The men broke ranks and
sought their blankets within the shed, tired from their lonely vigil
upon sentry duty.
Barney loitered until the last. All the others had entered. He
dared not, for he knew that any moment the sentry upon the post from
which he had been taken would appear upon the scene, after
discovering another of his comrades. He was certain to inquire of
the sergeant. They would be puzzled, of course, and, being soldiers,
they would be suspicious. There would be an investigation, which
would start in the barracks of the guard. That neighborhood would at
once become a most unhealthy spot for Barney Custer, of Beatrice,
Nebraska.
When the last of the soldiers had entered the shed Barney glanced
quickly about. No one appeared to notice him. He walked directly
past the doorway to the end of the building. Around this he found a
yard, deeply shadowed. He entered it, crossed it, and passed out
into an alley beyond. At the first cross-street his way was blocked
by the sight of another sentry--the world seemed composed entirely
of Austrian sentries. Barney wondered if the entire Austrian army
was kept perpetually upon sentry duty; he had scarce been able to
turn without bumping into one.
He turned back into the alley and at last found a crooked passageway
between buildings that he hoped might lead him to a spot where there
was no sentry, and from which he could find his way out of the
village toward the south.
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