Active Service, Stephen Crane [classic books for 11 year olds TXT] 📗

Coleman Pushed his Horse Coolly Through To The

Dragoman;S Side. " What Is It ? " He Demanded. The

Dragoman Was Broken-Voiced. " These Peoples,  They

Say You Are Germans,  All Germans,  And They Are

Angry," He Wailed. " I Can Do Nossing-Nossing."

 

" Well,  Tell These Men To Drive On," Said Coleman,

"Tell Them Theymust Drive On."

 

" They Will Not Drive On," Wailed the Dragoman,

Still More Loudly. " I Can Do Nossing. They Say Here

Is Place For Feed the Horse. It Is The Custom And They

Will Note Drive On."

 

" Make Them Drive On."

 

" They Will Note," Shrieked the Agonised servitor.

Coleman Looked from The Men Waving their Arms

And Chattering on The Box-Seats To The Men Of The

Crowd Who Also Waved their Arms And Chattered. In

This Throng Far To The Rear Of The Fighting armies There

Did Not Seem To Be A Single Man Who Was Not

Ablebodied,  Who Had Not Been Free To Enlist As A Soldier.

They Were Of That Scurvy Behind-The-Rear-Guard Which

Every Nation Has In degree Proportionate To Its Worth.

The Manhood Of Greece Had Gone To The Frontier,

Leaving at Home This Rabble Of Talkers,  Most Of Whom

Were Armed with Rifles For Mere Pretention. Coleman

Loathed them To The End Of His Soul. He Thought

Them A Lot Of Infants Who Would Like To Prove Their

Courage Upon Eleven Innocent Travellers,  All But

Unarmed,  And In this Fact He Was Quick To See A Great

Danger To The Wainwright Party. One Could Deal

With Soldiers; Soldiers Would Have Been Ashamed to

Bait Helpless People ; But This Rabble-

 

The Fighting blood Of The Correspondent Began To

Boil,  And He Really Longed for The Privilege To Run

Amuck Through The Multitude. But A Look At The

Wainwrights Kept Him In his Senses. The Professor

Had Turned pale As A Dead Man. He Sat Very Stiff And

Still While His Wife Clung To Him,  Hysterically Beseeching

Him To Do Something,  Do Something,  Although

What He Was To Do She Could Not Have Even Imagined.

 

Coleman Took The Dilemma By Its Beard. He

Dismounted from His Horse Into The Depths Of The Crowd

And Addressed the Wainwrights. " I Suppose We Had

Better Go Into This Place And Have Some Coffee While

The Men Feed their Horses. There Is No Use In trying

To Make Them Go On." His Manner Was Fairly

Casual,  But They Looked at Him In glazed horror. " It

Is The Only Thing to Do. This Crowd Is Not Nearly So

Bad As They Think They Are. But We'Ve Got To Look As

If We Felt Confident." He Himself Had No Confidence

With This Angry Buzz In his Ears,  But Be Felt Certain

That The Only Correct Move Was To Get Everybody As

Quickly As Possible Within The Shelter Of The Inn. It

Might Not Be Much Of A Shelter For Them,  But It Was

Better Than The Carriages In the Street.

 

The Professor And Mrs. Wainwright Seemed to Be

Considering their Carriage As A Castle,  And They Looked

As If Their Terror Had Made Them Physically Incapable

Of Leaving it. Coleman Stood Waiting. Behind Him

The Clapper-Tongued crowd Was Moving ominously.

Marjory Arose And Stepped calmly Down To Him.

He Thrilled to The End Of Every Nerve. It Was As If

She Had Said: " I Don'T Think There Is Great Danger,

But If There Is Great Danger,  Why * * Here I Am *

Ready * With You." It Conceded everything,

Admitted everything. It Was A Surrender Without A

Blush,  And It Was Only Possible In the Shadow Of The

Crisis When They Did Not Know What The Next

Moments Might Contain For Them. As He Took Her

Hand And She Stepped past Him He Whispered swiftly

And Fiercely In her Ear,  " I Love You." She Did Not

Look Up,  But He Felt That In this Quick Incident They

Had Claimed each Other,  Accepted each Other With A

Far Deeper Meaning and Understanding than Could Be

Possible In a Mere Drawing-Room. She Laid Her Hand

On His Arm,  And With The Strength Of Four Men He

Twisted his Horse Into The Making of Furious Prancing

Side-Steps Toward The Door Of The Inn,  Clanking side-

Steps Which Mowed a Wide Lane Through The Crowd For

Marjory,  His Marjory. He Was As Haughty As A New

German Lieutenant,  And Although He Held The Fuming

Horse With Only His Left Hand,  He Seemed perfectly

Capable Of Hurling the Animal Over A House Without

Calling into Service The Arm Which Was Devoted to

Marjory.

 

It Was Not An Exhibition Of Coolness Such As Wins

Applause On The Stage When The Hero Placidly Lights A

Cigarette Before The Mob Which Is Clamouring for His

Death. It Was,  On The Contrary,  An Exhibition Of

Downright Classic Disdain,  A Disdain Which With The

Highest Arrogance Declared itself In every Glance Of His

Eye Into The Faces About Him. " Very Good * *

Attack Me If You Like * * There Is Nothing to Prevent

It * * You Mongrels." Every Step Of His Progress

Was Made A Renewed insult To Them. The Very Air

Was Charged with What This Lone Man Was Thinking

Of This Threatening crowd.

 

His Audacity Was Invincible. They Actually Made

Way For It As Quickly As Children Would Flee From A

Ghost. The Horse,  Dancing; With Ringing steps,  With

His Glistening neck Arched toward The Iron Hand At His

Bit,  This Powerful,  Quivering animal Was A Regular

Engine Of Destruction,  And They Gave Room Until Coleman

Halted him -At An Exclamation From Marjory.

 

" My Mother And Father." But They Were Coming

Close Behind And Coleman Resumed this Contemptuous

Journey To The Door Of The Inn. The Groom,  With His

New-Born Tongue,  Was Clattering there To The Populace.

Coleman Gave Him The Horse And Passed after The

Wainwrights Into The Public Room Of The Inn. He

Was Smiling. What Simpletons!

 

A New Actor Suddenly Appeared in the Person Of The

Keeper Of The Inn. He Too Had A Rifle And A Prodigious

Belt Of Cartridges,  But It Was Plain At Once That He Had

Elected to Be A Friend Of The Worried travellers. A

Large Part Of The Crowd Were Thinking it Necessary To

Enter The Inn And Pow-Wow More. But The Innkeeper

Stayed at The Door With The Dragoman,  And Together

They Vociferously Held Back The Tide. The Spirit Of

The Mob Had Subsided to A More Reasonable Feeling.

They No Longer Wished to Tear The Strangers Limb From

Limb On The Suspicion That They Were Germans. They

Now Were Frantic To Talk As If Some Inexorable Law

Had Kept Them Silent For Ten Years And This Was The

Very Moment Of Their Release. Whereas,  Their Simul-

Taneous And Interpolating orations Had Throughout

Made Noise Much Like A Coal-Breaker.

Coleman Led the Wainwrights To A Table In a Far

Part Of The Room. They Took Chairs As If He Had Com-

Manded them. " What An Outrage," He Said Jubilantly.

" The Apes." He Was Keeping more Than Half An Eye

Upon The Door,  Because He Knew That The Quick Coming

Of The Students Was Important.

 

Then Suddenly The Storm Broke In wrath. Something

Had Happened in the Street. The Jabbering crowd At

The Door Had Turned and Were Hurrying upon Some

Central Tumult. The Dragoman Screamed to Coleman.

Coleman Jumped and Grabbed the Dragoman. " Tell

This Man To Take Them Somewhere Up Stairs," He Cried,

Indicating the Wainwrights With A Sweep Of His Arm.

The Innkeeper Seemed to Understand Sooner Than The

Dragoman,  And He Nodded eagerly. The Professor Was

Crying: "What Is It,  Mr. Coleman? What Is It ? "

An Instant Later,  The Correspondent Was Out In the

Street,  Buffeting toward A Scuffle. Of Course It Was

The Students. It Appeared,  Afterward,  That Those

Seven Young Men,  With Their Feelings Much Ruffled,

Had Been Making the Best Of Their Way Toward The

Door Of The Inn,  When A Large Man In the Crowd,  During

A Speech Which Was Surely Most Offensive,  Had Laid

An Arresting hand On The Shoulder Of Peter Tounley.

Whereupon The Excellent Peter Tounley Had Hit The

Large Man On The Jaw In such A Swift And Skilful Manner

That The Large Man Had Gone Spinning through A

Group Of His Countrymen To The Hard Earth,  Where He

Lay Holding his Face Together And Howling. Instantly,

Of Course,  There Had Been A Riot. It Might Well Be

Said That Even Then The Affair Could Have Ended in a Lot

Of Talking,  But In the First Place The Students Did Not

Talk Modern Greek,  And In the Second Place They Were

Now Past All Thought Of Talking. They Regarded this

Affair Seriously As A Fight,  And Now That They At Last

Were In it,  They Were In it For Every Pint Of Blood In

Their Bodies. Such A Pack Of Famished wolves Had

Never Before Been Let Loose Upon Men Armed with

Gras Rifles.

 

They All Had Been Expecting the Row,  And When

Peter Tounley Had Found It Expedient To Knock Over

The Man,  They Had Counted it A Signal: Their Arms

Immediately Begun To Swing out As If They Had Been

Wound Up. It Was At This Time That Coleman Swam

Brutally Through The Greeks And Joined his Countrymen.

He Was More Frightened than Any Of Those Novices.

When He Saw Peter Tounley Overthrow A Dreadful

Looking brigand Whose Belt Was Full Of Knives,  And Who

-Crashed to The Ground Amid A Clang Of Cartridges,  He

Was Appalled by The Utter Simplicity With Which The

Lads Were Treating the Crisis. It Was To Them No Com-

Mon Scrimmage At Washurst,  Of Course,  But It Flashed

Through Coleman'S Mind That They Had Not The

Slightegt Sense Of The Size Of The Thing. He Expected

Every Instant To See The Flash Of Knives Or To Hear The

Deafening intonation Of A Rifle Fired against Hst Ear. It

Seemed to Him Miraculous That The Tragedy Was So Long

Delayed.

 

In The Meantirne He Was In the Affray. He Jilted

One Man Under The Chin With His Elbow In a Way That

Reeled him Off From Peter Tounley'S Back; A Little Person

In Thecked clothes He Smote Between The Eyes; He

Recieved a Gun-Butt Emphatically On The Aide Of The

Neck; He Felt Hands Tearing at Him; He Kicked the Pins

Out From Under Three Men In rapid Succession. He

Was Always Yelling. " Try To Get To The Inn,  Boys,  Try

To Get To The Inn. Look Out,  Peter. Take Care For His

Knife,  Peter--" Suddenly He Whipped a Rifle Out Of

The Hands Of A Man And Swung It,  Whistling.  He Had

Gone Stark Mad With The Others.

 

The Boy Billy,  Drunk From Some Blows And Bleeding,

Was Already. Staggering toward The Inn Over The Clearage

Which The Wild Coleman Made With The Clubbed

Rifle. Tho Others Follewed  As Well As They Might While

Beating off A Discouraged enemy. The Remarkable

Innkeeper Had Barred his Windows With Strong Wood

Shutters.  He Held The Door By The Crack For Them,  And

They Stumbled one By On Through The Portal. Coleman

Did Not Know Why They Were Not All Dead,  Nor Did

He Understand The Intrepid And Generous Behaviour Of

The Innkeeper,  But At Any Rate He Felt That The

Fighting was Suspended,  And He Wanted to See Marjory.

The Innkeeper Was,  Doing a Great Pantomime In the

Middle Of The Darkened room,  Pointing to The Outer

Door And Then Aiming his Rifle At It To Explain His

Intention Of Defending them At All Costs. Some Of The

Students Moved to A Billiard Table And Spread Them-

Selves Wearily Upon It. Others Sank Down Where They

Stood. Outside The Crowd Was Beginning to Roar.

Coleman'S Groom Crept Out From Under The Little

Coffee Bar And Comically Saluted his Master. The

Dragoman Was Not Present. Coleman Felt That He

Must See Marjory,  And He Made Signs To The Innkeeper.

The Latter Understood Quickly,  And Motioned that

Coleman Should Follow Him. They Passed together

Through A Dark Hall And Up A Darker Stairway,  Where

After Coleman Stepped out Into A Sun-Lit Room,  Saying

Loudly: "Oh,  It'S All Right. It'S All Over. Don'T  Worry."

 

Three Wild People Were Instantly Upon Him. " Oh,

What Was It? What Did Happen? Is Anybody Hurt?

Oh,  Tell Us,  Quick!" It Seemed at The Time That It

Was An Avalanche Of Three Of Them,  And It Was Not

Until Later That He Recognised that Mrs. Wainwright Had

Tumbled the Largest Number Of Questions Upon Him.

As For Marjory,  She Had Said Nothing until The Time

When She Cried: " Oh-He Is Bleeding-He Is Bleeding.

Oh,  Come,  Quick!" She Fairly Dragged him Out Of

One Room Into Another Room,  Where There Was A Jug Of

Water. She Wet Her Handkerchief And Softly Smote

His Wounds. "Bruises," She Said,  Piteously,  Tearfully.

" Bruises. Oh,  Dear! How They Must Hurt You.'

The Handkerchief Was Soon Stained crimson.

 

When Coleman Spoke His Voice Quavered. " It Isn'T

Anything. Really,  It Isn'T Anything." He Had Not

Known Of These Wonderful Wounds,  But He Almost

Choked in the Joy Of Marjory'S Ministry And Her Half

Coherent Exclamations. This Proud And Beautiful

Girl,  This Superlative Creature,  Was Reddening her

Handkerchief With His Blood,  And No Word Of His Could

Have Prevented her From Thus Attending