CHAPTER XXXI. COURT-MARTIALED.

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Poor Jack, with feelings that may be imagined, was roughly thrust into a smoke house and the door slammed. Outside the sentries paced up and down ceaselessly, showing him that to think of escaping would be useless. There he must stay at the mercy of Radwig till his fate was decided.

No wonder, as he sank on a rough stool, he felt for a moment sick and apprehensive. The glitter in Radwig’s eyes when he saw who it was he had made prisoner had warned Jack to expect severe treatment. The hours dragged by and no one came near him. It was pitch dark in the smoke house, which, of course, had no openings and hardly any ventilation.

The clank of the sentries’ sabres, and their steady, monotonous tread, were the only sounds that disturbed the stillness except for an occasional, far-off rumble of cannonading. Evidently the main tide of the battle had rolled back from the scene of the morning’s engagement. If it had not been for the presence of the sentries, which showed that he was not forgotten, Jack would have been inclined to think that his captors had ridden on and left him.

But the steady tramp-tramp outside precluded all possibility of this. At last the door was flung open, and the two men guarding him entered the dark smoke house. Jack saw then that it was late twilight, but a cloudy sunset, threatening a coming storm, made it appear later.

“Come,” ordered one of the impassive, gray-uniformed Germans, who seemingly possessed a knowledge of a little English.

There was no resource but to obey. Jack, with a beating heart, fell in between his two guardians.

“I’ve got to be cool and keep my head,” he told himself as he was marched toward the house. “Any false step now might be fatal.”

Within the farmhouse, kitchen lights had been kindled. Two yellow flaring lamps showed the group of officers about the table with their swords laid among the remains of a meal. Wine spilled on the cloth and empty glasses showed that the farmhouse cellar had been raided for their entertainment.

At the head of the table sat the hawk-nosed colonel. Next him was Radwig. One of the officers, a major, was tilted back in his chair snoring noisily. Jack’s heart sank. He saw no signs of a fair trial.

“You have heard yourself accused of being a spy,” began the colonel harshly. “What have you to say to the charge?”

“Simply that it’s ridiculous. If you will give me time my friends will be back here with ample proof that I am an American citizen, a wireless operator and——”

“Ah, ha!” exclaimed the colonel, placing one finger to the side of his hawk-like beak and looking cunning. “So that is it. A wireless operator with Belgian passes in his possession. It looks bad.”

Radwig bent over and whispered something in the colonel’s ear.

“Herr Radwig tells me that you are a hater of Germans. That you had him placed in custody in England and that he only escaped to join our army after surmounting great difficulties. What have you to say to that?”

“As to being a hater of Germans, no American is that,” said Jack. “We are all neutral in this struggle. So far as Herr Radwig being imprisoned in England, he was already in irons on the ship before she docked.”

“Is that true?” demanded the colonel of Radwig, who smiled and waved his hand with a gesture that signified “absurd.”

“You see Herr Radwig denies that you tell the truth,” remarked the colonel.

“Surely my word is as good as his,” protested Jack, trying to keep cool, although he saw that things looked black indeed for him before such a prejudiced tribunal.

“Herr Radwig is a German we all know and honor,” retorted the colonel. “Who you are we do not know. Therefore, between you, we must believe him.”

“You don’t mean that you believe I am a spy?” blurted out Jack.

“The evidence shows it,” rejoined the colonel coldly. “You are aware of the rules of war?”

The whole room suddenly swam before Jack’s eyes. A deadly chill passed through him. For an instant he could not assure himself that it was not a hideous dream from which he must soon awaken. But the next instant, the reality, the horrible fact that he was about to be sentenced to death as a spy, rushed back upon him. He tried to speak but his dry lips refused to deliver a word.

The colonel and Radwig whispered, and then the former announced in his harsh grating voice:

“It will be at reveille to-morrow. Remove the prisoner.”

“But you don’t understand,” he choked out, “surely you don’t mean to execute me, an American citizen, without a chance to explain. I——”

“I will assume full responsibility,” was the cold reply.

Jack struggled with his captors, but a cruel blow in the small of the back with the butt of a rifle so dizzied him, that by the time he recovered his senses, he was back in the dark, foul-smelling smoke house once more.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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