38 
LAND & WATER 
March 29, 1917 
B)i Uudtei Harin Drown exctusicelu lor 
"One warrior's soul paying its debt a hundredfold to another warrior's soul 
Land i- Water 
» 
{Continued from page 36.) 
mummy as to the face, a martial scarecrow, a grotesque horror 
of rags and dirt with awful living eyes, full of vitality, full 
of unquenchable fire in a body of horrible affliction, a skeleton 
at the feast of glory. And suddenly those shinmg, inextinguish- 
able eyes of his became fixed upon Tomissov. He poor 
fellow, fascinated, returned that ghastly stare of a suffering 
soul in that mere husk of a man. The prisoner croaked at 
him in French. 
y ' 1 recognise you now. You are her Russian youngster. 
You were very grateful. I call on you to pay the debt. Pay 
it, I say, with one liberating shot. You promised. You are a 
man of honour. I have not even a broken sabre. All my 
being recoils from my own degradation. You know me.' 
" Tomassov said nothing. 
" ' Haven't you got the soul of a warrior,' the Frenchman 
asked in an angry whisper but with something of a mocking 
intention in it. 
" ' I don't know,' said poor Tomassov. 
" What a look of contempt that tragic scarecrow gave him 
o U of his unquenchable eyes ! It was awful to discover 
so much vigour \ et in that body that seemed to hve only by 
the force of infuriated and impotent despair. Suddenly he 
gave a gasp and fell forward writhing in the agony of cramp 
in his overtaxed limbs ; a not unusual effect of the heat of a 
camp fire. It looked Uke the app c ition of a horrible torture. 
But the Frenchman fought against the pain at first. He only 
moaned low while we bent over him so as to prevent him 
rollmg into the fire, and muttered feverishly at intervals : 
' Ttiez moi, Inez moi ' . . . Then vanquished by the 
pain he screamed aloud time after time, each cry bursting 
out through his compressed lips. 
" The adjutant woke up on the other side of the fire and 
started swearing awfully at the ' beastly row ' that Frenchman 
was making. 
"'What's this? More of your infernal humanity, 
Tomassov ? he yelled at us. ' Why don't you have him thrown 
out on the snow, to the devil out of this beyond earshot. 
" As we paid not the slightest attention to his angry shouts 
he got up, cursing shockingly, and went from us to another 
fire. Presently the Frenchman became easier. We propped 
liim up against the log and sat silent on each side of him till 
the cavalry trumpets started their calls at the first break of 
day. The big flame kept up all through the night paled on t h c 
'livid light of the snows, while the frozen air all round rang with 
the brazen notes of the trumpets. The Frenchman's eyes, 
fixed in a glassy stare that for a moment made us hope that 
he had died quietly sitting there between us two, stirred 
slowly to the right and left, looking at eac'.i of our faces in turn. 
We exchanged glances of dismay. Then his vcice, unex- 
pected in its renewed strength and ghastly self-possessicn. 
made us shudder inwardly. 
" ' Bonjour, Messieurs.' 
" His head drooped on his chest. Tomassov addressed 
me in Russian. 
" ' It is he, the man himself ' . . . I nodded and 
Tomassov went on in a tone of an uish ! ' Yes he ! Brilliant, 
accomplished, envied by men, loved by that woman — this 
horror — this miserable thing that cannot die. Look at his 
eyes. It's terrible.' 
" I did not look. But I understood what Tomassov meant. 
We could do nothing for him. The desolation of this avenging 
winter of fate held both the fugitives and the pursuers in its 
iron grip. Compassion was but a vain word before that 
unrelenting destiny. I tried to say something about the 
convoy of prisoners being no doubt collected in the village — 
but I faltered at the mute glance Tomassov gave me. We 
knew what these convoys were like ; appalUng companies of 
hopeless wretches driven on by the butts of Cossacks' lances, 
back through the frozen inferno but with their fac2s away 
from their home. 
" Our two squadrons had been formed along the edge of 
the wood. The desolate minutes were pas.sing. The French- 
man suddenly struggled to his feet. We helped him almost 
without knowing what we were doing. 
Come,' he said in measured tones. ' This is the 
moment.' He paused for a whole minute, then with the same 
distinctness went on. ' On my word of honour all faith is 
dead in me.' 
" His voice lost suddenly its self-possession, and after 
waiting a little he added in a murmiu: — ' and even my courage. 
Yes. Upon my honour ! ' 
" Another long pause ensued. With an effort he whispered 
(Concluded on tin opposite patje). 
