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Boy Scouts in Russia

<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> BETWEEN THE GRINDSTONES For a moment Fred was stunned by the force of his fall. But it was only for a moment, since, by something that was very like a miracle, he was unhurt. He got up and looked around, a little dazed, for Boris. In a moment he saw him lying very still, his white face lighted up by the flames from the burning car. He ran over and he was vastly relieved to see that his cousin was conscious. "My leg is broken, I think," said Boris, speaking quickly. "Fred, you must run for it alone. You will be able to get to the Russian lines. But hurry! They are coming, I'm sure! They must have heard the crash!" "Do you think I'm going to leave you here?" asked Fred, indignantly. "We'll sink or swim together, Boris!" "Why should two of us suffer when one can escape?" asked Boris. "Besides, you've got to go, Fred, for my sake as well as for your own. They'll treat me well enough. But if they catch us here wearing German uniform coats—well, you know what that would mean!" Fred was startled. He had not thought of that. "Take my coat and helmet and get away as fast as you can," urged Boris. "Then I can say that I have been in the car. They'd know that, of course, but I could make them believe that I was in it against my will, and that the two men in uniform they saw had escaped. If they catch you, they'll send you back to headquarters and you'll be recognized there at once. Then they'd do to me whatever they did to you, just because I was caught in your company. No, it's the only chance for either of us, Fred, and you've got to take it quickly." The idea of abandoning a friend, and much more one who had come to mean so much to him as did Boris, seemed terrible to Fred. And yet it was impossible for him to refute Boris's argument. His cousin was right. And now he could hear the voices of approaching men. Naturally, if the Germans on the culvert thought that a car containing two German officers had been wrecked, they would come to the rescue. There was no time to be lost. "I suppose you're right, Boris," he said, with a groan. "But it's the hardest thing I've ever had to do! But it is so. It would make it worse for you if I stayed. That's the only reason I'll go, though! You believe that, don't you?" "Of course I do!" said Boris. "Haven't you proved what sort you are, when you risked your life to try to help me to get away at the parsonage? Go! Hurry! Get this coat and helmet off me!" So Fred set to work. He had to move Boris to get the coat off, and the Russian groaned with the pain of his broken leg. Fred dared not wait, now that he had made up his mind to fly, even to see the extent of the injury, much less to apply first aid. Had there been time, he might have made Boris comfortable, for, like all well trained Boy Scouts, he understood the elementary principles of bandaging and had made more than one temporary setting in splints for broken bones. But he knew that the Germans would be there in a minute or two, and he had no reason to suppose that they would lack common humanity. They would care for Boris. Probably they had a surgeon back at the culvert, or fairly near at hand, at any rate. "Get off the road," said Boris, gritting his teeth. "My head is swimming, and I'm afraid I'm going to faint or do some such foolish thing! But don't stay in the road. They're sure to go along, looking for you." Fred had reasoned that out for himself. And now, when he had rolled up Boris's coat and helmet into a bundle, he leaped a narrow ditch and plunged into a thick mass of bushes. He did not know the country here, and had no notion of what sort of cover he might find. But luck was with him though for a moment he thought he had stumbled into a disastrous predicament. The ground gave way beneath him suddenly and he felt himself falling. He relaxed instinctively, and came down on hands and knees on a mass of leaves and twigs. He had fallen into a sort of shallow pit, but deep enough to shelter him. It seemed to him to be like a deadfall, such as he knew trappers sometimes make. The place was ideal for such a use, but now no steel-jawed trap yawned for him. And it was only a moment before he realized that this was just the hiding-place for him—and one, moreover, for which he himself might have searched in vain. "They'll never look for me as near the wreck as this," he said to himself. "They'll spread out probably, but I think I'll be safe here. As safe as anywhere, and it will give me a chance to find out what's happening, too." The side of the pit nearest the road was almost open, though it was screened by bushes and foliage. Fred, however, was able to peer out and to see the dancing flames, giving a weird and ghostly appearance to the scene in the road. The Germans were very close now and he had just time to poke up some branches to hide the opening through which he had fallen. Then he lay down, his eyes glued to a sort of natural peephole that gave him a view of the road. "It's like a grandstand seat!" he said. "But I hope no one wants to see my ticket because I'm afraid the usher would make me change my seat!" But then Fred had to give his whole attention to what was going on in the road. The Germans came running up, a young officer in the lead. There were a half dozen of them. At first, as they looked about near the burning car, they saw no one. But then one of the soldiers saw Boris and raised a shout. The officer went over, leaned down and then started back with a cry of surprise. "That is no German officer!" he exclaimed. He bent over again and Fred winced as he saw him shaking Boris by the shoulder. He wondered if Boris was shamming, or if he had really fainted. Then it was plain that there was no pretence. The officer, gently enough, raised Boris's head, and taking a flask from his pocket, forced a little of the spirits it contained into Boris's mouth. Fred saw his cousin stiffen; he was coming to his senses. Then the officer let him down, but made a sort of pillow for him with a cushion that had been thrown out of the automobile when it was overturned. "Feel better? Good!" he said. "Now tell me what happened! Where are the two officers who were in the car? Were they hurt?" "I—do not know," said Boris. Fred had to strain his ears to catch what Boris said. Boris was weak and exhausted, and Fred was glad that the German officer seemed kindly and disposed to be humane. "You do not know? How is that? You were in the car with them, weren't you?" "I was in the car, but I do not know what happened after the accident. I was thrown out—and I did not know anything until you roused me just now." "But what were you doing in the car, then? Who were those officers? Where were they going?" "I do not know. I know only that I was walking along the road, because all the people had been sent away from their homes, when the car stopped, and a man told me to get in and sit low, so that I should not be seen. Then we drove very fast and after a while there was a crash, and I was thrown out." "Can you walk?" The German's tone had changed somewhat. It was anxious now, and puzzled. "I—don't know," said Boris. "There is a pain in my leg—here, right above the ankle. Ouch!" Fred saw the German officer slip his hand down over the spot to which Boris pointed, and his touch dragged the exclamation of pain from Boris. "You can't walk, that's certain!" said the German. "You've got pluck, boy! There's a nasty break there. You need a surgeon! Well, I'll have to do what I can for you until we can find one. Can you stand a little more pain? Niehoff, give me your emergency kit. You have the splints? So! I shall see what I can do." He was busy for a moment. Then with a sergeant, evidently his second in command, he withdrew to be out of Boris's hearing. But as it chanced, his movement brought him to a point where it was easier than ever for Fred to hear everything he said. "There is something deuced queer about this business!" said the officer. "I think this boy is telling the truth, but we saw two officers in the front seat of that car. That much was certain. They were not ground into powder in the accident, you know. If they had been killed, there would be something left of them. They got out all right—that's evident. And they made themselves scarce. They must have known we would come, and if they have gone so quickly, it is because they did not want us to see them at close quarters." "Spies, you think?" asked the sergeant. "Evidently! But how they got here I'd hate to guess! They came from a quarter where we are in complete control. Yet they stole one of our cars, and a couple of uniform coats and helmets, at least!" "We can look further for them," said the sergeant. "Yes—and one might look a long time in a haystack before one found a needle! However, let the men spread out along the road and see what they can find. Give the order!" Fred sighed with relief. He had been right in his decision to stay where he was, as he understood fully when he saw the soldiers go off down the road, looking for some trace of the passing of the two imaginary officers. Meanwhile the officer went back to Boris. "We'll take this lad back with us," he said to the sergeant. "He needs attention, and I prefer to give someone in higher authority a chance to talk to him. This is a very mysterious affair, all around. It is too much for my brain!" "And for mine, too!" grumbled the sergeant. "If I had my way, we would have orders to shoot all suspicious characters first and find out whether they deserved it or not afterward. I thought we should stop that automobile when we saw it coming." "And I did not," said the officer, sharply. The sergeant said nothing more. Soon the men returned from their fruitless search. Then a litter was improvised and Boris was placed upon it and taken away. Fred had been very fearful for it had seemed more than likely to him that a sentry would be left to watch the wreck. If that had been done, it would have complicated his position, because he could scarcely have hoped to get out of his shelter without making some noise. But this was a precaution that apparently did not suggest itself to the Germans. And so, as soon as they were well out of hearing, Fred scrambled out, leaving his dangerous coats and helmets behind, and began trudging boldly along the road. He did not know the character of the wooded section through which the road now ran, and it seemed to him that he would be safer in the road than if he tried to walk under cover. Fred was very tired. And, now that the excitement was fading, he was beginning to realize that he had not escaped entirely scatheless from the wreck of the car. Every bone and muscle in his body was sore and aching, and he wondered how many black and blue spots he would find when he got a chance to look for them. By Ivan's reckoning, he had something like two miles to go to reach the Russian outposts. He was now in a sort of No Man's Land that lay between the two armies. And, indeed, before long, he saw fires twinkling ahead—the fires of the Russians. That was as he came to the crossroad of which Boris had spoken. It seemed that his troubles must be nearly over. And just then he heard a clatter of hoofs and saw, riding up the crossroad toward him, a troop of German Uhlans. He began running. But they had seen him and gave chase. He dared not stop. On he ran, hoping that the Russians were nearer than their fires. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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