A Maker of History | Page 2

the track talking together.
The young man behind the bracken felt himself in somewhat of a
dilemma. There was a delightful smell of fresh coffee from the waiting
coach, and there seemed to be not the slightest reason why he should
not emerge from his hiding-place and claim the hospitality of these
people. He was a quite harmless person, with proper credentials, and an
adequate explanation of his presence there. On the other hand, the spirit
of adventure natural to his years strongly prompted him to remain
where he was and watch. He felt certain that something was going to
happen. Besides, those soldiers had exactly the air of looking for
somebody to shoot!
Whilst he was hesitating, something did happen. There was a shrill
whistle, a puff of white smoke in the distance, and another train
approached from the opposite direction.
It drew up within a few feet of the one which was already waiting.
Almost immediately half a dozen men, who were already standing
upon the platform of the car, descended. One of these approached
rapidly, and saluted the central figure of those who had been talking
together in the track. After a few moments' conversation these two,
followed by one other man only who was carrying a writing portfolio,
ascended the platform of the train which had arrived first and
disappeared inside.
The young man who was watching these proceedings yawned.
"No duel, then!" he muttered to himself. "I've half a mind to go out."
Then he caught sight of a particularly fierce-looking soldier with his
finger already upon the trigger of his gun, and he decided to remain
where he was.
In about half an hour the two men reappeared on the platform of the car.

Simultaneously the window of the carriage in which they had been
sitting was opened, and the third man was visible, standing before a
small table and arranging some papers. Suddenly he was called from
outside. He thrust his hat upon the papers, and hastened to obey the
summons.
A little gust of breeze from the opening and closing of the door
detached one of the sheets of paper from the restraining weight of the
hat. It fluttered out of the window and lay for a moment upon the side
of the track. No one noticed it, and in a second or two it fluttered
underneath the clump of bracken behind which the young Englishman
was hiding. He thrust out his hand and calmly secured it.
In less than five minutes the place was deserted. Amidst many hasty
farewells, wholly unintelligible to the watcher, the two groups of men
separated and climbed into their respective trains. As soon as every one
was out of sight the Englishman rose with a little grunt of satisfaction
and stretched himself.
He glanced first at the sheet of paper, and finding it written in German
thrust it into his pocket. Then he commenced an anxious search for
smoking materials, and eventually produced a pipe, a crumpled packet
of tobacco, and two matches.
"Thank Heaven!" he exclaimed, lighting up. "And now for a tramp."
He plodded steadily along the track for an hour or more. All the time he
was in the heart of the forest. Pheasants and rabbits and squirrels
continually crossed in front of him. Once a train passed, and an excited
guard shouted threats and warnings, to which he replied in fluent but
ineffective English.
"Johnnies seem to think I'm trespassing!" he remarked to himself in an
aggrieved tone. "I can't help being on their beastly line!"
Tall, smooth-faced, and fair, he walked with the long step and
lightsome grace of the athletic young Englishman of his day. He was
well dressed in tweed clothes, cut by a good tailor, a little creased by

his night out of doors, but otherwise immaculate. He hummed a
popular air to himself, and held his head high. If only he were not so
hungry.
Then he came to a station. It was little more than a few rows of planks,
with a chalet at one end--but a very welcome sight confronted him. A
little pile of luggage, with his initials, G. P., was on the end of the
platform nearest to him.
"That conductor was a sensible chap," he exclaimed. "Glad I tipped
him. Hullo!"
The station-master, in uniform, came hurrying out. The young
Englishman took off his hat, and produced a phrase book from his
pocket. He ignored the stream of words which the station-master, with
many gesticulations, was already pouring out.
"My luggage," he said firmly, laying one hand upon the pile, and
waving the phrase book.
The station-master acquiesced heartily. He waxed eloquent again, but
the Englishman was busy with the phrase book.
"Hungry! Hotel?" he attempted.
The station-master pointed to where the smoke was