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diff --git a/1824-h/1824-h.htm b/1824-h/1824-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d23e708 --- /dev/null +++ b/1824-h/1824-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1461 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Peace Manoeuvres, by Richard Harding Davis + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Peace Manoeuvres, by Richard Harding Davis + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Peace Manoeuvres + +Author: Richard Harding Davis + +Release Date: May 12, 2006 [EBook #1824] +Last Updated: September 26, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEACE MANOEUVRES *** + + + + +Produced by Don Lainson; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + PEACE MANOEUVRES + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Richard Harding Davis + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + The scout stood where three roads cut three green tunnels in the pine + woods, and met at his feet. Above his head an aged sign-post pointed + impartially to East Carver, South Carver, and Carver Centre, and left the + choice to him. + </p> + <p> + The scout scowled and bit nervously at his gauntlet. The choice was + difficult, and there was no one with whom he could take counsel. The three + sun-shot roads lay empty, and the other scouts, who, with him, had left + the main column at sunrise, he had ordered back. They were to report that + on the right flank, so far, at least, as Middleboro, there was no sign of + the enemy. What lay beyond, it now was his duty to discover. The three + empty roads spread before him like a picture puzzle, smiling at his + predicament. Whichever one he followed left two unguarded. Should he creep + upon for choice Carver Centre, the enemy, masked by a mile of fir trees, + might advance from Carver or South Carver, and obviously he could not + follow three roads at the same time. He considered the better strategy + would be to wait where he was, where the three roads met, and allow the + enemy himself to disclose his position. To the scout this course was most + distasteful. He assured himself that this was so because, while it were + the safer course, it wasted time and lacked initiative. But in his heart + he knew that was not the reason, and to his heart his head answered that + when one’s country is at war, when fields and fire-sides are trampled by + the iron heels of the invader, a scout should act not according to the + dictates of his heart, but in the service of his native land. In the case + of this particular patriot, the man and scout were at odds. As one of the + Bicycle Squad of the Boston Corps of Cadets, the scout knew what, at this + momentous crisis in her history, the commonwealth of Massachusetts + demanded of him. It was that he sit tight and wait for the hated + foreigners from New York City, New Jersey, and Connecticut to show + themselves. But the man knew, and had known for several years, that on the + road to Carver was the summer home of one Beatrice Farrar. As Private + Lathrop it was no part of his duty to know that. As a man and a lover, and + a rejected lover at that, he could not think of anything else. Struggling + between love and duty the scout basely decided to leave the momentous + question to chance. In the front tire of his bicycle was a puncture, + temporarily effaced by a plug. Laying the bicycle on the ground, Lathrop + spun the front wheel swiftly. + </p> + <p> + “If,” he decided, “the wheel stops with the puncture pointing at Carver + Centre, I’ll advance upon Carver Centre. Should it point to either of the + two other villages, I’ll stop here. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a two to one shot against me, any way,” he growled. + </p> + <p> + Kneeling in the road he spun the wheel, and as intently as at Monte Carlo + and Palm Beach he had waited for other wheels to determine his fortune, he + watched it come to rest. It stopped with the plug pointing back to + Middleboro. + </p> + <p> + The scout told himself he was entitled to another trial. Again he spun the + wheel. Again the spokes flashed in the sun. Again the puncture rested on + the road to Middleboro. + </p> + <p> + “If it does that once more,” thought the scout, “it’s a warning that there + is trouble ahead for me at Carver, and all the little Carvers.” + </p> + <p> + For the third time the wheel flashed, but as he waited for the impetus to + die, the sound of galloping hoofs broke sharply on the silence. The scout + threw himself and his bicycle over the nearest stone wall, and, + unlimbering his rifle, pointed it down the road. + </p> + <p> + He saw approaching a small boy, in a white apron, seated in a white wagon, + on which was painted, “Pies and Pastry. East Wareham.” The boy dragged his + horse to an abrupt halt. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t point that at me!” shouted the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Where do you come from?” demanded the scout. + </p> + <p> + “Wareham,” said the baker. + </p> + <p> + “Are you carrying any one concealed in that wagon?” + </p> + <p> + As though to make sure the baker’s boy glanced apprehensively into the + depths of his cart, and then answered that in the wagon he carried nothing + but fresh-baked bread. To the trained nostrils of the scout this already + was evident. Before sunrise he had breakfasted on hard tack and muddy + coffee, and the odor of crullers and mince pie, still warm, assailed him + cruelly. He assumed a fierce and terrible aspect. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” he challenged. + </p> + <p> + “To Carver Centre,” said the boy. + </p> + <p> + To chance Lathrop had left the decision. He believed the fates had + answered. + </p> + <p> + Dragging his bicycle over the stone wall, he fell into the road. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he commanded. “I’ll use your cart for a screen. I’ll creep behind + the enemy before he sees me.” + </p> + <p> + The baker’s boy frowned unhappily. + </p> + <p> + “But supposing,” he argued, “they see you first, will they shoot?” + </p> + <p> + The scout waved his hand carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said the baker, “my horse will run away!” + </p> + <p> + “What of it?” demanded the scout. “Are Middleboro, South Middleboro, Rock, + Brockton, and Boston to fall? Are they to be captured because you’re + afraid of your own horse? They won’t shoot REAL bullets! This is not a + real war. Don’t you know that?” + </p> + <p> + The baker’s boy flushed with indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I know that,” he protested; “but my horse—HE don’t know + that!” + </p> + <p> + Lathrop slung his rifle over his shoulder and his leg over his bicycle. + </p> + <p> + “If the Reds catch you,” he warned, in parting, “they’ll take everything + you’ve got.” + </p> + <p> + “The Blues have took most of it already,” wailed the boy. “And just as + they were paying me the battle begun, and this horse run away, and I + couldn’t get him to come back for my money.” + </p> + <p> + “War,” exclaimed Lathrop morosely, “is always cruel to the innocent.” He + sped toward Carver Centre. In his motor car, he had travelled the road + many times, and as always his goal had been the home of Miss Beatrice + Farrar, he had covered it at a speed unrecognized by law. But now he + advanced with stealth and caution. In every clump of bushes he saw an + ambush. Behind each rock he beheld the enemy. + </p> + <p> + In a clearing was a group of Portuguese cranberry pickers, dressed as + though for a holiday. When they saw the man in uniform, one of the women + hailed him anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Is the parade coming?” she called. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen any of the Reds?” Lathrop returned. + </p> + <p> + “No,” complained the woman. “And we been waiting all morning. When will + the parade come?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not a parade,” said Lathrop, severely. “It’s a war!” + </p> + <p> + The summer home of Miss Farrar stood close to the road. It had been so + placed by the farmer who built it, in order that the women folk might sit + at the window and watch the passing of the stage-coach and the peddler. + Great elms hung over it, and a white fence separated the road from the + narrow lawn. At a distance of a hundred yards a turn brought the house + into view, and at this turn, as had been his manoeuvre at every other + possible ambush, Lathrop dismounted and advanced on foot. Up to this + moment the road had been empty, but now, in front of the Farrar cottage, + it was blocked by a touring-car and a station wagon. In the occupants of + the car he recognized all the members of the Farrar family, except Miss + Farrar. In the station wagon were all of the Farrar servants. Miss Farrar + herself was leaning upon the gate and waving them a farewell. The + touring-car moved off down the road; the station wagon followed; Miss + Farrar was alone. Lathrop scorched toward her, and when he was opposite + the gate, dug his toes in the dust and halted. When he lifted his + broad-brimmed campaign hat, Miss Farrar exclaimed both with surprise and + displeasure. Drawing back from the gate she held herself erect. Her + attitude was that of one prepared for instant retreat. When she spoke it + was in tones of extreme disapproval. + </p> + <p> + “You promised,” said the girl, “you would not come to see me.” + </p> + <p> + Lathrop, straddling his bicycle, peered anxiously down the road. + </p> + <p> + “This is not a social call,” he said. “I’m on duty. Have you seen the + Reds?” + </p> + <p> + His tone was brisk and alert, his manner preoccupied. The ungraciousness + of his reception did not seem in the least to disconcert him. + </p> + <p> + But Miss Farrar was not deceived. She knew him, not only as a persistent + and irrepressible lover, but as one full of guile, adroit in tricks, + fertile in expedients. He was one who could not take “No” for an answer—at + least not from her. When she repulsed him she seemed to grow in his eyes + only the more attractive. + </p> + <p> + “It is not the lover who comes to woo,” he was constantly explaining, “but + the lover’s WAY of wooing.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar had assured him she did not like his way. She objected to + being regarded and treated as a castle that could be taken only by + assault. Whether she wished time to consider, or whether he and his + proposal were really obnoxious to her, he could not find out. His policy + of campaign was that she, also, should not have time to find out. Again + and again she had agreed to see him only on the condition that he would + not make love to her. He had promised again and again, and had failed to + keep that promise. Only a week before he had been banished from her + presence, to remain an exile until she gave him permission to see her at + her home in New York. It was not her purpose to return there for two + weeks, and yet here he was, a beggar at her gate. It might be that he was + there, as he said, “on duty,” but her knowledge of him and of the doctrine + of chances caused her to doubt it. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Lathrop!” she began, severely. + </p> + <p> + As though to see to whom she had spoken Lathrop glanced anxiously over his + shoulder. Apparently pained and surprised to find that it was to him she + had addressed herself, he regarded her with deep reproach. His eyes were + very beautiful. It was a fact which had often caused Miss Farrar extreme + annoyance. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head sadly. + </p> + <p> + “‘Mr. Lathrop?’” he protested. “You know that to you I am always ‘Charles—Charles + the Bold,’ because I am bold to love you; but never ‘Mr. Lathrop,’ + unless,” he went on briskly, “you are referring to a future state, when, + as Mrs. Lathrop, you will make me—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar had turned her back on him, and was walking rapidly up the + path. + </p> + <p> + “Beatrice,” he called. “I am coming after you!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar instantly returned and placed both hands firmly upon the gate. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot understand you!” she said. “Don’t you see that when you act as + you do now, I can’t even respect you? How do you think I could ever care, + when you offend me so? You jest at what you pretend is the most serious + thing in your life. You play with it—laugh at it!” + </p> + <p> + The young man interrupted her sharply. + </p> + <p> + “It’s like this,” he said. “When I am with you I am so happy I can’t be + serious. When I am NOT with you, it is SO serious that I am utterly and + completely wretched. You say my love offends you, bores you! I am sorry, + but what, in heaven’s name, do you think your NOT loving me is doing to + ME? I am a wreck! I am a skeleton! Look at me!” + </p> + <p> + He let his bicycle fall, and stood with his hands open at his sides, as + though inviting her to gaze upon the ruin she had caused. + </p> + <p> + Four days of sun and rain, astride of a bicycle, without food or sleep, + had drawn his face into fine, hard lines, had bronzed it with a healthy + tan. His uniform, made by the same tailor that fitted him with polo + breeches, clung to him like a jersey. The spectacle he presented was that + of an extremely picturesque, handsome, manly youth, and of that fact no + one was better aware than himself. + </p> + <p> + “Look at me,” he begged, sadly. + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar was entirely unimpressed. + </p> + <p> + “I am!” she returned, coldly. “I never saw you looking so well—and + you know it.” She gave a gasp of comprehension. “You came here because you + knew your uniform was becoming!” + </p> + <p> + Lathrop regarded himself complacently. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, isn’t it?” he assented. “I brought on this war in order to wear it. + If you don’t mind,” he added, “I think I’ll accept your invitation and + come inside. I’ve had nothing to eat in four days.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar’s eyes flashed indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “You’re NOT coming inside,” she declared; “but if you’ll only promise to + go away at once, I’ll bring you everything in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “In that house,” exclaimed Lathrop, dramatically, “there’s only one thing + that I desire, and I want that so badly that ‘life holds no charm without + you.’” + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar regarded him steadily. + </p> + <p> + “Do you intend to drive me away from my own door, or will you go?” + </p> + <p> + Lathrop picked his wheel out of the dust. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” he said. “I’ll come back when you have made up your mind.” + </p> + <p> + In vexation Miss Farrar stamped her foot upon the path. + </p> + <p> + “I HAVE made up my mind!” she protested. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” returned Lathrop, “I’ll come back when you have changed it.” + </p> + <p> + He made a movement as though to ride away, but much to Miss Farrar’s + dismay, hastily dismounted. “On second thoughts,” he said, “it isn’t right + for me to leave you. The woods are full of tramps and hangers-on of the + army. You’re not safe. I can watch this road from here as well as from + anywhere else, and at the same time I can guard you.” + </p> + <p> + To the consternation of Miss Farrar he placed his bicycle against the + fence, and, as though preparing for a visit, leaned his elbows upon it. + </p> + <p> + “I do not wish to be rude,” said Miss Farrar, “but you are annoying me. I + have spent fifteen summers in Massachusetts, and I have never seen a + tramp. I need no one to guard me.” + </p> + <p> + “If not you,” said Lathrop easily, “then the family silver. And think of + your jewels, and your mother’s jewels. Think of yourself in a house filled + with jewels, and entirely surrounded by hostile armies! My duty is to + remain with you.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar was so long in answering, that Lathrop lifted his head and + turned to look. He found her frowning and gazing intently into the shadow + of the woods, across the road. When she felt his eyes upon her she turned + her own guiltily upon him. Her cheeks were flushed and her face glowed + with some unusual excitement. + </p> + <p> + “I wish,” she exclaimed breathlessly—“I wish,” she repeated, “the + Reds would take you prisoner!” + </p> + <p> + “Take me where?” asked Lathrop. + </p> + <p> + “Take you anywhere!” cried Miss Farrar. “You should be ashamed to talk to + me when you should be looking for the enemy!” + </p> + <p> + “I am WAITING for the enemy,” explained Lathrop. “It’s the same thing.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar smiled vindictively. Her eyes shone. “You need not wait long,” + she said. There was a crash of a falling stone wall, and of parting + bushes, but not in time to give Lathrop warning. As though from the + branches of the trees opposite two soldiers fell into the road; around his + hat each wore the red band of the invader; each pointed his rifle at + Lathrop. + </p> + <p> + “Hands up!” shouted one. “You’re my prisoner!” cried the other. + </p> + <p> + Mechanically Lathrop raised his hands, but his eyes turned to Miss Farrar. + </p> + <p> + “Did you know?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have been watching them,” she said, “creeping up on you for the last + ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Lathrop turned to the two soldiers, and made an effort to smile. + </p> + <p> + “That was very clever,” he said, “but I have twenty men up the road, and + behind them a regiment. You had better get away while you can.” + </p> + <p> + The two Reds laughed derisively. One, who wore the stripes of a sergeant, + answered: “That won’t do! We been a mile up the road, and you and us are + the only soldiers on it. Gimme the gun!” + </p> + <p> + Lathrop knew he had no right to refuse. He had been fairly surprised, but + he hesitated. When Miss Farrar was not in his mind his amateur soldiering + was to him a most serious proposition. The war game was a serious + proposition, and that, through his failure for ten minutes to regard it + seriously, he had been made a prisoner, mortified him keenly. That his + humiliation had taken place in the presence of Beatrice Farrar did not + lessen his discomfort, nor did the explanation he must later make to his + captain afford him any satisfaction. Already he saw himself playing the + star part in a court-martial. He shrugged his shoulders and surrendered + his gun. + </p> + <p> + As he did so he gloomily scrutinized the insignia of his captors. + </p> + <p> + “Who took me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “WE took you,” exclaimed the sergeant. + </p> + <p> + “What regiment?” demanded Lathrop, sharply. “I have to report who took me; + and you probably don’t know it, but your collar ornaments are upside + down.” With genuine exasperation he turned to Miss Farrar. + </p> + <p> + “Lord!” he exclaimed, “isn’t it bad enough to be taken prisoner, without + being taken by raw recruits that can’t put on their uniforms?” + </p> + <p> + The Reds flushed, and the younger, a sandy-haired, rat-faced youth, + retorted angrily: “Mebbe we ain’t strong on uniforms, beau,” he snarled, + “but you’ve got nothing on us yet, that I can see. You look pretty with + your hands in the air, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up,” commanded the other Red. He was the older man, heavily built, + with a strong, hard mouth and chin, on which latter sprouted a three days’ + iron-gray beard. “Don’t you see he’s an officer? Officers don’t like being + took by two-spot privates.” + </p> + <p> + Lathrop gave a sudden start. “Why,” he laughed, incredulously, “don’t you + know—” He stopped, and his eyes glanced quickly up and down the + road. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t we know what?” demanded the older Red, suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot,” said Lathrop. “I—I must not give information to the + enemy—” + </p> + <p> + For an instant there was a pause, while the two Reds stood irresolute. + Then the older nodded the other to the side of the road, and in whispers + they consulted eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar laughed, and Lathrop moved toward her. + </p> + <p> + “I deserve worse than being laughed at,” he said. “I made a strategic + mistake. I should not have tried to capture you and an army corps at the + same time.” + </p> + <p> + “You,” she taunted, “who were always so keen on soldiering, to be taken + prisoner,” she lowered her voice, “and by men like that! Aren’t they + funny?” she whispered, “and East Side and Tenderloin! It made me homesick + to hear them! I think when not in uniform the little one drives a taxicab, + and the big one is a guard on the elevated.” + </p> + <p> + “They certainly are very ‘New York,’” assented Lathrop, “and very tough.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” whispered Miss Farrar, “those from New York with the Red Army + were picked men.” + </p> + <p> + “What does it matter?” exclaimed Lathrop. “It’s just as humiliating to be + captured by a ballroom boy as by a mere millionaire! I can’t insist on the + invading army being entirely recruited from Harvard graduates.” + </p> + <p> + The two Reds either had reached a decision, or agreed that they could not + agree, for they ceased whispering, and crossed to where Lathrop stood. + </p> + <p> + “We been talking over your case,” explained the sergeant, “and we see we + are in wrong. We see we made a mistake in taking you prisoner. We had + ought to shot you dead. So now we’re going to shoot you dead.” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t!” objected Lathrop. “It’s too late. You should have thought of + that sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” admitted the sergeant, “but a prisoner is a hell of a nuisance. + If you got a prisoner to look after you can’t do your own work; you got to + keep tabs on him. And there ain’t nothing in it for the prisoner, neither. + If we take you, you’ll have to tramp all the way to our army, and all the + way back. But, if you’re dead, how different! You ain’t no bother to + anybody. You got a half holiday all to yourself, and you can loaf around + the camp, so dead that they can’t make you work, but not so dead you can’t + smoke or eat.” The sergeant smiled ingratiatingly. In a tempting manner he + exhibited his rifle. “Better be dead,” he urged. + </p> + <p> + “I’d like to oblige you,” said Lathrop, “but it’s against the rules. You + CAN’T shoot a prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + The rat-faced soldier uttered an angry exclamation. “To hell with the + rules!” he cried. “We can’t waste time on him. Turn him loose!” + </p> + <p> + The older man rounded on the little one savagely. The tone in which he + addressed him was cold, menacing, sinister. His words were simple, but his + eyes and face were heavy with warning. + </p> + <p> + “Who is running this?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The little soldier muttered, and shuffled away. From under the brim of his + campaign hat, his eyes cast furtive glances up and down the road. As + though anxious to wipe out the effect of his comrade’s words, the sergeant + addressed Lathrop suavely and in a tone of conciliation. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he explained, “him and me are scouts. We’re not supposed to + waste time taking prisoners. So, we’ll set you free.” He waved his hand + invitingly toward the bicycle. “You can go!” he said. + </p> + <p> + To Miss Farrar’s indignation Lathrop, instead of accepting his freedom, + remained motionless. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t!” he said. “I’m on post. My captain ordered me to stay in front + of this house until I was relieved.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar, amazed at such duplicity, exclaimed aloud: + </p> + <p> + “He is NOT on post!” she protested. “He’s a scout! He wants to stop here, + because—because—he’s hungry. I wouldn’t have let you take him + prisoner, if I had not thought you would take him away with you.” She + appealed to the sergeant. “PLEASE take him away,” she begged. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant turned sharply upon his prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you do what the lady wants?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Because I’ve got to do what my captain wants,” returned Lathrop, “and he + put me on sentry-go, in front of this house.” + </p> + <p> + With the back of his hand, the sergeant fretfully scraped the three days’ + growth on his chin. “There’s nothing to it,” he exclaimed, “but for to + take him with us. When we meet some more Reds we’ll turn him over. Fall + in!” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + “No!” protested Lathrop. “I don’t want to be turned over. I’ve got a much + better plan. YOU don’t want to be bothered with a prisoner. I don’t want + to be a prisoner. As you say, I am better dead. You can’t shoot a + prisoner, but if he tries to escape you can. I’ll try to escape. You shoot + me. Then I return to my own army, and report myself dead. That ends your + difficulty and saves me from a court-martial. They can’t court-martial a + corpse.” + </p> + <p> + The face of the sergeant flashed with relief and satisfaction. In his + anxiety to rid himself of his prisoner, he lifted the bicycle into the + road and held it in readiness. + </p> + <p> + “You’re all right!” he said, heartily. “You can make your getaway as quick + as you like.” + </p> + <p> + But to the conspiracy Miss Farrar refused to lend herself. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know,” she demanded, “that he will keep his promise? He may + not go back to his own army. He can be just as dead on my lawn as anywhere + else!” + </p> + <p> + Lathrop shook his head at her sadly. + </p> + <p> + “How you wrong me!” he protested. “How dare you doubt the promise of a + dying man? These are really my last words, and I wish I could think of + something to say suited to the occasion, but the presence of strangers + prevents.” + </p> + <p> + He mounted his bicycle. “‘If I had a thousand lives to give,’” he quoted + with fervor, “‘I’d give them all to—‘” he hesitated, and smiled + mournfully on Miss Farrar. Seeing her flushed and indignant countenance, + he added, with haste, “to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts!” + </p> + <p> + As he started on his wheel slowly down the path, he turned to the + sergeant. + </p> + <p> + “I’m escaping,” he explained. The Reds, with an enthusiasm undoubtedly + genuine, raised their rifles, and the calm of the Indian summer was + shattered by two sharp reports. Lathrop, looking back over his shoulder, + waved one hand reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “Death was instantaneous,” he called. He bent his body over the + handle-bar, and they watched him disappear rapidly around the turn in the + road. + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar sighed with relief. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you very much,” she said. + </p> + <p> + As though signifying that to oblige a woman he would shoot any number of + prisoners, the sergeant raised his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t mention it, lady,” he said. “I seen he was annoying you, and that’s + why I got rid of him. Some of them amateur soldiers, as soon as they get + into uniform, are too fresh. He took advantage of you because your folks + were away from home. But don’t you worry about that. I’ll guard this house + until your folks get back.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar protested warmly. + </p> + <p> + “Really!” she exclaimed; “I need no one to guard me.” + </p> + <p> + But the soldier was obdurate. He motioned his comrade down the road. + </p> + <p> + “Watch at the turn,” he ordered; “he may come back or send some of the + Blues to take us. I’ll stay here and protect the lady.” + </p> + <p> + Again Miss Farrar protested, but the sergeant, in a benign and fatherly + manner, smiled approvingly. Seating himself on the grass outside the + fence, he leaned his back against the gatepost, apparently settling + himself for conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Now, how long might it have been,” he asked, “before we showed up, that + you seen us?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw you,” Miss Farrar said, “when Mr.—when that bicycle scout was + talking to me. I saw the red bands on your hats among the bushes.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant appeared interested. + </p> + <p> + “But why didn’t you let on to him?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar laughed evasively. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe because I am from New York, too,” she said. “Perhaps I wanted to + see soldiers from my city take a prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + They were interrupted by the sudden appearance of the smaller soldier. On + his rat-like countenance was written deep concern. + </p> + <p> + “When I got to the turn,” he began, breathlessly, “I couldn’t see him. + Where did he go? Did he double back through the woods, or did he have time + to ride out of sight before I got there?” + </p> + <p> + The reappearance of his comrade affected the sergeant strangely. He sprang + to his feet, his under jaw protruding truculently, his eyes flashing with + anger. + </p> + <p> + “Get back,” he snarled. “Do what I told you!” + </p> + <p> + Under his breath he muttered words that, to Miss Farrar, were + unintelligible. The little rat-like man nodded, and ran from them down the + road. The sergeant made an awkward gesture of apology. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, lady,” he begged, “but it makes me hot when them rookies won’t + obey orders. You see,” he ran on glibly, “I’m a reg’lar; served three + years in the Philippines, and I can’t get used to not having my men do + what I say.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar nodded, and started toward the house. The sergeant sprang + quickly across the road. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever been in the Philippines, Miss?” he called. “It’s a great + country.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar halted and shook her head. She was considering how far + politeness required of her to entertain unshaven militiamen, who insisted + on making sentries of themselves at her front gate. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant had plunged garrulously into a confusing description of the + Far East. He was clasping the pickets of the fence with his hands, and his + eyes were fastened on hers. He lacked neither confidence nor vocabulary, + and not for an instant did his tongue hesitate or his eyes wander, and yet + in his manner there was nothing at which she could take offence. He + appeared only amiably vain that he had seen much of the world, and anxious + to impress that fact upon another. Miss Farrar was bored, but the man gave + her no opportunity to escape. In consequence she was relieved when the + noisy approach of an automobile brought him to an abrupt pause. Coming + rapidly down the road was a large touring-car, filled with men in khaki. + The sergeant gave one glance at it, and leaped across the road, taking + cover behind the stone wall. Instantly he raised his head above it and + shook his fist at Miss Farrar. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t tell,” he commanded. “They’re Blues in that car! Don’t tell!” Again + he sank from sight. + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar now was more than bored, she was annoyed. Why grown men should + play at war so seriously she could not understand. It was absurd! She no + longer would remain a party to it; and, lest the men in the car might + involve her still further, she retreated hastily toward the house. As she + opened the door the car halted at the gate, and voices called to her, but + she pretended not to hear them, and continued up the stairs. Behind her + the car passed noisily on its way. + </p> + <p> + She mounted the stairs, and crossing a landing moved down a long hall, at + the further end of which was her bedroom. The hall was uncarpeted, but the + tennis shoes she wore made no sound, nor did the door of her bedroom when + she pushed it open. + </p> + <p> + On the threshold Miss Farrar stood quite still. A swift, sinking nausea + held her in a vice. Her instinct was to scream and run, but her throat had + tightened and gone dry, and her limbs trembled. Opposite the door was her + dressing-table, and reflected in its mirror were the features and figure + of the rat-like soldier. His back was toward her. With one hand he swept + the dressing-table. The other, hanging at his side, held a revolver. In a + moment the panic into which Miss Farrar had been thrown passed. Her breath + and blood returned, and, intent only on flight, she softly turned. On the + instant the rat-faced one raised his eyes, saw her reflected in the + mirror, and with an oath, swung toward her. He drew the revolver close to + his cheek, and looked at her down the barrel. “Don’t move!” he whispered; + “don’t scream! Where are the jewels?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar was not afraid of the revolver or of the man. She did not + believe either would do her harm. The idea of both the presence of the man + in her room, and that any one should dare to threaten her was what filled + her with repugnance. As the warm blood flowed again through her body her + spirit returned. She was no longer afraid. She was, instead, indignant, + furious. + </p> + <p> + With one step she was in the room, leaving the road to the door open. + </p> + <p> + “Get out of here,” she commanded. + </p> + <p> + The little man snarled, and stamped the floor. He shoved the gun nearer to + her. + </p> + <p> + “The jewels, damn you!” he whispered. “Do you want me to blow your fool + head off? Where are the jewels?” + </p> + <p> + “Jewels?” repeated Miss Farrar. “I have no jewels!” + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” shrieked the little man. “He said the house was full of jewels. + We heard him. He said he would stay to guard the jewels.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar recognized his error. She remembered Lathrop’s jest, and that + it had been made while the two men were within hearing, behind the stone + wall. + </p> + <p> + “It was a joke!” she cried. “Leave at once!” She backed swiftly toward the + open window that looked upon the road. “Or I’ll call your sergeant!” + </p> + <p> + “If you go near that window or scream,” whispered the rat-like one, “I’ll + shoot!” + </p> + <p> + A heavy voice, speaking suddenly from the doorway, shook Miss Farrar’s + jangled nerves into fresh panic. + </p> + <p> + “She won’t scream,” said the voice. + </p> + <p> + In the door Miss Farrar saw the bulky form of the sergeant, blocking her + escape. + </p> + <p> + Without shifting his eyes from Miss Farrar, the man with the gun cursed + breathlessly at the other. “Why didn’t you keep her away?” he panted. + </p> + <p> + “An automobile stopped in front of the gate,” explained the sergeant. + “Have you got them?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “No!” returned the other. “Nothing! She won’t tell where they are.” + </p> + <p> + The older man laughed. “Oh, yes, she’ll tell,” he whispered. His voice was + still low and suave, but it carried with it the weight of a threat, and + the threat, although unspoken, filled Miss Farrar with alarm. Her eyes, + wide with concern, turned fearfully from one man to the other. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant stretched his hands toward her, the fingers working and + making clutches in the air. The look in his eyes was quite terrifying. + </p> + <p> + “If you don’t tell,” he said slowly, “I’ll choke it out of you!” + </p> + <p> + If his intention was to frighten the girl, he succeeded admirably. With + her hands clasped to her throat, Miss Farrar sank against the wall. She + saw no chance of escape. The way to the door was barred, and should she + drop to the garden below, from the window, before she could reach the road + the men would overtake her. Even should she reach the road, the house + nearest was a half mile distant. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant came close, his fingers opening and closing in front of her + eyes. He raised his voice to a harsh, bellowing roar. “I’m going to make + you tell!” he shouted. “I’m going to choke it out of you!” + </p> + <p> + Although she was alone in the house, although on every side the pine woods + encompassed her, Miss Farrar threw all her strength into one long, + piercing cry for help. And upon the instant it was answered. From the hall + came the swift rush of feet. The rat-like one swung toward it. From his + revolver came a report that shook the room, a flash and a burst of smoke, + and through it Miss Farrar saw Lathrop hurl himself. He dived at the + rat-like one, and as on the foot-ball field he had been taught to stop a + runner, flung his arms around the other’s knees. The legs of the man shot + from under him, his body cut a half circle through the air, and the part + of his anatomy to first touch the floor was his head. The floor was of + oak, and the impact gave forth a crash like the smash of a base-ball bat, + when it drives the ball to centre field. The man did not move. He did not + even groan. In his relaxed fingers the revolver lay, within reach of + Lathrop’s hand. He fell upon it and, still on his knees, pointed it at the + sergeant. + </p> + <p> + “You’re MY prisoner, now!” he shouted cheerfully. “Hands up!” + </p> + <p> + The man raised his arms slowly, as if he were lifting heavy dumb-bells. + </p> + <p> + “The lady called for help,” he said. “I came to help her.” + </p> + <p> + “No! No!” protested the girl. “He did NOT help me! He said he would choke + me if I didn’t—” + </p> + <p> + “He said he would—what!” bellowed Lathrop. He leaped to his feet, + and sent the gun spinning through the window. He stepped toward the man + gingerly, on the balls of his feet, like one walking on ice. The man + seemed to know what that form of approach threatened, for he threw his + arms into a position of defence. + </p> + <p> + “You bully!” whispered Lathrop. “You coward! You choke women, do you?” + </p> + <p> + He shifted from one foot to the other, his body balancing forward, his + arms swinging limply in front of him. With his eyes, he seemed to undress + the man, as though choosing a place to strike. + </p> + <p> + “I made the same mistake you did,” he taunted. “I should have killed you + first. Now I am going to do it!” + </p> + <p> + He sprang at the man, his chin still sunk on his chest, but with his arms + swinging like the spokes of a wheel. His opponent struck back heavily, + violently, but each move of his arm seemed only to open up some vulnerable + spot. Blows beat upon his chin, upon his nose, his eyes; blows jabbed him + in the ribs, drove his breath from his stomach, ground his teeth together, + cut the flesh from his cheeks. He sank to his knees, with his arms + clasping his head. + </p> + <p> + “Get up!” roared Lathrop. “Stand up to it, you coward!” + </p> + <p> + But the man had no idea of standing up to it. Howling with pain, he + scrambled toward the door, and fled staggering down the hall. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment the automobile that a few minutes before had passed up + the road came limping to the gate, and a half-dozen men in uniform sprang + out of it. From the window Lathrop saw them spread across the lawn and + surround the house. + </p> + <p> + “They’ve got him!” he said. He pointed to the prostrate figure on the + floor. “He and the other one,” he explained, breathlessly, “are New York + crooks! They have been looting in the wake of the Reds, disguised as + soldiers. I knew they weren’t even amateur soldiers by the mistakes in + their make-up, and I made that bluff of riding away so as to give them + time to show what the game was. Then, that provost guard in the motor car + stopped me, and when they said who they were after, I ordered them back + here. But they had a flat tire, and my bicycle beat them.” + </p> + <p> + In his excitement he did not notice that the girl was not listening, that + she was very pale, that she was breathing quickly, and trembling. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go tell them,” he added, “that the other one they want is up here.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Farrar’s strength instantly returned. + </p> + <p> + With a look of terror at the now groaning figure on the floor, she sprang + toward Lathrop, with both hands clutching him by his sleeves. + </p> + <p> + “You will NOT!” she commanded. “You will not leave me alone!” + </p> + <p> + Appealingly she raised her face to his startled countenance. With a burst + of tears she threw herself into his arms. “I’m afraid!” she sobbed. “Don’t + leave me. Please, no matter what I say, never leave me again!” + </p> + <p> + Between bewilderment and joy, the face of Lathrop was unrecognizable. As + her words reached him, as he felt the touch of her body in his arms, and + her warm, wet cheek against his own, he drew a deep sigh of content, and + then, fearfully and tenderly, held her close. + </p> + <p> + After a pause, in which peace came to all the world, he raised his head. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t worry!” he said. “You can BET I won’t leave you!” + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Peace Manoeuvres, by Richard Harding Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEACE MANOEUVRES *** + +***** This file should be named 1824-h.htm or 1824-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/2/1824/ + +Produced by Don Lainson; David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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