CHAPTER XIN THE HANDS OF THE SCOUTS
Fora few minutes Danny could do nothing but stand on the edge of the pool, in the glorious sunlight, beneath the great blue sky, and realise that he wasfree. It was like waking up from a ghastly nightmare.
After shaking himself like a dog and squeezing some of the water out of his clothes, he turned up the little path leading to the road.
Where should he go? To whom should he report? He had such a wonderful story to tell, such a network of clues to unravel, such important information to report—it was difficult to know where to start. And would they ever take him seriously? he wondered.
Feeling in his pocket, he drew forth a flat cigarette-tin. It contained his precious notebook. For, with the forethought of a true Scout, he had realised that at any time a swim in the pool might be necessary, and that it was important to keep his book dry. It contained his report, carefully written out, with dates and diagrams, up till the night of his capture. The events since then were not entered, of course, but they were imprinted forever on his brain. Can any one ever forget moments when death seems very near, or when an unseen hand seems to protect one marvellously and set one free?
Glancing at his entries, Danny decided that his little book would not be much use in helping to explain the immediate dangers that must be dealt with. It was useless to try and tell the whole story from the beginning. To get the Germans caught was all that mattered. His book would be useful as evidence later, so he replaced it in his pocket and set out along the road in search of the Scouts.
It was not long before he came on two of them marching briskly along their piece of road.
“Hullo!” they said. “What on earth are you doing out at this time of the morning? And you’re soaking wet, and in no end of a mess. Your uniform’s all torn, and—what’s up with your wrists? They’re all bleeding! My word, youwillget in a row!”
“Can’t help that,” said Danny. “There’s something jolly important up. Who’s the P. L. in charge? I’ve got to report it at once.”
“Michael Byrne’s just come on with us—but Dick is only just going off with the night chaps. If you buck up you’ll catch him,” said the Scouts.
“Thanks,” said Danny, and set off down the road at the double. Old Mike was a good chap and a friend of Danny’s, but somehow he didn’t seem the best chap to whom to report. The Senior P. L. was the very person Danny wanted.
Rounding the corner, he saw a party of Scouts ahead, walking slowly towards the village. It must be those who had been on duty all night, just going back to bed. Danny slowed down into a walk again to get his breath, but before long he had caught them up. Stepping up to Dick’s side, he saluted smartly.
“Hullo, Danny!” said Dick, surprised. The other fellows all opened their mouths to make the same kind of remarks that the first two Scouts had made, but Danny spoke at once without waiting for them.
“Dick,” he said, “I’ve got something jolly important to report to you at once. Can I speak to you, alone? We mustn’t lose a sec.”
“Right-o!” said Dick Church, and Danny noted with relief that he spoke perfectly seriously.
Some of the Scouts began to laugh and make jokes about “Danny the Detective,” but Dick rounded on them.
“Shut up, you chaps!” he said. “Can’t you see the kid’s as white as a sheet, and all over blood, and his clothes torn and soaked? He wouldn’t get in that state for fun. Go on—don’t wait for me.” He turned to Danny, and suddenly took his arm, for the boy was swaying, his head was turning dizzily.
“Jim,” he called, after the retreating Scouts, “have you got some tea left in your billy?”
Jim came back.
“Here you are, kid—have a drink!” said Dick, giving him the cup. “Sit down! You’ll be all right in a minute!”
The tea bucked Danny up no end. His knees stopped knocking together.
“Thank you,” he said. “Don’t know why I felt so funny; I’m all right now.”
“Then what is it you have to report?” said Dick, sitting down on the bank.
“Well,” said Danny, “first I think you may want those chaps when you hear.” He pointed after the Scouts.
Dick blew his whistle. “I say,” he shoutedas they turned round, “sit down and wait for me. I shan’t be long.” The Scouts obeyed.
“Now,” said Dick, “fire away!”
Danny took a big breath. “There is a party of German spies,” he said, “quite near here. One is tapping this very cable. Others are watching and signalling from the Abbey Tower. They have a store of guns and ammunition.”
“Are you kidding?” said Dick, searching Danny’s face with keen eyes.
The boy shook his head. “I’m not,” he said, “on my honour.”
“Have you seen these spies?” said Dick quietly, watching the Cub intently.
“Yes!”
“When?”
“I’ve been their prisoner all night, and have only just escaped.” He held out his hands. “I hurt them,” he said, “getting free.”
Dick nodded. “Where are they hiding?” he asked.
“In an underground passage, and in the tower.”
“Are they there now?”
“Yes.”
“Where is the entrance to the underground passage?”
“There are two. One is in the Abbey ruins, and one at the bottom of the mill pond.”
“Where are they tapping the cable?”
“About three hundred yards down this road. Wires run down the telegraph post. The man has a buzzer below, in the passage.”
Dick took his whistle from his pocket and blew three short blasts and a long one. Two leaders and two seconds jumped up from the seated group ahead, and came up at the double. “Allen,” said Dick, “take your patrol down to the mill, set three boys to watch the pond, and you and the others search the mill and outhouses. Don’t leave the pond unguarded for an instant. It is being used by spies.”
“Great Scott!” said Allen.
“If you pass Michael,” said Dick, “tell him I’ve sent you back on duty, for a special guard.”
“Right,” said Allen, and doubled off.
“Marchant, you and your chaps must come with me,” said Dick. “We are on the scent of something hot this time. Lead ahead, Danny.”
The Kangaroos passed at the double, a grin of content on every face. This reallywaswar. The Otters fell in behind Dick and their leader with mystified expressions. Ten minutes later the party had arrived at Danny’s house.
“You must come through my garden,” he said.
The Scouts followed him. Across the cabbage patch they crept, between the gooseberry bushes, and through the little hole in the hedge. White dew lay thick on the grass, and a whole colony of rabbits darted up, surprised, and scuttled away.
“Here,” said Danny, as the party halted by the ruins of the Abbot’s House, “here isentrance to the secret passage. You have to get through the window.”
“Get through!” commanded Dick.
Following their guide, the patrol got through. It was pitch dark. Dick switched on his electric torch. Down the steps they crept.
“This is the door to the passage,” said Danny, as the Scouts reached the low archway.
“How many spies are in the passage?” asked Dick.
“One,” said Danny.
“Two of you chaps—Bill and Knobby—stay here on guard. Have you got staves?”
“Yes.”
“And axes,” added Knobby, with a ferocious emphasis.
“If any one tries to open that door from the inside, keep it shut—see?”
“Right,” said Bill.
With Danny leading the way, the party, now minus two, crept out again into the sunlight.
“This is the way they get from the passageto the tower,” said Danny, as they walked across the open space of grass and climbed through the hole in the wall into the cloisters. “I saw their wet footprints on the flagstones, leading up to the door of the tower,” he added.
“How many are in the tower?” said Dick.
“I don’t know for certain,” replied Danny. “But I have seen four belonging to the gang myself. One is in the passage. There are probably three or more up there.”
Dick tried the door. It was locked.
“Four of you stand on guard outside this door,” he said. “Two get further out in the ruin; one must keep his eyes on the top of the tower, and the other just patrol around. Danny, come with me.”
Five minutes later Dick was pushing his motor-bike out of its shed. Before long the boys were tearing down the road, Danny sitting on the carrier, clinging to Dick’s belt.
“Stop me at the telegraph post, won’t you?” he called over his shoulder.
Before long the boys were tearing down the roadBefore long the boys were tearing down the road, Danny sitting on the carrier, clinging to Dick’s belt.
Before long the boys were tearing down the road, Danny sitting on the carrier, clinging to Dick’s belt.
Before long the boys were tearing down the road, Danny sitting on the carrier, clinging to Dick’s belt.
“Right,” panted Danny, through the wind. “Whoa!” he shouted presently. “Here we are!”
Dick stopped and jumped off, leaning his bike against the bank.
“There—do you see?” whispered Danny, brushing aside a mass of nettles and revealing the old drain pipe. “There goes the wire. Do you see?—it runs up the post. They’ve cut a groove for it and tarred it over, so it scarcely shows! The German chap is just down there. Put your ear to the hole—you may hear the buzzer.”
Dick lay down in the ditch, his ear glued to the pipe.
“By Jove, so I can!” he whispered excitedly. “It’s quite clear—yes—yes!...” He listened intently for some minutes. Then he got up. “I can’t make any sense of it—it’s in code.” He ground his teeth. “And to think that beast is taking it all down!” he whispered. Then a sudden inspiration seized him.
“We’ll soon put a stop to his eavesdropping!”he exclaimed. “It may give the show away, that he’s found out, but if he tries to escape, our chaps will nab him all right.”
Taking his axe from its case, Dick dealt a blow to the post, severing both wires.
“Now I must connect them again, up there,” he said, and proceeded to swarm quickly up the post. Danny watched admiringly.
Clinging on with his legs, Dick worked with deft fingers. He had not got his Telegraphist Badge for nothing.
“That’s done,” he said, sliding down. “Now for Captain Miles.”
As they flew past the mill, Danny waved his hand to Allen and the Kangaroos on duty there. Then he began to think anxiously of the report he was to make to Captain Miles.