The Ralston Independent. (Ralston, Okla.), Vol. 10, No. 31, Ed. 1 Friday, December 18, 1914 Page: 2 of 8
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RALSTON, O K L A., INDEPENDENT
The Last Shot
FREDERICK PALMER
(Copyright. 1914. by Charles Scribner** Sou)
SYNOPSIS.
At their home on the frontier between
the Browns and dray* Martn (Jutland and
her mother, entertaining Colonel Wester
•Ing of the drays, nee Captain Langtron.
staff Intelligent* officer of the Hrewni,
Injured by a fall In his aeroplane. Ten
ysara later. Westerllng, nominal vice but
rsal chief of staff, reinforces South La
Tjr, meditates on war. and speculates on
tn comparative ages ot himself and Mar-
is, who la visiting in the Gray capital.
Westerllng calls on Marta. SI* tells him
of her teaching children the follies of war
*nd martial patriotism, begs him to pre
vent war while he 1B chief of staff, and
predicts that If he makes war against the
Browni he will not win. On the march
with the SSd of the Browns Private Stran-
sky, anarchist, decries war und played
out patriotism and Is placed under arrest
"9'onel Lagstron overhearing, begs him
of. I-anstroii calls on Marta at her home
He talks with Feller, the gardener. Marta
Islls I.Mnstmn that she believes Fellor to
be a spy. Lanstron confesses It Is true.
Lanstron shows Marta a telephone which
Feller has concealed In a secret passage
under the tower for use to benefit the
Browns In war emergencies Lanstron de-
h'" ,0Ve 'pr Marta. Westerllng anl
the Gray Dremler plan to use a trivial In
ternatlonal affair to foment warlike pa-
toward the batteries again, though the
music of Vheels and hoofs waa now
close by.
Marta had a glimpse of him as she
turned away. "He Is what he Is be-
cause of the army; a victim of a cult,
a habit," she was thinking. "Had he
been in any other calling his fine qual-
ities might have been of service to the
world and he would have been happy."
A company of Infantry resting
among their stacked rifles changed
the color of the Bquare in the distance
from the gray pavement to the brown
of a mass of uniforms. In the middle
of the main street a major of the bri-
gade staff, with a number of Junior
officers and orderlies, was evidently
waiting on Borne signal. Sentries were
posted at regular intervals along the
curb. The people in the houses and
Bhops from time to time stopped pack-
ing up their effect* long enough to go
to the doors and look up and down
trlotlsm In army and people and strike be-' apprehensively, asking bootless, ner
fors dedanng war Partow. Brown ehl.f VQUB quest,on8
"Are they coming yet?"
of staff, and Lanstron. made vice, dls'<i
'ns trouble, and the Brown defenses. P
tow reveals his plans to Lanstron.
CHAPTER VIII—Continued.
Now Dellarme disposed his men in
line back of the ridge of fresh earth
that they had dug in the night, ready
to rush to their places when he blew
the whistle that hung from his neck.
but he did not allow them a glimpse
over the crest.
"I know that you are curious, but
powerful glasses are watching for you
to show yourselves; and if a battery
turned loose on us you'd understand,"
he explained.
Thus the hours wore on, and the
church clock struck nine and ten.
"Never a movement down there!"
called the sergeant from the crest to
Dellarme. "Maybe this 1b Just their
final bluff before they come to terms
about liodlapoo"—that stretch of Af-
rican Jungle that seemed very far
•way to them all.
"Let us hope so!" said Dellarme
seriously.
•••••• •
Choosing to go to town by the
castle road rather than down the ter-
race to the main pass road, Marta,
starting for the regular Sunday ser-
vice of her school, as she emerged
from the grounds, saw Feller, garden-
shears In hand, a figure of stone
watching the approach of some fleld-
batterles. The question of allowing
him to undertake his part bb a spy
had drifted into the background of her
mind under the distressing and ever-
present pressure of the crisis. He was I to le7 them "stay There.'"'
"Do you think they will come?"
"Are you sure it's going to be war?"
"Will they shell the town?"
"There'll be time enough for you
to get away!" shouted the major. "All
we know is what is written in our in-
structions, and we shall act on them
when the thing starts. Then we are
In command. Meanwhile, get ready!"
Then the major became aware of a
young woman who was going in the
wrong direction. Her cheeks were
flushed from her rapid walk, her lips
were parted, showing firm, white
teeth, and her black eyes were re-
garding him in a blaze of satire or
amusement; an emotion, whatever It
was, that thoroughly centered his at-
tention.
"Mademoiselle, 1 am very sorry, but
unless you live In this direction," he
said very politely, "you may not go any
farther. Until we have other orders
or they attack every one Is supposed
to remain In his house or his place of
business."
"This is my place of business!"
Marta answered, for she was already
opposite a small, disused chapel which
was her schoolroom, where a half
dozen of the faithful children were
gathered around the masculine Impor-
tance of Jacky Wcrther, one of the
older boya.
"Then you are Miss Galland!" said
the major, enlightened. His smile had
an appreciation of the irony of her oc-
cupation at that moment. "Your chil-
dren are very loyal. They would not
tell me where they lived, so we had
to remain until there was war. She
was almost past him before he real-
ized her presence, which he acknowl-
edged by a startled movement and a
step forward as he took off his hat.
She paused. His eyes were glowing
like coals under a blower as he looked
at her and again at the batteries,
"Those who have homes," she said,
Identifying each one of the faithful
with a glance, "have so many broth-
ers and sisters that they will hardly
be missed from the flock. Others
have no homes—at least not much of a
one"—here her temper rose again—
taxes being so high in order that you
seeming to include her with the gi-ns may organize murder and the destruc
n(jthe -Pell of his fervid abstraction. lion of property
"Frontier closed last night to pre- "Now really
night 10 pre-
vent intelligence about our prepara-
tions leaking out—Lanny'b plau all
alive—the guns coming," he said, his
shoulders stiffening, his chin drawing
In, his features resolute and beaming
with the ardor of youth In action—
"troops moving here and there to their
places—engineers preparing the de-
fenses—automatics at critical points
with the Infantry—field-wires laid—
field telephones set up—the wlreleBs
spitting—the caissons full—plants and
dirigibles ready—search lights in po-
sition—"
There the torrent of his broken sen-
tences was checked. A shadow passed
In front of him. He came out of his
trance of Imageries of activities, so
vividly clear to his military mind, to
realize that Marta was abruptly leav-
ing.
"Miss Galland!" he called urgently.
"Firing may commence at any min-
ute. You muat not go Into town!"
"But I must!" ahe declared, speak-
ing over her shoulder while Bhe
passed. It was clear that no warning
would prevail against her determined
mood.
"Then I shall go with you!" he said,
starting toward her with a light step.
"It 1b not necessary, thank you!"
she answered, mors coldly than she
had ever epoken to him. This had a
magically quick effect on his atti-
tude.
"1 beg your pardon! 1 forgot!" be
explained in his old man's voice, his
Now really, Miss Galland," he be-
gan solicitously, "I have been assigned
to move the civil population in case of
attack. Your children ought—"
"After school! You have your duty
this morning and I have mine!" Marta
interrupted pleasantly, and turned
toward the chapel.
"They are putting sharpshooters In
the church tower to set the aero-
planes, and there are lots of the little
guns that flre bullets so fast you can't
count 'em—and little spring wagons
with dynamite to blow things up—
and—" Jacky Werther ran on in a
Berles of vocal explosions as Marta
opened the door to let the children
go In.
"Yet you came!" said Marta with a
hand caressingly on his shoulder.
"It lookB pretty bad for peace, but
we came," answered Jacky, round-
eyed. In loyalty. "We'd come right
through bullets 'cause we said we
would If we wasn't sick, and we wasn't
{ sick."
"My coven disciples—seven!" e
claimed Marta as she counted them.
"And you need not sit on the regular
seats, but around me on the platform.
It will be more Intimate."
"That's grand!" came In chorus.
They did not bother about chalre. but
seated themselves on the floor around
Marta's skirts.
The church clock boomed out its de-
liberate strokes through ten. the hour
set for the lesson, and all counted
them—one—two—three. Marta was
head sinking, his shoulders dro-ping thinking what a dismal little effort
In the humility of a servant who rec- theirs was. and yet she was very hap-
ognites that he has been properly re- py, tremblingly happy In her dlstrac-
buked for presumption. "Not a gun
ner any more—I'm a spy!" hs thought,
«s he shuffled off without looking
tlon and excitement, that they had not
waited for her at the door of the
chapel In vain.
Sho announced that tfiere would be
no talk this morning; they would only
say their oath. Repeating in concert
the pledge to the boys and girls of
other lands, the childish voices pecu-
liarly sweet and harmonious in con-
trast to the raucous and uneven
sounds of foreboding from the street,
they came In due course to the words
of the concession that the oath made
to militancy:
"If an enemy tries to take my
land—"
"Children—I—" Marta interrupted
! with a sense of wonder and shock.
They paused and looked at her ques-
tionlngly. "I had almost forgotten
that part!" she breathed confusedly.
"That's the part that makes all
we're doing against the Grays right!"
put in Jacky Werther promptly.
"As I wrote It for you! I Bhall ap-
peal to his sense of Justice and reason
with him—'"
Jaws dropped and eyes Bulged, for
above the soundB of the street rose
from the distance the unmistakable
crackling of rifle flre which, as they
listened, spread and increased in vol-
ume.
"Go on—on to the end of the oath!
It will take only a moment," said
Marta resolutely. "It isn't much, but
It's the best we can do!"
CHAPTER IX.
The Baptism of Flre.
All the landscape in front of Fra-
casse's company seemed to have been
deserted; no moving figures were any-
where in eight; no sign of the enemy's
infantry.
Faintly the town clock was heard
striking the hour. From eight to nine
and nine to ten Fracasse's men wait-
ed; waited until the machine was
ready and Westerllng should throw in
the clutch; waited until the troops
were in place for the first move before
he hurled his battalions forward.
They did not know how the captain at
their back received his orders; they
only heard the note of the whistle,
with a command familiar to a trained
Instinct on the edge of anticipation. It
released a spring in their nerve-cen-
ters. They responded ae the wheels
respond when the throttle 1s opened.
Jumping to their feet they broke into
a run, bodies1 bent, heads down, like
the peppered silhouette that faced
Westerllng's desk. What they Lad
done repeatedly In drills and maneu-
vers they were now doing In war, me-
chanically as marionettes.
"Come on! The bullet la not made
that can get me! Come on!" cried the
giant Eugene Aronson.
Nearly all felt the exhilaration of
movement in company. Then came
the sound that generations had drilled
for without hearing; the rfbund that
summons the imagination of man in
the thought of bow he will feel and
act when he hears it; the sound that
Is everywhere like the song snatches
of bees driven whizziug through the
air.
"That's it! We're under fire! We're
under fire!" flashed a crooked light-
ning recognition of the Bound through
every brain.
There was no sign of the enemy;
no telling where the bullets came
from.
Whish-whish! Th-ipp-whing! The
refrain gripped Peterkin's Imagination
with an unseen hand. He seemed to
be suffocating. He wanted to throw
himself down and hold his hands in
front of bis head. While Pilzer and
Aronson were not thinking, only run-
ning, Peterkin was thinking with the
rapidity of a man falling from a high
building. He was certain only that
he was bound to strike ground.
"An inch is as good as a mile!" He
recollected the captain's teaching.
"Only one of a thousand bullets fired
In war ever kills a man"—but he was
certain that he had heard a million
already. He looked around to find
that he was still keeping up with Eu-
gene and felt the thrill of the bravery
of fellowship at sight of the giant's
fluehed, confident face reveling in the
spirit of a charge. And then. Just
then, Eugene convulsively threw up
his arms, dropped his rifle, and
whirled on his heel. Ab he went down
his hand $Jutched at his left breast
and came away red and dripping.
After one wild backward glance, Pe-
terkin plunged ahead.
"Eugene!" Hugo Mallln had stopped
and bent over Eugene In the supreme
instinct of that terrible second, sup-
porting his comrade's head.
"The bullet is not—made—" Eugene
whispered, the ruling passion strong
to the last. A flicker of the eyelids, a
gurgle In the throat, and he was dead.
"Here, you are not going to get out
this way!" Fracasse shouted, In the
Irritation of haste, slapping Hugo with
his sword. "Go on! That'a hospital-
corps work."
Hugo had a glimpse of the captain's
rigid features and a last one of Eu-
gene's, white and ,81111 and yet as If
he were about to speak his favorite
boast; then he hurried on, his side
glance showing other proserate forms.
One form a few yards away half rose
to call "Hospital!" and fell back,
struck mortally by a second bullet
"That's what you get If you forget
Instructions," said Fracasse with no
senss of brutality, only professional
exasperation. Keep down, you wound-
ed men!'' be Bhouted at the top of his
voice.
The colonel of the 128th had not
looked for immediate resistance. He
had told Fracasse's men to occupy the
knoll expeditiously. But by the com-
mon impulse of military training, no
lese than in answer to the whlBtle's
call, In face of the withering fire they
dropped to' earth at the base of &
knoll, where Hugo threw himself
down at full length in his place in line
next to Peterkin.
"Fire polntblank at the crest in
front of you! I bsw a couple of men
standing up there!" called Fracasse.
"Fire fast! That's the way to keep
down their flre—polntblank, I tell you!
You're firing into the sky! I want to
Bee more dust kicked up. Flre fast!
We'll have them out of there soon!
They're only an outpost."
Hugo was firing vaguely, like a man
In a dream. Pilzer waa shooting to
kill. Ills eye had the steely gleam
of his rifle Bight and the liver patch
on his cheek was a deeper hue as he
sought to avenge Eugene's death.
Drowned by the racket of their own
flre, not even Peterkin was hearing
the whish-whlsh of the bullets from
Dellarme's company now. He did not
know that the blacksmith's son, who
wae the fourth man from him, lay with
his chin on his rifle stock and a tiny
trickle of blood from a hole In his
forehead running down the bridge of
his nose.
• ••••••
Young Dellarme, new to his cap-
tain's rank, watching the plain
through his glasses, Baw the move-
ment of mounted officers to the rear
of the 128th as a reason for summon-
ing his men.
"Creep up! Don't show yourselves!
Creep up — carefully—carefully!" he
kept repeating as they crawled for-
ward on their stomachs. "And no one
is to fire until the command comes."
Hugging the cover of the ridge of
fresh earth which they had thrown up
the previous night, they watched the
white posts. Stransky, who had been
rumlnatlvely silent all the morning,
was in his place, but he was not look-
ing at the enemy. Cautiously, to avoid
a reprimand, he raised his head to en-
able him to glance along the line. All
the faces seemed drawn and claylsh.
"They don't want to fight! They're
Just here because they're ordered here
and haven't the character to defy au-
thority," he thought. "The leaven is
working! My pme Is coming!"
For Dellarme the minute had come
when all his training was to be put to
a test. The figures on the other side of
the white posts were sising. He was to
prove by the way he directed a com-
pany of infantry In action whether or
not he was worthy of his captain's
rank. He smiled cheerily. In order
that he might watch how each man
used his rifle, he drew back of the line,
his slim body erect as he rested on
one knee, his head level with the
other heads while he fingered his
whistle. The Instant that Eugene
Aronson sprang over the white post
a blast from the whistle began the
war.
It was a signal, too, for Stransky
to play the part he had planned; to
make the speech of his life. His six
feet of stature shot to Its feet with
a Jack-in-the-box abruptness, under
the impulse of a mighty and reckless
passion.
"Men. stop firing!" he howled thun-
derously. "Stop firing on your broth-
ers! Like you, they are only the
pawns of the ruling class, who keep
us all pawns In order that they may
have champagne and caviare. Com-
rades, I'll lead you! Comrades, we'll
take a white flag and go down to meet
our comrades and we'll find that they
think as we do! I'll lead you!"
The appeal was drowned In the
cracking of the rifles working as regu-
larly as puncbing-machlnes in a fac-
tory. Every soldier was seeing only
his sight and the running figures un-
der it. Mechanically and automatical-
ly, trnining had been projected Into
action, anticipation into realization. A
spectator might as well have called to
a man In a hundred-yard dash to stop
running, to an oarsman In a race to
jump out of his shell.
The company sergeant sprang for
Stransky with an oath. Lut Stransky
was In no mood to submit. He felled
the sergeant with a blow and, reck-
lessly defiant, stared at Dellarme,
while the men, steadily firing, were
still oblivious of the scene. The ser-
geant. stunned, rose to his knees and
reached for his revolver. Dellarme,
bent over to keep his head below the
crest, had already drawn his as he
hastened toward them.
"Will you get down? Will you take
your place with your rifle?" demanded
Dellarme.
Stransky laughed thunderously In
scorn. He was handsome, titanic, and
barbaric, with his huge shoulders
stretching his blouse, which fell loose-
ly around his narrow hips, while the
(1st that had felled the sergeant was
still clenched.
"No!" said Stransky. "You won't
kill much If you kill me and you'd kill
less if you shot yourselfl God Al-
mighty! Do you think I'm afraid? Ms
-afraid?"
His ayes la a bloodshot glare, as
uncompromising as those of a bull In
an arena watching the next move of
the red cape of the matador, regarded
Dellarme. who hesitated in admiration
of the picture of human force before
him. But the old sergeant, smarting
under the insult of the blow, his sand
stone features mottled with red
patches, had no compunctious of this
order. He was ready to act as execu-
tioner.
"If you don't want to shoot, I can!
An example—the law! There's no
other way of dealing with him! Glva
the word!" he said to Dellarme.
Stransky laughed, now in strident
cynicism. Dellarme still hesitated,
recollecting Lanstron's remark. Ha
pictured Stransky In a last stand In a
redoubt, and every soldier was aa
precious to him as a piece of gold to
a miser.
"One ought to be enough to kill me
If you're going to do It to slow music,"
said Stransky. "You might as well
kill me aB the poor fools that your
poor fools are trying to—"
Another breath finished the speech;
a breath released from a b&ll that
seemed to have come Btralght from
hell. The fire control officer of a regi-
ment of Gray artillery on the plain,
scanning the landscape for the origin
of the rifle-fire which was leaving
many fallen In the wake of the charge
of the Gray Infantry, had seen a figure
on the knoll. "How kind! Thank
you!" hiB thought spoke faster than
words. No need of rangefindlng!
The range to every possible battery
or Infantry position around La Tir
was already marked on his map. He
passed the word to his guns.
The burst of their first shrapnel-
shell blinded all three actors In the
scene on the crest of the knoll with
Its ear-splitting crack and the force of
its concussion threw Stransky down
beBide the sergeant. Dellarme, as his
vision cleared, had Just time to see
Stransky Jerk his hand up to his tem-
ple, where there was a red spot, be-
fore another shell burst, a little to
the rear. This was harmless, as a
shrapnel's shower of fragments and
bullets carry forward from the point
of explosion. But the next burst in
front of the line. The doctor's period
of idleness was over. One man's rifle
shot up as his spine was broken by a
Jagged piece of shrapnel Jacket. Now
there were too many shells to watch
them individually.
"It's all right—all right, men!" Del-
larme called again, assuming his
cheery smile. "It takes a lot of shrap-
nel to kill anybody. Our batteries will
6oon answer!"
His voice was unheard, yet its spir-
it was felt. The men knew through
their training" that There was no use
of dodging and that their best protec-
tion was an accurate flre of their own.
Stransky had half risen, a new kind
of savagery dawning on his features
as he regained his wits. With In-
verted eyes he regarded the red ends
of his fingers, held In line with the
bridge of his nose. He felt of the
wound again, now that he was less
dizzy. It was only a scratch and he
had been knocked down like a beef in
an- abattoir by an unseen enemy, on
whom he could not lay hands! Deaf-
eningly, the shrapnel Jackets con-
tinued to crack with "ukung-s-sh—
ukung-s-sh" as the swift breath of the
shrapnel missies spread. The guns
of one battery of that Gray regiment
of artillery, each firing six 14-pound
shells a minute methodically, every
shell loaded with nearly two hundred
projectiles, were giving their undivid-
ed attention to the knoll.
How long cou'd his company endure
this? Dellarme might well ask. He
knew that he would not be expected
to withdraw yet. With a sense of re-
lief he saw Fracasse's men drop for
cover at the base of the knoll and
then, expectation fulfilled, he realized
that rifle-fire now reinforced the ene-
my's shell fire. His duty was to re-
main while he could hold his men.
and a feeling toward them such as ho
had never felt before, which was love,
sprang full-fledged Into his heart as he
saw how steadily they kept up their
fusillade.
Stransky, eager In response to a
new passion, sprang forward Into
place and picked up his rifle.
"If you will not have It my way.
take It yours!" said the best shot In
the company, as he began firing with
resolute coolness.
"They have a lot of men down," said
Dellarme, his glasses showing the
many prostrate figures on the wheat
stubble. "Steady! steady! We have
plenty of batteries back In the hills.
One will be In action soon."
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Zest In Uncertainty.
It would be fine If the Ideas could
be manufactured and stored away by
conscious effort. But after all that
might tako away some of the adven-
ture of living. Aa It is you never know
when you go to the mental cupboard
whether you are going to find It full of
good things or empty. At least there
Is the uncertainty to give zest to ex-
istence.
One Viewpoint.
Hemmandhaw—Kangaroo farming Is
a very Important Industry in Australia
Mrs. Hemmandhaw-Fancy hoeing
a kangaroo.- loungstown Telegram.
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The Ralston Independent. (Ralston, Okla.), Vol. 10, No. 31, Ed. 1 Friday, December 18, 1914, newspaper, December 18, 1914; Ralston, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc163047/m1/2/: accessed May 4, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.