Kitabı oku: «The Boy Scouts at the Canadian Border», sayfa 13
CHAPTER XXV
BAD LUCK, AND GOOD
Andy looked again and rubbed his eyes. It was certainly the most astonishing thing he could remember running across in all his experience, and only went to prove how deceptive appearances may be at times. But it gave him a shock to think that such a nice-looking old party, with a ring to his laugh, could underneath the outer veneer be such a desperate schemer as to want to blow up bridges and destroy trains and all such horrible things, just because he happened to have some German ancestors.
Really, Andy had already made up his mind that if he felt absolutely compelled to use his weapon at all he would confine his attentions to that swarthy chap, and leave the merry individual to others; for he felt positive that if he did anything to injure that jovial party he would never forgive himself. Which, under the circumstances, was exceedingly thoughtful and kind of Andy; and doubtless, if ever he ventured to confess as to what his magnanimous thoughts had been, he would find that his resolution was much appreciated.
Possibly Rob, too, was staring wonderingly at the occupants of that camp close to the border; for he must have been as much surprised as his chum at the unexpected mild appearance of the two desperadoes. Before he could find a chance to give vent to his feelings something came to pass that prevented their exchanging opinions.
Andy tugged at Rob’s sleeve and whispered in an awed tone:
“Look there, will you, Rob; Zeb’s got rattled, and he’s bound to break up the whole bully scheme!”
They suddenly saw the lanky Maine guide standing up beyond the camp. He did not appear to care whether he was seen or not, judging from the boldness of his actions. It grew worse instead of better, for even while they looked what should Zeb do but start directly toward the fire!
At first Andy thought the other meant to attack the pair seated there, without waiting for any signal, which might be a piece of boldness on his part, but would also be disobeying the orders of the lieutenant. Then Andy had reason to stare some more and change his mind, for to his utter amazement Zeb trailed his rifle under his arm, when by rights a careful man would certainly have held it in such a position that it would be ready for quick work in case of necessity.
Would wonders never cease? Andy asked himself, as he continued to crouch there. First, there was the astonishing appearance of the chief villain, and now here was Zeb acting as though he had actually lost his head and meant to commit suicide.
Straight along came the woods guide. He looked solemn enough; indeed, Andy even thought Zeb had the appearance of a man who was up for sentence before a judge, and meant to throw himself on the mercy of the court.
Then Andy discovered that the dark-faced conspirator had discovered the coming of Zeb, which would indicate that he possessed pretty keen hearing. But how was this, that he did not instantly fly to where those two guns rested against the trunk of the pine near by and prepare to give the intruder a hot reception?
Andy saw that he must have said something to the larger man, for the other quickly looked toward Zeb. Neither did he show any sign of sudden and overwhelming alarm. Indeed, he even smiled broadly, and looked pleased, which about completed Andy’s confusion. The mystery was really too deep for him, though when he heard Rob chuckling close by, he began to fancy that the scout master was able to read between the lines better than he had been.
It grew even more mysterious when Andy saw Zeb, their friend Zeb, actually hold out his hand and take the extended digits of the solemn-looking dark-faced man, whose straight figure and black hair made the boy suspect that he might well have some Indian blood in his veins.
Now Zeb was facing the large man, who still sat there and listened to what the Maine woodsman might be saying. When he, too, finally reached up his hand and Zeb eagerly pounced upon it, all at once the wonderful truth broke in upon the bewildered Andy just as a flash of lightning might dart from the clouds to the earth during a storm.
Why, these were not desperate conspirators they had discovered, at all. Their work had been for nothing, save that it was good practice for scouts to be given a chance to show what they could do in the way of creeping up on a suspected enemy’s camp. That man with the bronzed skin was Sebattis, the Penobscot guide, and the jovial party, to be sure, he could be no other than Tubby’s Uncle George!
It was a pretty severe shock to Andy when this burst upon him so suddenly.
“Well, what d’ye think of that, Rob?” he gasped. “After all, we’ve run across Uncle George and his other guide; and Zeb’s in his good graces again. Well, we’re certainly in hard luck one way, and in good another. I’m sorry for you, lieutenant, but we’ve struck the wrong party. We know this gentleman, who is a rich sportsman. If you look sharp you will see a moose head over there, which shows that, after all, Uncle George managed to get the big bull. Good for him!”
The soldier was keenly disappointed to learn that their fine plans had been wasted; but as Rob expected, he was made of the right kind of stuff and could take things as they came, the bitter with the sweet.
“We’re certainly stumped, boys,” was what the officer remarked, with a short laugh, such as spoke of chagrin, “if, as you say, this party is one of your friends; he certainly doesn’t look much like a desperado, I must confess. I was trying hard to picture him in such a fiendish raid, but couldn’t manage it, any way I figured. But let’s step up and meet the gentleman. I imagine we stand no chance whatever now of being able to cut off the flight of those cowardly curs.”
The three boys were only too glad to avail themselves of the opportunity. Of course, Rob’s and Andy’s first thought was of Tubby, and how delighted the fat chum would be to learn they had run across his relative. They would have something of importance to tell Uncle George, too.
By now the big sportsman was on his feet, for he saw strangers advancing toward his camp fire from two different directions; and, being a hospitable soul, Uncle George’s first thought was to welcome them to the genial blaze, in true sportsman style.
He looked keenly at the two boys in khaki.
“Hello!” he remarked with a chuckle. “I’ve got a nephew who’s proud to be wearing that khaki cloth, and on his account I’m glad to see you.”
“How d’ye do, Uncle George?” Andy coolly remarked, as he shook hands, and it was almost comical to see the gentleman stare at him as he hastened to say:
“Well, you seem to know my name, all right, my boy, which strikes me as rather singular. How do you explain that?”
“Oh, Tubby has talked so much about you that we’re all calling you Uncle George, sir, begging your pardon for being so familiar,” explained audacious Andy, with one of his widest grins.
“‘Tubby’!” exclaimed the gentleman. “Why, you must mean my nephew, Robert Hopkins. I remember that his chums do call him by some such outlandish name. You know him, then, which indicates that I was mistaken when I placed you as Canadian Boy Scouts. I reckon you must live in Hampton, down on Long Island?”
“Just what we do, sir,” Rob took occasion to remark. “I’m Rob Blake, and this is Andy Bowles, both members of the same Eagle Patrol that Tubby belongs to. You will be still more surprised, I take it, sir, when you learn that your nephew is not over a mile or so away from this spot right now.”
“You amaze me, my boy. Whatever brought him away up here in the wilderness? Please explain the mystery, Rob.”
“I can do that in a few sentences, Mr. Hopkins,” said the scout leader; and with that he told about the paper that it was so necessary for Uncle George to sign before a certain date; and how school being dismissed for two weeks, Tubby and his chums had been dispatched up into Maine to find the sportsman.
This satisfied the gentleman, but there were other mysteries waiting to be explained. He wondered how the boys had met the Canadian soldiers, and why they should all be creeping up on his little camp in such a stealthy fashion.
So Rob thought it just as well to tell him about the amazing things that had happened. Swiftly Rob brought the story down to where the patriotic chums, together with Zeb and Donald, had succeeded in severing the necessary wire, and thus prevented the awful plot from being carried out.
All of this must have been highly entertaining to Uncle George, to judge from the smile on his face, and the many chuckles in which he indulged from time to time. When Rob finished the account the sportsman shook hands all around again and then freed his mind.
“It was excellently carried out, boys, most wonderfully executed, in fact, and I’m certain this gentleman feels under heavy obligations to you all. Donald never would have managed to get over in time to give warning, only for you. Consequently the saving of the bridge, and the munition train as well, lies at your door. I’m also proud of the fact that you are loyal Americans, and that you considered it your bounden duty to stand up for patriotism as you did. Robert will be dearer to me than ever after this, for he seems to be a boy after my own heart.”
Then he turned to the lieutenant again, and went on to say in his cordial way:
“I hope this will only be another cause for cementing the friendship of the two great English-speaking races. We have thousands of our boys Over There in the French war trenches, and in the aviation corps, as well as with the Red Cross, doing their bit for humanity and the great cause of a peace that will bless the whole civilized world for ages, and I honestly believe that before long our country will be your ally in this struggle. Now, sir, before you think of starting back to your duty allow me to offer you a cup of hot coffee, and anything in the way of refreshment my larder affords.”
The officer was anxious to return with as little delay as possible, for he felt that he had a weighty responsibility resting on his shoulders; but it was hard to resist that smile and those winning ways; so he agreed to linger for, say, half an hour longer. Rob said he, Andy and Donald also would return with him when he went, for they wished to rejoin their chum.
Andy was soon seen examining the monster moose head with its broad horns, and on observing his action the gentleman sportsman called out:
“I’ve been after that fellow for several seasons now, my boy, and this year we looked for him over at the Tucker Pond; but he led us quite a chase, and we only potted him here this afternoon, while swinging around on the way back to the logging camp.”
“Well,” remarked Andy, laughing, “we weren’t even looking for him, but he paid us a visit, all the same, we’ve got reason to believe,” and then he related how their brush shanty had been partly demolished by the rush of a giant moose, which account amused Uncle George greatly.
CHAPTER XXVI
EVERYBODY SATISFIED
Taken in all, they spent quite a pleasant half hour with Uncle George. Somehow his coffee, brewed there in the camp where his moose trophy lay, seemed to taste like nectar to all concerned.
It turned out, by the way, that the affair was kept quiet as much as possible, for strategic reasons. Perhaps the authorities up in Ottawa believed that to draw a veil of secrecy over the matter would be apt to deter others from attempting similar desperate exploits, where broad publicity might encourage them for the sake of the notoriety it would bring.
Later on the boys, together with the lieutenant and his two men, started for the bridge. Zeb, having been once more reinstated in the good graces of his employer – who had heard all about his return, from Rob in secret – remained in camp, and seemed overjoyed at having his old berth back again. He did not say much to Rob and Andy, being a man of few words, but the way in which he squeezed their hands spoke volumes. Zeb had certainly come to think highly of the scouts in the short time he knew them.
They had no trouble in covering the distance separating them from the railway embankment. They saw nothing of those whom they had hoped to come upon. The fugitives must have managed to get across the line in some fashion.
Tubby was pleased when he heard the signal that told him the other Eagles were close at hand. His astonishment and delight can be easily imagined upon their telling him how they had met his Uncle George and drank coffee at his camp fire. The latter was to stay there in the morning until the boys joined him, when the entire party would start afresh, heading for the logging camp.
The lieutenant made his young guests as comfortable as the limited conditions allowed. He really felt under heavy obligations toward the trio of scouts from across the line, and would never forget them, he promised.
When morning came they concluded to make an early start, for Uncle George had hinted that he would like to have them join him at breakfast. So good-bye’s were said, and Donald McGuffey looked quite downcast at parting from the three splendid fellows whom he had come to like exceedingly well during the course of their short acquaintance; for boys get on familiar terms ten times as quickly as men ever do.
Donald had only one burning regret, which was that his years would not permit him enlisting in one of the battalions forming to go across the seas.
“I’m big for my age,” were his last words, as he wrung the hand of Andy like a pump handle, “and if this war only keeps up twa mair years, ye ken, I’ll more’n likely be allowed to enlist, so as to have a whack at the beasts beyond the seas.”
While the scouts may not have felt exactly the same as Donald did, for naturally he was prejudiced by his birth and surroundings, still they gave him credit for valor, as they had seen him put to the test and come through with flying colors. But at the same time they sincerely hoped the terrible carnage would be long over before the Scotch-Canadian boy, who came of a race of fighters, arrived at an age when he might be accepted as a recruit.
They reached the camp of the moose in time to join Uncle George at breakfast, which meal had been postponed a little on account of their expected arrival. Tubby was as happy a chap as any one could well see when he shook hands with his uncle, and was then and there embraced by the veteran sportsman. Tubby actually reddened with confusion, but no one could resist the cheery laugh of Uncle George, and this action on his part told how his chubby nephew had risen in his regard.
As the gentleman was very wealthy, and had no children of his own, sly Andy later on told Tubby he ought to consider himself a very lucky fellow indeed; which insidious remark caused honest Tubby to indignantly say he never had the faintest thought of getting in the good graces of his uncle for any pecuniary benefit that might accrue to him.
After a jolly breakfast they started for the logging camp. Uncle George kept Tubby and Andy busy relating many interesting things that had happened to the scouts, not only on this momentous occasion but under other conditions.
“It strikes me,” was the opinion Uncle George advanced later on, when he had listened with tremendous interest to accounts of their different visits, “that fortune has picked you boys as her especial favorites. You have been given the most wonderful opportunities for doing things! Yes, and while you are all so modest about boasting of your achievements I can read between the lines and understand why success so often perches on your banner. It is partly because you deserve it; but in the main I’m inclined to believe the principal factor in your success comes from the fact that in Rob Blake here you have an ideal leader, who knows his business from alpha to omega, the beginning and the end of scoutcraft!”
At that splendid endorsement Rob turned fiery red, and tried to disclaim any greater share of the credit than each one of his chums was fairly entitled to; but both Andy and Tubby vociferously negatived this assertion and assured shrewd Uncle George that he had “hit the nail squarely on the head.”
What a glorious week the boys did pass in that lumber camp! The days seemed far too short to encompass all the “stunts” they had planned by the light of the preceding night’s jolly fire, where it was their habit to sit around and listen to Uncle George relate some of the peculiar adventures in his long and adventurous life. In turn, they would tell him further incidents connected with their doings as scouts.
How they did hate to say good-bye when it became necessary to break away from that hallowed spot, which would always remain green in their memories since some of the happiest days of their lives were spent there! But that important paper had to be taken back in due time, Uncle George having gone over to the nearest town on the border to sign the same in the presence of a justice and notary. Besides, most cruel thought of all, school would commence the following week, if the epidemic had been gotten under control, and they could not be excused from their classes simply because the hunting was fine up in Maine.
Of course, in such stirring times those wide-awake scouts of Hampton were more than likely to see further happenings come their way; and should any of these be worthy of placing before the reader, be sure that pleasing duty will not long be withheld. Until such time arrives this must suffice.
