CHAPTER XIV

IN CLOSE QUARTERS

The four Camport boys greeted Stone joyfully and gladly made room for him.

"It's another German atrocity," grinned Billy. "They were sore at us for swiping their grub and they sent our kettle to smithereens."

"I'm glad they don't know about it anyway," said Tom. "I don't want any Boche to have the laugh on me."

"I guess they're not doing much laughing this morning," remarked Will Stone, as he dropped down on the ground beside them. "Or if they are, it's on the wrong side of their mouths."

"We've certainly waxed them good and plenty," said Bart enthusiastically.

"Jumbo was all to the good this morning," exulted Frank. "It did my heart good to see the way he ploughed along. There was nothing to it after he got started."

"He certainly scattered the Huns good and plenty," chortled Billy. "They ran like hares."

"He does for 'em all right," agreed Stone, glad to have his pride in his giant pet justified. "And the best of it is that, although the bullets came against his hide like hail on a tin roof, he came through practically without a scratch. He sure is a tough old fellow."

"The tanks are wonders," chimed in Tom. "They've won this fight. It was scrumptious the way they tore those entanglements up by the roots. Without 'em we'd have lost ten times as many men as we did."

"So far we've gotten off pretty easily," agreed Stone, "but the hardest part of the fighting is coming. The Boches have got their second wind by this time, and there can't be any more surprises. You fellows would better fill up now, for you'll have to have plenty to stand up on."

"Trust us," laughed Billy. "We may be slow in some things, but when it comes to filling up, we're some pumpkins. But I certainly do feel sore about that stew."

"Billy'll never get over that," laughed Bart. "He had his mouth all fixed for it. No other stew in all his life will ever taste so good to him as this one that he didn't get."

"It's always the biggest fish that gets away," laughed Stone, as he fell to with the rest.

While they were eating, there was a thunder of hoofs along the road. This had been such an unusual occurrence up to date that they sprang to their feet with eager interest.

Then the cavalry swept by.

Fine fellows the cavalrymen were on splendid mounts, which they bestrode as though they had never done anything else in all their lives. For months past they had chafed under restraint, for since the struggle had settled down to trench warfare they had seldom seen service except on foot. But now their turn had come, for with the broken line of the enemy had come a call for the cavalry to pursue and complete the demoralization of the foe.

"Some class to that bunch," remarked Tom, as he watched the flying column with an appraising eye.

"A little faster than your tanks, old scout?" remarked Bart, giving Stone a nudge in the ribs.

"They sure are," admitted Stone. "But don't forget that though we may be slow we get there just the same."

After a brief resting spell the lines were reformed and the fighting was resumed. The space between the second and the third lines was a wide one, and the country was hilly, with numerous lanes and ravines. These were being held in greater or less force by enemy troops posted in advantageous positions supported by machine guns, while beyond them their big guns kept up a heavy fire to prevent the Allied advance.

To clean these up and get ready for an attack upon the third line was a work of hours, as every foot of advance was bitterly contested by the Germans, who had now recovered from their surprise and fought desperately to stem the tide that had overwhelmed their first position.

There were two or three villages in the fighting zone and one town of considerable size. Not that it was a town now in any real sense of the word. What had once been houses were now mere pitiful heaps of wood and stone and mortar, and their inhabitants had long since been dispossessed or slain. It stood gaunt and desolate and forbidding in its mute protest against the pitiless storm of war to which it had fallen a victim.

In cleaning out a particularly obnoxious nest of machine gun positions Frank and his friends had been kept busy until nearly noon. But at last the guns were silenced and the crews wiped out or captured.

The boys started to regain their main force, but the country was unfamiliar and they took a turning in the road which led toward the German lines instead of toward their own.

"Gee!" remarked Tom as they trudged along, "maybe I'm not tired. My feet feel as though they weighed a ton."

"Perhaps they do," gibed Billy unfeelingly. "Considering the size of them, I should say a ton was just about right."

"I notice your hoofs are not so small," retorted Tom. "But how much longer is this hike going to take?"

"Search me," responded Frank. "To tell the truth, I'm twisted up about the direction. Seems to me we ought to strike some of our troops soon."

"It would be funny if we walked straight into the German lines," observed Billy.

"Funny!" snorted Tom. "Yes, as funny as a funeral. Some people have a queer sense of humor."

They were passing a hedge that walled off an orchard from the road when Frank, who was ahead, saw before him a great wave of gray uniforms coming around a bend in the road.

"Quick, fellows," he whispered. "Over the hedge and down on the ground."

Like a flash the boys were out of sight, and not one instant too soon, for a moment later they could see through the hedge what seemed to be an endless line of gray uniforms going past at the double quick. They were evidently hurrying forward to reinforce their hard-pressed comrades farther down the road.

The boys lay still as death until the troops had passed, and then looked at each other ruefully.

"We're cut off," ejaculated Frank. "Those fellows are between us and our line."

"Looks pretty bad," said Bart.

"This is a pretty kettle of fish," grumbled Tom. "Let's cut across the orchard and see if we can find some of our boys."

They acted on the suggestion, but found to their dismay that the Germans were everywhere. In whatever direction they looked the only uniforms they saw were the detested field gray. The Germans had rallied and the boys had been caught in the swirl of the returning tide.

"We'll have to hide somewhere until our men drive back the Huns and get as far as this orchard," said Billy.

"We're up against it for fair," growled Tom disconsolately.

"It's easy enough to talk of hiding, but where shall we hide?" asked Bart. "If we stay here above ground we're bound to be spotted before long."

"Let's make our way toward the town," suggested Frank. "There wasn't a soul in sight there a few minutes ago. It seemed to be wholly deserted. There must be plenty of hiding places in those heaps of stones, or perhaps we can stow ourselves away in a cellar. Let's get a hustle on, too, or we'll know sooner than we want to what a prison camp looks like."

As quickly as they dared they crept along, using every bit of cover that offered itself until they reached the outskirts of what had been the town. As Frank had said, it appeared to be wholly deserted at the moment. It was clear that all available forces had been summoned away to stem the great drive.

Having satisfied themselves that there was no one about they moved cautiously from one street to another seeking some place of refuge. The prospect was not hopeful, for there was scarcely a room in a single house that was not gaping wide open. Doors were gone and windows had vanished. There was hardly a place where anything as large as a cat could be free from detection.

"A mighty slim outlook," grumbled Tom, as they crouched close to a pile of masonry near the corner of a street.

"Stop grouching," counseled Frank. "We may stumble across something at any minute."

"Stumble is right," said Bart, as he rubbed a barked shin. "I've been doing nothing else since we got in among these rock piles."

"That house over the way there seems in a little better condition than the rest of these heaps," suggested Billy, pointing a little way down the street.

"We'll try our luck there," said Frank, and again their cautious journey was resumed.

They reached the place and squeezed themselves in through a narrow opening on a side that had faced a tiny yard bordered by a wall about eight feet in height.

There had been three rooms on the ground floor of the house, but all three had been knocked into one by the visitation of shells. The boys picked their way over the uneven masses of plaster, and Frank gave an exclamation as he perceived an opening that seemed to lead down into a cellar.

"This way, fellows," he said as he looked down into the darkness. "I don't see any stairs here but we can take a chance and drop. It doesn't seem very deep. One of you hold this gun of mine and I'll go first."

There was a chance of spraining an ankle if nothing worse, but luckily he landed safely.

"All serene," he called up in a low tone. "Hand me down your guns and then come along."

They did so, and the four found themselves in a cluttered cellar that by feeling around with their hands they found to be about thirty feet long by twenty in width. There was a furnace which had been broken into a pile of junk and a little light filtering down showed where a pipe had formerly gone through to the upper floor. There were a number of barrels in one corner, but apart from these the cellar seemed to hold nothing but rubbish.

"It's as dark as Egypt down here," grumbled Tom.

"So much the better," replied Bart. "There'll be that much less chance of a Heinie seeing us if he takes the trouble to look down here."

"So this is where we've got to hang out until our boys get here," remarked Billy, grinning. "It reminds me of the Waldorf-Astoria--it's so different."

"Never mind," said Frank cheerfully, "it's a thousand per cent. better than a Hun prison camp, and don't you forget it!"

"You said a mouthful that time," replied the irrepressible Billy, with more force than elegance.