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The world is sore, and will have no words or pictures that do not have reference to the wholesale graves. Not for a moment can the comrade within me join the rest of the dead, because everything that happens is as a flashlight falling upon him. There's the newspaper each morning to begin with: "Ships sunk," "Attacks repulsed."
After what they judged to be a safe interval, Garry snapped on his flashlight, and threw the beam of light playing about the floor, keeping it on only long enough to get a general impression of the interior, and being careful not to allow its rays to strike upward lest it be seen through a window. What they saw made it apparent that Mr.
They returned to their camp, as they called it, through the dismantled frame of the first shack, and past the sleepers under the big elm. Pee-wee was there, tied in a bowline knot, the official knot of the Raven patrol, sleeping the sleep of the righteous. "If he should hear us, remember we're just turning in," said Roy. "Have you got your flashlight?" Warde asked. "Sure," Roy whispered.
The flashlight went out for the space of perhaps thirty seconds thirty seconds of absolute silence, absolute stillness then the round, white ray of the light again, but glistening now on the nickel knobs and dial of the safe and Jimmie Dale was on his knees before it. A low, scarcely breathed exclamation, that seemed to mingle anxiety and hesitation, escaped him.
Above he could hear the sounds of footsteps, and directly a door, which he judged to be the door into the cellar from above, opened. The head of Duval appeared in the doorway. In his hand he held a flashlight, and Hal could make him out plainly. A second face peered over his shoulder, and Hal recognized it instantly as that of the Apache's chief lieutenant, who had accosted them in the den.
Through the glasses he could see the yellow circle of a flashlight splotched upon dim shelves of books. He saw Weintraub pull a volume out of the case, and the light vanished. Another instant and the man reappeared in the doorway, closed the door behind him with a gesture of careful silence, and was off up the street quietly and swiftly. It was all over in a minute.
A miscellaneous, lumbering collection of junk and odds and ends blocked the entry, leaving no more space than was sufficient for bare passageway. Jimmie Dale moved cautiously and once more the flashlight in his hand showed the way for an instant then darkness again.
"Come ahead," said Roy resolutely, "follow me. Not scared, are you?" He ascended the narrow, metal ladder of the windmill, Warde following. Upon the top was a tiny platform, and here he turned on his flashlight. Crouched in a heap was their friend Blythe. He was in a state of frantic agitation, his whole form trembling like a leaf. His head was bowed; he clutched something in his two hands.
Feeble was the flashlight's shrouded ray, too feeble to outline against the night the small dark body behind the shining brown bag. But that same ray caught and reflected back to the incredulous beholder two splashes of pale fire; glints from a pair of deep-set collie-eyes. As the bag disappeared, the eerie fire-points were gone. The thief all but dropped his flashlight.
Quickly he adjusted the controls and, revolver in hand, boldly leaped out. Dark it was, except for the lurid flashings of distant artillery, while to the west the roar of infantry battle sounded much nearer than when Lafe was high up in the air. "Where am I?" he asked himself, reaching for his pocket flashlight. "Surely this must be No-Man's-Land!"
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