The Hope pioneer. [volume] (Hope, N.D.) 1882-1964, 1918-08-29
CHAPTER xxlv-cont'nued.
CAN TURN PURE WHITE.

@
CHAPTER xxIv-con<inued.
-22-
On his left, in the darkness, he could
make out the shadowy forms of trees;
crawling on his hands and knees, stop
ping and crouching with fear at each
shellburst, he finally reached an old
orchard and covered at the base of a
%shot-scarred apple tree.
He remained there all night, listen
ing to the sound Of the guns and ever
praying, praying that his useless life
would be spared.
As dawn began to break, he could
discern little dark objects protruding
from the ground all about him. Curl
osity mastered his fear and he crawled
to one of the objects, and there, in the
uncertain light, he read on a little
wooden cross:
"Pte. Fl. s. Wheaton, No. 1870, LIST
London Regt. r. +. Killed in action.
April 25, 1915. II. I. p" crest in
Peace.
When it dawned on him that he had
been hiding all plight in q cemetery
his reason seemed to leave him, and a
mad desire to be free from it all made
Tim rush madly away, falling over lit
tie wooden crosses, smashing some and
trampling others under his feet. &.
In his flight he came to an old
French dugout, half caved in and par
TALLY filled with Shiny and filthy wa
ter.
Like a fox being chased by the
hounds, he ducked into this hole, and
threw himself on a pile Of old empty
sandbags, wet and widowed. Then
Inconsistencies.
On the next day, he came to; far
distant voices sounded. in his ears.
Opening his eyes, in the ENTRANCE of
the dugout he saw a corporal and two
men with fixed %bayonets.
The corporal was addressing him:
"Get up, you whitelivered blighter!
Curse you and the day you ever joined
D company, spelling their fine rec
ord! It'll be you up against the wall,
and a good job too. Get hold Of him,
men, and If he makes a break, give him
the bayonet, and send it home, the cow
ardly sneak. Come on, you,' move,
we've been looking for you long
enough"
Lloyd, trembling and weakened by
his long fast, tottered out, assisted by
q soldier on each side Of him.
They took him before the captain,
but could get nothing out of him but:
"For Gods sake, sir, don't have me
shot, don't have me shot!"
The captain, utterly disguised with
him, sent him under escort to division
headquarters for trial by court-mar-
tial, charged with desertion under fire.
They shoot deserters in. France.
During his trial, Lloyd sat as one
dazed, and could put nothing forward
In his defense, only an occasional
"Don't have me sh0t-l"
His sentence was passed: ITO be
shot at 3 :38 O'Clock. In the morning of
May 10, 1916" This meant that he
had only one more day to live.
He did not realize the awfulness of
his sentence; his brain seemed para
lyzed. He knew nothing of his trip,
under guard, in a motor lorry to the
sandbagged guardroom in the village,
where he was dumped IN the floor and
left, while a sentry with a fixed bayo-
netapaced up and down in front OF the
entrance.
Bully beef, water and biscuits were
left beside him for his supper.
The sentry, seeing that he ate moth
Ing, came inside and shook him by the
shoulder, saying in a kind voice:
"Cheero. laddie, better eat some
thing. You'll feel better. Don't give
up hope. You'll be pardoned before
morning. I know the way they run
these things. They're only trying to
scare you, that's all. Come now, that's
a good lad, eat something. It'll make
the world look different to you"
The good-hearted sentry knew he
was lying about the pardon. He knew
nothing short of q miracle could save
the poor lad.
Lloyd listened eagerly to his sentry's
words, and believed them. A look OF
hope came into his eyes, and he raven
ously ate the meal beside him.
In about an hours time. the chap
lain came to see him, but Lloyd would
have non Of him. He wanted no par
son; he was to be %pardoned.
The artillery behind the lines sud
esoly opened up with everything they