Chapter 17

BEHIND THE BARRICADE.

"Such tough luck, and just when supper was going to be called, too!" groaned Josh, though possibly he did not mean to be at all humorous, but was only expressing the first natural feeling of bitter disappointment that beset him.

Rod realized that it was a time for quick thinking, and rapid action as well. No matter if the raiding Uhlans proved to be only a small detachment bent on striking terror to the hearts of the French, while their main army was still retreating toward the Aisne, they would be in numbers sufficient to awe the village, where only women and boys and aged men were to be found.

He also knew that the three fine motorcycles owned by himself and chums would be either confiscated or destroyed by the German cavalrymen. Uhlans have always been accredited with bold and reckless deeds whenever engaged in warfare in the enemy's country. They would find incriminating papers, too, upon the boys, and might even take it in their hands to treat them as spies.

"Get busy, fellows; we must fetch our machines indoors and close shop to keep the enemy out, if we can!" was what Rod called, as he hastened to run from the room.

Just then a bell tinkled somewhere near by, apparently to summon them to the supper table; but much to the deep regret of Josh they were hardly in a condition to respond to the alluring call.

Each of them came staggering in, trundling a heavy machine. These they stacked in a room, after which the outer door was shut and secured in the best way possible, though not before a number of people had crowded in with them.

Out on the village street the greatest excitement prevailed. Children cried, women called to one another as they hurried their innocent charges homeward; even the stray dogs started barking again, just as they had done when Rod and his friends hit the place with their buzzing motorcycles.

Above other sounds they could hear loud and heavy voices, as of men bent on terrorizing the peaceful little community. Of course the words they heard were German ones, showing that the speakers must indeed be the dreaded Uhlans.

They were undoubtedly galloping hither and thither, ransacking houses in search of food or anything else worth carrying off. It might be that presently some of them would even be found putting the torch to any building that failed to meet with their approval, after a hasty search.

Rod suddenly remembered something just then. It struck him forcibly, and the more he considered it the stronger did it seem to appeal to him.

He recollected that they had come upon a regiment of French zouaves making a temporary bivouac alongside the road about two miles back. If only they could be communicated with and informed of the presence of the hated Uhlans in the little French village, he felt positive they would not let the grass grow under their feet in hastening to the rescue of the small terrorized community.

But how could it be done? Rod would have given considerable for a chance to use his speedy motorcycle in this work, but there was no use thinking of such a thing, because it could never be carried out.

Perhaps from the roof of the house he might manage to attract the attention of some sentry at the camp, and by means of the Signal Corps code, which he knew very well, communicate their sad condition to the commander of the troops, and thus procure help for the frightened villagers.

"Stay here, and try to keep them out if they make an effort to break in," he told Josh. "I'm going up to the roof and see if I can send a signal for help to that zouave regiment we noticed camping by the roadside. Here, take this, Josh, and remember that you're defending women and children when you use it."

"Bully for you!" cried Josh, as his hand closed upon the revolver which had been taken from the fraudulent Oscar William Tell.

Rod hurried away, and ran upon the woman of the house close by. She was looking greatly alarmed at the sudden coming of the enemy, but for all that Rod believed she would prove true grit.

"I want to get up on the roof if it's possible," was what he said to her; "there is a regiment of French troops camped not two miles away on the side of the hill, and if I could get in touch with them they'd come to our help. Show me the way to the trapdoor, if there is one."

She must have grasped his idea without trouble, for she immediately started up the stairs. The confusion outside was growing worse than ever, and served to spur the boy on to renewed exertions.

The good woman of the house was soon pointing at the trap, and Rod quickly had it open. As he clambered out on the roof he saw to his satisfaction that it was situated on the side away from the village street. In this fashion he believed he might be able to accomplish what he had determined to attempt, at least without being interrupted by any passing Uhlan lancers.

One look in the direction of the hillside gave him cause for further delight, since he found that he could easily see the camp of the tired zouaves, who had marched many miles since sun-up in hopes of participating in the day's battle, only to arrive when the action was all over.

Rod immediately began to wave his handkerchief wildly, though carrying out a certain program, and hoping to thus attract the attention of some sentry who may have been posted on that side of the camp.

Almost immediately he realized that this was just what had been accomplished, for he saw men running, and then a signal flag was waved in reply to his frantic appeals.

"What do you want to communicate?" was what he made out to be fashioned through the regular wigwag work of the flag.

"Village at mercy of Uhlans--come and help us at once!"

That was the message which Rod sent waving back. How glad he was at that minute he had picked up his knowledge of Signal Corps work, and could both send and receive so accurately.

That the man in the zouave camp had grasped the meaning of his dispatch Rod quickly understood, for almost immediately there was waved back an answer calculated to reassure him:

"Hold on! Relief coming! O. K."

All this of course took a little time in transmission. Seconds had passed into minutes, and about the time he was through Rod realized that things were getting pretty warm close by. In fact some of the raiders had discovered that the most pretentious house in the entire little village was barred against them. They had leaned from their saddles and pounded heavily on the door. When no one opened up they had given vent to their anger and even threatened to smash their way in, doubtless promising all sorts of terrible things for the inmates if forced to go to this trouble.

Still there had been no response. Josh, who was in charge below, did not mean to risk the loss of the precious motorcycles, as well as take chances of being shot as a spy, just because those lordly Uhlan cavalrymen demanded that he unbar the heavy door and let them enter.

The threatening voices, accompanied by louder blows, continued to sound as Rod hastened downstairs again. He realized that they must do everything possible to keep those rough raiders out until the French zouaves had a chance to arrive on the field.

There were several old men among those who, in the first excitement, had sought refuge in the house that temporarily sheltered the young Americans whom the simple French peasants and villagers considered real heroes. Although far from sturdy in build, and with trembling, half-palsied hands, these old chaps had proceeded to arm themselves as best they could.

One had found a big carving knife which he brandished as though it were a sword, and he a captain leading a charge; a second was swinging a cudgel, as though filled with a hope that it might yet be laid up against a German head; while the last of the trio had taken down a gun of the vintage of '71, which, together with its glistening sabre bayonet, had hung on the wall in memory of the good man of the house, who doubtless made the right kind of use of it in other days.

Altogether they presented quite a curious collection as they gathered there by the door, and waited to see if the enemy would carry out those loud threats to break in. Rod was reminded of accounts he had read about the patchwork army gathered together by one Falstaff in early English days, which consisted of the lame, the halt and the blind. All the same, those old fellows had the right sort of spirit, and acted as though quite willing to yield up their own lives in defense of the village.

Things were going from bad to worse outside. Smoke could easily be detected now, as if to prove that those awful threats made by the Uhlans were not idle ones; and that some cottage was already in flames.

Rod was almost counting the seconds. He found himself wondering whether the oncoming zouaves could possibly reach there before the door was broken from its hinges and the wolves without rush in to use their heavy sabres against the defenders. How long could they hold the aggressors in check? Those weak old men would be swept aside as though they were pigmies; and what could he and his two chums do against half a dozen big cavalrymen, bent on pillage?

The very first thing Rod did do was to possess himself once more of that revolver. He believed he could make better and more judicious use of such a dangerous weapon than Josh might--Josh was so rash and headstrong, once he found himself up against a dangerous situation.

The door, being very heavy, was resisting the attack of the soldiers successfully, though Rod did not plume himself on this account. He feared there were many other ways by means of which the Uhlans could accomplish their purpose and enter the house did they care to bother about looking.

Just then there arose a new cause for alarm. The good woman came crying from the other part of the building. Rod heard what she said and was able to understand, although the other two were left in the dark.

"What's happened next, Rod?" demanded Josh, with the air of a veteran; for Josh often affected to liken himself to those old worthies who, when sorely beset, never asked about the number of their foes, but where they could be found, so that they might attack them hip and thigh.

"She says they've set fire to the house, and that the whole rear of the same is already blazing fiercely," Rod explained.

Hanky Panky's face was a study. Of course it was not really _fear_ that gripped him so fiercely; but nevertheless the boy had a peaked look about the eyes, and watched Rod eagerly, as though hoping the other would eventually find some way of extricating them from this new predicament.

"Now here's a pretty kettle of fish," growled Josh; "house afire, and we can't even rush out to throw water on the flames, just because there's a lot of cowardly skunks waiting to spit us like we were fowls. Whee! what're we going to do about it, Rod, tell me? I'll sally out and try to create a diversion, if you say the word."

Perhaps Josh honestly meant it, but Rod only laughed at him.

"Don't be silly, Josh," was what the other said; "you'd have about as much chance against those half-dozen Uhlans as a baby might. All we can do is to hold tight, and hope the zouaves will get along before it's too late. But if they do try to smash their way in we're going to fight; hear that?"

"You just bet we are; every time," said Josh, who had found a heavy poker and was swinging it around in a way that made poor Hanky Panky duck every time it barely missed his devoted head.

He had hardly finished saying those few expressive words than there was an awful crash, and the front door, struck by some sort of battering ram, seemed to be partly knocked from its hinges. The Uhlans were apparently determined to enter; and the more opposition they met the greater their desire seemed to become.