Adventure, December 1914 — page 180: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

178 At intervals sandwiches were munched, with tin cups of sour country wine to wash them down. Just after dark a motor car whirled up to the door and a drenched figure staggered into the room—the first unconventional character to appear upon the scene. By the light of the camp lanterns I identified him as Boris Kurtsky. His errand was quickly told while every officer privileged to be in the little room crowded close about him. He came from the advance guard of Kutin- cheff’s left wing which had been delayed by the frightful weather in its passage of the Stranzha Dagh, but which, Boris said, was now coming up and would be in time to join in the renewed attack upon Kurk Kilisse in the morning. ~ While Savoff and his secretary were pre- paring orders for him to take back I se- cured a word with him. He was coated with mud from head to foot, and an orderly scraped him off with the edge of a saber as we talked. “It’s out there, old man,”’ he said cheerily, with a wave of his hand toward the south. “Every blessed Mussulman in Thrace must be persuaded that Allah is fighting for him. I never thought we’d make it in time.” “Is it such a big battle?” I asked. “Well, it’s not so big a battle as the next one will be,’ answered Boris judicially. “But it is more important. By this battle we stand or fall. If we win it handily, Dan, we shall win the next one—somehow. This is the crucial test of strength.”’ “Then I’m off with you,” said I. “I’m tired of this headquarters business, Boris. It may do for grave generals but I never could listen to cannon thirty miles away.” ‘You should have been a dragoon,” grin- ned Boris. “It’s all right so far as I’m concerned, but you must speak to the Chief.”’ When Savoff came over with his orders I asked him if he had any objections to my joining Kutincheff’s staff in the field. A smile stole over his grim face as he shook his head, and he handed me a green tele- graph blank. “This just came for you over the private line from the Sofia Palace,’ he remarked, and turned away. ‘Don’t be rash,”’ it said; and it was signed aM. Vv.” Adventure “You must be getting rather chummy with his Gracious Majesty, receiving confi- dential communications over his private wire,” commented Boris. ‘But come on, you and your dog. We have thirty miles to do through swamps before midnight.” FORTUNATELY the road was quite level, or we should never have been able to make the run. As it was we ran through water and mud up to the hubs most of the way, and were twice stalled. It took us nearly four hours to go the thirty miles, and it was one o’clock in- stead of midnight when we reached the far rear of the Bulgarian position, plotted out in the rainswept darkness by thousands of flickering camp-fires. Most of the time we slept, as Boris kindly informed me that there would be little chance for relaxation once we were back in camp. We passed by seemingly endless lines of sentinels and came finally to a farm- stead in a hollow before which blazed an immense fire, and all around which were picketed lines of blanketed horses. ‘‘Headquarters,’’ said Boris “Come in.” I followed him into a bare, earthen-floor- ed room, the kitchen and living-room of the house. Nearly every inch of floor space was occupied by sleeping officers, over whom we. walked gingerly to an inner door on which Boris knocked. A gruff voice bade him enter, and I made myself com- fortable upon an end of a table. I had not meant to sleep; but worn out by the ex- haustion of the motor-ride, coming after several days of unrelaxed excitement, I dozed, and awoke only with the general movement an hour and a half later. An orderly brought me a cup of coffee, and presently Boris came in. He had deep black circles of fatigue under his eyes, but they glowed with the feverish energy that I saw depicted upon every side of me. “You are to go with the general,” he whispered. ‘“‘Come on. I’ve pilfered a mount for you.”’ Outside, the darkness had turned to a grayness and the rain had ceased. We set out, a dreary procession of men and beasts, heads bent before a cutting wind out of the southeast. Ahead of us sounded the crackle briefly. of rifle fire, with now and then the solitary ~ boom of a cannon. But as we rode on, the firing increased in volume and the big guns MICLOOOLK C©