Beatrice Baskerville

The Playground of Satan Beatrice Baskerville

Publisher Marketing: "I'll lay out at all the ministers when I get to Petrograd!" bawled the patient, springing up and upsetting the Father. Worse than that, he sent over the bottle of iodine, too, and they were very short of it. "Son of a dog, I'll have them all, crush their skulls like walnuts. The war minister first, for sending us sticks instead of guns ... and then the intendant, for these boots." Here he flung one across the yard, where it stuck on to the well-handle. "I'll murder every dog's son of them--by God, I will, till we clean Russia of thieves and swine." And so he went on, raving at everybody and everything, till he had shouted himself tired. Then he lay down in the shade of the stables and slept uneasily. Ian wanted to send him to bed, which was the only fit place for him. The officer in charge demurred, said he did not think the man was ill enough to risk being found here by the enemy, who could not be kept off more than a few days. He had orders to retreat with as few losses as possible. When Ian finally gained his point, promising to send him on by the first ambulance that passed, the man himself refused to stop behind. He wasn't going to leave his comrades; he didn't trust priests ... this one had burned him with poison and tried to take away his only weapon, so that he would not even be able to crack German skulls when they came up. They watched them march off; the giant, quieter now, staggered between two limping comrades who helped him along, though they had all their work cut out to put one sore foot before the other. When they reached the bend in the road they began to sing, in unison, as Russians do. And Father Constantine's heart went out to those brave, simple souls, and he prayed that they might reach the Nieman in safety.