CHAPTER XX
A LEAP IN THE DARK
Thursday, the day following the writing and mailing of Bob's letter,brought its own surprises. Came the order that a part of Company E'smen, along with a number housed in other barracks, were to betransferred to a camp many miles south of Sterling. This in itself wasto be expected. The majority of the men ordered to pack received thecommand with admirable tranquillity. It threw the four Khaki Boys intopanic, however. Not because, with the exception of Jimmy, they were tobe among those to go. Even Jimmy was to return. He was to have the proudhonor of going along merely to help escort the detachment to their newquarters. What upset the equanimity of the four Brothers was the factthat Bixton was among the number to be transferred. Fate had evidentlyelected that Bixton should not suffer for his villainy.
Corporal Jimmy was divided between pride in the coming detail anddiscouragement of the defeat of their crusade of Justice.
"I'd be all puffed up with pleasure over this trip if it weren't forthis business about poor Schnitz," he confided to his bunkies on theFriday night before the start.
"I never thought I'd hate to see the last of Bixton," grumbled Bob, "butI certainly do. It puts a crimp in the Slippery Sleuths' Society, allright, all right. Anyhow, Eldridge is left. We may be able to tree him.Keep your eye on Bixton, Blazes, all the way down. You might just happento stumble upon something."
"I would by Jimmy go, the care to him take," broke in Ignace. Up to thispoint, he had watched his favorite Brother's preparing for sleep inround-eyed, gloomy silence. "You take the good care yoursel', Jimmy," heanxiously enjoined. "You get the hurt never I smile more."
"You never smile anyway, you old sobersides." Jimmy flashed him anamused, but affectionate glance. "Don't you worry about me, Iggy, 'causeI'll come back safe and sound. I'm not going across. I'll only be gonefour days."
"We'll sure miss you," declared Bob. "Now I move that we turn in, too,and let Blazes alone. He has a hard trip ahead of him, and he needs along night's rest. You'll be up first in the morning, old man. If we'reasleep, waken us so we can say good-bye and good luck."
Bob and Roger were awake as soon as Jimmy. Ignace, however, sleptpeacefully on until Jimmy roused him to say a hasty good-bye. Threepairs of affectionate eyes watched Corporal Jimmy to the stairway, theirowners sincerely glad that they had the assurance of his return. Therewas but one Jimmy Blaise.
Marched to the station under the graying light of a cloudy dawn, themajority of the departing soldier boys were in good spirits. Thedetachment numbered a little over three hundred men, including asergeant and two other corporals besides Jimmy, who would return to CampSterling with him once their detail had been accomplished. Brimming withthe adventurous spirit of youth, the travelers were, for the most part,exultant to be at last on the way "to the front."
Yet in the breast of one of the gallant little company, mingled fear andresentment raged. Bixton was taking the removal very badly, though noone save himself and Eldridge knew it. On the previous night he hadunburdened himself to his bunkie in a bitter denunciation against theService.
"Once they get you in the Army, they use you like a dog," he hadsavagely asserted. "Expect you to crawl to every smarty that wearschevrons, treat you as if you were dirt, and then think you ought to runall the way to France to get croaked. It would serve this country rightif it lost out in this war. I was a fool to enlist. I could haveside-stepped the draft. A lot of fellows have. Don't see why I shouldmake a target of myself for a government that don't care a hoot aboutme. I don't want to die. I want to live."
Now started on his way toward the thing he most dreaded, Bixton haddetermined to take the bit in his teeth and bolt. From the time heentered the train he busied himself with concocting schemes for asuccessful get-away.
As the day wore on toward evening, Bixton grew desperate. He had managedon entering the train to place himself in a seat near the rear end ofthe last car. Only a few feet from the rear platform, it seemedimpossible to win it without being observed. To add to his difficulties,Jimmy Blaise was also in the same car as himself. To be sure, he madefrequent trips to and through the two cars ahead, specially reserved forthe detachment. Still, he appeared to be spending most of his time inthe last one. Bixton regarded this merely as a "happen-so."
Following Christmas, the weather had moderated. A thaw had set in on theWednesday afterward that had rapidly turned the recent snowfall toslush. Two days of brilliant sunshine had left the ground fairly bare ofwhite. Dawn that morning had hinted of rain before evening. Bixtonfervently hoped that it would rain. Given an early twilight, and apitch-black night, he could make good use of it.
By nine o'clock that evening the rain had come--a slow, dispiritingmist, reinforced later by a heavy fog. It was an ideal night for adeserter. Hunched in his seat, Bixton feigned a drowsiness he was farfrom feeling. From under his half-closed lids his pale blue eyes dividedtheir vigil between his companions and the foggy world glimpsed throughthe car windows. As time dragged on the low hum of voices around himbegan to die out. One after another grew sleepy and dozed off. By teno'clock comparative silence reigned. Occasionally a soldier rousedhimself with a jerk to make a trip to the water cooler directly behindBixton.
At five minutes to eleven o'clock, Jimmy Blaise walked through the car,and dropped rather wearily into a vacant seat on the opposite side fromBixton, but a little ahead. Jimmy was beginning to feel the strain ofthe long day's responsibility. Still wide awake, he felt very tired, butwell content. Everything was moving along smoothly. Half the trip hadbeen made, and all was well. Not a man had yet attempted to desert. Hedoubted if anyone would. Even Bixton had behaved like a lamb. Smallchance now of doing anything for Schnitz. With this thought Jimmy'scontentment vanished in a rise of bitter reflection against theinjustice of Fate. Poor Schnitz! How terribly he had been alreadymisjudged! And the worst was yet to come! With a deep sigh, Jimmy closedhis eyes and leaned back in the seat, sick at heart.
For perhaps ten minutes he remained thus, eyes closed, but otherwisekeenly aware of his surroundings. Due to increasing fog, the train wasrunning more slowly over a flat stretch of country, the roadbed of whichwas almost level with the rails. Alert to catch every sound, themonotonous hum of the train itself, as it sped along through the night,had a slightly blurring effect on his acute hearing powers--not greatenough, however, to prevent him from distinguishing above it a faintclick from behind him. It brought him instantly to an erect sittingposture, his head turned in the direction whence it had come.
There came a muffled cry, a flash of olive-drab down the aisle, thereverberating slam of a door; then silence. At intervals throughout thecar, drowsy heads bobbed up, the glances of their owners sleepilydirected toward the rear door. Several of their comrades nearer to thedoor than themselves were up, and making for it. Undoubtedly, somethingunusual had happened. But what? They could not then know that alreadysome distance behind them, two soldiers, mud-plastered, and shaken bytheir mad leap in the dark, were, nevertheless, engaged in the fight oftheir lives. A battle in which Honor strove against Dishonor; a conflictbetween Loyalty and Disloyalty.