CHAPTER II
UNDER ARREST
So it was arranged for Fred Waring, thousands of miles from home, tostart from Virballen. The lieutenant who had saved him from Suvarofflent him what money he could spare, though all told it was less than ahundred marks, which is twenty dollars.
"Good-bye, and good luck go with you," said Ernst. "If we do not meetagain it will be a real good-bye. If you can send the money back, let itgo to my mother in Danzig. If you cannot, do not let it worry you! Ifany people ask you questions, answer them quickly. If any tell you tostop, stop! Remember that this is war time and every stranger issuspected. You will be in no danger if you will remember to answerquestions and obey orders."
"Thank you again--and good-bye," said Fred. He had known this Germanofficer for only a few minutes, but he felt that he was parting from agood friend, and, indeed, he was. Not many men would have been soconsiderate and so kindly, especially at such a time, to a strange boyfrom a foreign land, and one, moreover, who had certainly not come withthe best of recommendations. "I--I hope you'll come through all right."
"That's to be seen," said Ernst, with a shrug of the shoulders. "In warwho can tell? We take our chances, we who live by the sword. If aRussian is to get me, he will do so, and it will not help to be afraid,or to think of the chances that I may not see the end of what has beenbegun to-night! We have been getting ready for years. Now we shall knowbefore long if we have done enough. The test has come for us of thefatherland."
And then Fred said a bold thing.
"I can wish you good luck and a safe return, Lieutenant," he said. "ButI can't wish that your country may be victorious because my mother,after all, was a Russian."
"I wouldn't ask that of you," said Ernst, with a laugh. "Even though itis Prince Suvaroff's country, too?"
"There are Germans you do not like, I suppose--who are even yourenemies," said Fred. "Yet now you will forget all that, will you not?"
"God helping us, yes!" said Ernst. "You are right. Your heart must bewith your own. But you don't seem like a Russian, or I would not behelping you."
Then Fred was off, going on his way into the darkness alone. Ernst hadtold him which road to follow, telling him that if he stuck to it hewould not be likely to run into any troop movements.
"Don't see too much. That is a good rule for one who is in a country atwar," he had advised. "If you know nothing, you cannot tell the enemyanything useful, and there will be less reason for our people to maketrouble for you. Your only real danger lies in being taken for a spy.And if you are careful not to learn things, that will not be a verygreat one."
Fred was not at all afraid, as a matter of fact, as he set out. Beforehe had stepped across the mark that stood for the border he had beenhugely depressed. He had been friendless and alone. He had been worsethan friendless, indeed, since the only man for many miles about whoknew him was his bitter enemy. Now he had found that he could stillinspire a man like Ernst with belief in his truthfulness and honesty,and the knowledge did him a lot of good. And then, of course, he hadanother excellent reason for not being afraid. He was entirely ignorantof the particular dangers that were ahead of him. He had no conceptionat all of what lay before him, and it does not require bravery not tofear a danger the very existence of which one is entirely withoutknowledge.
The idea of walking all through the summer night, as Ernst had advisedhim to do, did not seem bad to him at all. As a scout at home, he hadtaken part in many a hike, and if few of them had been at night, he wasstill thoroughly accustomed to being out-of-doors, without even theshelter of a tent or a lean-to. Nor was he afraid of losing his way, foras long as the stars shone above, as they did brilliantly now, he had asure guide.
Fred wasn't tired, for he had enraged Suvaroff, who had seemingly wantedhim to be frightened, by sleeping during the journey to Virballenwhenever he could. It had been comfortable enough on the train; he hadnot been treated as a prisoner, but as a guest. And he had, as a matterof fact, been aroused only an hour before the train had reached thefrontier.
So he had been able to start out boldly and confidently. In the countrythrough which he was now tramping the nights are cool in summer, but thedays are very hot. So Fred had made up his mind, as soon as heunderstood that he had a good deal of walking before him, to do as muchof his traveling as was possible by night, and to sleep during the day.In East Prussia, as in some parts of Canada, the summer is short andhot; the winter long and cold.
There was nothing about the silent countryside, as he tramped along anexcellent road, to make him think of war. The fields about him seemed tobe planted less with grain; they were very largely used for pasture, andhe saw a good many horses. He remembered now that this was the greathorse breeding district of Germany. Here there were great estates withmany acres of rolling land on which great numbers of horses were bred.It was here, he knew, that the German army, needing great numbers ofhorses every year, found its mounts.
"They'll need more than ever now," he thought to himself. "If there'sreally to be war, I suppose they'll take every horse that's able to workat all, whether it's a good looking beast or not. Poor horses! Theydon't have much chance, I guess."
He thought of the Cossacks he had seen in Russia, wiry, small men, inthe main, mounted on shaggy, strong, little horses, no bigger in realitythan ponies. He had heard of the prowess of the Cossacks, of course.They had fought well in the past in a good many wars. But somehow itseemed rather absurd to match them, with their undersized horses,against magnificent specimens of men and horseflesh such as the Germancavalry. He had passed a squadron of Uhlans, near Virballen, outlinedagainst the sky. They had been grim and business-like in appearance. Butthen the Cossacks were that, too, though in an entirely different way.
"I wish I had someone along!" he thought, at last.
That was when the dawn was beginning to break. Off to the east the sunwas beginning to rise, and in the grey half light before full day therewas something stark and gaunt about the country. Before him smoke wasrising, probably from a village. But that sign of human habitation, thatcertain indication that people were near, somehow only made him feellonelier than he had been in the starlit darkness of the night. Thiswould be good enough fun, if only one of his many friends back home werealong--Jack French, or Steve Vedder. It was with them that he hadshared such adventures in the past. And yet not just such adventures,either. This was more real than anything his adventures as a Boy Scouthad brought him, though he belonged to a patrol that got in a lot ofoutdoor work, and that camped out every summer in a practical way.
Being alone took some of the zest out of what had seemed, onceLieutenant Ernst's loan had saved him from his most pressing worry,likely to be a bully adventure. Now it seemed rather flat and stale. Butthat was partly because having tramped all night, he was reallybeginning to be tired. So he went on to the village, and there he founda little inn, where he got a good breakfast and a bed, in which, as soonas he had eaten his meal, he was sound asleep.
Few men were about the village when he went in. He had noticed, however,the curious little throng, early as it was, about a bulletin ominouslyheaded, "Kriegzustand!" That meant mobilization and war. The men hadanswered the call already, all except those who were too old to springto arms at once. Some of the older ones, he knew, would be called out,too, for garrison duty, so that younger men might go to the front.
In his sleep he had many dreams, but the most insistent one was made upof the tramp of heavy feet and the blowing of bugles and the rattling ofhorses' feet. And this wasn't a dream at all, for when he awoke it wasto find a soldier shaking him roughly by the shoulders, and ordering himto get up. And outside were all the sounds of his dream. The sun washigh for he had been asleep for several hours. So he got up willinglyenough, and hurried his dressing because he remembered what Ernst hadtold him. Then he followed the soldier downstairs, and found himself theprisoner in an impromptu sort of court-martial.
Really, it wasn't as bad as that. Considering that he had no pa
ssportsand nothing, in fact, to show who he was, and that no responsible personcould vouch for him, he was very lucky. It was because he was a boy, andobviously an American boy, that he got off so easily. For after he hadanswered a few questions, a major explained the situation to him verypunctiliously.
"You must be detained here for two or three days," said the major. "Thisis an important concentration district, and many things will happen thatno foreigner can be allowed to see. We believe absolutely that you arenot unfriendly, and that you have no intention of reporting anything youmight chance to learn to an enemy. But in time of war we may not takeany risks, and you will, therefore, be required to remain in thisvillage under observation.
"Within the village limits you will be as free as if you were at home,in your own country. You will not be allowed to pass them, however, andif you try to do so a sentry will shoot you. As soon as certainmovements are completed, you will be at liberty to pass on, on your wayto Koenigsberg. I will add to Lieutenant Ernst's advice. When you reachKoenigsberg, after you have reported yourself to the police, wait thereuntil a train can take you to Berlin. It will mean only a few days ofwaiting, for at Koenigsberg there are already many refugees, and theauthorities want to get them to Berlin as soon as the movements of trooptrains allow the railway to be reopened for passenger traffic."
Fred agreed to all this. There was nothing else for him to do, for onething, and, for another, he was by no means unwilling to see whateverthere might be to be seen here. He could guess by this time that withoutany design he had stumbled on a spot that was reckoned rather importantby the Germans, for the time being at least, and he had heard enoughabout the wonderful efficiency of the German army to be anxious to seethat mighty machine in the act of getting ready to move.
He did see a good deal, as a matter of fact, that day and the next. Itwas on the famous Saturday night of the first of August that he had leftVirballen. Sunday brought news of a clash with France, far away on thewestern border, and of the German invasion of Belgium. Monday broughtword of a definite declaration of war between Germany and France, andof the growing danger that England, too, might be involved.
And all of Sunday and all of Monday supplies of all sorts poured throughthe little village in an unceasing stream. Motor cars and trucks were tobe seen in abundance, and Fred caught his first glimpse, which was notto be his last, of the wonderful German field kitchens, in the mightyovens of which huge loaves of bread were being baked even while thewhole clumsy looking apparatus was on the move. But it only lookedclumsy. Like everything else about the German army, this was a practicaland efficient, well tried device.
Then suddenly, early on Tuesday, he was told that he was free to go, orwould be by nightfall. And that day all signs of the German army, save asmall force of Uhlans, vanished from the village. That evening,refreshed and ready for the road again, Fred set out. And that sameevening, though he did not know it until the next day, England enteredthe war against Germany.
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