The Argosy, April 1916 — page 149: what you’re looking at

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

THE RUBBER. “T spotted him. It’s my job.” Blades had been brooding all day over the thought of the wounded man. The misery of his situation touched him sharply, and he was no coward. But there was another thought in his mind. He had a fancy that Harker was no hero. The call would come. Harker would hold back and he would go on the dangerous task. Harker would look rather small after that. Even se would have to hang his head. ‘“‘He gave me best, once before, and he’ll have to do it again,” he said grimly to himself, As soon as the corporal spoke, Blades had quietly begun to make his prepara- tions. He did not attempt to say anything. Even at that moment he remembered the danger that always lay in wait for him in unwary speech. But he began slowly to take off the heavy coat that would only embarrass him. Be- fore he had finished, he heard the corporal say “Good luck, then, Harker!” and then Harker’s voice—like the corporal’s, hardly above a whisper—addressing him. “By-bye, old Twitchem,” it said, ‘“‘al- ways a day after the fair, aren’t you?” Next he saw Harker draw himself up to the parapet of the trench and crawl away on hands and knees into the darkness. So his plan had failed. As Harker had said, he was a day after the fair. And it was Harker after all who would score, not he; Harker with his sneers and his gibes and his lying funny stories. On the strength of this performance, he would be more insufferable than ever. His last words showed that he had noticed the rival preparations, and a clever beast, such as he undoubtedly was, would easily guess their object. And the miserable Blades writhed as he anticipated the new taunts and ribald witticisms which this incident would suggest to his tormentor. For some time they waited in silence, listening eagerly, intently, for any sign of Harker. In the distance the big guns were booming, but the sound was too familiar: to divert their attention, and, as it hap- pened, the snipers were silent too. But it was in vain that they strained eye and ear. Suddenly the ghastly brilliance of a star shell lit the field with a cold, blue light. Then indeed they saw only too plainly what they had been looking for. 139 Rather more than half way across the space between the opposite lines lay the little heap of dead or wounded to which Harker had called attention in the morn- ing. Now, he had reached it and was in the act of stooping over one of the prostrate figures. Instantly a regular fusillade started from the German trenches. The light died down just as he threw up one arm and rolled over. “Got it in the neck, poor chap!” ex- claimed Corporal Grays, who had been ex- posing his head with the same reprehensi- ble rashness that he was always rebuking in the men. “Here, what’s up?” he went on, in a startled whisper, ‘“‘Who the devil’s that? Well, I’m—no, it can’t be—yes, it is, it’s that silly fool Twitchem suicidin’ himself. Come back, do you hear, you juggins; you’re not the sort to sprint under fire.” Another spurt of bullets made him duck his head into safety, but the next moment he and a dozen others were peering out again into the blackness. They could just see the dim outline of the heavy, stooping figure lurching forward at a shambling run. The corporal dropped back with a grunt. “That’s just what would be the bally fool’s idea of taking cover,” he said. ‘All the same it’s a sportin’ thing to do, ’spe- cially after the way he’s been rotted. ’E wasn’t a bad chap either—the best of the two I shouldn’t wonder.” IV. Four or five minutes later the Germans started firing quite heavily, and the corpo- ral, who had been listening keenly all the time, called out: “There’s some one coming our way very slowly. Look out—here he is.” Germans or no Germans, all the trench rose as Blades came crawling clumsily up to the edge on all fours, with Harker hang- ing across his back. They were in the trench in no time, with Corporal Grays’s electric torch in use. Harker, bareheaded, his face splashed with mud and very white where it was clean, looked pretty ghastly as he lay on- his back with his head on a folded coat: He had one bullet in the shoulder and an- other in the knee. Captain Prince, who was in command, came up and asked a question or two. ‘Phone for the poultice chaps,” he said, cCoOmuicloooks C©