Adventure Magazine Cover — page 28: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

18 The sergeant was crawling toward him, wriggling along like a fat snake. “Keep your ’ead down,” yelled the ser- geant. “We’re in a line o’ fire ere.” “I’ve got their gun here,” cried the Yank. “Look at it,” cried the sergeant and be- gan to swear terribly. | ‘Are you hit?” asked the Yank. “No, it, no, look at that —— gun!” The Yank looked. He felt of the metal with his hands. ‘‘—_!” he exclaimed. That corrugated cylinder was not a gun barrel, but a motor. What he had thought was part of the tripod was a handle bar. His dumbfounded gaze discovered wheels and beyond the wheel, a foot clad in an ammunition boot and puttees. The foot was motionless and the leg to which it be- longed ended in a heap of old clothes. “It’s a motor-cycle,”’ cried the Yank. “You're ruddy well right!” agreed the sergeant. ‘“This ’ouse is brigade ’eadquar- ters. Keep your ’ead down! We ’eard the exhausts of the motor-cycles as went away for ’elp.”’ “‘But the gun we heard that wrecked the \ indow!”’ “It was this fellar we ’eard, and the gun that wiecked the window blooming well scragged ’im. Well, I ’aven’t no use fer me weapons now.” The sergeant opened his hands in resig- nation and two large stones fell to the ground. The Yank stared at him. “They mightn’t ’ave been no good any- ways,’ went on the sergeant. “I’ve ’eard as ’ow them Germans ’as uncommon ’ard ’eads. But they would ’ave been as much use as that wabster’s needle you’re a-hug- gin’ to your bosom. Why don’t you throw it away?” “IT want to keep it,” said the Yank, swishing his sword back and forth. ‘I want to see how it feels to kill a man with it, for you said last night it was a dandy thing for that purpose.” There was a clatter of feet on the stones. The two shrank against the wall and the sergeant reached down for another rock. A voice spoke from the front of the dark fig- ures that appeared out of the fog. “This way, men,” it called. ‘Keep be- hind the houses. Rally to me, Bays!” “Tt’s Major Derwent,” cried the sergeant. ‘“‘There’s some of our lot left hanyways.” Adventure The Yank and'‘the sergeant ran out to the road. ‘“Here we are!”’ they called. An officer stared at them intently. “Have you got a rifle?” he asked. It was apparent they had not, for the sergeant was empty-handed and the Yank only flourished a sword. “‘Can’t take you,” said the officer shortly. ‘‘We’re going to make a demonstration on the flank here, and we only want riflemen.”’ ‘But we could get one from a casualty!” cried the Yank. “IT won’t chance it,’’ said the officer. ‘Too many men make.a good target. I’ll tell you how you can help better. Nip down among those houses and scare up as many of ours as you can find. Tell them to go to the sunken road at the south end of the town. We'll be there.” The officer ran after his men, still calling. “‘Let’s find a couple of rifles,” suggested the Yank. ‘“There ought to be plenty here.” “The sunken road at the south end,” muttered the sergeant. ‘“They better stay out o’ there. It’s too near them guns. Every time a shell bursts short, it’ll get some of ours.” “Well, let’s find a rifle, anyway,” said the Yank. behind the houses. The place looked like a city park on a Monday morn- ing in Summer, after the picnickers had spent the previous day there. Half-rolled kits lay scattered about, blankets, shirts, extra shoes, spurs, stirrup leathers, saddles, bridles, broken swords, tunics, single puttees, ammunition pouches, everything but rifles. “Can you see if those guns are still go- ing?”’ asked the sergeant, peering toward the battery field. “IT think I can see one going,” answered the Yank. “Maybe there’s more.”’ He watched a minute or two, but saw only one streak of flame spitting from the fog. There were a number of black masses there that might be guns, but they were all dark and silent. ‘“‘There’s guns for you,” said the sergeant. ‘‘As much —— use as a lance to a lorry driver.” ‘“‘What are you so sore at the guns for?”’ asked the Yank. ‘“They’re doing their bit as well as they can.” “Ah,” muttered the other, “true enough, Go DOOLK THEY hunted about the fields and _ 1@)