The Marne is not a wide river, and a few powerful pulls at the oars sent
them near to the landing. But at that moment a shell whistled through
the air, plunged into the water and exploded practically beneath the
boat.
John was hurled upward in a gush of foam and water, and then, when he
dropped back, the Marne received him in its bosom.
CHAPTER VIII
THE SPORT OF KINGS
John Scott, who was suffering from his second immersion in a French
river, came up with mouth, eyes and nose full of water. The stream
around him was crowded with men swimming or with those who had reached
water shallow enough to permit of wading. As well as he could see, the
shell had done no damage besides giving them a huge bath, of which every
one stood in much need.
But he had a keen and active mind and it never worked quicker than it
did now. He had thought his chance for escape might come in the
confusion of a hurried crossing, and here it was. He dived and swam down
the stream toward the willows that lined the bank. When he could hold
his breath no longer he came up in one of the thickest clumps. The water
reached to his waist there, and standing on the bottom in all the
density of willows and bushes he was hidden thoroughly from all except
watchful searchers. And who would miss him at such a time, and who, if
missing, would take the trouble to look for him while the French cannon
were thundering upon them and a perilous crossing was to be made?
It was all so ridiculously easy.
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