Peace Manoeuvres | Page 7

"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