Tom Slade with the Boys Over There | Page 4

old Pierre insisted upon their drinking.
"You will drink zhust a leetle--yess?" said the girl prettily. "It is make in our own veenyard."
So the boys sipped a little of the wine and found it grateful to their weary bodies and overwrought nerves.
"Now you can tell us--of Armand," she said eagerly.
Often during Tom's simple story she stole to the window and, opening the blind slightly, looked fearfully along the dark, quiet road. The very atmosphere of the room seemed charged with nervous apprehension and every sound of the breeze without startled the tense nerves of the little party.
Old Pierre and his wife, though quite unable to understand, listened keenly to every word uttered by the strangers, interrupting their daughter continually to make her translate this or that sentence.
"There ain't so much need to worry," said Tom, with a kind of dogged self-confidence that relieved Florette not a little. "I wouldn't of headed for here if I hadn't known I could do it without leaving any trace, 'cause I wouldn't want to get you into trouble."
Florette looked intently at the square, dull face before her with its big mouth and its suggestion of a frown. His shock of hair, always rebellious, was now in utter disorder. He was barefoot and his clothes were in that condition which only the neglect and squalor of a German prison camp can produce. But in his gaunt face there shone a look of determination and a something which seemed to encourage the girl to believe in him.
"Are zey all like you--ze Americans?" she asked.
"Some of 'em are taller than me," he answered literally, "but I got a good chest expansion. This feller's name is Archer. He belongs on a farm in New York."
She glanced at Archer and saw a round, red, merry face, still wearing that happy-go-lucky look which there is no mistaking. His skin was camouflaged by a generous coat of tan and those two strategic hills, his cheeks, had not been reduced by the assaults of hunger. There was, moreover, a look of mischief in his eyes, bespeaking a jaunty acceptance of whatever peril and adventure might befall and when he spoke he rolled his R's and screwed up his mouth accordingly.
"Maybe you've heard of the Catskills," said Tom. "That's where he lives."
"My dad's got a big apple orrcharrd therre," added Archer.
Florette Leteur had not heard of the Catskills, but she had heard a good deal about the Americans lately and she looked from one to the other of this hapless pair, who seemed almost to have dropped from the clouds.
"You have been not wise to escape," she said sympathetically. "Ze Prussians, zey are sure to catch you.--Tell me more of my bruzzer."
"The Prussians ain't so smarrt," said Archer. "They're good at some things, but when it comes to tracking and trailing and all that, they're no good. You neverr hearrd of any famous Gerrman scouts. They're clumsy. They couldn't stalk a mud turrtle."
"You are not afraid of zem?"
"Surre, we ain't. Didn't we just put one overr on 'em?"
"We looped our trail," explained Tom to the puzzled girl. "If they're after us at all they probably went north on a blind trail. We monkeyed the trees all the way through this woods near here."
"He means we didn't touch the ground," explained Archer.
"We made seven footprints getting across the road to the fence and then we washed 'em away by chucking sticks. And, anyway, we crossed the road backwards so they'd think we were going the other way. There ain't much danger--not tonight, anyway."
Again the girl looked from one to the other and then explained to her father as best she could.
"You are wonderful," she said simply. "We shall win ze war now."
"I was working as a mess boy on a transport," said Tom; "we brought over about five thousand soldiers. That's how I got acquainted with Frenchy--I mean Armand----"
"Yes!" she cried, and at the mention of Armand old Pierre could scarcely keep his seat.
"He came with some soldiers from Illinois. That's out west. He was good-natured and all the soldiers jollied him. But he always said he didn't mind that because they were all going to fight together to get Alsace back. Jollying means making fun of somebody--kind of," Tom added.
"Oh, zat iss what he say?" Florette cried. "Zat iss my brother--Armand--yess!"
She explained to her parents and then advanced upon Tom, who retreated to his second line of defence behind a chair to save himself from the awful peril of a grateful caress.
"He told me all about how your father fought in the Franco-Prussian War," Tom went on, "and he gave me this button and he said it was made from a cannon they used and----"
"Ah, yess, I know!" Florette exclaimed delightedly.
"He said if I should ever happen to be in Alsace all I'd have