THE PEASANT HERO.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 200, 23 April 1887, Page 2

THE PEASANT HERO.

It was after Prceohswillor. The French were retreating towards Chalons, having twenty hours' start of the enemy— an offensive movemtnt was to be attempted by returning through Montmedy. The bulk of the retreating army had already crossed the Mouse ; and down the whole length of the river, by specbl order, all the bridges were being' blown up or torn away, to open an abyss- to creite an obstacle. This may have delayed the Germans, indeed ; but it proved tho ruin of those ot our soldiers who were last to retreat, and who came to the broad, deep river only to find their way barrod. Night comes. Silent figures are wandering along the banks ; a group, <all confusion and gesticulation, has gathered before the wreck of a bridge— a single arch alone remains— rising from the middle of the water, beyond reach. As the hours pass the shadows become more numerous, the group more compact ; and soldiers of all grades, all regiments— the waifs of the great lost battle-move hastily hither and thither, calling to each other, questioning each other," touting the depth of the river with long poles, shouting, swearing, thi owing up their aims in despair, shaki ig their fists at fate, and regretting not to have died a brave death iv the sun, in the morning battle. A fire is lighted, and immediately becomes a rallying point The wounded men crawl to the warm light ; a great circle is formed arou< d a heap of blazing briais. Time passe- slowly and dumbly. Suddenly the distant silence is broken by a strong voice calling out, '• liown the river eight leagues h\>m heie, there is a bridge— perhaps it has not been blown up. Let us try it !" The speaker is -a lieutenant of artillery. Standing in the scarlet glow of the fire, he consults by the luiid light an unfolded pocket map, and with his linger nail scratches a mark under a little point— the La Fourcho bridge Other officers gather anxiously about him -a short consultation is held— then there is a cry, "It is true • Lot us go i" All rise to their feet. Then a great moaning ih heard. The woundtd who shiver and bleed, and who fuel the warmth of the good fire graceful, do not wish to walk further, but fear to be left behind. " Who is in command ?" asks a voice. The officers intern 'gate each other with a gkv.ee; the-i all silently lifting their Kepis, salute the one asking the question. He is a tall commander of drigoon , looking .still taller in the black cloak which falls to Ms knees. He is the only j-upeiior officer left. " Thank you, gentlemen !"' he observes. " Well, let all the able bodied horsemen, withou r distinction of rank, givo up their horses to the wounded men. Put out that i fire and let us start !" Setting the example— though he himself had blood upon his face the dragoon unhit hos his horse, lifts up fiom the ditch a little moving moaning chasseur, who has , been shot through the thigh, and places him in the saddle like a baby " Hold on, boy, as well *8 you can." Then taking the bridle of the animal, which he knows to be somewhit skittish, this leader of the route takes his place ar the head of the column of phantoms moving through the night, and marches on, leading the horse, with great t tranquil st ides. Among these soldiers so incongruously uninformed, and strangers to each other, some have formed spontai ecus y into groups, guided by that sense of instinct which suivives dita-ter. Far from their scattered regiments, their dead chiefs, their mis&ing standard bearers, thpy recognise each other by the accent of their lespecln c provinces; and these improvised, particoloured detachments could still, as in the old day-, answer to the military cdls of " Picardie !" " Gascongc !" Campagne !" jor any other great or sonorous mime of a French territ >ry. On t-\e way the troop incre ses. As it passes by men rise up from the brushwood, emerge from the shad iws, and join the ranks Like the companions of the Cid, -when leaving they were but three hundred, aniving they will be three thousand. Eight leagues is no difficult maieh for <-oldiera in good condition,,who can leave their encampment on a cool morning after a refrc-hi' q rest, but for these foundered and bleeding fugitives every step is a pang, and the goal e\ei seems to recede as they advance. Still they manage to proceed in some way or other. Already in tny of them have thrown a* ay their equipments, and they advance with arms pendant, their guns slung behind them, their eyes half closed for want of sleep, stumbling and swaying like drunkards. Tall lancers stagger on, pupportiug themselves with their lances. A drußuner . flings away his drum, which goes rolling down an embankment with a Tolling.'hoilQw sound ; the weariness of death comes v,po.n all. Then a start of anxiety runs fchroug.h the rank- ; a noise has been heard in ,& thicket on the flank of the column — something stealthy and intermittent like an aninßailvgLkJing thr >ngh the woods. The commander ijias stopped and turned hi* head. WihatiB.it? Scouts or spies of the enemy ; they .are being followed tor certain. Several zouaves .approach the edge of the woods wibh Joaded rifles ready for use ; the sound -ceases, then begins again ; but the cause <&f tit .remains undiscovered. A gray light commences to grow behind •the hills ; the ( <!JAy is, breaking. They have fbeen six hc«n?s on ,the march. As the brightness increases and rises higher these 'tired men in flight assume a more and more sinister and pibifu Impact. Night had 'veiled their misery. No.w they gaze at each other with affright. Their face=> are colourless and ghastly, their bodies bent nearly double witjh fatigue, a« if broken. Dust, mud, all the .filth of the night march has mingled with their sweat; red stain verging f,o black, make di'amaticthose torn uniforms o: theirs; most of thorn have bandagec wrapped about their foreheads or.itheir feet ; some who fell down on the march are entirely covered with mud : and all «noan and shiver inc/'he bitter cold of the .early morn,ing. Suddenly the .conunand.er cries *' Halt !" fcut in so grave a tone, so melancholy a voice, that a shudder passes/through ? the column e&, the announcement of a great ■misfortune. From either side of the nsver & blackened rain plunges into tho water. Jt was there the La Fourche bridge used 60 ,be. The Moubc rolls by deep and still All run forward &nd stare at the eight in .stupefied silence j then cries are heard \ from ,oveiy side; and in teir grotesque despair they grimace, gesticulate, roil madly on the ground, those warriors so .well battle-tried. Some fling stones at the river and curse it; others smash their trifles and lie down, others laugh idiotically at this tragical farce that fate has played them. The officers, standing apart, hang fcheir heads in the discouragement of helplessness. A dragoon suddenly strips hiwuself naked Is he mad? No. He advances cautiously into the water. Twenty others foOow his example ; but the swift current carries them away. They sink, wildly waving thpir arms, J\[o matter, all the rest nojv

want to try thoir luck, and to make the opposite bank by swimming— all, even those who do not know how to swim- all, even the wounded who have no strength left. It is a contagious madness; and the water pushes and heaves with the shock of plunging bodies. The captains vainly command, entreat, swear ; no one heeda them. Entangled the one by the other, at least one hundred men are drowned. No one might decide whether it is a frenzy of desire to escape or a mania of deliberate suicide. ! Then, in the midst of that vertigo of death, the under-brush is thrust aside, and a peasant, aged and dishevelled, wild-looking as a savage, strides forth and shouts with all the power of his lungs, "There is a ford ! " They hear him through the din ; and from man to man the news is spread, " There is a ford!'' And like so many children those desperate men, at the mere sound of the words, cheer up. They gather about the peasant. The commander asks, " Where did you come from ?" i "I belong here." "Then it was you who followed us through the woods ?' 11 Yes." " By yourself " 11 By myself " " Where is the ford ?" '' Just a league from here." And the peasant pointed up the road already traversed. " Then we passed by it?" "Yes." " And you know the bridge had boon destroyed ?" "Yes." " Then why did you lot us travel this far for nothing ?" " Because it had to be done." "How?" The old man smiles and explains tliat they are being followo i ; that the Get man cavalry will catch up with them in lesathan three hours unless they cross ; that if their tiacks ceased at the iord the fact would show they had passed there. So it was necessary first for them to go further dovfn ; their teturn now would help to obliterate or confuse the trail ; and the Germans would be delayed a long time in trying to discover at what point the French had crossed. "That is true," «!iid the commander, " guide us to the ford " An hour after the fugitives cross the river, up to their armpits in Mater; the river has risen. The commander himself, last to cross, stands a moment on the bank and extends his hand to the old man. "Thanks !' " Adieu," responds the peasant, slowly trudgi. q away. Far away on the other pido of the Meuse, the column recedes, gi owing smaller and sm iller in the distance, and finally is lost to view in the misty horizon. All is quiet ag.in. The peasant hastens with gre.it strides through the dusty gra<-s along the shore. Suddenly he halts "So soon !'' he mutter* between his teeth Barr ng the whole breadth of the road, two squadrons of Uhlans now advanced at full trot, plashing through the mud, sabres ringing and banners flying. The peasant crouches down in the weeds ; but he has been seen. " Hay, there, man !" He is surrounded, jostled, dragged before the German officer. A new interrogatory commences ; but the old man suddenly be comes idiotic and deaf ; he can understand nothing, knows nothing, has not si en anybody. " We can't lose time in this way," cries a captain, ''he'll talk by and by when wechoose to make him run ahead !" Limping, stumbling, poked from behind with lances, the old man runs before the ! horses. Sometimes he falls— a lance thrust [lifts him up again. "Jump, Fienchy '" lie goes along thus for a awhile, though his breath fails, and his limbd weaken ; he is ready to fall, but he make' a heroic effort, for he is now passing the ford. Two hundred yards further on he falls to the ground exhausted, livid, panting. "Keep the horse* at a walk," orders the commander. " And you walk in front, of us." So they arrive at the La Fourche bridge. The Germans know it had been destroyed ; nevertheless all tracks cease the c. Further down the ruddy bank offers n > traces of footpiints. It seems as though the retreating Freoch had leaped into the river. There is a general stupor. Surely there could not be a ford immpdi itely below a biidge The mounted staff discuss the dilemma furiously, the old man smiles in his beard. ■'We have been deceived by a feint of some kind," ob&erves an officer; "they have doubled on then tracks — let us go back '" Another declares it would now be impossible to follow the trail, since they had ridden over it themselves ; but the old man must certainly know where the ford is. No, the old man does not know • " We'll soon see that!" roars the leader — " get into that water, you brute." The peasant himself is to sound the wa^er for them. The bank is a gentle slope The old man walks into the water resignedly. The water rises to his knees to his waist— to his shoulders : and he still advances. "Comeback!" cries the leader, " Gentlemen, the ford ia not there." At every successive hundred yards the old man was driven into the river. The Germans follow his every move attentively with their eyes ; but he always loses his footing, splashes about, and makes his way back with the greatest difficulty. There is no doubt so far that the water is very deep. Finally, after a repetition of this terrible experiment for the amusement of the Uhlans, the peasant finds hvroself at the entrance of the real ford. Ragged, wet, shivering, more wild-looking tfcban ever, the old man casts a furtive glance at the other bank. The men he wants <to save are scarcely three leagues away ; if Iho passage be discovered they are lost. " Get into that water " "I am u^ed up— l can't do it any t more." "So much tka better where ii« that ford V "I don't know.' 5 "Get into that water." He obeys. As hev/alks he bends hieHwibs, in order to give those watching him & false idea of the depth of the stream. But they ,\have observed the involuntary action >©,f the, muscles, uplifting hie shoulders at each n&ovenient in advance ; and there is a clamour from the bank. Then the peasant ■ murmurs something te himself, crouches lower and lower in the water as he pro- ! ceeds ; and with only his head and ' shoulders above the river, turns to his enemies with a beseeching look. "Goon !" He goes on, and stoops eGill more. The water is now to his chin. Suspecting a irick, they call out to him. <<£ Further yet ! go on !" He prcceeds a little further, and looks back once more The Uihlans laugh and point to the middle of the rriver.v v er. [ With his feet well upon the bottom, ' having only fco stand up in order to live, he gives one last look at the land, the mn, the living world and resolutely- plungee under the waves. The laughing stops. "It can't be there," said the leader;. " but the poor old clown is drowned." Deceived once more, the German cavalry continue their useless search ; while the corpseof the heroic" brute," vanquished only by voluntary death, rolls away with the current, under the sunrise glow.