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"Wait a minute I think your matter is on the wire," Dabnitz said, drawing back to the telegraph. "Yes," he nodded, and a moment later handed Big Belt this message: "My compliments to Mr. Boylan and assurances of excellent regard. I have found the favor he asks, however, altogether out of my power to grant." Boylan's jaw dropped; his mouth filled with saliva.
Peter was hit and down hit again and the night slowly settled upon him, bringing the bells. Big Belt talked to himself in that blizzard of fire. "He's hit hit twice but we can't go back to the Russians. They'll finish the lad. Dabnitz promised. The Germans can't rescue us, because the bridges are down. I've got to get him across the river " He knelt and swung the burden across his back.
He was becoming genial; his heart quaking for Peter, as he thought suddenly of the words aimed at Kohlvihr's throat, and of Peter's association at the last with the man in the steward's blouse. ...Dabnitz was unvaryingly courteous. The advance was on again. Boylan went forth to see the repulse.
And Big Belt's eyes roved to Dabnitz, who apparently had not heard Peter's remark. ...And now the tugging from Samarc that meant words! It seemed as if a ghastly stillness prepared for that final rumble; certainly stillness followed it. All eyes turned, even Kohlvihr's, to the effigy. But Peter alone understood. "...Don't let them take off the bandages."
Boylan noted how much taller the singer was than even the tall Russian officer as the two stood together. "The men are very tired, Poltneck," Dabnitz began. "Much has been required of them, and much is still required. We want you to help us." "Yes?" Poltneck had been looking about, interested as a kitten in a strange house. He regarded Kohlvihr and the rest, the trace of a smile around his mouth.
Young Dabnitz, the exquisite of the staff, and a rather brilliant young Russian, was the only other who had kept his razors in order. Perhaps a woman ruled his heart, as Berthe Wyndham ruled Mowbray's. Big Belt had lost his last reservation about his companion.
"What do they preach?" he managed to ask. "Sometimes for men to rise and go home; sometimes for them to cease to kill, and sometimes to shoot down the officers. It isn't all that a man has to do now to lead his men forward," Dabnitz observed. "He must do that, of course, but all the danger isn't in front.
Doubtless he did.... One thing was sure, he, Boylan, must sit tight with his enthusiasm for the Russian force; must play it harder than ever must play it for Peter Mowbray, too. "You fellows certainly have your troubles front and back," he said to Dabnitz. "But I say, Lieutenant, you couldn't ask troops to go forward better you couldn't ask more of the Japanese in the business of charges "
Silently battling with Dabnitz, with Kohlvihr, with king's desire and the animal of men, was this service-thing greater than all, greater than death.... A soldier called and he went toward the voice. Presently Peter was jockeying him into good humor with low talk. All day the battle tortured the southern distance the cannonading nearer, as the hours waned.
Boylan, I have seldom been more hard hit. He was my friend, too. A more charming and accomplished young American would be hard to find, but we who are out for service, a life and death matter for our country, must not let these things enter. Mr. Mowbray is affiliated in various ways with our enemies not the Austrians, but enemies more subtle and insidious." "For God's sake Dabnitz!"
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