CHAPTER XXIII

LOYAL UNTO DEATH

What happened next, Jimmy Blaise never forgot. The instant Voissard was out of the plane he strode over to Schnitzel. Laying a hand affectionately on the German-American's shoulder, he addressed in French the group of aviators crowded about him.

"My comrades," he said, "here is indeed a gunner!" Then he went on to relate to his fellow flyers the details of the fight with the Aviatik, speaking rapidly and gesticulating in true French fashion. Going back further, he next cited Jimmy up for honors. When he had concluded his account, Jimmy and Schnitzel underwent the embarrassment of each being saluted on both cheeks by Cousin Emile. Nor did it stop there. The enthusiastic French flyers proceeded to do them honor in the same way. Afterward both solemnly swore to each other in private never to do anything again in France that would put them in line for another "kissing bee."

Outwardly they behaved very well, considering the ingrained prejudice a sturdy American lad has to being thus saluted by his own sex. When it was all over, they accompanied Voissard to headquarters. Both were immeasurably relieved to find that the squadron commander made no attempt to kiss them. He shook hands with them, however, and said some highly complimentary things to each.

Both Schnitzel and Jimmy were longing with all their hearts for a chance to talk things out. While in the plane the noise of the engine had made exchange of speech quite impossible.

Of his own accord, however, Jimmy could have cheerfully hugged Cousin Emile when the aviator tactfully cut short the interview with the squadron commander and marshalled his heroic charges to the quarters of a friend, a _Communiqué_ of that particular escadrille.

"Here we shall have the hot bath. Afterward the breakfast at L'escadrille mess. My friend, Pierre, is not within. Always his quarters are mine, when I chance to visit here," Voissard explained as they entered the _Communiqué's_ snug little quarters.

"I guess you knew, sir, that we were dying to talk," burst forth Jimmy gratefully.

"I had the suspicion." Voissard smiled at impetuous Blazes. "Soon the opportunity will be ours. May I suggest that you have the patience until after the bath? At breakfast there will be no one to interrupt."

The luxury of a hot bath was greatly appreciated by the three adventurers. Schnitzel, however, deplored the dilapidated condition of his uniform.

"It's been dragged all through Bocheland," he mourned. "Guess I'll keep my rags covered with this big coat. I'll have to go on borrowing this cap, too, until I get back to Sammy headquarters."

Seeking the escadrille mess, they were glad to find it practically deserted of occupants. The members of the escadrille had already breakfasted and were either out in the field or on various details.

"Now, Schnitz, for Heaven's sake tell us what happened to you out there in No Man's Land," sighed Jimmy, when the trio had taken seats at a table and ordered breakfast.

"It seems about a hundred years since then." Schnitzel paused. For an instant he was silent.

"I hadn't gone six yards from that shell crater when I ran full tilt into a Boche patrol," he began. "I put up a fight and croaked two of 'em. They were too many for me. One of the brutes hit me over the head and I went to sleep. When I came to I thought for a minute I was back in our own trenches and that I'd been dreaming. My head hurt like sixty. I put my hand up to the back of it and when I looked at it it was covered with blood. Then I saw a couple of Sammies a little way down the trench. They looked all banged up, too. I started to yell at 'em and a Boche sentry came up and kicked me and spit on me and ordered me to shut up. I felt for my identification tag and it was gone. Then I knew where I was all right enough.

"That sentry was dying for me to say something so he could kick me some more, but I fooled him. I shut up like a clam. I stayed there all day without so much as a drink of water. The sentry, the fellow that kicked me, was on the job every minute till he was relieved. His relief was worse. He kept walking by the three of us and every time he passed us he'd either strike or kick us. Our hands were tied behind our backs and our feet were tied together, so we couldn't do a thing to him. Whenever we tried to talk to one another we got a clip from him.

"After dark a couple of Boches came and untied my feet. They walked me to a dugout. There were half a dozen Hun officers there. One of 'em, a Boche captain, began talking to me in German. I pretended I didn't understand. He got raving mad and said he knew I was a German by my identification tag. I didn't fall for him, though.

"Then he turned to an Unteroffizier and ordered: 'Question him in English.' The fellow saluted. Then he asked me in English if my name was Franz Schnitzel. I said it was and he asked me if I could understand German. I said I was ashamed to say that I could. He told the captain and the brute got up and hit me across the mouth.

"He hit me a good one. It made me dizzy, but I pulled myself together and laughed in his face. Then I turned on the Unterdog and let him have it. I told him I hated the Boches like poison and that I was all American and not a bit Hun and a lot of other things that weren't exactly complimentary to the Kaiser and his brood.

"I wondered why they didn't all jump on me at once and finish me. They wanted to, I guess, but they didn't. They had other plans for me. The Unterdog told me I was a traitor to the Fatherland and that they were going to make an example of me. I said for them to go as far as they liked, and that ended the seance. The two Boche watchdogs took me back to the trench and the one behind me kicked me all the way there.

"I didn't get anything to eat that night but next morning I got a bit of black bread and a tin cup full of barley coffee. I was crazy for water, but nothing doing. I got a little in the afternoon and a piece of bread and some sausage at night. That's a sample of what happened every day for the next three days. I used to take a trip to the captain's dugout once a day and he'd try to make me talk to him in German. The third time I went I slammed the Boches so hard to the interpreter that when he told the captain what I said the brute got crazy and flew at me like a wild beast. He gave me a terrible walloping with a gun-barrel. I went to sleep and had to be dragged back to the trench. It was one of the reserve trenches I was in. I had to make a long hike through a com. trench every time I went to visit the captain.

"It went on like that until last night. Early in the evening I took my usual trip to the dugout. When I got there I saw a new face in the officer crowd. It belonged to that beast you croaked, Blazes. He had the wickedest pair of eyes I ever saw in a man's head. I didn't know him from Adam, but he thought he knew me, it seemed. He kept staring at me for a while, then he started to talk a blue streak to the captain. I caught most of it. Maybe I wasn't dazed to hear him telling all about the bridge racket back at Marvin and the _Columbia_, and that I was one of the friends of the American swine--that was you, Blazes--who had done for him on the _Columbia_."

"How did he know that you were?" Jimmy cried out in excitement.

"He'd been hanging around the French training camp for a week, shadowing you. He knew every one of the five Brothers by sight. He followed us to Paris and back and tried to shoot us up that night."

"I knew it was he!" exploded Jimmy. "What did I tell you?" He turned triumphantly to Voissard.

"You were indeed correct." With this smiling assurance, Cousin Emile motioned to Schnitzel to continue.

"He went on about you, Blazes, to beat the band. He certainly called you some names. That wireless fellow on the _Columbia was_ his son. That came out in the talk. The fellow told about signaling a U-Boat the night you got him. He had it all planned to jump overboard and be picked up by a Boche boat. Then you queered his game. He didn't know a thing about the real smash. His son put that over by himself, I guess. The father was picked up by a trawler and landed in L----. You saw him on the station platform. He told about that, too.

"That's about all of his history, except that he asked the captain to turn me over to him to deal with. You ought to have seen his eyes when he said it. Some healthy little hate they registered. I was turned over to him next morning. Before daylight he headed a gang that came for me and marched me off to that barn. It was a long walk. You know the rest. Your coming was a miracle. I'd made up my mind not to peep when they bayoneted me to that door. I was going to die game for the U. S."

"Oh, Glory, but I'm glad I croaked him!" Jimmy's exclamation rang with an intensity of hatred. "He was some spy, Schnitz. _Mon Captaine_," he glanced mischievously at Cousin Emile, "found out all about him. His name was von Kreitzen. He was an Austrian spy; one of the biggest villains going."

"I never heard his name," returned Schnitzel. "They never called him anything but captain. Guess he must have been lying low in the army. The other officers fairly groveled to him. You ought to be decorated for croaking him, Blazes."

"Oh, I'm not so much." Jimmy grinned cheerfully. "You've got something coming to you, Schnitz, when you get back to headquarters. You stopped the raid that night, only you never knew it."

"France will also wish to honor you," declared Voissard. "You did the great work this morning with the machine gun. My poor, good Gaston could not have done better. I would that you were my gunner."

"I thank you, _mon Captaine_." Schnitzel smilingly borrowed Jimmy's familiar appellation in addressing Voissard. "I should like to be your gunner. I'd accept the detail in a minute except for one thing. I can't resign my job with Uncle Sammy."

Schnitzel's dark face was illuminated by a radiant flash of patriotism that sprang from the depths of his soul.

"Never mind. If you cannot be my gunner, you can always be my honored comrade and friend." Across the table Voissard's hand went out to Schnitzel. "It is all one. We are linked by all that we hold highest to rid the world of the curse of militarism."

"It's all the same old Glory Road, and it leads to Berlin and victory for the Allies," supplemented Jimmy. "Whether we're Sammies, Frenchies, Tommies or Wops, we're all doing our bit for the same old cause."