Big Five Motorcycle Boys on the Battle Line; Or, With the Allies in France

by George Cary Eggleston

  CHAPTER XXIV.

  A FRENCH HERO.

  "Can they ever do it?"

  Undoubtedly this was what was filling the heart and brain of each ofthose boys as they watched the living stream of French rapidly drawnearer the river ford commanded by that destructive German battery, andwhich thus far they had not been able to reach and silence with theirown guns and aeroplane attacks.

  The time between the uprising of these troops and their reaching theshallow water of the ford was of very brief duration. Undoubtedly theFrench had crept up just as close as the nature of the ground wouldpermit them to go unseen.

  Still to those anxious hearts on the little rise it must have seemeddreadfully long, owing to the strain they were laboring under. As yetthe Germans had held their fire, for not a man of the attacking forcehad fallen save when they stumbled, only to rise again.

  Possibly Hanky Panky may even have deluded himself with the hope thatwhen it came to a pinch the Germans had deemed it best to give up theirdesperate intention of defending the ford to the last gasp. Josh knewbetter, because he understood the holdfast nature of the Teutons betterthan did his chums. And he was mentally figuring on just when the bitterblast would break forth that was going to mow down those valiant menwith the red trousers and the blue tunics rushing pell-mell forward withsuch ringing huzzas.

  At least the men separated as they ran, doubtless following theinstructions of their officers. This was bound to be of advantage tothem, since the fire of the enemy could not cut them down as ripe grainfalls before the scythe of the reaper or the revolving knives of themodern mowing machine.

  "Some may manage to get across anyhow!" Josh was telling himself, asthough seeking comfort.

  Now the first of the French had reached the bank. They leapedimpetuously into the water and hastened to start across. As theyadvanced of course they waded deeper, and their pace lessened. Was thisjust what those cool, calculating German gunners were waiting for? Rodexpected to hear the first crash at any second now. How his heart wentout to those gallant fellows splashing through the river at the disputedford. He felt as though he must shut his eyes so as not to see what wasfated to occur; but for the life of him he could not. Some power beyondhis control forced him to continue to crouch there and stare with allhis might and main, as though he must omit no small detail of theamazing picture.

  The ford was now fairly alive with moving figures, all pushing hurriedlytoward the other shore, where not a German could be seen. The bushes inthat quarter lay there as unassuming as though every one did not conceala foe with ready rifle waiting for the order to come to pour in aterrific fire.

  That was the picture Rod would often recall in days to come. It wasstamped on his memory in imperishable colors--the bright sunlight, thehovering clouds of billowy powder smoke, the gay uniforms of thecharging Frenchmen, the sombre, oppressive silence hovering over theopposite bank of the river--all these things had a part in thenever-to-be-forgotten scene.

  Then it seemed as though some volcano, long held in check, must haveburst the confines of Nature in a mighty convulsion. From several pointsthere came the thunderous discharge of batteries, while a thousandrifles added their sharper notes to the dreadful chorus.

  And the men in the river, what of them?

  Scores could be seen to throw up their arms and disappear, the currentdoubtless bearing them away. Others were forced to turn and start backto the shore they had so recently left, having been wounded more or lessseverely. Gaps appeared in the various groups, showing what terriblecarnage those guns in the leading German battery had already executed.

  Still the forward movement had not been as yet effectually stopped.Those who were thus far uninjured kept pushing ahead, even though theymust realize that it was into the very jaws of death they advanced. AndRod found himself filled with sincere admiration for the bravery theyexhibited. He had read of similar things many times, but seeing with hisown eyes an exhibition of such wonderful valor was an entirely differentmatter.

  Oh! how he hoped and prayed that in the end some of those Frenchmenmight manage to reach the other shore which they aspired to gain. Butwhen the German guns continued to roar and send torrents of iron hailinto the ranks of the adventurous French it began to look very much asthough not a single man might be able to accomplish the passage of thedisputed ford.

  Hanky Panky could stand it no longer. He rolled over and hid his face,while thrusting the forefinger of each hand as deeply into his ears ashe could, evidently with the hope of shutting out all that dreadfulnoise.

  Not so Josh, who, though very white, and trembling with excitement,still continued to stand there, drinking it all in eagerly, as one mightsomething that was fairly intoxicating his senses.

  The war drama did not last long. Under that murderous fire the Frenchsoldiers in the water fairly melted away. Some managed to return safelyto the side of the stream held by their comrades, but by far the largernumber seemed to have vanished. Further down the river they could beseen, some of them struggling in the water, with others floating alongsignificantly still.

  The firing had almost ceased by now, because there was no further needof wasting precious ammunition on the part of the provident Germans. Thecharge of the impetuous French had been stopped, and if they still meantto carry the ford they must gather what was left of their force for asecond attempt.

  Still, while that one battery covered the crossing it seemed madness forthem to risk the annihilation of their men in another effort.

  "It was a fluke, after all!" Josh was calling out in bitterdisappointment; "they never had a chance to get over while that awfulbattery covered the ford. Oh! how I wish a part of them at least hadmanaged to get across. Look, Rod, as I live, one lone Frenchman didsucceed in crossing. You can see him crawling along in the scrub there,his red breeches betraying his every movement. Just a single one of allthat brave lot, and he'll be either killed right away or made aprisoner, like as not!"

  Somehow both boys found themselves compelled to watch the progress ofthe crawling Frenchman. He seemed only a grain of sand on the seashorecompared with the mighty forces employed on both sides, and yet at thatparticular moment he occupied the centre of the stage in their minds.Without knowing why this should be so they continued to follow hismovements with their eyes.

  Then suddenly Josh broke out again. He could make himself heard becausethere was little if any desultory firing now; the Germans were satisfiedwith the execution already accomplished, while the mortified French heldtheir fire until further plans could be settled upon.

  "Rod, what do you reckon that madman means to try and do?" he askedexcitedly; "see how he keeps on creeping straight along toward wherethat battery is hidden behind some sort of barricade. Honest togoodness, now, I believe he means to tackle the entire business all byhimself; just like a Frenchman for desperate bravery. He must be crazyto think he can do anything unaided, Rod."

  "Don't be too sure of that, Josh," the other told him immediately;"unless I miss my guess that man has got some project he's meaning toput through, come what will."

  "Oh! now I see what you mean, Rod; yes, as sure as anything he'scarrying something in his hand, and I do believe it must be a bomb thathe's meaning to throw over the barricade on to that battery! It's agreat scheme, Rod, but with not one chance in ten to succeed."

  With strained eyes they watched the creeping figure with the telltalered trousers that added so greatly to his peril. Shortly afterwards Joshbroke out again in what might be called a lament.

  "Too bad, too bad, Rod, they've glimpsed him at last, just as I wasafraid they'd be doing. You can see some of their sharpshooters furtherback are sending a rain of balls in that direction, for they make littlepuffs of dust fly up everywhere they strike. He's bound to be hit in ajiffy now. Oh! see that, would you?"

  There could be no question but that one or more of the plunging bulletshad reached their intended mark, for the creeping soldier had rolledover as if in agony.

  "He's done for, poor cha
p, just as I expected!" cried the sympathizingJosh, while even Hanky Panky once more dared to lift his head and look;but almost immediately afterwards Josh changed his tune from despair toone of new hope--"no, he was only badly injured that time, and notkilled, you see, because now he's going on again. Oh! I take off my hatto that gallant man! There never lived a braver chap, never; and now Ido hope he'll get close enough up to fire that bomb he's carrying alongwith him on to that battery."

  Perhaps the marksmen who were amusing themselves in trying to pickanother foeman off did not realize what the French soldier really meantto do. Had they grasped the full situation a volley would surely havefinished his career, and left his self-appointed mission unfulfilled.

  Josh kept tabs of his movements. He even knew when again the crawlingfigure gave signs of having been struck once more by some of that leadenhail. This he could tell from the way in which the heroic fellow writhedas in pain.

  "But, Rod, they just _can't_ keel him over, don't you see!" criedthe admiring Josh, clapping his hands in his excitement; "twice nowthey've hit him, but he won't give up the game. Why, he has to drag thatleft leg after him all the while, showing where he's been hit. Oh! whatwouldn't I give for a chance to help him out; but it's no use; he's justgot to do it by himself!"

  The seconds went on. Perhaps other eyes were following the slow andpainful progress of that lone French hero as he crawled along foot byfoot, suffering dreadfully no doubt with every movement, yet never for aminute dismayed. Perhaps the eyes of the French commander-in-chief mayhave been glued on him through his powerful glasses; and realizing whatthe success of the daring soldier's mission might mean for a secondassault on the defenders of the ford, his heart would begin to pick uprenewed hope the closer the private crept to the battery.

  There could be no question as to the unflinching spirit that dwelt inthe breast of that particular soldier. Rod remembered many things he hadread in ancient history, but somehow they all paled into insignificancewhen with his own eyes he saw this wonderful exhibition of valorunparalleled. The heroic defense of the Pass of Thermopylae; the swimmingof the Hellespont by Leander, yes, and other instances made famous inthe annals of history had once struck the boy as wonders in their way,but somehow seeing things was a great deal more impressive than readingabout similar happenings.

  By now the French adventurer had managed to get close up to the placewhere the terrible offending battery was hidden. Doubtless he could seemuch better than the boys at a distance, and knew where it would bepossible to throw his bomb so as to accomplish the maximum of damage.

  "He's nearly there, Rod, and oh! I'm scared almost out of my sevensenses for fear they'll get him before he can give that thing a whirlover. There, see, he's trying to get up on his knees now, though it's ahard thing for him to do, because he's so weak from loss of blood, Ireckon. Bully boy! now you're going to take a fling, and here's wishingyou the greatest of luck!"

  The brave soldier had indeed managed to raise himself part way and withall his reserve strength hurl the bomb he carried over to where thebattery lay concealed.