The Big Five Motorcycle Boys on the Battle Line; Or, With the Allies in France

“Why don’t you give them a shot, Rod?” Hanky Panky was heard calling just then, for apparently things had reached a crisis, and he expected seeing one of the raiders come pushing through the opening the next thing.

Rod was only holding back so as to keep his fire to the last extremity. The boy was pale, and his teeth were set, but there was a blaze in his eyes that boded no good for the first Uhlan who ventured to try to enter.

Although the Motorcycle Boys in the start decided not to take sides if such a thing could be avoided, they had found it impossible to control their feelings in the matter. The cause of the Allies seemed to be closer to American ideals than the militarist methods of the Kaiser’s men; and by degrees Rod and his chums had come to sympathize with the French and Belgians until finally ready to openly declare that they were for them heart and soul.

Rod hated the thought of shedding blood, even though his own life, as well as those of his chums, seemed in deadly danger. Only as a very last resort was Rod willing to use that weapon which had come into his possession so strangely; and in his mind he had already determined to only wound, if such a choice seemed possible.

The Uhlans without were exultant over the success they had already attained. To continue their work and presently smash the door completely in, they drew back the ladder which they were using as a battering ram.

Rod saw his chance to look out through the vent. What he saw was not of a reassuring nature. There were five stout men in the uniform of the reckless rough riders belonging to the German army; and they were swinging that heavy ladder in a way that showed what delight they experienced in just such work of destruction.

Rod did not class them as different from the soldiers of any army raiding through the enemy’s country. In fact he was not bothering his head just then making comparisons, for he had enough to do in figuring how he might further delay the crisis so as to give the coming zouaves a little more time in which to arrive.

“I guess it’s got to be done!” the boy was muttering to himself as he peeped through that narrow slit of an opening and saw that the pack had about reached the end of their swing, so that the forward rush was about to begin.

It was easy enough to pick out the man who seemed to be the head and brains of the bunch. He was of course in the van, and by his actions as well as by his loudly shouted exclamations exerted a most important influence on the others. In fact he served as the pilot of the little group; when he gave the word they surged forward with whoops, meaning this time to finish smashing that objectionable door.

Why the Uhlans did not attempt to force an entrance through the rear of the house, which was absolutely undefended, Rod never could tell. Perhaps they were of the “one-idea” class of men, who, having made up their minds to do a thing in a certain way, could not deviate from the plan they had laid out.

Rod saw his chance to break up that next assault if only his aim were true. He thrust his weapon forward, finding plenty of room for his purpose. While he did not claim to be much of a shot with such a clumsy weapon as he now held, at the same time the boy knew considerable about firearms in general, and that counted for a whole lot.

Besides, the distance was ridiculously scant, and really Rod would have been deeply mortified had he missed his aim under the circumstances.

He meant to wound the leader by shooting him in the leg, and with that intention in view aimed low when pulling the trigger. The five Uhlans had actually started on the run at the time, so that they might strike the tottering door a tremendous blow, and complete matters with one fell swoop, which would give them entrance to the house.

Josh, who was peeping over Rod’s shoulder, gave a howl of delight when through the little puff of smoke that followed the feeble crack of the revolver he saw the big leader suddenly crumple up, and, falling in a heap, bring every one of his companions down in a struggling mass.

“A great shot, Rod, a magnificent hit!” was the burden of his shout; “pinked the whole five at a clip! Splendid work, let me tell you, Rod! However did you manage to do it?”

Apparently, Josh had allowed his enthusiasm to run away with his better judgment, for he imagined that in some mysterious manner the missile from Rod’s weapon had split in sections, and scattered like a load of bird shot, bringing down victims by the wholesale.

However that might be, Josh speedily realized his error, for a number of the soldiers were already struggling to their feet. Only one remained on the ground, and he was hugging his left leg as though in sudden anguish, a fact that sent a qualm of regret through Rod’s heart.

He hoped they would draw off now, and give up the attempt for a little time at least. True, there were five more charges in his gun, and only four of the Uhlans, so that it seemed as though he might be equal to the task of holding them in check, but one victim was enough to satisfy him.

“They’re going to try it again, Rod!” cried Josh, shrilly.

He was trembling violently with the excitement, and his face had taken on the look of one wrought up to the fighting pitch. To tell the truth, Josh had but a single regret just then, which was that he did not possess the mate of the weapon his chum gripped in his hand.

“And I’d never have bothered just peppering ’em in their legs, either,” he afterwards affirmed, when talking matters over with Hanky Panky; “they were meaning to get us, and if the shoe happened to be on the other foot who would be to blame?”

When Rod saw that the four men once more picked up the heavy ladder and started to swing it forward he realized that it was up to him to try again. By gradually reducing the number of their foes he must in the end check their drive.

So he coolly picked out the next victim. As before, it had to be one of those in front, so as to bring confusion to the charge, as the rest were bound to trip over him should he fall.

All this while there arose from different quarters loud outcries and shouts of laughter from the spoilers, filled with the mad desire to inflict a reign of terror and frightfulness upon the natives. Shots were also heard at intervals, women screamed, children shrieked, dogs barked, and taken in all it was a combination of sounds never to be forgotten by those who happened to be in the little French village.

Well, Rod was just as successful with that second shot of his as he had been on the former occasion. With the report of his weapon he could see the man start, and give every evidence of being hard hit. He managed to keep from falling, however, being sustained by his grip on the ladder, as well as the impetus of his companions’ advance.

It might have altered things somewhat had Rod been given an opportunity to discharge a third shot, this time selecting the other fellow in the van; but before he could really grasp the immensity of this idea it was too late.

The heavy ladder struck the already weakened door, and such was the force with which it was hurled forward that it tore the latter from its hinges and sent it to the floor, the end of the ladder projecting several feet into the room.

Rod, seeing what was about to happen, had swept his two comrades back so that none of them chanced to be struck by the falling door. There was now a wide gap, and the three uninjured Uhlans might easily rush through this. They would find, however, that the resistance of the inmates did not end with the breaking in of the door; for there was Rod holding himself in readiness to shoot again, Josh with his upraised poker, Hanky Panky also in line with a club, and the old man who had secured the revered gun that had hung on the wall since ’71, waiting for this day, had its sword bayonet adjusted so as to pin the first German who dared venture across that threshold.

Fortunately there was no necessity for further action on the part of the valiant defenders of the village home, for just at that moment there arose a series of the wildest shouts Rod had ever heard. They were shouting in unison, those zouaves, as they spread through the village looking for Uhlans to spit upon their hungry bayonets. Hanky Panky in times past had more than once ventured to make fun of certain phrases which he had heard spoken in French; but he was now ready to confess that there was no language on the face of the earth to be compared with the French as falling from the bearded lips of men who wore those baggy red trousers of the famous zouaves.

“They’ve come, Rod, they’ve really got here!” he cried, in a paroxysm of delight.

Josh too was equally satisfied, though he should always deeply regret that it had not fallen to his lot to strike one blow for the cause, and that all the honors had gone to Rod.

Rod, seeing that none of the Uhlans seemed disposed to renew the attack, managed to look out; and the others were speedily at his side.

The danger, in so far as it related to the inmates of the village houses, was past; but evidently it had only begun for the Uhlans. They had mounted their already tired horses in hot haste, that is, all those capable of doing so, and were trying to get out of the village, turning and firing back at the French with reckless abandon as they went galloping away.

Rod saw one man trying to help another mount a prancing horse. He had his arm about the wounded man and seemed to ignore his own danger in the desire to fetch his comrade safely away.

“That’s the fellow you pinked the first time!” cried Josh, understandingly.

Rod had already guessed as much. He hoped deep down in his heart that the Uhlan would manage to regain his saddle and ride to safety, for the boy did not want to feel that through any act of his the raider might be finally brought down.

Half a minute later and the two were galloping off. Once the injured man sat in his saddle he seemed capable of taking care of himself, though unless his wound were attended to shortly he must become too weak from loss of blood to continue on his way, and would find it necessary to allow himself to be taken prisoner by the French in order to save his life.

All around the active zouaves were running madly, and shouting in their wild excitement. The Uhlans had not attempted to make any sort of a stand, for they realized they were vastly outnumbered, and that it was “safety first” with them.

From the crackling of guns that continued for some time Rod felt assured that all of the raiders who had so boldly entered the French village could not have gone out of it again. Some there must be caught in a trap, for it seemed that the first of the zouaves arriving had started to encircle the place, with the idea of cutting off the retreat of the pillagers when they took the alarm.

Josh first of all insisted in shaking hands with each of his chums, and then with the three valiant old men who had shown such grit. Rod, more practical, knew that there was other work to be done.

“Here, we must find buckets, and put out that fire before it gets too big a headway!” he told both of his companions, upon which they bestirred themselves; and some of the zouaves coming to their assistance, they presently had the flames completely smothered.

Things began to assume a settled appearance in the village as the sun sank low in the west, seen through the breaks in the clouds. There was wailing in a few of the houses over the destruction that had been wrought during the temporary occupation of the place by the enemy. Luckily, however, no one of the inhabitants had been killed, or even seriously injured. Two buildings were burned, several dogs shot because they had dared bark at the invaders, a few slight wounds received; but on the whole every one felt that they had good reason for congratulating themselves on the fact that things were no worse. Other French villages did not fare so well when overrun by the invaders.

After all the boys were not sorry for the experience. They had witnessed some sights that they would never forget. Rod too could plume himself on having done the right thing when he used his weapon twice with telling effect.

After the fire in the rear of the house had been effectually extinguished the good woman appeared before them to announce that supper was served; and she added her apologies because they might find some of the dishes not quite so warm as they liked, “For,” as she naïvely put it, “we had too much heat in another quarter; and one never knows just how to manage when those terrible Uhlans are around.”

Certainly none of the three boys found anything to complain of. They never remembered sitting down to a finer meal, when their appetites were on edge, as just then happened to be the case.

Hanky Panky ate until Josh solemnly warned him that he would surely founder unless he curbed that awful appetite of his. It might have been noticed, however, that Josh was sitting there for some little time after his comrades had left the table, and still “sampling” the good things that tempted him.

It was settled that since the three motorcycles were already in the house they might as well remain there. Rod managed to fix the smashed door so that it would close again, though a carpenter’s skill would be required to place it in its former excellent condition.

When they got through eating it was beginning to grow dusk. Josh remarked that he guessed he would saunter out to stretch his legs, and at the same time see the extent of damage inflicted by the brief occupation of the village by the raiders.

“They say those Uhlans can make a howling wilderness of a Paradise quicker than any men on the face of the earth, once they set out to do things,” Josh explained as he picked up his hat, “and I’d like to find out if there’s any truth in the yarn.”

Rod told him to “mind his eye,” and not wander away, since with the night coming on there could be no telling what danger might not hover over his head.

“For all we know some of those Germans may still be hanging about,” added Hanky Panky, “and I’d really feel better if Rod loaned you his gun.”

“Oh, come! there’s no necessity of Josh going out at all if he has to load himself down with deadly weapons like that,” laughed Rod.

Josh had his little outing, and returned in good time. He acted as though he did not regret his determination, and Hanky Panky, knowing from the signs that the other must have seen something worth while, immediately set to work “pumping” him, being filled with curiosity.

“You ran across something while you were out, Josh, and I’d thank you to open up and tell us about it,” he went on to say. “Did the French chaps with the baggy red trousers and the big yell manage to bring down any of the German raiders when they used up so much powder and ball?”

“I believe they did, for one woman who could talk some English managed to tell me the zouaves took three prisoners back with them, and in addition one fellow who would have to be buried, she said, because he was dead.”

Hanky Panky would have shivered at one time on hearing such gruesome news, but after witnessing the terrible sights accompanying the battle along the bank of the Marne he somehow seemed to think little of it.

“Was that all you saw or heard, Josh?” he continued, bent on making the other confess to the limit.

Josh grinned, showing that he had purposely acted so as to excite the suspicion of this curious comrade. Having attained his end, he consented to explain further.

“Well, no, not quite all, Hanky,” he remarked calmly; “I’m most sure I saw a man skulking around who showed a whole lot of concern when I approached, and even hurried away. He wasn’t an old man either, and let me tell you, Rod, he hid his face from me in the bargain. Now, what do you think of that?”

“Was it Jules, do you reckon?” asked Hanky Panky, as quick as a flash; for somehow he could not imagine any other person wishing to avoid meeting one of them.

“I got the notion in my head,” admitted Josh, “that it must be either him or else some party hitched up with Jules. He acted in a way that made me sure of that.”

“Huh!” Hanky Panky went on to say, with one of his odd chuckles, “I’m only surprised, Josh, you didn’t step right up to the fellow and ask him if he answered to the name of Jules Baggott; also if he happened to know a woman called Jeanne D’Aubrey. That’d be just like your way, Josh.”

The other grinned affably as though he considered this one of the highest compliments his chum could pay him.

“Oh, well, to tell you the truth, though I’m almost ashamed to admit it,” he remarked, “I did want to chase after him and say that very same thing; but, hang the luck, he was too slippery for me. Besides, you see, it was getting dark; anyhow he managed to leave me in the lurch. But it was one of that bunch, believe me.”

“Still after that paper, it seems, Rod,” said Hanky Panky with a frown; “mebbe we’ll have a visitor again to-night, just like happened in that inn over at Calais.”

“If we do you can make up your mind he’ll have all his trouble for his pains,” the other told him; “besides, we’ll take precautions this time, and no sneak-thief can get into the room when I’m on my guard without our knowing it.”

The boys sat around for some little time afterwards. Rod entered into a conversation with the woman of the house, for while he could tell her many things concerning the state of affairs at the front, at the same time there was always a possibility of his picking up a little information that might come in handy later on.

In good time they were shown to a room, where they proceeded to make themselves comfortable. Rod, with some cord which he produced, set a clever little trap. By this simple method of protection he fixed matters so that should any one try to enter by way of the open windows they would arouse the sleepers by pulling down three chairs which had been piled up, and made fast to the cord.

Whatever the plan of the plotter may have been, evidently entering the room of the three American boys did not form a part of it, because the night passed without any further alarm.

“Guess he knew we had that gun we took from his man who played the part of Oscar William Tell,” observed Hanky Panky in the morning, when awakened by the rising sun they lay there and talked matters over.

“Well,” remarked Josh with a yawn, “by this time Jules is beginning to understand that we don’t mean to handle him with gloves if he runs afoul of us. While he may keep on trying as hard as ever to get that paper in his hands, it’ll be through some sneaky way, and not in a stand-up fight. Schemers like him seldom do feel like facing the men they aim to beat. I’m keeping an eye out for Jules; and say, if ever I do get a chance to give him my compliments you listen to what he says about it; that’s all.”

The morning opened peacefully, though in the distance they could already begin to hear the guns take up the same steady rhythm that would grow louder and more insistent as the day grew older, until the fierce rush of battle again held sway, and a million of Frenchmen hurled themselves against an equal number of Germans in the endeavor to push them back still further in their retreat from before Paris.

The boys started out soon afterwards. Rod believed he knew about where the regiment could be found to which Jeanne’s husband, Andre, belonged. If fortune favored them, and they discovered the French reservist still in the land of the living, doubtless it could soon be arranged as they planned.

As on the previous afternoon, they soon found themselves on the road along which the retreating German army had passed. Everywhere they could see marks of this flight, for such it really was, despite the order with which the retrograde movement had been conducted. In places the roadside was glutted with cast-off articles, such as had better be disposed of if haste and mobility were to be considered.

As a rule these had been rendered useless before being abandoned, in order to prevent them from becoming valuable to the enemy. It was a sight worth seeing; and no wonder such of the country people whom the boys came upon, examining this “made in Germany” material, had broad smiles on their faces, since it spoke eloquently of the near panic that must have existed in the army of Von Kluck, before they would thus abandon so much of their resources.

A score of interesting things engaged their attention as they slowly made their way along. Obstacles were frequently met with, but cleverly avoided by these expert riders. Many times Rod called a temporary halt in order to speak with some peasant who chanced to look more than ordinarily intelligent, and, he imagined, able to give him information.

They also came upon various detachments of the French army. Some were engaged in caring for wounded comrades who could not be taken to the rear as yet on account of the glut of injured and the lack of vehicles of transportation; though many such were to be seen on their way to Paris with loads of groaning humanity.

Then fresh artillery was to be found going to the front, the horses snorting as though they already scented the battle smoke, the men sitting there on gun carriage and caisson, grim and eager, though none could say if he might be so fortunate as to see the sun set when that dreadful day reached its close.

Other big vans there were carrying fresh ammunition to the guns that were so noisily punctuating the morning atmosphere with their clamor. French powder and shot had never been sent forth on a mission more in keeping with the hearts of the people. A million hands would willingly toil day by day making fresh supplies, if only it could win for them another such fight as this glorious victory over the German invaders on the banks of the Marne.

There came a time, however, when Rod was brought to a sudden stop through other means than his own will. From either side of the road arose men wearing the French uniform. Guns were brought to bear upon the three riders, and a gruff voice ordered them to come to a halt and surrender.

Laughing at what they deemed something akin to a joke, they hastened to comply.

“We might as well go to their headquarters, as they are ordering us to,” suggested Rod pleasantly; “it will serve to break the monotony of our ride, and who knows what information we may be able to pick up there.”

He touched his breast pocket as he said this, and the other boys knew that Rod did not in the least doubt the ability of those papers to carry them through any little difficulty that might arise.

Accordingly he turned to the grizzled French sergeant who seemed to be in charge of the detail by which they had been taken prisoners, and told him to lead the way to his commanding officer.

Passing up the road they turned into what seemed to be a little-used path. Each of the boys trundled his machine along, preferring to do this rather than risk handing them over to the soldiers.

Even Hanky Panky exhibited no sign of alarm. If in the beginning he felt any such weakness it had been immediately set at rest by those cheery words which Rod spoke. Of course they could quickly satisfy the French commander of their standing; those magical documents would do the trick and gain them new friends as well.

Shortly afterwards they found themselves in what seemed to be a temporary camp. A regiment of troops had been stationed here for some strategical purpose, which was never explained to the boys. Under a shelter tent several officers were conferring while they sipped their coffee. The older man with the white imperial Rod knew to be a colonel from his uniform. All of them eyed the trio with frowns, and somehow Hanky Panky began to feel a little chill.

Rod immediately courteously saluted the colonel and started to speak.

“Pardon me, Colonel, but may I ask why we have been waylaid and taken in charge?”

“It is very simple,” came the astounding answer in plain English; “in times like this spies may be arrested, tried, and executed all inside of an hour. And you three boys are accused of having been known to send information to the enemy!”

That startling accusation sobered even Josh, for the smile faded from his face as he turned an anxious look upon Rod. To be taken for a spy was a serious thing in these war times, when a short shrift often followed such a charge.

Rod did not lose his self-possession. At the same time a little frown appeared on his usually placid face.

“That is a serious thing you charge us with, my Colonel,” he remarked. “We are three American boys who were caught in the whirl of war. We finally found our way out of Belgium with much difficulty. Two of our number started back home, having been recalled by a message of importance.”

“But Belgium is far away from Paris, and the banks of the Marne, young M’sieu!” said the officer, with a touch of satire in his cold voice, and a look toward a man dressed as a civilian, who, Rod noticed, was intently watching them.

“That is true, Monsieur le Colonel,” immediately replied the boy, “and we can explain that easily. We met with a poor French woman in Antwerp whose story enlisted our sympathies. She had just come by a paper from a lawyer in Paris whereby her husband would inherit quite a snug little fortune if he signed the same document within a stated time. But as he had hastened to join his regiment when war was declared she feared the opportunity would be forever lost. And, my Colonel, we three boys, hoping also to see something of what was going on along the French front, gave Jeanne D’Aubrey our promise that we would try to find her Andre, so that the paper might be signed.”

The colonel appeared to be interested, also the other officers, for they were all French, and as such could appreciate anything bordering on chivalry. Nevertheless the commander shook his head a little sadly.

“That sounds very fine, young M’sieu,” he went on to say, “but, alas! what are we to believe when this gentleman, who is a fully accredited member of the French Secret Service, informs us that he certainly saw you communicating with the enemy only last night, and that there can be no doubt of your guilt?”

At hearing this Hanky Panky uttered a low cry of alarm, while Josh glared defiantly at the man in question, who was nodding his head as if confirming all the colonel said.

“Aha! I smell a rat,” Josh muttered, “and its name is Jules, too! I can see his fine hand back of all this raw deal.”

Rod had to think fast. He, too, believed that the Secret Agent must be in the employ of the schemer; but it might not be advisable to say so as bluntly as Josh seemed capable of doing.

“Keep still, Josh,” he said aside, “and let me do all the talking necessary.” And then, addressing the commandant again, he continued: “There surely must be some mistake about this, Monsieur le Colonel. We spent the whole of last night sleeping in a house in a small village where a regiment of brave zouaves routed a force of Uhlans who had taken possession. The building in which we found shelter was attacked, and we had the honor of assisting in its defense. I myself shot two Uhlans in the leg with this same weapon, as they were smashing in the front door, after firing the back of the building. But the zouaves came up just in time, and cleared the field of the enemy.”

The colonel listened and looked hard at Rod. Evidently he had been already favorably impressed with the frank face of the lad, and was puzzled to know what to believe. He turned to the Secret Service agent and exchanged several low sentences with him. The man seemed positive, and apparently did his best to convince the officer that at least the boys should be held, pending an examination.

Once more Rod faced the colonel. He meant to play his trump cards now, and convince the other that the charge made against them was ridiculous, to say the least.

Rapidly he started to recount some of the strange happenings that had been their portion since crossing from German territory to that of Belgium and taking up the race to reach Antwerp by dodging the invading armies.

The officers listened, and apparently all of them could understand English, for they showed the greatest interest. Now and then two might be seen exchanging meaning looks, as though coming to a mutual understanding to the effect that this boy must be a modern Baron Munchausen, judging from the remarkable stories he had at the tip of his tongue.

This was especially the case when Rod mentioned that they had actually been invited into the presence of King Albert, who had thanked them personally.

“It is all very interesting, young M’sieu,” said the commandant, when Rod paused for breath; “but naturally we would be better pleased if you could show us some proof that these wonderful things have come your way. So grave an accusation may not be brushed aside, you understand, with a wave of the hand. And I am sure you will only too gladly oblige us in this case.”

He smiled when saying this; so too did the younger officers, for they could not believe that the boy was carrying anything with him calculated to substantiate his remarkable story.

Judge then of their amazement when Rod coolly produced certain documents which he kept wrapped in oilskin, located in a deep pocket of his coat.

“Be kind enough, my Colonel,” Rod said composedly, “to observe that not only is this paper signed by the gallant king of the Belgians, but that indeed he himself wrote every word it contains. And I have still other proofs to show you in turn, if you would still be convinced that our story is every word of it true.”

There was a tense silence; several pairs of eyes were glued on that document which Rod meant to have framed if ever he were lucky enough to get it safely home with him. It would be a badge of honor to which he and his chums might proudly point when speaking of their remarkable adventures in the Land of the Great War.

The manner of the colonel had changed when finally he looked up. Admiration spoke in the glance of his sparkling eyes. Here, then, were brave American boys who had indeed done something worthy of commendation by one whose name was already on the lips of every loyal Frenchman; because the stubborn defense of his native soil by King Albert and his little army had caused the delay in the plans of the German host that really saved Paris from capture.

“It is only right that I should beg your pardon, young M’sieu,” he hastened to say, with deep feeling his voice; “there is no mistaking the meaning of this recommendation, which rings true. You are the friends of Belgium, and also of France. There is little that you could ask within my power to grant that I would refuse you. And if you will do me the honor to shake hands with me I shall be proud to press the palm that King Albert has held.”

Well, the thing had not been so hard to accomplish after all. Still Rod realized that the Secret Agent of the French Government must have sold himself to Jules for a price, knowing at the time he was going to put the lives of innocent boys in peril; and Rod did not feel positively safe yet.

The man, however, saw that, so far as he was concerned, he had put his foot in a hole and had better beat a hasty retreat while there was yet time.

Undoubtedly he himself had been impressed by the display of a document of such great value, and realized that those who had the sincere friendship of the ruler of the Belgians were not to be treated harshly with impunity.

As Josh afterwards remarked, the man immediately commenced to “hedge”; that is, he hastened to “square himself” with the French colonel, who was now glancing curiously, perhaps a bit suspiciously, toward him.

“Apparently I have been mistaken in supposing that it was these brave young messieurs who were sending secret messages to the enemy,” he went on to say glibly, “and I hasten to offer them my most sincere apologies and regrets that through me they have been put to such needless trouble. I hereby withdraw my charge and trust that you will forget it has ever been made, Monsieur le Colonel.”

This was said in French, which Rod alone of the three boys could fully understand, but Josh guessed the tenor of the remarks from the shrugs accompanying them.

“He’s eating his words, Hanky, don’t you see?” he observed behind his hand to his other chum. “Some people know enough to get in out of the rain when the deluge comes. Jules has wasted some more hard cash, seems like.”

Now Rod understood that he could make it pretty hard for the Secret Service man of the French Government if he chose to tell what he knew about Jules, and the profit that would accrue to the schemer could he prevent Andre from signing that paper on time. He did not think it good policy, however, to mention the matter. It would only serve to anger the man, and could not bring them any particular benefit.

Accordingly Rod only shot him a suggestive look that doubtless the other could easily analyze. It meant that the boys were not disposed to be vindictive–that in fact they were ready to take it for granted he did not know the true condition of affairs when he entered into his agreement with the crafty Jules; and hence they were going to let the matter drop.

Perhaps the man might feel a spark of gratitude and appreciation for this kindly and generous spirit; the future would show that, Rod thought.

As the colonel had been so much interested in their story, Rod considered it only fair that he relate a few more circumstances connected with their past. He also gladly showed him the paper given him by the surgeon at the field hospital, telling how the American boys had worked like beavers in assisting him take care of the numerous cases he had been compelled to handle with such inadequate facilities at his command. Yes, there were still other documents which Rod allowed them to glance over, after which he smilingly remarked:

“I suppose now, M. le Colonel, there will be no necessity for taking us out before a file of your soldiers and blindfolding our eyes while they perform their melancholy duty?”

The officer for answer threw his arms around Rod and gave him a demonstration of excitable French admiration by kissing him on both cheeks.

“If I had a son,” he said fervently, “which, alas! Heaven has not allowed me to retain in this world, I should be proud indeed were he built in your image, my brave young American. And when you go back to your splendid country tell them, will you not, wherever you go, that France sees her duty by the world, and will not flinch, no matter what the cost. When this war is over there will never be a despotic military power again. The victory on the Marne has settled all that, though it may take years for Germany to recognize the fiat.”

The three boys parted from the worthy colonel with mutual expressions of esteem. They would often recall his fine martial appearance, with his strong face and its white imperial, trimmed after the style of the later Napoleon.

Even Hanky Panky could laugh now, once they were on the road again.

“That agent of the Government saw he had put his foot in it, after you flashed the King Albert message before them,” he remarked as they rode slowly along as near to forming a bunch as was safe for motorcyclists.

“Yes, and I reckon he felt pretty cheap when he had to own up about making a mistake,” added Josh. “You don’t believe for a single minute, do you, Rod, that he really saw anybody trying to send signals to the enemy? It was all a set-up game, wasn’t it?”

“No question about it,” he was told by the other, Rod being in the van, as usual, “but it was another experience for us, you know. And besides, I managed to pick up a little information that helps out.”

“Do you mean with regard to the regiment we’re on the track of?” questioned Hanky Panky eagerly, for to tell the honest truth he was hoping that the end of the trail was near at hand, when they could follow their other chums across the sea to their far-distant homes.

“Yes,” said Rod over his shoulder, “it’s ahead of us, and we ought to reach it some time to-day; but the chances are we’ll find it neck deep in action, because it forms a part of that army thrown forward to do the worrying of the German rearguard to-day. Let us hope if one man in that regiment survives the battle it may be Andre.”

The boys did not attempt to do much of this sort of talking as they moved along the road. Many reasons united to make conversation a weariness to the flesh when carried on under the prevailing conditions.

In the first place they had to keep a certain distance apart, which would in itself necessitate shouting. Then the rumble of cannon was growing steadily heavier the further they advanced, deadening most other sounds pretty much all the time. Last of all there were those gaps in the road, springing up most unexpectedly, where enemy shells had struck in the endeavor to destroy as many of the pursuing French troops as possible.

Both armies had traversed the region through which Rod and his friends were making their tedious way. It can well be understood that the marks of their late progress abounded on all sides.

Even where no particular action had occurred a thousand reminders of the human flood of men that had so lately passed through were to be discovered on every side. Often Hanky Panky’s heart seemed to feel a chill hand rest upon it as he marked the inevitable evidences of “man’s inhumanity to man.” Cottages were burned or ruined in some way or other; once beautiful gardens trampled out of all recognition; outbuildings torn down to make campfires for the marching hosts–in fact the land looked as though a hurricane might have recently swept across it, leaving scars that it would take a long time indeed to heal.

Here, there, and everywhere they could see groups of the forlorn inhabitants wandering about. Some stood and stared at the ruins of their recent homes; others guarded the little they had saved; while still more were on the roadside looking toward the region of the north, from whence came all those portentous rumblings and angry roarings.

Hanky Panky, however, was astonished to discover very few solemn faces among the peasants of the Marne country. At first this amazed him, but presently he figured out what it meant.

They had in many cases lost the accumulated savings of years, even their humble homes; but in spite of this they could take off their caps and shout in almost savage glee as the three Motorcycle Boys rode past.

Why, to be sure, the Great Day had come, of which they had some of them dreamed full forty years and more; when the German legions, like a plague of locusts, had once more descended upon devoted Paris, only to be brought to a standstill by the glorious army of the republic. And even now those furious guns told how Von Kluck, who had made such wonderful boasts of what he meant to do, was in full retreat bordering on a panic.

That was why temporary sufferings were all forgotten. For France these honest sons and daughters would make much greater sacrifices, and think little of it. So Hanky Panky felt ready to take off his hat to every one of them who gave the three riders a cheer or a salute in passing by.

Few animals save dogs and cats could be seen. Evidently the Germans had tried to make a clean sweep of the forty miles and more they covered like a vast fan, in falling back to the prepared positions along the Aisne. Those horses or cows that had been saved from the general slaughter or seizure must have been artfully secreted somewhere, so that they escaped the keen search. As for chickens, not a solitary rooster’s crow had the boys heard since early dawn; for fowls of every description are first looked after by the soldier marching through a hostile country.

Long caravans of supplies were crawling over other roads, all heading for the front and coming from the direction of Paris. No wonder that every thoroughfare must be crowded with vehicles of transportation, when a million Frenchmen in arms had to be fed daily, not to mention the enormous quantities of ammunition that must be expended between the rising and the setting of every sun.

The more Rod saw of this the greater grew his admiration for the genius of the men whose brains had to command all these thousands of details looking to the provisioning of such a vast host. It was an experience the educational value of which could never be fully estimated; and often would the boy ponder over the problems that must have confronted those who were responsible for the solution of them.

They had numerous little adventures by the way, though as a rule these were in the line of narrow escapes from nasty spills, on account of ruts in the road. Rod frequently gave warning when he reached an especially bad stretch of ground, for he was well aware of the failings of his two chums–Josh with his impetuous ways, and Hanky Panky rather apt to be careless as well as clumsy.

One thing in particular Rod noticed, and this was that as they proceeded the sounds ahead of them kept on growing louder. Evidently then they were coming up on that part of the Marne country where the last rearguard action was being fiercely contested.

Von Kluck and his proud army must be continually finding themselves pushed further and further away from the beautiful city in which they had fully expected to be encamped ere this; though they grimly contested every mile they gave up, bound to sacrifice as few of their heavy guns as possible.

Another thing staggered the boys when they came to think of it. During the Civil War in their own country some of the greatest battles then known to history were fought, and the numbers on both sides did not really amount to more than two hundred thousand men. Here there were more than as many million grappling in deadly earnest, supplied with the most wonderful of modern death-dealing weapons, with engineers highly educated along the lines of utilizing these engines of wholesale destruction.

No wonder then the dead and wounded were as the leaves of the forest when the wind of late October tears them from their hold upon the branches and scatters them in windrows behind the logs and stumps and in fence corners.

Rod had some reason to believe that if they were allowed to proceed forward on this particular day they would presently reach the regiment in which Andre, sought so earnestly in the interest of his family, had an humble part. He was determined that should fortune favor them and the object of their search be accomplished he would listen no longer to the pleadings of Josh, but strike for Paris, so as to get away from this war-blasted country as quickly as possible.

It was beginning to pall upon Rod. After all he was only a boy, and had never been accustomed to such terrible sights as of late were being continually thrust before him. Nature has its limits, and Rod believed he was now very close to the end of his endurance.

“As it is, what we’ve run across will haunt us the rest of our lives,” he was telling himself as he led the way along the difficult road; “and for one I’m longing to wake up again, and find myself wandering by the peaceful waters of the river bordering Garland in the far-distant States. And here’s hoping that this may turn out to be our very last day in the track of the battling armies.”

The dust was thick in places, partly on account of the season of the year, and then again because of the unwonted use to which that particular thoroughfare had been put of late. When several hundred thousand feet have tramped along in almost endless procession, and then innumerable vehicles of every known description, not to mention heavy artillery, some of it drawn by traction engines, some by horses, passing back and forth, it can easily be understood that the best of roads must be well nigh wrecked.

Hanky Panky had coughed a number of times, as though his throat was beginning to clog up with all this dust, and he found himself in danger of choking. When no attention was paid at first to these plain symptoms he coughed louder than ever, and with such evident distress that Rod guessed what he wanted.

“All right, Hanky,” he shouted back, “wait till we come to a well, or a spring of some sort, and we’ll drop off to wash it down.”

After that Hanky Panky quieted considerably, his main object having been accomplished. As he rode along the boy kept watching ahead, hoping that it would not be long before they sighted some oasis in the desert where a sparkling rill ran, or the thrice welcome sweep of an old-fashioned well told of water to be had for the trouble of raising the same.

“I see one, Rod!” he presently called at the top of his voice, which was quite husky from the accumulation of dust; “there’s a well in that place we’re coming to, and I hope you keep your word, because I’m nearly perishing for a drink.”

“Same here,” said Josh, thinking to relieve the other’s mind, because that would make two in favor of a stop, and majority always ruled with the Motorcycle Boys.

It happened just then that the road was next to deserted, though again just the reverse might be the case. The well sweep could no longer be seen, but Hanky Panky had marked the spot in his mind, and was not to be cheated because a knoll hid the well from the road, so it was only visible in that one quarter.

Rod drew up. A gate stood before him that was now in ruins, showing that the invaders had been there. They pushed their heavy machines past, and followed the lane leading over the knoll, to find a cottage in ruins, having been burned to the very ground.

It was a sad sight, and filled the boys with distress; but by this time they were naturally becoming a little hardened to such spectacles of warfare, and could view them without the same sensation of anger and disgust toward the aggressors that had filled their hearts at an earlier date.

For some reason or other the Germans had chosen to apply the torch to this isolated cottage. Perhaps some party had been keenly disappointed at finding it totally deserted, with not even a stray chicken left to satisfy their longing for a supper.

Rod gave one hasty glance around. Then he heaved a satisfied sigh, for he had been a little afraid lest he discover some evidence of foul work there. Such did not happen to be the case; the owner of the cottage instead of staying and arousing the passions of the invaders by firing at them in secret, had wisely departed to unknown regions before their coming, taking warning in time.

So the trio of boys hastened to the well as soon as they could dispose of their wheels. It would do them no harm to idle away ten minutes here, and drink their fill of the sparkling liquid which doubtless lay in those shadowy depths.

Hanky Panky reached it first of all, Josh not appearing to be in a humor to force himself to the van. In fact Josh seemed to be amused at something, for he had one of those smirks on his face which marked it whenever he watched Hanky Panky’s evidence of greed.

“I don’t seem to be able to quite see down all the way, Rod,” the other was saying when his comrades joined him; “but I dropped a pebble in, and could plainly hear a good splash; so there’s plenty of the stuff down there.”

“I only hope it’s all right,” remarked Josh, shortly afterwards, when they had managed to draw up a dripping bucket of cold water.

That caused Hanky Panky to hesitate, for he had a gourd in his hand, and was about to dip in.

“Now what in the wide world do you mean by saying that, I’d like to know, Josh; you’re always trying to drop a fly in the ointment, seems to me. What could there be wrong with this water?” he demanded, filling the gourd as he spoke.

“Oh! I don’t know,” drawled the other, wickedly, “but if it happened that some of those ugly-tempered Germans chose to drop a little poison in the well it’d be a tough thing for the French who drank later, and mebbe make ’em sick in the bargain.”

Hanky Panky turned pale, and allowed the gourd to spill; whereupon Josh coolly took it out of his hand, dipped into the bucket, and commenced drinking.

“If it doesn’t kill me, why then it’s safe, you see. I’m always willing to be the tester for the crowd, you know. Tastes all right, though, and as cold as anything. Whew! Rod, you have a dip, since Hanky feels nervous about it, won’t you?”

Rod thereupon laughed, accepted the rude drinking cup from the joker, filled it from the dripping bucket, and offered it to the third member of the group.

“Don’t mind what he says, Hanky; you know Josh loves to have his little joke; and I believe he still feels that he owes you one on account of the trick you played on him this morning.”

“Then you really don’t believe they did poison it, Rod?” asked the other.

“That isn’t the German way of doing things, as far as I know,” Rod told him; at which assurance Hanky Panky swallowed his fears, and drained the gourd.

“Might as well be hung for a whole sheep as a lamb!” he declared, once more dipping into the bucket; “but no matter if it’s my last drink or not, I’m going to say this is as fine water as any I ever drank over in our own dear country. So here goes.”

Rod in turn took a drink, and was ready to pronounce it excellent. Indeed, after their dusty ride of the morning nothing could have been one-half so refreshing as that draught of ice-cold water from the well with the old-fashioned sweep.

“If we’re meaning to rest up a little bit,” remarked Hanky Panky, shrewdly, “we might as well stay right here. Then just before we start off again it’ll be another swig all around. I’d like to carry a canteen of that same water along with me, so I could wet my whistle as I rode.”

“That would be your undoing, I’m afraid,” laughed Rod, picturing the other uptilting the said canteen every few minutes, in spite of the wretched condition of the road and the necessity for cautious riding.

“I wonder whatever became of the people who lived here?” remarked Josh, presently, as he shifted his position for some reason or other, and sat with his face close to the curb of the well.

“Oh! they must have lit out long before the Germans arrived,” Hanky said, confidently; “I hope now you don’t believe they were actually killed, and buried somewhere around here, do you, Josh? You are the worst hand to imagine terrible things I ever knew.”

“I didn’t say anything like that, did I?” demanded Josh; “but it must have been on your mind. Listen! what was that?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” said Hanky Panky, looking worried all the same; “what did it sound like, Josh?”

Instead of answering, Josh held his hand up to indicate that if the other stopped talking he too might catch the sound. And as they listened what seemed to be a long-drawn groan came up from the depths of the well from which they had just been drinking!

“Oh! did you hear that?” exclaimed Hanky Panky, all excitement; “it was a sure-enough moan. Rod, Josh, there’s been some poor fellow down there all this while; and we never dreamed of it when we pulled that bucket of water up!”

Saying this Hanky Panky leaned far over the edge of the well curb, and attempted to see into the murky depths. Rod cast a quick look in the direction of Josh, who gave him a sly wink, but kept a straight face.

“I can’t see anything, for a fact,” complained Hanky Panky in great distress; “but it was a groan, I’m sure–there it goes again, and worse than before. Oh! Rod, do you believe some poor chap tried to hide in the well when he saw all those awful Germans coming, and hasn’t been strong enough to climb up again since?”

“Why, that might be possible, of course,” replied Rod, “though just how he could stay down there this long is more than I can understand.”

“What do you say, Josh?” demanded the sympathetic one.

“Oh! me?” remarked Josh, with a shrug of his shoulders, and not even offering to change his position; “if you asked me straight off the handle now I’d say that it might be only the wind sighing through the trees, or something like that. Don’t stand to reason that anybody could be down there in that well.”

When Hanky Panky met with opposition he always became more positive; possibly the sly Josh knew this full well, and allowed the fact to govern his actions.

“But we all heard the groans, didn’t we?” demanded Hanky Panky; “and I guess I know one when it hits my ears. There certainly is some one down there. Listen to that, will you; isn’t it just fierce the way he keeps going on, though?”

Indeed, the sounds had once more commenced to well up from the dark depths, and in a most agonizing fashion too. Even Rod felt a thrill, although he could give a pretty good guess concerning the nature of the poor unfortunate who was the contributing cause for those dismal groans.

“No use talking, fellows!” declared Hanky Panky presently, after they had listened again to the suggestive sounds that seemed to spell human misery; “I just can’t stand this any longer. Something’s got to be done, that’s what. I’ve a good notion to slip down the rope myself, and find out what it means.”

“But that’d be going a whole lot, just to satisfy your curiosity, wouldn’t it?” asked Josh, cunningly, for he knew that he was taking just the course to further aggravate the other’s intention to act.

“Well, you don’t seem to care much what happens to a poor chap who’s made a fool of himself, and got caught down in a well; but I do,” asserted Hanky Panky, proudly. “I don’t think I could ever sleep decent again if I had the nerve to ride away from here, and never even try to get him out.”

He deliberately started to remove his coat, showing that his mind was made up. Rod looked at Josh, but received in turn a pleading glance, as though the other begged to be let alone, and turn his trick. The chance to “get one” on Hanky Panky was too good to be lost, Josh evidently believed.

So those amazing groans continued to well up out of the depths, increasing in pathos if anything as they proceeded.

“Take care not to slip, Hanky,” advised Rod, “or we’ll have the job of drying a chum out before we can go on our way.”

“And say, that well water’s awful cold in the bargain,” remarked Josh, carelessly; “keep a tight hold on the rope. We’ll look after this end, and when you say the word pull you out.”

Accordingly the determined one started to lower himself into the haunted well, showing a most commendable spirit, Rod thought. It was really too bad to allow the joking Josh to play this trick on so gallant a fellow; but possibly there would be no harm done in the end, and at least it served to break the terrible monotony of seeing sad sights on the road through the devastated country.

Presently the shaking of the rope ceased, and the voice of the explorer came up from the depths.

“This is certainly a queer deal I’m getting,” he said, complainingly.

“What’s the matter now?” asked Josh, tantalizingly.

“Why, I tell you there’s nothing down here,” replied Hanky Panky. “My eyes have got used to the dark, and I can see perfectly well. All around me is the stone of the well, the water is just under my feet, but high or low I can’t see a single sign of anybody.”

“Didn’t I tell you so?” asked Josh, laughing harshly; “the old well must be a haunted one, I reckon. If that was really a groan we heard it was given by a ghost, or a goblin, and not a living being.”

“Hey! that’s enough, Josh! Get me up out of here quick, I tell you!” called Hanky Panky, shaking the rope vigorously; “you promised you would, remember!”

Josh was chuckling at a great rate; nevertheless when Rod signalled to him he condescended to lend a hand, and between the two of them they speedily had Hanky Panky up safely, none the worse for his experiment, but looking deeply puzzled.

“That’s the queerest thing I’ve run across for many a day,” he was saying; “but you notice that it doesn’t come any more now, since I went down. Oh! thunder! I spoke too soon, didn’t I?”

The sounds had indeed started in again with even more vigor than before. Hanky Panky, catching what seemed like a chuckle, suddenly turned on Josh.

“I’ve tumbled to your silly game at last, Josh,” he said, pointing a finger at the other in a stern fashion; “somehow I clean forgot how you used to be such a smarty at throwing your voice, and aimed some day to be a regular ventriloquist on the stage. Well, you did fool me all right, I own up; and I had my climb down into the old well for nothing. Hope you’re satisfied now. Let’s take another drink all around, and then get along.”

Hanky Panky was one of those good-natured fellows who could laugh at a clever joke even when himself the victim; so that he did not bear any grudge for the way in which Josh had deluded him.

“But I’m glad anyhow that I didn’t lose my grip, and drop into the water,” he went on to say; “because it was terribly cold down there.”

“All’s well that ends well!” croaked Josh, with a happy grin, for he believed he had once more cleared the slate in the account with his fun-loving comrade.

Soon afterwards they left the ruined place and once more started along the road. Again they came upon scenes of desolation, with clusters of natives standing by the ruins of their late possessions, to wave an encouraging hand as the three boys sped past. Doubtless many of them believed Rod and his mates must belong to some section of the brave French army, for their khaki uniforms seemed to proclaim this. And every little helped when the gigantic task of turning the invaders out of France was considered, even the assistance of a trio of half-grown lads.

If things kept up as they were now going Rod confidently believed they would be close to the battle line again inside of two hours. The roar of the guns announced that severe fighting was going on not many miles distant.

They were making only slow progress at this time, so many obstacles impeded their way. Numerous stops were also made so that Rod could exchange a few sentences with some of the people they came upon, so as to pick up information that might prove of advantage to strangers in a section of country new to them.

There was no time when right and left they could not see a myriad of interesting things. Most of them pertained to warfare–marching troops; strings of prisoners being led to the rear; broken caissons and abandoned guns; wrecked bicycles, and even motorcycles cast aside when of no further service to the retreating Germans; cooking outfits that had been wonderful contrivances before being utterly smashed on their late owners finding they could not be taken along; and other things too numerous to mention.

Rod himself was of the opinion that the enterprising peasants might manage to partly indemnify themselves for their losses by taking possession of some of the various things abandoned, and renewing their usefulness.

It was now getting well on toward noon. Hanky Panky had even been heard to call out that he felt hungry, though Rod could see little hope of appeasing their appetites in that country, so thoroughly cleaned out by the enemy.

Suddenly there came an outburst of heavy firing close at hand. It was so furious that the three boys involuntarily stopped short, and huddled together to compare notes, so that they might decide upon the safest course for them to pursue.

Smoke began to climb upwards above the trees not more than a mile away, where Rod had reason to believe the Marne River ran.

“That’s where the fight is going on, Rod, you can see!” shouted Josh, eagerly, pointing as he spoke; “look at the French batteries wheeling into position, would you? They mean to give the Germans a lot of pounding, looks like. I wonder what it all means; can you give a guess, Rod?”

Rod could, and lost no time in advancing his opinion.

“From what I heard when I talked with that last bunch of natives,” he called out, for the racket was growing more deafening with every minute’s passage, “there’s a ford to the river right about that place. Now like as not the Germans have determined to dispute the passage of the crossing, and left a big force there to hold Joffre’s men in check. The battle for that ford is now starting up, and it will be a pretty stiff fight unless all signs fail.”