A spy sending messagesA man was sitting over some sort of instrument.
A man was sitting over some sort of instrument.
Nearly down—only about fifteen feet more! But at that moment the human fly's hold crumbled under his clinging fingers, and he dropped. It ought not to have been a bad fall, but the trouble was a loosened rock followed, and came down on one arm as its owner lay prostrate on the ground.
Danny lay very still for a few moments, looking at the stars and thinking of—nothing!
Then presently the sound of human voices came to him from somewhere out of the night. With an effort he raised up a little to push off the stone from his arm, but he dropped back again.
The stars began to swim at that, and the voices to grow fantastic.
But a scout—must—keep—his head!
Those voices sounded familiar! Danny summoned all his strength, and sent the wavering call of a wounded whippoorwill along the night.
Silence, and then a whippoorwill answered sharply from out the forest.
Danny called again.
Shortly after that came low voices and the sound of hurrying feet. Then Mr. Gordon, the Scout Master, McKenzie, their leader, and jolly old Biddie Burton were hovering over him.
"Are you hurt?" they asked in one breath.
But Danny cried out feverishly: "There's a German spy sending wireless messages from old Death Head, and our transports have put to sea!" And he told them, brokenly, the story of his find.
There was consternation among them for one brief moment, and then everybody woke to action.
They must get the man at once—butwhich wayto go?
Mr. Gordon spoke quickly:
"You stay with Danny, Burton; McKenzie and I will go back to the Death Head and follow the clue from there." And even as he spoke he and McKenzie were hurriedly, but tenderly, binding up the wounded arm, while Biddie improvised a comforting sling for it.
But Danny knew that the route by way ofold Death Head was long and circuitous. And he knew also that the shortest way is the only way to take when one's duty to one's country calls.
He got to his feet.
"I'll show you the shortest way," he said.
*****
How they found means of scaling the cliff, how they accomplished their stealthy journey back to the hidden wireless station, piloted by the wounded tenderfoot whom they supported at every step, is too long a story to tell.
But they reached the mouth of the dark cave. The two boys were left outside, and very shortly thereafter Mr. Gordon and McKenzie brought out between them a big shadowy figure with its hands bound together.
*****
That night, the east-bound passenger was flagged at the little station in the valley, and there boarded it a squad of boy scouts with their leaders, who guarded between them a captured German spy.
"Gordon, how did you manage it?" called a voice, from some distance down the long coach as they entered.
For answer, Mr. Gordon took hold of a little boy who wore his left arm in a sling and, pushing him gently forward, said before that whole car full of curious, excited people:
"We had an American on guard to-night."
*****
The Probate Judge's office in the old courthouse on the square was, the next morning, the scene of a most unusual gathering.
Danny and his mother had been asked by the Scout Master to meet him there at ten o'clock. Mr. Gordon had sent his request in the form of a brief note which explained that the Boy Scout Court of Honor was to be in session that morning, and said that he wished his youngest scout to be present.
Danny's mother was strangely elated over the request, but Danny did not know why. He was so young in the business of scouting that some details of the system had not yet become definitely his.
He ventured one surmise when the note was read—something in connection with the taking of that German spy, of course. Maybe the Whippoorwills were to be commended for delivering the goods. And Danny's mind's eye recalled again the stirring scene—McKenzie and Mr. Gordon marshalling to the station between them the big German whom they had captured and bound, and he and the other scouts trudging along in excited escort. It was a wonderful thing to be a man, Danny thought wistfully—to be big and strong enough to lay a compelling hand on the enemy in our midst and say:
"I want you!"
But it will have to be recorded that Danny's mother acted a little queerly on receipt of the note. When Danny said that perhaps the Whippoorwills were to be commended for "delivering the goods," his mother looked up at him quickly, as if in surprise. Then she laughed a little and cried a little, and then she dashed off for her hat and wraps like a girl.
At ten o'clock sharp, Danny and his mother presented themselves at Judge Sledge's door. As they paused to knock, a voice came to them through the closed door—a familiar voice, and it sounded very earnest. Then the door was opened in response to their knock.
They hesitated a moment while they took in the quiet, dignified scene within. Portly old Judge Sledge was sitting well forward in his office chair with his spectacles pushed back upon his bald head, while Doctor Cranfield and several gentlemen whom Danny knew only by sight were grouped about him. All were in the attitude of listening intently to a man who stood before them—Mr. Gordon.
Danny's quick glance took in all this, including the background of khaki-clad Whippoorwills, plastered against the wall beyond.
The gentlemen rose, on the entrance of Mrs. Harding, and the scouts crowded forward to whisper excitedly to Danny.
But Danny did not have time to listen to them, for Doctor Cranfield—taking him byhis good arm—turned him about, and said to the company:
"This is the boy."
There was an agonizing moment to Danny in which he realized that everybody in the room was looking at him. Then he had to be introduced. It was very, very trying, for each man to whom Danny gave his hand in greeting looked him over from head to foot, and made embarrassingly personal, if kindly, remarks about him.
"He was a small chap for the job."
"He ought to bered-headed."
"He was his mother's son."
Danny looked across the group into his mother's eyes and caught there an expression which he was never to forget. And she was smiling—in spite of the tear-mist over her beautiful eyes—she was smiling.
When they resumed their seats, there returned upon the group the touch of ceremonial quiet and earnestness which the entrance of the newcomers had for the moment dispelled.
Mr. Gordon took a chair behind Mrs. Harding and explained to her and Danny in a low tone that the session was nearly over. Judge Sledge had been compelled to convene the court earlier than the appointed hour.
The other men were talking apart. Presently, one of them turned to the Scout Master and said:
"Following what you have just related, Mr. Gordon—do you think that it was quite wise in your patrol leader to send out a mere tenderfoot on a really dangerous commission?"
Mr. Gordon was about to reply, when McKenzie stepped forward and saluted. "May I answer that?" he asked.
The court assented, and all turned to hear.
"Our private advices had been," began McKenzie, with his Indianlike figure drawn up to its full height, "that it was Camelback Mountain which was under suspicion. We located our camp on a parallel range, and miles from the suspected vicinity. Mr. Gordon and I and several of the older boys werelater to take in hand the serious work of Camelback, but we thought it well to give the others a little experience. I had not intended to employ the tenderfoot till I overheard the boys teasing him. I sent him to the Death Head to redeem himself in his own eyes and in theirs."
"Please, may I speak?" Biddie Burton had come forward eagerly.
With the permission of the judge, Biddie hurried on:
"Without letting the other boys know, McKenzie told me to follow Danny in case his courage should give out completely. But he gave me my orders to keep well in the rear. He wanted Dan to go to the haunted tree by himself, if he would—to win his spurs, you see."
"Did you follow Harding all the way?" someone interrupted.
"All the way to the haunted tree? Yes, sir, and hedidgo! He went right up to it and circled all about it. Then the earth seemed to open and swallow him up. I lookedand looked for him. Then I ran back for help. I found McKenzie and Mr. Gordon, and we all three started out after Dan. You have heard the rest."
This seemed satisfactory, and the judge turned to Danny.
"Come here, Daniel," he said, "and tell the court now how you captured your wireless operator."
Danny started.
"I didn't do it, sir," he said in embarrassment. "Mr. Gordon and Willard McKenzie captured the man. I only showed them where he was."
The men exchanged glances.
"Well," said the judge, again, "come here and tell us what youdid do."
Danny came forward.
"Salute!" he heard Biddie whisper.
Danny saluted.
"Now," said the judge, "tell these gentlemen here what—what you toldyour motherwhen you got back from the mountains last night."
Danny looked at his mother. Her eyes were misty again, but she was nodding to him to do as the judge directed.
The tenderfoot stood embarrassed before them and told the story exactly as he had related it to his mother. He didn't like to do this, for he was very much ashamed of having to tell how frightened he had been, and how he had had to force himself to go forward.
The men listened intently. Once in a while one would interrupt to ask a question.
When Danny got to the point in his story of his acceptance of McKenzie's commission to cover old Death Head, a dark-eyed, quiet man on the judge's right leaned forward.
"One moment, Harding," he said. "McKenzie told us before you entered that you were afraid to go when the boys dared you, but that when he told you to go on the scouting trip, you said, 'this is different.' What did you mean by its being 'different'?"
Danny looked up from his nervous fingering of the judge's paper-weight.
"I meant that it was for my country," he answered simply.
The dark-eyed man glanced at the others.
"Beat that," he said in a low tone to them.
Judge Sledge took down his spectacles from his bald head, adjusted them on his nose, and looked hard at the boy.
"Proceed," he commanded, after a moment.
Danny proceeded.
"Weren't you afraid to crawl into that cave?" one of them asked in the course of the story.
"Yes, sir," said Danny.
Later, another interrupted with:
"But if your arm was broken and paining you, why didn't you stay with Burton, there, and let the others go by the way of Death Head, and take up the clue you had followed?"
"Why, you see," answered Danny, "we had to get to the man quickly to stop his telegraphing. I knew a short route to him."
"Exactly," said the judge, nodding, then he turned to the men about him.
"All right, gentlemen?" he asked.
There was a whispered conference of a few moments, and then, to Danny's surprise, they all turned to him.
"Daniel," said the judge, "do you know why this Court of Honor has been called into session?"
Danny's glance swept the khaki-clad figures against the wall—he looked at Mr. Gordon.
"I hope," he answered to the judge, "that you like what we did."
"Yes," said the judge, smiling this time, "yes, the Whippoorwills are quite in our good graces, and we commend the promptness and efficiency of Mr. Gordon and your leader, McKenzie. However, this court has been called together to sit in judgment onyourpart in last night's performance. Daniel, do you realize that you have done bravely and well?"
Danny stood for one moment, stunned bythe dawning realization of what this meant. Then he looked across at his mother. Life holds for a boy no higher, happier moment than that in which he realizes he has made his mother proud of him.
Without waiting for him to reply, the judge was continuing:
"This court finds, Danny, that in spite of very human, very natural fears, and at the cost of suffering to yourself, you performed a service to your country which may be more far-reaching than any of us dream. And if there is anything braver than the conquering of fear, anything more manly than the voluntary endurance of pain for a high cause, or any earthly motive of action higher than one's duty to one's country, we have never found it.
"Now, Son, it is not within the power of this, our local court, to confer upon you what we think you deserve. It is ours, however, to recommend to the Boy Scout National Court of Honor that you be awarded the Honor Medal. This we are going to do becausewe believe you have saved more than life by your prompt action, and we know that you did it at the cost of suffering to yourself and at the risk of your own life."
*****
When, a few weeks later, the Honor Medal did arrive and was pinned upon Danny's breast, the young scout found it necessary to take his little mother in hand.
"'If you cry like a baby,'" he whispered laughingly but with his arms about her, "'I'lldisownyou!'"
"Louise!"
The little girl came to a halt suddenly and nearly dropped her book-satchel. Somebody had called her name—some startling, mysterious voice had called her!
She looked hurriedly about, but there was nobody in sight—nobody but a saucy squirrel perched upon a park bench, and a redbird flitting along the open between the enclosing hawthorns.
Which one had called?
"Louise!"
The little girl started back, too frightened to scream—it was the hawthorn!
But the next moment a boyish bullet-head appeared between parted boughs.
"Come here!" exclaimed its owner in suppressed excitement. "We've got something to tell you!"
Down went the book-satchel, but not infear this time. Billy Hastings had called—called excitedly—and Billy was known to furnish nearly all the third-grade thrills there were. So the next moment Louise was stooping her way under the hawthorn boughs in answer to her playfellow's summons.
Billy was not alone in the green grotto in which Louise presently found herself, for nearly half the third-grade members were there. There was wide-eyed Tinsie Willis, with her little frilly skirts bristling with excitement, with Mamie Moore swallowing to keep back hysterical tears, and Sadie and Lallie Raiford, with their backs to each other for safe-keeping. And there were boys, a whole mob of boys!
The children were huddled together in suppressed excitement, and were whispering all at the same time. It was plain that something terrible, something menacing, had happened.
"You know that new boy that came to school this morning—?" began one.
"That 'Rudolph Kreisler'?" put in another.
"Sh-h-h!" interrupted a third wildly.
But Billy Hastings thrust his red, round face close to Louise's and announced in a blood-curdling whisper:
"Rudolph Kreisler is a German spy!"
Louise's legs crumpled under her, and she sat down in a heap.
Again they were all talking at the same time, and this time at her.
"He's got his trousers' pockets justfullof something!" exclaimed Pete Laslie.
"And he's watching,watching!" put in another. "Didn't you see him sitting off there by himself looking at us while we played ball?"
"Spying!" hissed Luke Musgrove over Billy Hastings's shoulder.
The children started and looked about apprehensively. Luke's words always carried weight by reason of the fact that he had been two years in the third grade and ought to know what he was talking about if he didn't.
"Yes," chimed in Billy, coming close to Louise again and speaking in his most dramatictone. "Just you dare to draw a deep breath, and he'll tell the Kaiser on you!"
Louise gasped—a short, a curtailed little gasp. Never till the Great War should be over would she breathe from her diaphragm again!
"Oh-o-o-o,Louise!" from round-eyed Tinsie Willis.
"What?"
"You've left your book-satchel out there in the path! Just suppose he were to come by and see it!"
There was a moment of consternation, of wild chattering, in which everybody poked his head out to see, but nobody would venture far enough to get the incriminating satchel.
Then Tommie Warren had an inspiration. Snatching a crooked-handle umbrella from Ella Vaiden, he flung himself flat on the grass and reached for the tell-tale satchel with the crook.
"It's a good thing Ella brought that umbrella!" exclaimed Tinsie. And all looked at Ella, who stood up very straight in spite ofthe low-dipping boughs. The next moment Louise had her beloved book-satchel hugged close to her pounding heart.
"Sh-h-h!" suddenly came from a self-constituted sentinel.
"What?"
"He's coming!"
The crowd in the bushes stood tiptoe and breathless as the German spy came down the hawthorn path.
He was a small lad—small for the third grade—with big blue eyes and a shock of tawny hair. The Kaiser had not equipped him very well, for there was a suggestion of poverty about his mended clothes. But, after all, maybe those carefully darned places at his knees were only a part of an adroit disguise. His pocketswerebulging, and with knotty-looking somethings very suggestive of poorly concealed bombs. He was not whistling, as a perfectly good American would have been, but walked slowly and with his head down. It was very suspicious!
He passed.
"Let's get him now!" suggested Luke.
"Good!" exclaimed Billy. "Get some rocks!" And instantly all was excitement, the uncensored noise of which reached the little German and caused him to take to his heels.
In the confusion of the next few moments Louise scarcely realized what they were about. But when they tore out of the bushes, snatching up rocks as they went, and rushed after their flying prey, her heart stood still. He was such alittleboy!
With the back of her hand pressed tight against the sobs that would not be stifled, and with tears raining down her cheeks, the little girl followed in the wake of the howling mob.
Then somebody rounded a hawthorn bush and came bang up against her. It was Jimmie Fisher, a big, red-headed rock of strength, who could carry lightly the heaviest book-satchels there were.
"What are you crying about?" he asked, after his first quick survey of her.
"They—they are killing Rudolph Kreisler!" sobbed Louise.
"No," assured Jimmie, "he'll get home free. He lives just across there. Are these your books?"
*****
The next day matters only grew worse.
The whole atmosphere of the third grade had become electric with suspicion of a certain little boy who, looking neither to right nor to left, kept his wistful blue eyes bent on the task before him. When Rudolph stood up at the singing of the Star-Spangled Banner, Luke growled out that he was "just pretending." And when, from his seat near the door, the German lad answered the knock of a visitor, Ella Vaiden whispered audibly:
"Seethat? He wants to seewho's there!"
In recitation Rudolph answered the questions put to him with despicable German efficiency, but Luke missed with conspicuous patriotism and went noisily foot.
But through it all Louise was doing her own thinking. She was a loyal little citizen and loved her country with all her heart; but there flowed through her veins the blood ofa long line of Americans who had been just and fair. The little girl was afraid of German spies—afraid for her country—and Rudolph Kreisler's pockets did bulge ominously. If Rudolph Kreislerwasa German spy, why he would have to be dealt with, of course.
But if he wasn't——?
Louise wished with all her heart that Miss Barclay, the teacher, would suspect this terrible smothered tragedy that was being enacted within her class. Of course one's teacher, like one's mother, could solve every problem; and Miss Barclay in particular could command the storms of childhood to be still. If only Miss Barclay knew!
But in third-grade ethics it was "dishonorable" to "tattle," so Louise was compelled to hold her peace and think fast. There were recesses ahead in which covertly cruel things might happen, and an after-school walk through a lonely park from which a reallittleboy might not get home free. Something must be done.
At first recess the boys and girls were, asusual, separated in their play, but Louise—observing from afar—saw that the little German sat by himself on the steps, and watched the spirited ball-play of the others with keen alertness. Yes, it was very suspicious.
Big recess brought with it an unusual privilege that day. The third-grade boys and girls were to be allowed to mingle together and on the front lawn, in order to keep them from under the feet of certain workmen who were making excavations through the school-grounds.
This was all very thrilling, for it was from a tall staff on the front lawn that their beautiful new flag was floating, and to-day they would be able to see it close—to touch the pole with their very hands! Then, too, it would be so remarkable to play withboys.
Louise pondered it all as the third-grade girls filed down to their lunch-room. Rudolph Kreisler was not there, of course, but Rudolph would be with them among the other boys at play-time. She would then be able to watchhim narrowly—to keep an eye on those bulging pockets.
All the other girls were chattering over their lunch, but Louise drank her milk and ate her sandwich in thoughtful silence.
Presently a hand was laid upon her heavy curls and she looked up with a start. The principal was smiling down at her.
"What are you thinking of, little tragedy queen?" he asked.
Louise blushed and tried vainly to reply.
The teacher serving the sandwiches answered the principal.
"Of 'the impossibility of all things,'" she said with a curious sidewise smile.
The principal put his hand under Louise's chin and, tilting her head back, looked deep into her eyes.
"You must run and play a great deal," he said, and passed on.
Then, when the last sandwich had gone the way of all good sandwiches, they repaired to the front lawn.
It was all so wonderful—so green and cooland stately-looking. And there, sure enough, was the great new flag, curling and uncurling in the fitful wind—'way up against the sky!
The boys were already out on the green when the little girls were marched down the steps and disbanded among them to enjoy the most unusual privilege of joining in their games. Then, all suddenly a great awkwardness came down upon the girls. How was one to play with boys at recess? Of courseafter schoolit came natural enough to mingle with them, but this was not "after school"! It was most embarrassing.
Louise found herself timid in the chaperoned recess-presence of Jimmie and Billy and Luke, and began to back away toward the steps.
"Look out!" shouted Billy suddenly.
Louise jumped to "look out." Behind her, on the bottom step, sat the German spy. She had nearly backed into him!
In the face of danger, embarrassment dropped away. The next moment Louisehad fled back to her countrymen and was listening, excited, to their eager whispers.
"Rudolph Kreisler sits by himself—always by himself. Isn't that funny?"
"Just look at himnow!"
"See him watching the flag?"
"Get that gleam in his eye? Look, quick!"
"Old rascal! He got home free yesterday—but just you wait!"
And so they stood apart from him and whispered.
The German spy dug his toes in the sand a little longer, then rose and moved a few steps farther up.
Then Ella Vaiden declared that they were wasting time, and proposed that they begin a game.
But nobody knew what to play.
"I'll tell you!" exclaimed Louise. "Let's play 'Under the Flag.'"
"What's that?" asked several.
"Why—why—" began Louise, inventing the game as she proceeded, "it's this way: you go stand under the flag and look up atit till the wind blows it out straight—and—and then you make a wish. If the flag floats wide till you have finished, your wish will come true."
All were interested at once, and the game began. The fitful, boisterous wind took an active part and the play became spirited.
Tinsie Willis was the first to come "under the flag," but she was so excited she forgot to wish till the broadly floating banner had wrapped itself about its staff and her opportunity was gone.
Then everybody began talking at once, and Mamie Moore piped up: "I'm going to wish for a pair of shiny-bug slippers!"
Louise was shocked, and quickly explained that when one wished under the flag it must be for something serious and from the very depths of one's heart.
"Sure," supported Jimmie of the red head. "You can wish for shiny-bug slippers under an umbrella!"
But Mamie couldn't then think of anything more serious than the need of gilt slippers,and was promptly ruled out till her imagination should come to her assistance.
Several boys took turns next, but they were so noisy and boisterous that they came near spoiling everything.
Then Flora Archer took her place. Flora was a thoughtful little girl who carried around in her eyes a deep, deep something people never understood. With her lips close to the flagpole, she whispered her message to it, and all the while the beautiful banner streamed out to its farthest length.
Flora came back without speaking, and the children looked at her in curious silence. But when the others were noisily choosing times again, Flora slipped her hand into Louise's and whispered:
"I wished for our soldiers to win in the war, but for them not to be cruel when they do."
"Yours, Louise!" exclaimed somebody.
And before Louise had time to examine the depths of her heart to see what it was she most desired, a half-dozen pair of friendly hands pushed her forward. It was no timeto hold back—to spoil the game. Louise mounted the green knoll from which the great flagpole rose.
But she did not at once look up. Her glance had accidentally lighted on the lonely figure on the steps, and was resting there for a moment in startled contemplation.
He was such alittleboy, and he seemed so—apart! But one must make no mistakes where one's country was involved.Werehis blue eyes "gleaming" with vengeful purpose? Or were they only full—of shining tears?
"Look up! Look up!" the children called.
Louise threw back her head—threw it back so far that the familiar scene about her became lost to her view and she beheld nothing but the vision above. Amid the battling tree tops and against a threatening sky the flag of freedom streamed out in all its rippling glory—red for the courage of American hearts, white for the purity of purpose they should harbor, and blue for truth, like that higher, farther heaven above the gathering clouds. Now rippling, now curling, wreathing,snapping, and now—straight out, fronting the coming storm!
"Quick! Quick!" the children shouted, as Old Glory floated free.
Suddenly the child stretched up her hands. It was not a wish, but a prayer, that her young heart sent up to her country's flag.
"Help me to—play fair!" she whispered.
Louise saw her comrades only mistily when she came down the green knoll again toward them.
Then all became babel again.
"It's my time next!" exclaimed Luke Musgrove, shouldering forward.
"Who said so?" demanded another.
"Isaid so," answered the big boy rudely, and he strode to his place against the flagpole. "I wish," he began in a loud, strident voice, and without waiting for the wind to come hurtling across the green, "I wishto wring the neck of that German spy!"
All eyes were quickly turned from the flag to where a little wide-eyed boy shrank back in terror against the steps.
"Glory be!" shouted Billy Hastings. "Teacher's gone in—let's drag Rudolph under the flag!"
Instantly the flame of persecution swept them, and they started after the alien lad.
But at the foot of the steps somebody blocked the way. Louise Carey had flung herself between.
"It's not fair, and youshan't!" she cried.
The astonished mob wavered in indecision.
"'Notfair?'" echoed Luke with a jeer.
"No," stormed Louise. "We didn'taskhim to come under the flag, and you shan'tmakehim do it!"
"We'll see about that—" began Luke.
"That we will!" put in Jimmie Fisher, but it was not to Louise that he spoke. He was talking to Luke, and he planted himself protectingly in front of Louise and the little German, and faced the third-grade bully. Never before in her life had Louise realized how beautiful was a shock of bristling red hair.
The third-grade bully was growling now, but in a decidedly lower key.
"Now, then"—Jimmie was speaking to Louise this time—"you are bossing this game. Say what you want done with that—that—" and he looked at the frightened Rudolph.
Louise glanced up at the flag. It was floating now—broad and free enough to cover all who might come.
"I am going toinviteRudolph to come under our flag," she said.
The children gasped as Louise held out her hand to the little alien.
"Won't you come and be American with us?" she asked kindly.
The boy drew back a moment while his blue eyes searched her face for whatever hidden cruelty might lurk beneath its seeming sweetness. Then he smiled—a timid, but trusting smile—and rising, took her extended hand.
But Billy Hastings called jeeringly: "He's a sneak! He's just doing it to pretend!"
"He knows I'd drag him if he didn't come!" exclaimed another.
"Coward!Coward!" yelled Luke. "You're afraid to refuse!"
And then, all suddenly, something in the German lad flamed up. He snatched his hand from Louise's. He stood to his full height with blazing eyes, and cried:
"It's a lie!"
The sound of the school-bell broke the startled quiet which followed the alien's spirited revolt.
"Please," pleaded Louise, "don't mind them! You've time yet to come under the flag."
But Rudolph stood indignant, immovable.
"Get to your lines, children," and the principal's call-bell was heard tapping above on the porch.
A group of boys came suddenly together into a tight bunch.
"We'll fix him after school," Louise heard them threaten. And she knew that Rudolph heard it, too—knew by the sudden whiteness which swept over his face.
The next minute the boys and girls were drawn up in parallel lines ready to march into the schoolhouse. Louise was at the end of herline and Rudolph Kreisler was the last on the boys' row. They were opposite each other.
"Eyes front—march!" came the command, and the lines moved forward with one impulse.
"Eyes front!" But to save her life Louise could not help stealing a sidelong glance at Rudolph.
To her horror she saw the little alien slip quietly behind a rose-bush and drop out of sight into the bricked-up area which furnished window-space for the basement.
With a flash Louise remembered that those windows communicated directly with the engine-room, and that the engine-room was directly under the third grade.
"Pay attention, Louise," came from the porch, and Louise's startled, dark eyes were turned to the front again.
When the children were seated in their room it developed that Miss Barclay had been temporarily called away, and that a scared-looking girl from the teacher training-class was in charge of the third grade.
The new teacher did not miss Rudolph, but the children did, and there was smothered excitement in consequence.
Louise, who had not breathed a word of what she knew, sat grasping her desk with both hands. Rudolph Kreisler had refused to come under the flag! Of course they had taunted him, but the stark fact remained that hehadrefused. And then no human being had ever seen inside those bulging pockets. Rudolph Kreisler, bulging pockets and all, was in the engine-room, right under their feet!
And then a new fear suddenly laid its grip upon her heart. Suppose that German boy should do something to the flag! She tried to shift her position so that she could see out of the window, but found it impossible.
"Oh-o-o, teacher!" Louise jumped at the sound of excitement in the voice from behind her, but quieted somewhat when she realized that it was Tinsie Willis who spoke. "Louise has left her hat on the front lawn!"
"Louise, go and get your hat," said thesubstitute, looking all about the room to see which one of the many little girls might be the one reported.
Louise rose from her seat with fear and trembling and left the room.
But the first glimpse of the out-of-doors dispelled her great new fear—her flag was still there!
The stately lawn looked vast and awe-inspiring now that one had to face its darkly waving greens all alone, but Duty called. She had left her hat by the flagpole, and she now went timidly up to get it. She mounted the green knoll. She looked up.
To play fair—to play fair! And yet, one must be loyal. One couldn't let German spies go around with their pockets—Rudolph Kreisler was in the engine-room right now!
Louise's grandfather and his father's father had died for their country—would they know, 'way up yonder in heaven, if she of their own blood were to turn coward at the test?
It was too poignant a risk. Louise tookhep young life in her hands. Down the green knoll and around the rose-bush, and she dropped into the brick area right by the window which opened from the engine-room. It was raised.
The little girl peeped in, with her heart swelling till she thought she would smother. There was black dust on the floor and black soot on the walls. And there in the centre rose the huge black demon engine. But no crouching enemy was to be seen anywhere—he was hiding, of course!
She slipped through the window, past the great silent engine, and came face to face with Rudolph Kreisler.
The die was cast now.
"Tell me," demanded Louise, choking with excitement and fear, "are you a—aGerman spy?"
"No," said the astonished boy, "no!"
"Well, whatareyou, then?" There was no backing down now; she was going to have it out with him.
"I wanted to be—American," he said, hislips threatening to quiver. "I—I thought I was." And he looked away.
One must know the truth when one's country was at stake. Louise drew a quick breath.
"Well, what are you doing with your pockets full of bombs, then?" she forced herself to bring out.
The little boy turned toward her again, and began slowly to draw out the contents of those suspicious pockets. A mitt, a top, two balls, a kite-string, a chicken-foot, a gopher, nails of various lengths, some tobacco tags, and a grimy stick of candy were laid one by one on the janitor's tool-bench, and the German spy stood with his pockets turned wrong side out.
But one must have thewholetruth.
"What are you doing with balls and mitts when you sit on the steps all the time?" the little girl demanded, but with decidedly less asperity this time.
"I thought maybe they'd—let me play, sometime." Something rolled down his cheek and splashed on the front of his jacket.
"Won'tthey let you play?" choked Louise, blinking hard to clear her suddenly clouded vision.
The boy shook his head.
"Well, why doesn't your mamma come and scold the teacher about it?" she demanded in indignant sympathy.
"I haven't any mamma."
"Oh-o-o! Well, you have a papa, haven't you? Why doesn'thedo something?"
"Father says those who are born here don't know how awful it is to have to choose——" then he stopped.
"Doesn't your father hate Germany?" the little girl asked.
"Why, no," said the boy.
"Does he love America?"
"Yes," said the boy.
"Well! Well!" exclaimed the little girl. Then—"Do you know, Rudolph, I'm sorry for your papa!"
But Rudolph did not answer this time. He merely turned aside till his face was hidden.
Suddenly a remembered something gripped Louise.
"Rudolph," she said, "if youareAmerican, why did you refuse to come under the flag?"
"I—I was going to—but they called me a 'coward,' and said I was afraid to refuse," he answered huskily.
Louise found herself batting very heavy lashes again.
"I am so glad I came to you," she said, "because I never would have known that you are not a German spy if you hadn't told me!"
"Lou-i-i-se!"
The two started at the call—it was in Tinsie Willis's high-pitched voice. Evidently she had been sent to find the truant.
"Sh-h-h!" exclaimed Louise to Rudolph. "They are after me for staying out so long. I must go."
"Those steps yonder lead to the front hall," said the boy. "Go up that way."
"But you must come, too!" Louise exclaimed.
"I can't," replied the miserable child."The boys are fixing to fight me. When school is over I'll slip out and go home."
"But why wait? Why don't you go now?" asked the little girl, a strange uneasiness coming over her.
"The police will get me if I go out on the street during school hours," answered he.
"Lou-i-i-se!"
"I'm going," whispered Louise to Rudolph, "butdon'tlet the boys catch you! Miss Barclay has gone—and—and—don'tlet them catch you, Rudolph!"
The next moment she glided up the dark stairway and came out into the big hall.
Jimmie Fisher was emerging from the third-grade cloaking-room with his hat and books.
"Father's leaving for France with a hospital unit," he explained hurriedly, "and mother sent for me to tell him good-by." Then he darted away.
Miss Barclay gone! And Jimmie gone! Had God himself deserted the third grade?
*****
When Louise crept back into the schoolroom—aheadof Tinsie Willis, who was still searching for her—she found things very troublous indeed. The children were naughty and restless, and the substitute was—a substitute! The whole class had been told to stay in, and Louise was promptly included in the sentence as soon as her tardy little face appeared in the doorway.
But she did not cry or fling herself about, for she knew she had remained out of the room overtime. Of course it had been for a high purpose, but that she could not explain, so she merely assented courteously and slipped into her seat. Her grandfather and his father's father had laid down their lives for the right—if she did not succeed in living through that dreadful half-hour of punishment, she would be but another of her race to die for a high cause.
Matters grew worse, and now the wind and the sky took a hand. The great trees outside began to battle fiercely together, and the sky frowned, darker and darker.
Suddenly Louise—looking out of the window—sawPerkins, the janitor, hauling down the flag! Was the Houston Street School surrendering to the Germans?
For one unworthy moment Louise suspected Rudolph Kreisler again. But she instantly afterward reminded herself that he had told her with his own lips he wished to be American.
Then the heavens opened and the floods came. It was a terrible, terrible afternoon, but children and substitute managed somehow to live through it, and after so long a time the gong sounded for the dismissal of school.
The children of the other grades marched out. Tramp—tramp—it sounded terribly like a host in retreat!
Then quiet!—with the third-graders sitting silent in their seats, trying to calculate how many thousand years it would take for that long clock-hand to move half-way round the dial again.
Louise began wondering at just what point Rudolph Kreisler would steal out of his hidingand break for home. The rain had stopped, and she hoped and believed that the little German would make good his escape before the third grade had finished serving sentence.
Suddenly Luke, raising his hand, asked of the substitute:
"May I speak to Billy Hastings on business?"
The substitute was writing something and assented without looking up. Louise could not help hearing the hoarsely whispered "business."
"Connie Tipton," said Luke to Billy, "says that that German spy has been hiding in the basement but has slipped up-stairs—" The hoarse whisper dropped lower at this point and Louise could not catch the words which followed. She guessed darkly, however, and clung to her desk tighter and tighter.
At that fateful moment the substitute looked up and said:
"Children, the others have all gone, and it looks like rain again, so I am going to dismissyou. File out quietly—I don't wish to have to call you back."
She did not rise from her seat to marshal them out, taking care that the last one of them was out of sight of the schoolhouse before he slackened his pace. She merely dropped her eyes to her writing again and left them practically to their own devices.
The boys marched through the cloaking-room first, and they were ominously quiet about it.
Then the little girls rose and filed out. Louise led the girls' line, but though she followed swiftly in the wake of the boys, they had disappeared off the face of the earth when she reached the cloaking-room door which opened into the hall.
They had slipped off to hunt for Rudolph Kreisler, and Louise knew it. She hoped that Rudolph had left the building, but she was not sure.
Something must be done—butwhat?
Just then she caught from above the sound of tiptoeing and whispering.
It was dishonorable to "tattle," but it wasn't dishonorable to fly after a set of lawless boys and keep them from abusing an innocent would-be American. Louise deserted the head of her line and darted up the long stairs.
It was like a frightful nightmare—the stealthy, breathless chase which followed. She could not stop the boys in their mad search, could not command their attention a moment to explain. In and out they darted—fourth-grade, fifth-grade, sixth-grade, seventh! Every crack and cranny, every cloaking-room and teacher's desk was made to prove its innocence of sheltering the fugitive spy. The scampering boys were just finishing their search of the seventh grade when Louise found herself at the foot of the garret steps.
She stopped and surveyed their boxed-up secretiveness. What if Rudolph had gone up there?
From the sounds of disappointment now issuing from the seventh grade she knew thatthe last schoolroom to be searched had not yielded up the quarry. Yes, Rudolph must be in the garret, and of course the boys would pursue him there!
Then a sudden idea came to her. If she could but reach Rudolph first she might help him to climb out of the garret window.
Up the dark steps she flew, but, alas! there were flying feet to follow! The others had seen, and were coming after.
They caught up with her before she reached the top, and she and they burst into the long garret room together.
It was big with mystery—that long garret place—and weirdly frightening with its half-lights and whole shadows. For one moment the children stood at pause before its awesome silence.
No German spy was in sight.
Then the boys began searching hurriedly, and after a quick glance about the open and lighter space before them, went pushing their quest farther and farther into the distant dark of the wings and gables.
Louise stood where they had left her, with the feeling thatthe end of all thingswas at hand, and that there was no use to struggle further. Presently her mist-dimmed eyes were attracted to a pile of something over at a small window near where she stood. The janitor had thrown their beautiful flag across an old couch without taking the trouble to roll it properly.
The indignant little girl started toward the couch to straighten out and roll the flag when her ear caught a sound which caused her to pause a moment in dim speculation. There was a step below, a firm, a familiar step—but no, she must be mistaken!
She slipped over to the couch, but the next moment drew back and clapped her hand over her mouth to repress a startled scream. A little yellow-haired boy lay asleep upon the couch, with the big flag nearly covering him!
Louise leaned over him. Two shining drops still lay on his cheek. He had sobbed himself to sleep—he was such alittleboy!