There was a heavy firing now heard and, a moment after, half a dozen shots were fired through the window. Then there was a rush of soldiers towards the door, which Ralph had purposely left open.
"We surrender," Ralph shouted, in German, coming forward to meet them. "We are French officers."
"Don"t fire," a voice said, and then a young officer came forward.
"You are not franc tireurs?" he asked, for the light was still insufficient to enable him to distinguish uniforms.
"We are officers of the army, upon General Cambriels" staff. This man is an orderly.
"Here are our swords. We surrender, as prisoners of war."
The German officer bowed.
"Keep your swords, for the present, gentlemen. I am not in command."
At this moment, another officer came up.
"Who have we here, Von Hersen? Why do you make prisoners?"
"They are two staff officers, major."
"Hem," said the major, doubtfully.
"Well, if you are an officer," he continued, "order your men to cease their resistance."
The franc tireurs, most of whom had taken refuge in the same cottage, were still defending themselves desperately; and were keeping up a heavy fire, from the windows.
"I will order them to surrender, at once," Ralph said, quietly; "if you give me your word that they shall be treated as prisoners of war."
"I will do nothing of the sort, sir," the German answered.
"Then I shall certainly not advise them to surrender," Ralph said, firmly. "I have no authority, whatever, over them; but if I give advice, it would be that they should sell their lives as dearly as possible."
The officer swore a deep German oath, and strode off. For five more minutes the fight continued round the cottage, many of the Germans falling; then a rush was made, there was a fierce contest inside the house--shouts, shrieks, cries for mercy--and then all was still.
The young Barclays and Tim were now told to sit down near a tree, at a short distance off; with two sentries, with loaded rifles, standing over them. The German soldiers took from the houses what few articles they fancied, and then set fire to them; sitting down and eating their breakfast as the flames shot up. At a short distance from where the Barclays were sitting was a group of some eight or ten franc tireurs, and six or seven peasants, guarded by some soldiers.
Near them the German major and two lieutenants were talking. One of the young men appeared to take little interest in the conversation; but the other was evidently urging some point, with great earnestness; and the major was equally plainly refusing his request, for he stamped his foot angrily, and shook his head.
"What a type that major is, of the brutal species of German," Ralph said. "One used to meet them, sometimes. Their officers are either particularly nice fellows, mere machines, or great brutes; apparently we have a specimen of each of them, here."
The officers pa.s.sed near enough for the Barclays to catch what they were saying.
The young lieutenant was very pale.
"For the last time, major, I implore you."
"For the last time, Lieutenant von Hersen," the major said, brutally, "I order you to do your duty and, by Heavens, if you speak another word, I will put you in arrest!"
The young lieutenant turned silently away, called up twenty men, and ordered them to place the franc tireurs and the peasants against a wall.
"This is horrible, Ralph," Percy said. "That scoundrel is going to shoot them, in cold blood."
"I protest against this execution," Ralph said, in a loud tone, advancing towards the major, "as a cold-blooded murder, and a violation of all the rights of war."
"Hold your tongue, sir," the German major said, turning to him furiously, "or, by Heavens, I will put you up there, too!"
"You dare not," Ralph said, firmly. "Outrage, as you do, every law of civilization and humanity; you dare not shoot an officer of the army, in cold blood."
The major turned black with pa.s.sion.
"By Heavens!" he exclaimed.
But the officer who had not--hitherto--interposed, threw himself before him.
"Pardon me, major," he said, respectfully, "but the Frenchman is right. It would bring discredit upon the whole army to touch these prisoners of war.
"In the other matter, I have nothing to say. The order has been published that franc tireurs, and peasants sheltering them, shall be shot; and it is not for me to discuss orders, but to obey them--but this is a matter affecting all our honors."
The major stood, for a moment, irresolute; but he knew well that the German military authorities would punish, probably with death, the atrocity which he meditated; and he said hoa.r.s.ely, to some of the men near:
"Tie their arms behind their backs, and take them farther into the wood."
Ralph, his brother, and Tim Doyle were hurried into the wood by their guards but--strict as is the discipline of the German army--they could see that they disapproved, in the highest degree, of the conduct of their commanding officer.
They were still near enough to see what was pa.s.sing in the village.
Not a man of the franc tireurs begged his life, but stood upright against the wall. Two of the peasants imitated their example, as did a boy of not over thirteen years of age. Two other lads of the same age, and a peasant, fell on their knees and prayed piteously for life.
The young officer turned round towards the major in one, now mute, appeal. It was in vain.
"Put your rifles within a foot of their heads," the lieutenant said. "Fire!"
When the smoke cleared away, the soldiers were standing alone; and the peasants and franc tireurs lay, in a confused ma.s.s, on the ground.
The lieutenant walked up to the major with a steady step, but with a face as pale as ashes.
"I have done my duty, Major Kolbach; your orders are obeyed."
Then, without another word, he drew out his revolver, put it rapidly to his temple, and blew out his brains [an historical fact].
Brutal as Major Kolbach was, he started back in horror as the young lieutenant fell dead at his feet; while a cry of surprise and consternation broke from the men. The major did not say a word, but turned away and paced up and down, with disturbed steps; while the other lieutenant bent over the body of his comrade and, seeing that he was dead, in a hushed voice ordered the men who had run up to dig a grave, under the trees, and bring him there.
When this was done he ordered the men to fall in--placing the Barclays, and Tim in their midst--and then went up to the major and saluted, saying coldly that the men were ready to march. The major nodded, signed to the orderly who was holding his horse to approach, vaulted into the saddle, and rode along the road back toward the main body of the army. The lieutenant gave the word, and the column marched off; leaving behind it the still smoking houses, and the still warm bodies of some sixty men.
There was a general gloom over the faces of the men; and no one could suppose, from their air, that they were returning from a successful expedition, in which they had annihilated a body of enemy fifty strong, with the loss of only five or six of their own men. Discipline was, however, too strict for a word of blame, or even of comment to be spoken; and not a sound was heard but the heavy, measured tramp as the troops marched back through the forests. The major rode on, moodily, some forty or fifty yards ahead of the main body.
They had not gone half a mile before there was a shot fired in the wood, close to the road. The major gave a start, and nearly fell from his horse; then recovered himself, and turned to ride back to the column, when there was another shot, and he fell off his horse, heavily, to the ground.