It was Vincent Newport's uniform. Alan did not hesitate to use it, he
felt he would be safer, as nobody would imagine him to be the man who
escaped through the line from Bruges.
Jean raised no objections and Alan gave him the clothes he wore. He
offered to guide him to a spot where he might get through the enemy and
reach his friends. It would be difficult but there was risk
everywhere. Alan protested, if Jean were caught he would be shot, he
was sure he could find the way from directions.
"I care little whether they shoot me," said Jean, "my life is ruined."
"It will all come right again after the war," said Alan.
Jean held up his hands, shaking his head despairingly.
"After the war--God knows when that will be," he said sadly.
They started at night. Alan was for leaving the horse behind but Jean
said a good steed might save his life.
"It is not fair that you should walk," said Alan. "How far is it?"
"Some thirty miles," said Jean. "That is nothing to me."
They took flasks of brandy and a parcel of eatables. Alan walked with
him, leading the horse.
It was a lonely, desolate country, treeless, a barren waste; but Jean
loved it. He said the land was better than it looked.
They walked all night. In the early morning they came to an old barn
and walked inside with the horse. They were hungry and ate well, a few
drops of brandy revived them, some loose hay was given to the horse. A
low booming sound was heard, an artillery duel, it continued the
greater part of the day. At nightfall Alan mounted his horse and bade
good-bye to Jean Baptistine.
"I will hunt you out when we have beaten the Huns," said Alan
cheerfully.
"You will beat them," said Jean, "but they are strong, their sins will
hang heavy on them when the judgment comes, they are murderers." He
cursed them and Alan shivered as he heard what deadly hate there was in
the old man's breast. Was it to be wondered at?
Alan rode in the direction of the booming. Jean told him to bear to
the right and that would give him more chance of passing the German
trenches. He carried his life in his hands but he was cheerful, the
sense of danger roused him, the true sporting spirit manifested itself,
he was against great odds and meant to succeed. As he went on at a
slow pace the heavy firing ceased for a time, then broke out in the
occasional boom of a gun. Alan thought they were knocking off for the
night; he might have a chance to get through.
As the horse walked along he thought of home and wondered how things
were going on at Trent Park and The Forest. It was nearly two months
since he had been away from headquarters, and he was not able to write.
Eve would be anxious, he must let her know he was safe as soon as
possible. He was glad they were not married, it would not have been
fair to her; but he vowed she should be his wife if he came safely out
of the struggle.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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