CHAPTER XIITHE TRAIN-WRECKERS
ABOUT three-quarters of an hour later—a seemingly surprised (but not altogether so) German was held up by a masked highwayman. He gave up such papers as he had—money was not taken—a very queer highwayman who would not take money. One thing he had managed to throw into the river below, but he was made to understand that another attempt to throw anything else into the river would mean instant action on the part of the hold-up man. He was told that so plainly that he could not fail to understand.
“I shall let you go,” the masked man said.
“It is an outrage,” said the German, but his voice did not sound very convincing. “I shall report it at once to the police.”
“You can do so, but the next time wecatch you it may be your last time. We may be ready for you then.”
The German went off. The masked man removed his mask and proved to be Captain Wilson. He tried to recover the paper thrown into the river, but was unsuccessful.
It was but one of the rumblings of the storm to come. One month later Austria was to march on Servia, the storm would be breaking.
From this western point another proof went forward to a certain departmental official. Proof that all was not quiet even if the surface showed an apparent smoothness.
That evening at dinner Captain Wilson asked Ted to come to the dean’s room.
When he entered, the captain and the dean were in close conversation.
“We feel, Theodore, that you should know that the man you reported was a German spy drawing plans of the bridges and railroad terminals. We found some valuable maps on him. We hope we have not been too late to intercept others he may have drawn, although it is almost too much to hope for that. I know that Mr. Dean will bespecially pleased because of your valuable help.
“You will be adding to the debt we owe you if you do not speak of it to anyone. We do not report such things, for there are ever so many who would consider us alarmists. We are doing what we can, but it must be done in the dark.”
The German spy made no complaint at the police office. One of a wonderful nation, he took it calmly, boarded a train to the United States and, probably, just as painstakingly, began the work over again in a few days.
Captain Wilson, a few days later, announced that a special drill of the Infantry and Cavalry Divisions of the Academy would be held on the Saturday following. It was to precede an inspection of the Scouts—tests and promotions were to be made.
There were to be some officers and other gentlemen present. He knew, he said, that the students of Wayland would come up to their usually high standard.
Many of the boys’ fathers and guardians were to be at the drill-inspection. Syd’s father, Colonel Graham, John Dean (with whom Mrs. Dean was coming to see Ted)and about six others were due on one train which ran from Derby, a junction station just below Wayland.
Captain Wilson decided that the Cavalry Squad should meet this train at Derby, so at eight o’clock, Saturday morning, they started.
The road runs along the railroad track almost the entire way. When they reached about three-quarters of the distance, Captain Wilson ordered a halt and the boys rested. Some of them went walking a little way, for the captain had allowed them fifteen minutes’ time. He did not want to get to Derby too early.
As Ted walked down the track he saw some men working on the road. He passed them by and at a turn sat down on a tree trunk to tie his shoelace. As he got up and went on, the impression stayed with him that the tree trunk he had sat on had but just been hewn. What a big tree it had been!
When the men saw him returning a few minutes later they stopped short in their work. They watched him as he passed on. Without appearing to do so, the boy wasalso watching and observing. He did not let them see that his suspicions were aroused. When the road turned again, he hastened his steps. The boys were just mounting, but he asked Captain Wilson if he could speak to him for a minute.
Very briefly he explained. He thought it looked like an attempt at train-wrecking.
“It’s quite possible,” said Captain Wilson. “They probably know just who is coming and figure on maiming or killing a number of important people.”
Calling the sergeant to him, he directed that half the squad go forward to meet the train, the other half he ordered to remain. The boys knew something was wrong. Ted was one of those who remained.
Captain Wilson took the sergeant aside and in a low voice explained and directed him to get a number of armed men at Derby, as they would perhaps be of help.
The sergeant saluted and started off with his men. Then the captain turned to Ted and one other boy:
“Go down one mile. Should you hear a bugle call, the train can pass. If there is no call you must stop that train. The peopleon the train will be on the watch for a signal, for Sergeant Gilhooley will have warned them to be on the lookout. It is important, boys, that the enemy is not aware of your presence. We shall also take care that these men do not see us.” The two boys saluted and were off.
The boys who were left very quietly remained in position. After a little while the captain turned to them and said:
“Those of the boys who would like to go back may do so. There is possible danger here and none of us are armed.”
But not one of the boys, of course, would go. The captain stationed them in the woods, where they were at instant call.
Taking Syd with him, the captain crawled forward and watched the men dragging the tremendous trunk to place across the track. It took them almost a half hour to complete the task. They did not leave, but hid in the adjoining woods. They were going to make sure of their job—any newcomer would be kept away at all costs.
Captain Wilson saw no chance to clear the track. He hoped the boys who had gone ahead would be able to stop the train. Itought not be difficult, he thought, since the people on the train would be warned.
But the best laid plans go wrong very often. The train did not stop at Derby, but passed through. It was late and so had been “specialed direct.” The engineer saw boys on horseback tearing down the road and waving frantically, but decided it was a salute and returned it by a great whistling from the engine. It was going at full speed when Ted and his partner waved a red sweater, a danger signal that could not be ignored. It seemed to the excited boys as if the engineer would never see it. Then the train began to slow down, and an excited crowd of men jumped off. Amongst them was John Dean.
After the boys explained the men from the train proceeded cautiously to the danger point, guns ready. The anxious captain saw them coming and used his bugle to call the Scouts to him. There was a rush of train-wreckers from the woods. Shots were fired. Two of them fell in their tracks. The rest escaped.
Ted was congratulated. Captain Wilson turned to John Dean and said, with a pat on Ted’s shoulder:
HE WAVED THE RED SWEATERHE WAVED THE RED SWEATER
HE WAVED THE RED SWEATER
HE WAVED THE RED SWEATER
“You know, hereafter we shall call him ‘Our Boy Scout, Lucky’. But, do you know, sir,” as Ted walked off embarrassed, “he uses his head. I am going to tell you one other case in point.” And he told John Dean of the spy.
The train came up, so did the frantic squad, with Sergeant Gilhooley at its head.
Mrs. Dean came out of the train, ran toward Ted and kissed him. Ted did not mind; he was very proud of that.
The train pulled into Wayland an hour late.
The newspapers called it an attempt of train-wreckers. One of the men who had been shot was dead and the other mortally wounded. He would not talk and was taken to the hospital.
Two days later he died.