every direction. Once Shadow went down, struck in the head, and some of the others had to carry him to the rear. He was not dangerously wounded, however, for which he was thankful.

In the midst of the work by the engineers, some of the infantry advanced once more. This embraced the company to which Nat Poole belonged, and a little later came another bombardment by the Germans which sent the trees and brushwood flying in all directions, so that that section of the forest became little less than an inferno.

“Gee, but this is getting hot!” ejaculated Phil, after a bomb had exploded close in front of them, sending sticks of wood, rocks, and a shower of dirt flying in all directions.

The engineers were ordered to move to the right, making their way as best they could through a tangle of brushwood. Roger and Phil were side by side when they heard a sudden yell for help.

“That sounds like Nat Poole’s voice!” exclaimed Roger, and started on a run for the spot whence the cry proceeded.

Phil followed his chum, and Ben came close behind the pair. Soon all three reached a point where a shell had cut off two trees about five feet up from the ground. The trunks of the trees had come down with a tremendous crash one on top of the other, and both were lying in a tangle of brushwood.

“Help, help!” was the cry, and now the chums felt certain it came from the money lender’s son.

Soon they reached the vicinity of the fallen trees. Here the jumble of tree limbs and brushwood was so thick they could scarcely see into it. From the midst continued to come the cry for help.

“Is that you, Nat?” called out Roger.

“Yes, yes! Save me! Save me!” screamed the money lender’s son. “These trees are choking the life out of me!”

Fortunately, Roger and Ben were armed with axes, while Phil carried a crowbar. Worming their way in among the tangle of brushwood and branches, they presently came to the place where Nat lay. He was flat on his back with the weight of one of the trees resting heavily upon his stomach.

“We’ll have to chop him loose,” said Phil, after a hasty survey of the situation. They saw that it would be practically impossible for them to raise up that mass of fallen timber.

With the roar of battle raging all around them, the young engineers set to work with the axes, and in less than ten minutes had chopped away two of the tree limbs. Then another was pried to one side by Ben and Phil, and while this was done Roger dragged the money lender’s son to a safe position.

Nat was so weak he could scarcely stand, and Roger and Ben supported him as they led the way out of the tangle. Then they fell in with several soldiers belonging to Nat’s company.

“You had better take charge of this fellow,” said Roger to one of the men. “I don’t know how badly he has been hurt. A couple of trees came down on top of him.”

“My stomach is smashed!” groaned Nat dolefully. “I know I’ll never be able to walk straight again! I am done for!” And then, as a sudden twinge of pain seized him, he went on with a sob: “I knew it! I knew I would have to suffer! I had no right to do what I did! Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?” And then, suddenly throwing up both hands, Nat Poole fell in a dead faint.