The Guns of Europe Part 32

"True as Gospel," said Wharton.

"Do you know where the road is?" asked John. "Now that our horses are gone we've got to do some good walking."

"Here it is," said Carstairs. "Seven miles farther on is the little hamlet of Courville, where we can buy horses."

"Then walk, you terriers, walk!" said Wharton.

The three bending their heads walked side by side toward the hamlet of Courville, which they were destined never to reach.

CHAPTER XI

THE ARMORED CAR

The three talked, because they were in the dark, and because they felt great joy over their escape. The clouds, after a while, floated away, and the thunder ceased to mutter. It seemed that the elements played with them, but, for the present, were in their favor. The walking itself was pleasant, as they were anxious to exercise their muscles after the long hard waiting in the grove.

But as the clouds went away and the stars came out, leaving a sky of blue, sown with stars, John could not keep from looking upward often.

The aeroplanes and the daring men who flew them had made a tremendous impression upon him, and he constantly expected danger. But he saw none of those ominous black specks which could grow so fast into sinister shapes. He heard instead a faint rumbling ahead of them on the road to Courville, and he held up his hand as a warning.

"What is it?" asked Carstairs, as the three stopped.

"I don't know yet," replied John, "but the sound seems to be made by wheels."

"Perhaps a belated peasant driving home," said Wharton, as he listened.

"I don't think so. It appears to be a volume of sound, although it's as yet far away. I hear it better now. It's wheels and many of them."

"French reinforcements."

"Maybe, but more likely German. We've seen how ready the Germans are, and we know that they're spreading all over this region."

"Then it's safer for us out of the road than in it."

There was a hedge on either side of the road, but the three slipped easily through the one on the right, and stood in tall gra.s.s. The rumbling was steadily coming nearer, and John had no doubt it was made by Germans, perhaps some division seeking to get in the rear of the French forces with which he had fought.

There was a good moon and they saw well through the thin hedge. In ten minutes cyclers, riding six abreast, appeared on the crest of a low hill in the direction of Courville. The moonlight fell on their helmets and gray uniforms, showing, as John had expected, that they were Germans.

Again he was beholding an example of the wonderful training and discipline, which had been continued for decades and which had put military achievement above everything else. Day and night the German hosts were advancing on France.

The cyclers, carrying their rifles before them, advanced in hundreds and hundreds, the files of six keeping perfectly even. Again the sight was unreal, productive of awe. Armies had never before gone to battle like this. The files close together, like a long, grayish-green serpent, moved swiftly along the road.

But it was not the wheels that had made the rumble. They instead gave out a light undulating sound, something like that of skaters on ice, and the three waited to see what was behind, as the rumbling grew louder.

The cyclers pa.s.sed, then came the strong smell of gasoline, puffing sounds and the head of a great train of motor cars appeared. Most of the motors were filled with soldiers, others drew cannon and provision wagons. They were a full hour in pa.s.sing, and at the rear were more than a hundred armored cars, also crowded with troops, some of them carrying machine guns also.

"I wish we were in one of those armored cars," said John, "then we wouldn't miss our horses."

"Well, why not get in one of them," said Carstairs.

"While we're about it why not wish for everything else that we can think of?"

"I mean exactly what I say. I didn't speak until I saw an opportunity.

One of the cars seems to have something the matter with it and is drawing up by the side of the road not fifteen feet from us. The others have gone on, expecting it of course to catch up soon."

"Do you really mean what you suggest, Carstairs?" asked Wharton.

"I certainly do."

"Then what an Englishman suggests Yankees will perform."

"But with the help of the Englishman. Jove, what luck! There are only two men with the car. One is standing beside it, and the other is crawling under it. The machine is almost in the shadow of the hedge, and if we're smooth about it we can slip through, and be upon it, before we're seen."

"We must time ourselves. What's the plan?" asked Wharton.

"We'll a.s.sume when the man comes out from under the machine that he's fixed it. Then we'll make our rush, knock down the other fellow, jump into it and away. I'm an expert chauffeur, and I don't ask a better chance. Oh, fellows, what luck!"

"It's certainly favoring us," said Wharton, "and we must push it. It would be a crime to quit with such luck as this leading us on."

They slipped noiselessly through the hedge, and stood in its heavy shadow only a few feet from the car. They heard the man under it tapping with metal on metal. The other standing with his back to the three said a few words and the man replied.

"He says it's only a trifle, and it's all right now," whispered Carstairs, who understood German. "He's coming out from under the car.

Now, fellows, for it!"

John struck the man standing beside the car with the b.u.t.t of his rifle, but he did not make the blow hard--he could not bring himself to kill anybody in that manner. But the man fell senseless, and, just as his partner came from beneath it, the three leaped into the car, Carstairs threw on the speed, whirled about on air, it seemed to John, and left the German in the road, staring open-mouthed.

But the German recovered quickly and uttered a shout of alarm, drawing the attention of the armored motors, the rear files of which were not a hundred yards away.

"Down, you fellows!" cried Carstairs, who now took the lead. "Have your rifles ready to fire back, and enjoy what is going to be the greatest ride of your lives!"

Some wild spirit seemed to have taken hold of the Englishman. An expert driver, it may have been the touch of the wheel under his hand at such an exciting moment, and then it may have been the shots from the German cars that, in an instant, rattled upon the steel sides protecting the car.

"Hold fast, you fellows!" cried Carstairs, who bent low over the wheel, his flas.h.i.+ng eyes now seeking to trace the road before them. "We are going to eat up the ground!"

The car gave its last dizzy lurch as it completed its circuit and shot ahead. John and Wharton had been thrown together, but they held on to their rifles and righted themselves. Then John noticed beside him the body and barrels of a machine gun, mounted and ready for use. He was the sharpshooter of the three and that gun appealed to him, as the car had appealed to Carstairs.

"Move over a little!" he shouted to Wharton.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to fight that pursuing German army."

In an instant the machine gun began to crackle like a box of exploding crackers, sending back a hail of bullets which rattled upon the pursuing cars or found victims in them. But they, crouching down, were completely protected by the armor, and their careering machine made but a single target while they could fire into the pursuing ma.s.s.

Carstairs bent lower and lower. He had gone completely wild for the moment. Millions of sparks flew before his eyes. All the big and little pulses in his head and body were beating heavily. They had just scored two great triumphs. They had defeated the efforts of the masters of the air, and they had taken from their foe one of his most formidable weapons in which they might escape. His soul flamed with triumph, and that old familiar touch of the wheel filled him with the strength not of one giant, but of ten. He saw the road clearly now. There it lay ahead of them, long, white and sinuous, and he never doubted for a moment his ability to guide the armored car along in it at a mile a minute.

John in his turn was filled with the rage of battle. It was not often that one in his situation had a deadly machine gun at hand, ready to turn upon his enemies. While Wharton fed it from the great supply of ammunition in the car he turned a perfect stream of b.a.l.l.s upon the pursuing motor, spraying it from side to side like a hose. Wharton looked up at his white strained face, in which his eyes burned like two coals of fire, and then he looked at the bent back and shoulders of Carstairs.