Who Goes There!

"Halt!" rang out a voice like a pistol shot from the darkness.

The girl stood rigid; Guild sprang to her side. "Qui vive!" cried the voice.

"Belgium!" said Guild coolly.

"Then who goes there! – you! – below there in that garden?"

"Friends to Belgium," replied Guild in a quiet and very grave voice. "Don't move, dearest," he whispered.

"What is happening?"

"I don't know, yet."

Presently, nearer the balustrade above them, the voice came again: "Is it Monsieur Guild?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Pardon. Will Monsieur come up to the terrace? I am watching the wall beyond the pool."

They ascended the stone steps; Karen moving lightly beside him. In the shadow of the clipped yews a dark form stirred.

"Pardon. I did not recognize Monsieur Guild nor Mademoiselle. There is trouble."

It was Schultz the herdsman; his rifle was in his hand and he wore two cartridge-belts crossed over his smock en bandoulière.

He touched his hat to Karen, but turned immediately toward the star-lit sky-line where the dark coping of the wall cut it.

"What is the trouble?" asked Guild with a sinking heart.

"God knows how it happened, Monsieur Guild – but there was bad blood tonight and hot heads full of it. Then, very far in the forest, a shot was fired."

"I heard it. What happened?"

"Listen, Monsieur! The Moresnet man and the boy, Jean Pascal, put their heads together. I don't know how it was, but even after what you said to us, and after Michaud told us to remain prudent and calm, somehow after we heard that shot we all, one by one, took down our guns; and after a little while we found ourselves together in the carrefour.

"And from there we went, without saying a word, to the Calvary on the hill pasture road. It was as though each of us understood without telling each other – without even hinting at a plan.

"And by and by we went down by the rivulet at the foot of the hill pastures, and there, as we expected, were two of the Yslemont refugees. They had their guns. And one of them had a spiked helmet."

"Go on," said Guild, compressing his lips.

"He had taken it near Trois Fontaines, not below the hill. We all examined it. We saw red, Monsieur. Then a calf which had escaped the Grey Wolves moved in the bushes near us. The Moresnet man caught it, and he and the shepherd, little Jean Pascal, took the dumb beast and tied it to a sapling near the road. On our side of the boundary! But we all knew what might happen."

There was a silence; then Schultz said in a low, hoarse voice: "It was fated to be. We took both sides of the road in the long grasses of the ditches. And the calf bawled for company.

"The company came after a while – two Grey Wolves. First we heard the clink-clink of their horses' feet; then we saw their lances against the sky.

"They came on, picking their way. And of a sudden the electric breast-torch on one of them breaks out like a blinding star, plays over the road, then lights up the calf which is terrified and backs into the hedge.

"He drives his lance-butt into the sod and gets out of his saddle. His comrade sits the other horse, pistol lifted, elbow on thigh. And there comes then another Uhlan, walking and leading his horse – three of the dirty brigands, Monsieur, across the border and on our side!"

"Go on."

"Eh bien – we bled them!"

"You killed them?"

"Yes, Monsieur – two there by the hedge in the grassy ditch; the other hung to his horse for a while – but came off sideways. One spur caught and his horse took him back that way – across the border."

"Go on."

"We took their schapskas. Jean Pascal wished to go across the border after more Wolves. He was crazy. And the blood made us all a little drunk. And then we found that the Moresnet man had gone. That chilled us."

He wiped his face with his sleeve, never taking his eyes from the wall across the garden.

"After that," he said, "we lay very still, watching. And in a little while an Uhlan crossed the hill pasture walking his horse slowly against the stars. Then there were others moving across the sky up there, and we also heard others on the road. So we have been quietly falling back into the forest where, if they follow, they shall not go back, please God!"

"Where is Michaud?"

"He was very angry, but, since the affair has really begun, he is with us, of course."

"Where is he?"

"He went to the house to find you an hour ago."

Guild bit his lip in silence. The stupidity of what had been done, the utter hopelessness of the situation sickened him.

The slow, groping peasant mind, occupied always with the moment's problem only, solving it by impulse and instinct alone – what could be done with such a mind – what could be hoped from it except under patiently inculcated military discipline.

Loosened from that, and defending its property from actual or threatened aggression, it became a furtive, fierce and quickened mind, alternately cunning and patiently ferocious. But of reason, or of logic, it reckons nothing, knows nothing.

Trouble had begun – trouble was abroad already in the star-light – moving, menacing.

"What is your word?" he asked bluntly.

"Yslemont."

He turned to Karen, who stood quietly beside him: "The ladies must leave this house tonight. There is no time at all to waste. There is going to be real trouble here by morning. And I am going to ask you if you will give these American ladies shelter tonight at Quellenheim. Will you, Karen?"

"Of course."

"From there they can go to the city of Luxembourg tomorrow, and so into Holland. But they ought to go now."

"And you, Kervyn?"

"I shall be very busy," he said. "Come back to the house, now."

They walked away together, moving quickly along the beech-woods; she with that youthful, buoyant step as lithe as a young boy's; he beside her with grave, preoccupied face and ears alert for the slightest sound.