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He's innocent as a babe of any revolutionary principle. I'll give America the greatest Russian story that " "My dear Boylan, believe me, you are wrong. They are deep as hell against us. You need not trouble, for they are happy as children at a birthday party with Poltneck singing and all joined hands " Boylan's knees bent to the seat. "But we will not disturb them for the time.
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.
Peter talked: "Four of the hospital service from Warsaw, and two American correspondents, until to-day with the Russian army " The platoon-officer ordered his men at rest and sent for his Captain. "Prisoners, you may sing," he said. They heard the voices of the gathering in the street as Poltneck sang on, and presently the clatter of a sword in the stairway.
"Go to him," Berthe whispered. Peter obeyed. There was a gladness for him in the touch of the big hand. "Tell us, Boylan," he said. "They've gone." "The Russians?" "Yes." Abel had propped a chair behind Big Belt, who sank into it eagerly. "The Austrians have broken through?" Poltneck said. "I'm not quite sure about that," Boylan answered.
Yellow hair, long on top and cropped tight below the brim of his hat, dropped a lock across his forehead, as he uncovered in the bomb-proof pit. He had been shaven-recently. Boylan reflected that he belonged to the hospital corps. There was a thrill about him not to be missed. "Poltneck he calls himself," Dabnitz whispered.
I am sure the men will answer with zeal." Poltneck seemed to wilt. Boylan was caught with the others thinking it was the mention of the trenches that frightened this hospital soldier. Yet the smile had not changed when Boylan's eye roved to that. It was not more contemptuous, nor less; but something about it was unsteadying. Dabnitz already had used many more words than he expected.
"Yesterday I was an anesthetic," Poltneck wailed. "To-day I am to be a stimulant." Kohlvihr now came forward. "It is time," he said. "General," said Dabnitz, "we have to deal with an unusual peasant, I am afraid." "It would not do for me to encroach upon the work of professionals," the singer explained in dilemma. "You see he is humorous," Dabnitz observed.
Queerly it happened in that instant of waiting, that Peter heard the sound of dropping water beyond the partition drip, drip, drip, upon a tinny surface. Berthe had risen, and followed Fallows and Abel to the door. A moment later Poltneck, the singer, was with them, and the sentry who brought him took his post with the other at the entrance.
"Some time again, dear friend we will work together. All is well with us " Abel seemed to smile; Poltneck gripped his hand, neither venturing to speak, nor did the moment require it, for they had all gone down to the gates of understanding together.... Berthe's hands were in his. Boylan had arisen. "Your escort is ready," the German said.
"Yes, I was to sing to the lines," Poltneck added. "It appears they had been driven back several times, leaving their dead and wounded in such numbers on the field officers and men that there was some hesitation about the expediency of trying it again. Not, however, in the bomb-proof pit.
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