<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII<br/> <span class="cheaderfont">“TO BE SHOT AT SUNRISE!”</span></h2>
<p>The streets of the town were unlighted, but
several houses on the public square showed
illumination through lowered window shades.
There were no citizens to be seen, and very few
soldiers about. In front of the Hotel de Ville
(townhall) a sentry paced restlessly to and fro
on duty, with a musket laid across his arm. He
took no notice of the dirty peasant stalking past.</p>
<p>Buck made it his first business to locate the
civic prison where he knew that Bob would be
confined. This he found not far from the main
thoroughfare of the town, a massive, square,
gray-stone building, with iron doors and many
little grated windows high up on the walls. A
sentry-box beside the door was occupied, so
Buck spent no time loitering around there. He
made his way back to the public square in search
of an inn where he might sit down, and while
eating inquire casually about news in general
and the trials of war prisoners in particular. He
felt pretty sure that the down-trodden Belgians<span class="pagenum">[108]</span>
present were sullen and discontented under the
iron German rule, and would be willing to discuss
almost any topic relative to the oppressions.</p>
<p>The first tavern to which Buck came was large
and pretentious; evidently the main hostelry of
the city. Even at this late hour people were
passing in and out of the big entrance. The
disguised boy noted, however, that many of
these guests were German officers, and rightly
guessed that this being the chief inn of the city,
it would be most largely patronized by the conquerors,
so he passed on in search of some less
popular place.</p>
<p>A little farther on down the street he came
upon a smaller, more dingy-looking public house,
with apparently less revelry going on inside.
Buck determined to take a chance here, and,
pulling his disreputable cap lower over his eyes,
pulled open the door and slouched in.</p>
<p>He found himself in a small, low-ceilinged
room, the walls and oaken rafters of which were
dirty and smoked black by the huge open fireplace
at one end. Rickety little wooden tables
stood here and there, none too clean nor inviting.
A doorway at the far end of the room led out
into the kitchens, from which a vile odor of
cabbage and onions penetrated.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[109]</span></p>
<p>There were only a few people present, and
they appeared to be merely scared townsfolk.
Buck dropped into a chair at one of the greasy
tables, and a slatternly servant-maid took his
order for something to eat.</p>
<p>While she was serving him a little later on,
she said:</p>
<p>“I do not recognize you as one of our regular
customers, goodman. Are you a stranger in
Muhlbruck?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” replied Buck, “I was a farmer near
Dinant before this war broke out, but since then—well,
you know how it is!”</p>
<p>“We here in Muhlbruck should know if anybody
does,” grumbled the girl. “The Germans
have overrun the town, taken all the best for
themselves, half of the time without paying for
it, and treat us honest people as if we were born
their servants. Now, old General Haberkampf,
who is in command of the division stationed
here, is throwing all of our best citizens into
prison on trumped-up charges of one kind or
another.”</p>
<p>“Ah!” said Buck. “Is he doing such an
outrageous thing as that? But then, maybe he
thinks that they are playing him double—are
spies, in other words.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[110]</span></p>
<p>“Bah! Spies nothing!” exclaimed the girl
indignantly. “That is an old yarn! There is
that young American newspaper correspondent
now! The Germans have thrown him into prison
too and claim that papers were found upon him.
And now they are going to shoot him at sunrise
to-morrow.”</p>
<p>“<em>To shoot him at sunrise?</em>” ejaculated Buck,
with difficulty restraining himself from showing
his agitation. “Surely you cannot mean that!”</p>
<p>“Oh, but I do,” replied the girl. “They tried
him before a military tribunal in the Hotel de
Ville this afternoon. No outsiders were admitted,
and that beast of a General Haberkampf wastes
no time in carrying out his decisions. The poor
young man will be taken out and shot at sunrise
in the fields just west of the town. That is
where all these ‘acts of justice’ have been
taking place since the terrible Germans came to
Muhlbruck.</p>
<p>“They back the condemned man up against
the remaining wall of the old church there; the
firing squad stands off at a distance of thirty
paces; ‘Ready! Aim! Fire!’ says the corporal
in charge, and pouff! another life is snuffed out.”</p>
<p>Buck was horror-stricken at the terrible fate
that threatened his old friend within less than<span class="pagenum">[111]</span>
three or four hours. Almost the Airship Boys
had come too late, and even now it was a question
whether or not he could get back to the airship
and make plans for a rescue in time to
save him.</p>
<p>Buck easily recalled the place set for the
execution. He had passed it not a hundred yards
from the highroad, about a quarter of a mile
from town.</p>
<p>His brain was in a whirl. He was unable to
formulate any practicable scheme of effecting
the rescue. The sun at that time of year rose
about five o’clock, or five-thirty at the latest.
All preparations must be made before then.</p>
<p>Paying his bill at the inn, Buck hurried out
into the damp night air again and set out for
the place where he had left his comrades. Once
clear of the town, he broke into a run.
Approaching the vicinity of the sentinel who
had challenged him on his way in about an hour
before, the reporter made a wide detour through
the dew-wet fields to the left of the road. He
got by that danger point in safety, struck the
highway again and resumed his breathless race
against time.</p>
<p>Finally, panting with his exertions and bathed
in perspiration, he arrived at the peasant’s<span class="pagenum">[112]</span>
ruined hut and saw the vast black shape of the
<em>Ocean Flyer</em> looming up behind it. Then something
icy cold and round was suddenly pressed
against the back of his neck, strong arms
pinioned his arms to his sides, and a voice said
sternly in English:</p>
<p>“Not so fast there! One outcry and you are
a dead man. Where do you think you are
going?”</p>
<p>“Alan!” breathed Buck in relief. “Don’t
shoot! It is I—Buck Stewart—with news of
Bob.”</p>
<p>“Hurrah!” cried Alan. “Come along over
to the <em>Flyer</em> where Ned is anxiously waiting.
You are back sooner than we expected.”</p>
<p>It did not take Buck long to tell his story.</p>
<p>“Now,” said he, “what’s to be done? We
have less than three hours left to do it if ever
we want to see Bob alive again.”</p>
<p>Half a dozen wild plans were suggested and
discarded as quickly. Finally it was resourceful
Ned who said:</p>
<p>“Let’s work it this way, boys. You, Buck,
will have to go back afoot to the ruined church
where the execution is to be, and wait there
until the firing squad arrives with Bob at sunrise.
Hide behind the wall against which they<span class="pagenum">[113]</span>
back him up to be shot, and then, when they are
pacing off the firing distance, jump out, cut his
bonds and run around to the other side of the
wall again with him. With a couple of loaded
revolvers in each of your hands and one of you
at each end of the wall, you ought to be able to
keep even the dozen soldiers in the guard at bay
until we can arrive.</p>
<p>“We will have the <em>Flyer</em> all ready for instant
flight the minute the squad shows up, and at the
first shot, we’ll be on hand. At the rate of
speed we can travel we oughtn’t to be more than
a few moments covering the distance. A couple
of hand grenades tossed down among those
Germans ought to send them about their business
pretty quickly.</p>
<p>“Of course I know that this is a pretty risky
plan, but it’s the best we have been able to hit
upon so far.”</p>
<p>“But won’t those soldiers be able to shoot
Buck down before he has time to free Bob of
his bonds?” Alan queried. “Buck can’t be
shooting at them and cutting the rope off Bob’s
hands at the same time?”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t think so,” answered Ned. “I
believe that it is customary for only a certain
number of guns in a firing squad to be actually<span class="pagenum">[114]</span>
loaded with bullets. Blank cartridges are used
in the others, and no soldier knows just who
carries the fatal weapons. This is to keep any
self-respecting man among them from feeling
that he is committing cold-blooded murder by
shooting down a prisoner with his hands tied.
Undoubtedly the officer in charge will be loading
the guns while poor Bob is being given a last
chance to think it over. That’s the time.”</p>
<p>“You think of every little point, Ned,” cried
Buck admiringly. “Of course I’ll go and do my
best to save Bob. As time is slipping away fast,
I’d better set off right now, too. But remember
that you are to show up the minute you hear
the first shot fired.”</p>
<p>“Count on that, old boy,” answered both of
the others.</p>
<p>Then, with four “six-shooters” weighting
down his coat pockets, Buck Stewart again disappeared
into the night.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum">[115]</span></p>
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