Peace Manoeuvres | Page 8

wouldn't have let you take him
prisoner, if I had not thought you would take him away with you." She
appealed to the sergeant. "PLEASE take him away," she begged.
The sergeant turned sharply upon his prisoner.
"Why don't you do what the lady wants?" he demanded.
"Because I've got to do what my captain wants," returned Lathrop, "and
he put me on sentry-go, in front of this house."
With the back of his hand, the sergeant fretfully scraped the three days'
growth on his chin. "There's nothing to it," he exclaimed, "but for to
take him with us. When we meet some more Reds we'll turn him over.
Fall in!" he commanded.
"No!" protested Lathrop. "I don't want to be turned over. I've got a
much better plan. YOU don't want to be bothered with a prisoner. I
don't want to be a prisoner. As you say, I am better dead. You can't
shoot a prisoner, but if he tries to escape you can. I'll try to escape. You
shoot me. Then I return to my own army, and report myself dead. That
ends your difficulty and saves me from a court-martial. They can't
court-martial a corpse."
The face of the sergeant flashed with relief and satisfaction. In his
anxiety to rid himself of his prisoner, he lifted the bicycle into the road
and held it in readiness.
"You're all right!" he said, heartily. "You can make your getaway as
quick as you like."
But to the conspiracy Miss Farrar refused to lend herself.
"How do you know," she demanded, "that he will keep his promise? He
may not go back to his own army. He can be just as dead on my lawn
as anywhere else!"

Lathrop shook his head at her sadly.
"How you wrong me!" he protested. "How dare you doubt the promise
of a dying man? These are really my last words, and I wish I could
think of something to say suited to the occasion, but the presence of
strangers prevents."
He mounted his bicycle. "'If I had a thousand lives to give,'" he quoted
with fervor, "'I'd give them all to--'" he hesitated, and smiled
mournfully on Miss Farrar. Seeing her flushed and indignant
countenance, he added, with haste, "to the Commonwealth of
Massachusetts!"
As he started on his wheel slowly down the path, he turned to the
sergeant.
"I'm escaping," he explained. The Reds, with an enthusiasm
undoubtedly genuine, raised their rifles, and the calm of the Indian
summer was shattered by two sharp reports. Lathrop, looking back over
his shoulder, waved one hand reassuringly.
"Death was instantaneous," he called. He bent his body over the
handle-bar, and they watched him disappear rapidly around the turn in
the road.
Miss Farrar sighed with relief.
"Thank you very much," she said.
As though signifying that to oblige a woman he would shoot any
number of prisoners, the sergeant raised his hat.
"Don't mention it, lady," he said. "I seen he was annoying you, and
that's why I got rid of him. Some of them amateur soldiers, as soon as
they get into uniform, are too fresh. He took advantage of you because
your folks were away from home. But don't you worry about that. I'll
guard this house until your folks get back."
Miss Farrar protested warmly.
"Really!" she exclaimed; "I need no one to guard me."
But the soldier was obdurate. He motioned his comrade down the road.
"Watch at the turn," he ordered; "he may come back or send some of
the Blues to take us. I'll stay here and protect the lady."
Again Miss Farrar protested, but the sergeant, in a benign and fatherly
manner, smiled approvingly. Seating himself on the grass outside the
fence, he leaned his back against the gatepost, apparently settling
himself for conversation.

"Now, how long might it have been," he asked, "before we showed up,
that you seen us?"
"I saw you," Miss Farrar said, "when Mr.--when that bicycle scout was
talking to me. I saw the red bands on your hats among the bushes."
The sergeant appeared interested.
"But why didn't you let on to him?"
Miss Farrar laughed evasively.
"Maybe because I am from New York, too," she said. "Perhaps I
wanted to see soldiers from my city take a prisoner."
They were interrupted by the sudden appearance of the smaller soldier.
On his rat-like countenance was written deep concern.
"When I got to the turn," he began, breathlessly, "I couldn't see him.
Where did he go? Did he double back through the woods, or did he
have time to ride out of sight before I got there?"
The reappearance of his comrade affected the sergeant strangely. He
sprang to his feet, his under jaw protruding truculently, his eyes
flashing with anger.
"Get back," he