The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1901-10-22
A Tragedy 81
The Trench
By LALLY BERNARD
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Soaking rains and sodden ground; q
small barrier of upturned sod, looking as
if an anchor from a balloon had scooped
up a few yards of soil and then scared
upward again. Behind this little hum
mock two men are lying fiat on their
faces, while a third figure is doubled up
and forms support for one of the two
men-a steady support for the rife. He
lies absolutely still-has been dead for
hours. with a bullet through his brain.
Getting cramped beyond endurance. he
had, in spite of his companions remon-
strances. insisted on rising and stretching
his limbs and, as they had predicted, fell
back dead.
The two living men are filthy and in
rags; their boots, half torn from their
feet, look like those forlorn leather mys-
teries one finds in bitches and out of the
way places, always suggestive Of some
tragedy or of thieving tramps who may
have discarded them for a less hopeless
pair which they have managed to collect
on their rounds.
1t is hard to tell which Of the men is
the elder; each one is sunburned and
grimed with dirt; two weeks growth on
cheek and chin makes their sunken faces
positively ferocious; their eyes have a
hungry CLEAN. 1t is days since they have
had meal, subssting on ration biscuits
more resembling dogs food than aught
else, but they have carefully nibbled at
these to exc out sustenance.
For eight long hours these men have
lain in this shallow trench, so shallow
that when bullets come whistling over
their heads their faces are pressed in the
loose earth for protection. The aching
from cold and cramp is becoming well
nigh uncomfortable, and now and then one
or the other casts a glance toward the
crushed and twisted form beside them
with an expression of envy, as if it sug-
gested welcome thought.
Curzon, the elder man of the two, man
ages, with great effort, to get his pipe
alight
Hold on a bit, Mortlake," he says to
his companion, land you shall have pull
presently"
I'D give my soul for a cigarette, y
groans Mortlake.
pipes better, old man; rain can't put
it out so quick"
"Well, while you are getting your
Whit, III take a pot at the beggars, then
you can take turn at this business"
raising himself gingerly and sighting his
rifle as he speaks.
In another moment he tumbles back,
knocking the pipe and its precious con-
tents out of Curzon's mouth. Good
God, Morty, you're not done for?' gasps
Curzon. Guess So" feebly from Mort
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"Only drop, cursed luck as it is" and
without a seconds hesitation he whips
out the flask and holds it to the white
lips of his friend.
That's enough, that's enough; don't
pour all the precious stuff down my
throat. l may be dead in ten minutes,
and you'll need it more than | will.
mo nonsense, old man; try and wrig-
gle around, so that can see what the
damage is; such tiny hole it must be;
wish | could stop the blood. In your
side? Here? Bad-does it hurtY'
mot much feel sick and queer; think
I'm off. Hope not. Got a lot to live
for" A pause. "How does fellow feel
when he is going? Don't know-of
course you don't. Do look like it? Now,
Curzon, don't get up, you can't mend mat
tiers, and if you were hit and / was left
alone should go mad. Ugh!
"What is it, Morty-pain?"
"No, | forgot the poor devil under me,
and his face is cold and wet; his boot is
Just in the small of my back"
Curzon moves the dead mans leg by
pushing sideways with his foot; Mort
lake grows deadly pale during the opera
ton. ''Is there any blood coming now,
Curzon? Feel as if | were soaked in it. p"
''No, old fellow; keep up your courage
for the matters sake"
A moment of terrible silence while Cur
zon curses himself for a fool for having
mentioned the matters name. Mortlake,
with curious note in his voice, says,
"You were always wanting me to keep
up something for her sake, weren't your
ooh, yes, you're right there, but don't
get reminiscent and sentimental; keep up;
don't imagine it's dangerous wound.
"Well, it's just as well these times to
be ready to send in your checks; | never
thought I'd get hit, fellow never does;
always looks to see the next poor chap
90 down instead. Remember the dance
at the Vernos' the night before we sailed p!
Cad, how we chafed about this picnic,
as we called it. Never thought of this
kind of thing Call this war Why. here
we are shooting out of the graves we
have started to dig for ourselves, and
shooting men we have never laid eyes
on-beastly impolite, call it-with these
long range rifles. Wonder if ! hit any
one before they bagged meY'
Curzon reaches carefully for the pipe
which is almost covered with mud, and
~ - bar
SCOT a light or bit of paper about
you, Morty? If could get this blooming
thing to go, Whit would do you good. a
letter-ah, thanks! The envelope is
damp; can l use the inside sheet? Scent
Good Lord, how funny it seemsi"
"You can have it, Curzon, old fellow
and Mortlake's face grows graver as he
speaks, ''but | promised the little CIR
who wrote it to keep it forever; keep Q
bit, and if I'm knocked out send it tc
her. Know her address, expect. Think
I'm a fool perhaps. Well. the truth is
I'm not comfortable in my mind about
that little episode; awfully unsophisti
Gated little girl and perhaps | did run
her bit hard tiny old way, you say
hang it all. didn't mean to win hel
young affections, but luck was against
us Country house party, two weeks
constantly thrown together and then the
excitement of coming out here; tears and
a scene. lost my head, couldn't seem
brute. so played the game; exchanged
rings. wrote foolish letters, tragic goodby
and here we are.
"Morty, you are incorrigible," says Cur
ron. "Where is her ring? You woulc
like me to send it if-that is. you woulc
like her to have it again if things don
come right"
BET | would; she has got the ring the
dad left me-family heirloom and all that
The mater will want my young brother
to have it if l get out"
With great difficulty he gets at chain
to which is attached a medley of articles
and among them a magnificent ring o.
opals and diamonds. Curzon stretches
out his hand to take it, giving hearty
grasp TO the shaking hand that deliver!
the heavy gold cilclet. An instant ateI
his eyes light on the ring: curious sounC
comes from between his teeth. which arr
closed over the pipestem.
Not hit. Curz0n?' almost screams
Mortlake.
mo keep quiet. you fool; you will hur
yourself" The tone is stern, and Mort
lake wriggles back in his old position.
There Is a long silence; then, 'Morty
lad, you never gave me the address, ant
! shall have to get your ring for you
mother"
"Oh. the address is inside the letter. A.
for my ring, trust you to get me out o
this final scrape. as you have done 81
many others in days gone by"
Curzon suddenly asks. II wonder If
know herr
''Oh. yes; of course you do, old chap
She told me your place was quite nea
her fathers and that you had known he
as q child Cecil Vereker-you must re
member her"
For moment there is dead silence
Curzon grips his rife until the veins o
his hand stand out like whipcord an!
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