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diff --git a/1824-0.txt b/1824-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a7c39be --- /dev/null +++ b/1824-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1200 @@ +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 + + + + + +PEACE MANOEUVRES + +By Richard Harding Davis + + + + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“It’s a two to one shot against me, any way,” he growled. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“Don’t point that at me!” shouted the boy. + +“Where do you come from?” demanded the scout. + +“Wareham,” said the baker. + +“Are you carrying any one concealed in that wagon?” + +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. + +“Where are you going?” he challenged. + +“To Carver Centre,” said the boy. + +To chance Lathrop had left the decision. He believed the fates had +answered. + +Dragging his bicycle over the stone wall, he fell into the road. + +“Go on,” he commanded. “I’ll use your cart for a screen. I’ll creep +behind the enemy before he sees me.” + +The baker’s boy frowned unhappily. + +“But supposing,” he argued, “they see you first, will they shoot?” + +The scout waved his hand carelessly. + +“Of course,” he cried. + +“Then,” said the baker, “my horse will run away!” + +“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?” + +The baker’s boy flushed with indignation. + +“Sure, I know that,” he protested; “but my horse--HE don’t know that!” + +Lathrop slung his rifle over his shoulder and his leg over his bicycle. + +“If the Reds catch you,” he warned, in parting, “they’ll take everything +you’ve got.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +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. + +“Is the parade coming?” she called. + +“Have you seen any of the Reds?” Lathrop returned. + +“No,” complained the woman. “And we been waiting all morning. When will +the parade come?” + +“It’s not a parade,” said Lathrop, severely. “It’s a war!” + +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. + +“You promised,” said the girl, “you would not come to see me.” + +Lathrop, straddling his bicycle, peered anxiously down the road. + +“This is not a social call,” he said. “I’m on duty. Have you seen the +Reds?” + +His tone was brisk and alert, his manner preoccupied. The ungraciousness +of his reception did not seem in the least to disconcert him. + +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. + +“It is not the lover who comes to woo,” he was constantly explaining, +“but the lover’s WAY of wooing.” + +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. + +“Mr. Lathrop!” she began, severely. + +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. + +He shook his head sadly. + +“‘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--” + +Miss Farrar had turned her back on him, and was walking rapidly up the +path. + +“Beatrice,” he called. “I am coming after you!” + +Miss Farrar instantly returned and placed both hands firmly upon the +gate. + +“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!” + +The young man interrupted her sharply. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +“Look at me,” he begged, sadly. + +Miss Farrar was entirely unimpressed. + +“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!” + +Lathrop regarded himself complacently. + +“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.” + +Miss Farrar’s eyes flashed indignantly. + +“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.” + +“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.’” + +Miss Farrar regarded him steadily. + +“Do you intend to drive me away from my own door, or will you go?” + +Lathrop picked his wheel out of the dust. + +“Good-by,” he said. “I’ll come back when you have made up your mind.” + +In vexation Miss Farrar stamped her foot upon the path. + +“I HAVE made up my mind!” she protested. + +“Then,” returned Lathrop, “I’ll come back when you have changed it.” + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“I wish,” she exclaimed breathlessly--“I wish,” she repeated, “the Reds +would take you prisoner!” + +“Take me where?” asked Lathrop. + +“Take you anywhere!” cried Miss Farrar. “You should be ashamed to talk +to me when you should be looking for the enemy!” + +“I am WAITING for the enemy,” explained Lathrop. “It’s the same thing.” + +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. + +“Hands up!” shouted one. “You’re my prisoner!” cried the other. + +Mechanically Lathrop raised his hands, but his eyes turned to Miss +Farrar. + +“Did you know?” he asked. + +“I have been watching them,” she said, “creeping up on you for the last +ten minutes.” + +Lathrop turned to the two soldiers, and made an effort to smile. + +“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.” + +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!” + +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. + +As he did so he gloomily scrutinized the insignia of his captors. + +“Who took me?” he asked. + +“WE took you,” exclaimed the sergeant. + +“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. + +“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?” + +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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“Don’t we know what?” demanded the older Red, suspiciously. + +“I forgot,” said Lathrop. “I--I must not give information to the +enemy--” + +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. + +Miss Farrar laughed, and Lathrop moved toward her. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“They certainly are very ‘New York,’” assented Lathrop, “and very +tough.” + +“I thought,” whispered Miss Farrar, “those from New York with the Red +Army were picked men.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“You can’t!” objected Lathrop. “It’s too late. You should have thought +of that sooner.” + +“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. + +“I’d like to oblige you,” said Lathrop, “but it’s against the rules. You +CAN’T shoot a prisoner.” + +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!” + +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. + +“Who is running this?” he asked. + +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. + +“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. + +To Miss Farrar’s indignation Lathrop, instead of accepting his freedom, +remained motionless. + +“I can’t!” he said. “I’m on post. My captain ordered me to stay in front +of this house until I was relieved.” + +Miss Farrar, amazed at such duplicity, exclaimed aloud: + +“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. + +The sergeant turned sharply upon his prisoner. + +“Why don’t you do what the lady wants?” he demanded. + +“Because I’ve got to do what my captain wants,” returned Lathrop, “and +he put me on sentry-go, in front of this house.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“You’re all right!” he said, heartily. “You can make your getaway as +quick as you like.” + +But to the conspiracy Miss Farrar refused to lend herself. + +“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!” + +Lathrop shook his head at her sadly. + +“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.” + +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!” + +As he started on his wheel slowly down the path, he turned to the +sergeant. + +“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. + +“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. + +Miss Farrar sighed with relief. + +“Thank you very much,” she said. + +As though signifying that to oblige a woman he would shoot any number of +prisoners, the sergeant raised his hat. + +“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.” + +Miss Farrar protested warmly. + +“Really!” she exclaimed; “I need no one to guard me.” + +But the soldier was obdurate. He motioned his comrade down the road. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Now, how long might it have been,” he asked, “before we showed up, that +you seen us?” + +“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.” + +The sergeant appeared interested. + +“But why didn’t you let on to him?” + +Miss Farrar laughed evasively. + +“Maybe because I am from New York, too,” she said. “Perhaps I wanted to +see soldiers from my city take a prisoner.” + +They were interrupted by the sudden appearance of the smaller soldier. +On his rat-like countenance was written deep concern. + +“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?” + +The reappearance of his comrade affected the sergeant strangely. He +sprang to his feet, his under jaw protruding truculently, his eyes +flashing with anger. + +“Get back,” he snarled. “Do what I told you!” + +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. + +“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.” + +Miss Farrar nodded, and started toward the house. The sergeant sprang +quickly across the road. + +“Have you ever been in the Philippines, Miss?” he called. “It’s a great +country.” + +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. + +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. + +“Don’t tell,” he commanded. “They’re Blues in that car! Don’t tell!” + Again he sank from sight. + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +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. + +With one step she was in the room, leaving the road to the door open. + +“Get out of here,” she commanded. + +The little man snarled, and stamped the floor. He shoved the gun nearer +to her. + +“The jewels, damn you!” he whispered. “Do you want me to blow your fool +head off? Where are the jewels?” + +“Jewels?” repeated Miss Farrar. “I have no jewels!” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +“If you go near that window or scream,” whispered the rat-like one, +“I’ll shoot!” + +A heavy voice, speaking suddenly from the doorway, shook Miss Farrar’s +jangled nerves into fresh panic. + +“She won’t scream,” said the voice. + +In the door Miss Farrar saw the bulky form of the sergeant, blocking her +escape. + +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. + +“An automobile stopped in front of the gate,” explained the sergeant. +“Have you got them?” he demanded. + +“No!” returned the other. “Nothing! She won’t tell where they are.” + +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. + +The sergeant stretched his hands toward her, the fingers working and +making clutches in the air. The look in his eyes was quite terrifying. + +“If you don’t tell,” he said slowly, “I’ll choke it out of you!” + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +“You’re MY prisoner, now!” he shouted cheerfully. “Hands up!” + +The man raised his arms slowly, as if he were lifting heavy dumb-bells. + +“The lady called for help,” he said. “I came to help her.” + +“No! No!” protested the girl. “He did NOT help me! He said he would +choke me if I didn’t--” + +“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. + +“You bully!” whispered Lathrop. “You coward! You choke women, do you?” + +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. + +“I made the same mistake you did,” he taunted. “I should have killed you +first. Now I am going to do it!” + +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. + +“Get up!” roared Lathrop. “Stand up to it, you coward!” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“I’ll go tell them,” he added, “that the other one they want is up +here.” + +Miss Farrar’s strength instantly returned. + +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. + +“You will NOT!” she commanded. “You will not leave me alone!” + +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!” + +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. + +After a pause, in which peace came to all the world, he raised his head. + +“Don’t worry!” he said. “You can BET I won’t leave you!” + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Peace Manoeuvres, by Richard Harding Davis + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEACE MANOEUVRES *** + +***** This file should be named 1824-0.txt or 1824-0.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 + +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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