Kitabı oku: «The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts», sayfa 15

CHAPTER XLIII
THE BROKEN BICYCLE

That morning the brother scouts enjoyed an experience which gave them keener pleasure than perhaps anything else which happened during their journey. It began about eleven o'clock, when they were following a country road upon which hamlets, and even houses, were very far apart.

They were approaching the foot of a very steep hill, when the Raven's eyes, always on the watch, as a scout's eyes should be, caught a gleam of something glittering in a great bed of weeds beside the road. He stopped, parted the weeds with his staff, and disclosed a broken bicycle, diamond-framed, lying on its side. It was the bright nickelled handle-bar which had caught his eye.

'Somebody's had a smash, and left the broken machine here,' said Dick; and Chippy nodded.

Now, Dick's statement of the case would have satisfied most people, and they would have gone on their way. There was the broken bicycle, and the rider had left it. Perhaps he meant to fetch his disabled machine later. In any case an untrained person would have seen nothing that he could possibly do, and would have dismissed the matter from his mind. But that would not do for the Wolf and the Raven. It was their duty as scouts to got to the bottom of the affair, if possible, on the chance that help was needed somehow or somewhere, and they began a careful examination of the machine and its surroundings.

The cause of the accident suggested itself at once – a broken brake and a runaway down the hill, with a smash at the foot. There were two brakes on the machine. One was jammed; one had a broken wire. Whether the jammed brake had been so or not before the accident they could not tell. As far as they could judge, the broken wire had left the rider helpless on the steep slope. They looked up the hill. The track came down fairly straight, until it was within a few yards of the bed of weeds. Then it swerved sharply aside. A yard from the angle of the swerve lay a large stone. Deduction: The front wheel had struck the stone, driven it a yard to the left, and itself had swerved violently to the right, and dashed on to a heap of stones hidden under the growth of weeds. The shock had been tremendous. How discovered? The frame was badly twisted and broken, and the machine was an excellent one; the transfer bore the name of a first-rate maker.

Now, what had happened to the rider? He had been pitched flying from his machine, and Dick found where he had fallen. Three yards from the spot where the broken bicycle lay, the weeds were flattened, as if a heavy body had dropped there. Then Dick gave a long, low whistle.

'By Jove, Chippy! look here!' he cried, and pointed with his staff. The Raven hastened up, and whistled too, when he saw a patch of blood lying around a sharp-edged stone. The blood was quite fresh, and that proved the accident was recent.

'Poor chap dropped with his head on the stone, and cut himself pretty badly,' said Dick; and Chippy nodded.

'It ain't a big machine,' he remarked.

'It's just about the size of mine,' returned Dick. 'It may be a fellow about our age, Chippy, by the look of the bike.'

Now arose the vital question: Had the unlucky rider received help or not? How had he left the place – on his own feet, or with assistance? The scouts settled that in a minute's close search. They had taken care not to potter about and confuse the spoor with their own markings. They soon came to the conclusion that such marks as they could find were made by the rider when he had dragged himself to his feet.

'Has anyone passed here since the accident?' said Dick.

'Soon find that out,' cried Chippy; and the two scouts turned their trained eyes on the dusty road, which gave up instantly the knowledge its surface held.

Two tracks only were recent. One was made by a pair of wheels and the feet of a horse; the other by a pair of large, hobnailed shoes. The wheel-tracks were narrow, and the horse had trotted till it was some distance up the hill, then fallen into a walk. The boys decided that a gig and a labourer had passed along, both going the same way.

Ten yards up the hill the bicycle track crossed a track of the gig. Thirty yards up the hill the ribbed Dunlops had wiped out the side of a hobnailed impression. Very good. The bike had come down the hill after these had passed; it had been the last thing on the road. This greatly strengthened the idea which the scouts had already formed, that no help had been available. Now they began to search for the rider's line of movement from the place.

Dick found it: a footprint on a dusty patch in the grassy wayside track. He called to his companion. When Chippy had seen it, Dick set his own foot on the track; his shoe exactly covered it.

Now the scouts gathered their impressions together, and reconstructed in theory the whole affair. A boy of about their own age had ridden over the brow of the slope, with only one brake available on his machine. Near the top of the hill the brake had broken; they regarded this as proved by the tremendous way which the machine had got on it. The rider was skilful, for his track was true, and he would have escaped had it not been for the large stone in the track, and this, it was very likely, his great speed had prevented him from seeing until too late; another point, by the way, to prove the early giving-out of the brake. He had swerved violently aside, and struck the heap of stones by the bank before he could regain control of his machine, and the smash followed. After the smash the rider had pulled himself together, and gone alone from the place; his trail ran up the hill, and it looked as if he were making for home; it was certain that he was pretty badly hurt.

'Now, Chippy,' said Dick, 'the point for us is this: Has he got safely home or not?'

'Foller 'im up,' said the Raven briefly; 'scout's job to mek' sure.'

Dick nodded, and without another word they struck the trail, and worked their way up the steep slope.

'Blood,' said Chippy, and pointed out two stains on the grass.

'Blood it is,' replied his companion, and they pressed forward.

Near the top of the slope, where, just at the crown, the hill was at its steepest, the boys stopped in amazement. Here was a trail with a vengeance! The roadside grass gave way to a sandy patch twenty yards long, and the patch was scored with long, dragging marks. Then Dick-pointed with his staff. There in the soft soil was the impression of a hand, and dark spots lay along the trail.

'By Jove, Chippy! the poor chap!' cried the Wolf. 'The hill proved too steep for his weakness. Look, he's finished it on his hands and knees.'

Dick bent, and laid his own hand over the clear impression on the sand.

'Same size again,' he cried; 'he's just about our age, Chippy.'

'It's the blood he's lost as fetched 'im down,' said the Raven, his face very grave; 'but he's a good plucked un. He's fightin' his way somewheer.'

At the top of the hill came a level stretch, and here the wounded rider had gathered himself together again and stumbled forward. Within a very short distance the road forked, and at the fork the trail was lost. The two roads were hard and stony, and showed no trace of footmarks, and the blood had ceased to fall.

'A road apiece,' said Chippy.

'Yes,' said Dick. 'You take right; I'll take left. First one to find anything whistles.'

CHAPTER XLIV
THE BROTHER SCOUT

They parted instantly, and each took his track, his eyes glued to the ground. They could work a great distance apart and yet keep in touch, for their patrol whistles were very powerful, and the day was still.

Chippy went a good three-quarters of a mile, and yet had found nothing. He feared he was not on the right track, for at last he came to a soft patch where spoor ought to have been. There was one new track: the man with the hobnailed boots had turned this way, but there was no other sign of recent passage. Chippy was standing in hesitation, when faint and far away the shrill call of a patrol whistle came to his ears. At once he raised his own whistle to his lips and blew an answering call, then turned and darted like a hare back along the road. He gained the fork and raced along the path which Dick had followed. It was clear that the Wolf had found the track or the injured boy, but the Raven did not trouble about searching for signs of the rider. He knew that his comrade would leave him full directions which way to travel, and his only aim now was to join Dick. So he tore along the road, his eyes fixed on the centre of the track.

Suddenly he pulled up dead. There was a broad arrow marked heavily in the road with the point of Dick's staff. The head pointed to a side-track, and Chippy wheeled and flew off in the new direction. Again he was pulled up. A second broad arrow, square across the way. This time the head pointed to a wicket-gate painted white. Even as the Raven dodged through the wicket he knew that his comrade had hit the right trail. The wicket was painted white, and a stain of red was smeared across the top bar: the injured boy had passed this way.

Faster and faster sped the Raven along a winding field-path which led through meadow after meadow. Then he saw his friend in the distance, and knew that Dick was still on the trail, for he was bending low and moving slowly. The Wolf turned his head as his companion came up panting.

'I'm on the spoor, Chippy,' he said. 'Here's blood again, spot after spot. He must have begun to bleed afresh.'

'I seed some on the gate,' said the Raven; 'did yer hit the trail pretty soon?'

'No,' returned Dick. 'I was in more than half a mind to turn back when I came on the boot track and knew it again. And within twenty yards I found sure signs and whistled.'

He moved forward, and the Raven dropped into file behind, for the track was narrow. Thus it was that he, being free to glance ahead, was the first to catch sight of the object of their search.

'Look, Dick!' he cried. 'Look, look! Right ahead!'

Dick straightened himself, saw what his comrade meant, and the two boys darted forward. They had just turned a corner where the path wound by a tall bank, and thirty yards before them a figure lay in a heap at the foot of the bank. As they ran up to it, they uttered a cry of surprise and wonder. It was a brother scout! There he lay, his slouch hat beside him, his badge on his arm, his legs doubled under him. He had made a grand fight, a scout's fight, to gain his home after his severe accident. But now he had collapsed from utter weakness and loss of blood, and lay against the bank, his face as white as wood-ashes.

His comrades pounced on him at once, placed him in an easier position, and searched for the wound. It was on the inner side of the right arm, a frightful ragged cut made by the deep point of the jagged stone, and was bleeding still. Out came Dick's handkerchief and Chippy's knife. Dick tied the handkerchief above the wound, Chippy cut a short, stiff stick. Then the stick was slipped inside the bandage and twisted until the handkerchief was very tight, and had checked the flow of blood. Dick held the boy's arm up above his body as a further aid to check the bleeding.

'Now, Chippy,' he said, 'cut round and get some water in the billy.'

'Right,' said the Raven; 'we passed a ditch wi' some water in it a bit back.' He flew off, and soon returned with the billy full of cold water.

'Now give me your handkerchief,' said Dick, 'and while I dab the cut with water you push ahead and find help.'

Chippy nodded. 'I reckon this path runs somewheer,' he said. 'I'll foller it up.'

He raced forward and disappeared round a further bend, leaving Dick to do his best for their unconscious comrade. Within three hundred yards Chippy saw a white house before him in lee of a fir coppice.

'His place, I know!' burst from Chippy's lips. The poor lad had fallen almost within call of home. How narrowly had a tragedy been averted!

The Raven ran on, passed through another white wicket, and entered a farmyard. A tall man was just dismounting from a cob.

'What, Fred, back already?' he cried, then stopped, for he saw it was not Fred, but a stranger in scout's uniform. Chippy darted up to him.

'Fred's your boy as like as not,' he said. 'A scout same as me. Went off on his bike a bit back, eh?'

'Yes,' said the farmer wonderingly; 'how do you come to know about him? I've never set eyes on you before.'

'He's met with a bit o' an accident,' said Chippy, 'an' a comrade o' mine found him an' sent me to get help. Seems I've come to the right place, fust send on.'

'Where is he?' cried the farmer.

'Just along the medder-path,' replied Chippy, pointing; 'fell off his bike, an' had a nasty tumble. Better bring summat to carry him.'

'Is he badly hurt?' cried the farmer in alarm.

'Well,' said Chippy, 'theer's a nasty cut on his arm, but we've stopped the bleedin'.'

The farmer called to two men at work in a barn, and a door was hastily lifted from its hinges. Then all three hurried along in the wake of the Raven, who led the way back.

CHAPTER XLV
AT THE HARDYS' FARM

But scarcely had the party left the farmyard than they saw in the distance the figure of a heavily laden scout. It was Dick marching along with his injured comrade on his shoulders. A few moments after Chippy departed in search of help, the wounded boy came to himself under the influence of the cold water with which Dick bathed the hurt and the boy's face.

'Hallo!' he murmured feebly. 'What's wrong? Have I got home?'

'Not just yet, old chap,' said Dick cheerily, 'but you'll soon be there. A friend has gone ahead for help.'

'It's only a little way now,' muttered the injured boy.

'How far?' cried Dick, but he received no answer. The other was fast falling into a stupor again.

Dick felt very uneasy. He did not know a great deal about wounds, but he knew that his brother scout had lost a large amount of blood, and that it was very urgent that he should be swiftly conveyed to a place where he could receive proper attention.

'I'll carry him in,' thought Dick. He looked at the bandage, and carefully tightened it a little again. Then he turned the boy, now insensible once more, on his face, and knelt down. Raising the body, Dick worked his way beneath it until his right shoulder was under the other's stomach. Slipping his right arm between the legs of his burden, Dick gripped the wrist of the sound arm, and slowly raised himself. This was the hardest part of the task, but the Wolf's strong, limber knees made sure work of it, and in a moment he stood nearly upright with the injured scout across his shoulders. Then Dick stepped out at a gentle, even pace, following the path Chippy had taken. He was in sight of the farmhouse when the Raven and his followers came streaming through the gate, and the farmer, running at full speed, was the first up to the marching scout.

'Give him to me, give my boy to me,' cried the pale-faced man.

'Better not,' said Dick quietly; 'we mustn't move him about too much, or the bandage may work loose. Is that your house?'

'Yes,' cried the other.

'I'll run him right in,' said Dick. 'Shift the wicket.'

One of the men hurried forward and swung the wicket-gate from its hinges, and, piloted by the farmer, Dick crossed the farmyard, marched through a door into a passage, and thence into an ample kitchen, where, with the aid of the farmer, he set down his burden on a broad settle. As he did so, the boy's mother came hurrying in from the dairy. She gave a little gasping cry when she saw the ghastly face of her son, but at once took command in a quiet, sensible fashion.

'Have you sent for the doctor?' she said to her husband.

'Yes; Joe's gone,' he answered. Joe was one of the men. He had raced off at once to the village.

The wounded boy was again lifted very carefully, and carried away to a bedroom. In a few moments the farmer came back, eager to hear how the scouts had found his son. He was astonished to find that their only clue, as he understood clues, was the seeing of the broken bicycle. It took him some time to grasp the methods by which the scouts had pieced together the evidence and followed up the wounded rider, and his thankfulness and gratitude were beyond expression.

'To think he was barely a field away from home, and couldn't move another step!' cried Mr. Hardy – for that was the farmer's name. 'And then you tracked him down in that clever fashion. Well, if you two are not a credit to Baden-Powell's Scouts, my name isn't George Hardy.'

'Your son is a scout too, I think,' said Dick. 'I saw he was wearing our uniform and badge.'

'Of course he is,' cried Mr. Hardy. 'He's fairly crazy about it – thinks of nothing else, he's so keen on it. There's a patrol over in the village yonder, and he's joined it. He's what they call a second-class scout at present, and he wants to become first-class. So off he set on his bike for a fifteen-mile ride, as it seems that's one of the things he's got to do.'

'Test 7,' grunted Chippy.

'Ah, very likely,' agreed Mr. Hardy. 'I don't know the numbers. Hallo! that's good. Here's the doctor.'

He sprang up, and took the medical man to the bedroom, while Joe came into the kitchen, wiping his face.

'Met the doctor on the road, so that's lucky,' said Joe, and then began to ask the scouts about the accident; for Fred was a great favourite, and all were anxious to know how ill had befallen him.

Dick and Chippy would now have resumed their interrupted march had they not been desirous of hearing the doctor's report on their brother scout's condition.

Twenty minutes passed before Mr. Hardy returned to the kitchen, and his face shone with joy.

'He'll pull through,' cried the farmer. 'Doctor says there's a chance for him yet. But if he'd lain there half an hour longer there'd have been no mortal hope of saving him, and I can never tell you how thankful his mother and me do feel towards you.'

'Oh, very likely someone would have found him in time if we hadn't tracked him,' said Dick.

'Never in this world,' said Mr. Hardy solemnly – 'never in this world! That path is but little used. The village lies t'other way. He might have lain there for hours and hours.'

'Well, we're very glad we were so lucky as to be of service,' said Dick; 'and now we must push on our way. We're making a scouting journey, and have to finish it by to-morrow night.'

'Nay, nay,' cried the farmer; 'you'll have dinner, at least, before you go. 'Twill be ready soon, and I'd take it very onkindly if you left us without bite or sup.'

At this moment Mrs. Hardy came in, and thanked the clever scouts warmly for the great service they had rendered. She seconded her husband's invitation, and as one o'clock struck in thin chimes from a tall eight-day clock, they sat down to a plentiful dinner. Over the meal the talk turned on the journey the scouts were making, and the farmer and his wife were deeply interested in their adventures.

'But look here, now,' said Mr. Hardy; 'this fine piece of work you've done for us – and we shall never forget it – has fetched you out of your way, and cost you a lot of time.'

'We'll make it up before dark,' said Dick.

'Ay, by overtiring yourselves,' said the farmer. 'Now, suppose I run you along a piece of your way in my trap. I've got a Welsh cob that'll slip us along as if he'd but a feather behind him. I'll set you ten or twelve miles on your road, and be thankful if you'd give me the chance.'

The scouts looked at each other. It was a temptation. It was an undeniable temptation. It would make the march into Bardon a very simple affair on the morrow.

Then Chippy spoke up, his keen eye reading Dick's puckered brow and considering face.

'Yer want to march all the way,' he said quietly.

'I didn't at first, Chippy,' replied Dick. 'The offer of the lift seemed splendid, and it is immensely good of you,' he went on, turning to Mr. Hardy. 'But I'll tell you just where I stand. I'm under a sort of agreement with my father that it's to be a genuine march all the way. If I had a lift from you, it would hardly be fair as I see it. But that doesn't apply at all to my chum; he's quite at liberty to come with you.'

'I'll take one or both, and be proud to do it,' cried the farmer.

'Much obliged,' said Chippy in his hoarsest notes; 'but me and my comrade march together.' Nor could either of the scouts be shaken from his determination.