"No, there are two."

"They are alive."

"No, they are dead."

A few seconds later they reached the spot, and saw what they will never forget, if they live twice the years allotted to man.

In a dry ditch, locked in each other's embrace, were two dead soldiers, one a Frenchman, the other a German. Both had evidently been wounded, but they had engaged in a death struggle. They had fought to the deaths without either conquering the other, and they had died in each other's arms.

There was no look of fury or hatred in the face of either. The hand of death had smoothed away all traces of this. Nevertheless, it had been a duel to the death.

They were little more than boys, perhaps about twenty-four, and both were privates. Their faces proclaimed their nationalities even more plainly than their uniforms.

"I expect they had never seen each other before," said Bob, like one thinking aloud; "they bore no enmity towards each other."

"Except that one was French and the other German," said Pringle. "That was enough for them. Somehow they found themselves together, and fought it out. I expect it was at night time. By G.o.d, it's ghastly, isn't it? And this is war!"

"No, it's only the shadow of it, the aftermath. There are no groans here, no suffering. It's peace, but it's the peace of horrible, unnatural death. We shall see real war presently."

"Come, let's get away. It's sickening."

"The Prime Minister was right. It's h.e.l.l let loose. All the same, I'm aching to be at it. I never hated it as I hated it now. G.o.d helping us, this shall be Europe's last war."

They slowly returned towards the railway siding when in the distance they saw the train standing still.

"Look," said Pringle, "there's been a fire here. It looks as though they had a meal. Here's an empty wine bottle, and a crust of bread."

"Yes, and here's a pipe half full of tobacco. It might have been thrown down in a hurry, as though some chap were having a quiet smoke, and was suddenly called to duty. Look, it's an English-made pipe. It must have belonged to one of our men. I wonder where he is now. I'll take it as a souvenir."

As they drew near to the siding they heard the soldiers singing l.u.s.tily:

"It's a long way to Tipperary."

Both of them were strangely silent as the train crawled slowly towards its destination. Their visit to one little corner of the stricken field had made them realise the meaning of war as they had never realised it before. Before the afternoon was over their eyes were still more widely opened by a pa.s.sing train to the meaning of the work that lay before them.

It was going slowly, more slowly than their own, and Bob saw that it was full of wounded soldiers. How many there were he could not estimate, but it seemed to him that there must be hundreds. Some were laughing and talking cheerfully, while others lay with their eyes closed. More than one brave fellow held a wounded comrade's head on his knees.

It was only a minute, and the train had pa.s.sed them. One trainload going to the front full of strong, stalwart men, hale and hearty, another returning full of the wounded. And this was war!

And why?

It was all because a war devil reigned in Germany, which the military caste worshipped as a kind of Deity.

Presently the train stopped. They had reached their destination. They were close to the front.

"Listen," said some one, and all the men were strangely silent.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

It was the great iron-mouthed messengers of death which sent molten lead into great ma.s.ses of flesh and blood. It was the voice of the great guns--the contributions of science to the ghastly crime of war.

CHAPTER XV

Captain Trevanion did not go to the front as soon as he had expected.

That was why, although few people in St. Ia knew anything about it, he again found himself at Penwennack. As chance would have it, he found Nancy at home. The Admiral had been called to London on Admiralty business, and so the girl, who had not yet undertaken the duties for which she had offered herself, was alone when the Captain arrived.

"Nancy," said Trevanion, who had been a friend of the family for years, "forgive me, but I could not help coming. The date of our starting has been put off for a day or two, so I found myself with a few hours to spare. You do not seem pleased to see me. Why?"

"I am sorry you should think so," was Nancy's reply. "But, you see, I did not expect you. Wouldn't it be--that is--isn't it a sort of anti-climax to come down here like this, after the great send-off St.

Ia gave you?"

She laughed nervously as she spoke, and, although a faint flush tinged her cheeks, it was easy to see that she was far from well.

"What do I care about climaxes or anti-climaxes?" cried Trevanion. "I came because I couldn't help it. I knew you hadn't gone abroad, and I came just on the chance of seeing you. I caught the early train at Plymouth, and here I am. I must get back to-night."

"I'm afraid I'm no good at tennis or golf just now," said Nancy, "still I'll----"

"Hang tennis and golf!" interrupted Trevanion. "I didn't come all the way from Plymouth for that. I came because--because--but you know why?

I say," he went on hurriedly, "you know Gossett of the Engineers, don't you? He goes to-morrow, and--and he was married yesterday. Both he and--and his wife felt they couldn't wait any longer. I suppose her people tried to dissuade her from getting married at such a time as this; but she wouldn't listen to them. 'I'm going to get married because Jack is going to the front,' was her reply to the croakers. 'I want him to feel that he has a wife waiting at home for him.' 'But suppose he should be killed?' said an old dame. 'Then I'd rather be his widow than his fiancee,' was her reply. Plucky, wasn't it?"

Nancy did not reply.

"Hosts of chaps have done the same thing," went on Trevanion hurriedly.

"They had meant to have waited for months, but when the war came on they determined to marry right away."

"Are you thinking of getting married?" Nancy was angry with herself the moment she had spoken, but she was excited beyond measure, and the words escaped her almost unconsciously.

"Would to G.o.d I could!" cried Trevanion excitedly. "I'd give--heavens, what wouldn't I give for the chance! I say, Nancy, you know why I've come down, don't you? You--you didn't give me a chance to speak the other day, but now I feel as though I can't be silent any longer. You know how I love you, Nancy--you must know, you must have seen it for months--and--and--perhaps in a way it's cowardly of me to come to you like this, when I'm possibly going to my death. But I couldn't help myself, Nancy. If--if--you could only give me a little hope!"

Nancy did not reply--indeed, for the moment she was unable to speak.

The last three weeks had tried her sorely. She had as she had thought decided to link her fate with that of Bob Nancarrow. She had, in spite of herself, confessed her love for him, and had promised to be his wife. Then suddenly the heavens had become black. The great war had broken out, and then when almost every young man she knew had offered himself for his country, the man she loved had proved a coward, and had sought to hide his cowardice behind pious plat.i.tudes. She blushed with shame as she thought of it. She hated herself for having loved a man who was unworthy to call himself an Englishman. And yet she had told him that she loved him. She had allowed him to hold her in his arms, while he had rained kisses on her lips. She, the daughter of Admiral Tresize, she, who bore a name which had ever been honoured among people who had fought for their country's safety and honour, had promised herself to a poltroon, a coward! The thought was maddening, and yet she had not been able to drive her love from her heart. In spite of his cowardice she still loved him. Even when she sought to insult him at the recruiting meeting she loved him. She constantly found herself trying to make excuses for him. But the fact remained. He had held back in the time of his country's peril, he had refused to listen when the King had sent out his call! Even when she had given him the white feather, his manhood had not been aroused. He had stood like a sulky school-boy, ashamed of his cowardice, but still a coward.

Yes, all was over between herself and Bob Nancarrow. How could it be otherwise? She had given him every chance to explain himself, and she had listened to his reasons for holding back. And such reasons! How could she, Nancy Tresize, who came from a race of fighters, accept such paltry excuses? Christianity to her meant the highest code of honour: it meant faithfulness to promise, it meant honour, it meant truth, it meant defending the weak--and in all this Bob had failed.

And yet she loved him. In her heart of hearts she did not believe he was a coward; as for meanness and dishonour, they were alien to his nature.

Of course she knew why Captain Trevanion had come, even before he had spoken. She had not been blind during the past year, and therefore, could not mistake the meaning of his attentions. She admired him too.

He was just the kind of man she had always admired. He was the son of one of the oldest and most honoured families in the land; he was generous, chivalrous, brave, handsome. What more could she want? How the people cheered at the recruiting meeting! And what wonder? He had touched their hearts by his burning words, and he was just off to fight for his country.

Every selfish interest, every tradition of her family pleaded for him.

She was fond of him too. She had always liked him as a friend; she had always admired him as a loyal gentleman and a soldier. Of course, he was not clever. He was no lover of books, and, compared with Bob, he was an ignoramus; but what did that matter? He was a brave man--a gentleman.

As for Bob, all their former relations were ended. He himself had closed and bolted the door between them. The choice had been between her and honour on the one hand, and selfish ease and cowardice on the other. And Bob had chosen to be a coward. What could she do, therefore, but drive him from her mind, and crush all affection for him? Was it not her duty to her father, her family, and to herself to accept Trevanion?

"You are not vexed with me, are you?" went on Trevanion, after he had waited a few seconds.