29CHAPTER IVA TWO-GIRL PROBLEM
Jerry Hopkins stretched himself lazily and comfortably out on the grass under the shade tree where he and Bob and Ned had taken Professor Snodgrass for a little talk. They were far removed from the center of the camp, so the noise of the men drilling or at their various occupations came but faintly.
“Do you mean that your problem has to be solved on the other side of the water, Professor?” asked Jerry.
“Part of it has. And I am anxious to get across as soon as possible to begin.”
“What?” cried Ned. “You don’t mean to say you, too, are going to France, Professor?”
“I hope to,” was the answer. “I have arranged to go, and I have my passport and some letters of introduction.”
“But what are you going for?” asked Bob. “Don’t you know you will be in the midst of terrible fighting? You can’t solve any problems there. It will be a bedlam of noise.”30
“And the noise is just what I want,” said Mr. Snodgrass. “That is one of my problems—to find out the effect of noise on the organisms of certain insects and reptiles. Men suffer from shell shock, and why should not insects suffer from the terrific noise of bursting guns? Most insects are noise-producers themselves,” he went on, in something of his class-room manner, which the boys so well remembered at Boxwood Hall. “The grasshopper, the katydid and the cricket, to give them their common names, each have a song of their own. These insects are found in France, as well as here, though in somewhat different form.
“Now I have a theory that a long-continued series of terrific noises may produce structural changes in insects, so as to change the character of their ‘songs’ as I prefer to call their sounds. This can best be studied on the battlefields of France, though I suppose I could get the same effect here, if there was a continuous thunderstorm with vivid lightning.
“But, as that condition is impossible to bring about, I shall best find it in France, and thither I am going, soon I hope. This snake experiment is only a brief one, undertaken at the behest of a friend of mine who is writing a book on the feeding habits of pythons.”
“Is that what brought you back to our camp?” asked Jerry.31
“Yes. This particular part of the South at this season of the year has the very climate suited to pythons and other large snakes of the tropics.”
“I’m sure it’s hot enough,” murmured Bob, mopping his perspiring face. “I’m glad we got out of drill this afternoon. But go on, Professor. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
“Well, there isn’t much to tell about the snake,” said the scientist. “I purchased Ticula, as I call her, some time ago from a museum. She is a fine specimen of the regal python. Originally she came from Borneo, where she was captured when very young. As I stated, she has not yet attained her growth, and I have succeeded in making quite a pet of her.”
“Deliver me from such pets!” murmured Ned.
“Ticula is not a venomous snake,” went on the professor. “None of the constrictor type of serpents is, though their power to crush their prey in their folds is enormous. They depend on that power, while the poisonous snakes kill their prey by the use of their venom. But Ticula and I are quite friendly.
“My friend, who is writing a book on snakes, asked me to find out something of how pythons capture their food, and, knowing there would be plenty of large rats in the vicinity of a camp, on account of the great food supply there, I came here with my pet snake.32
“I suppose I should have secured permission from some officer to let loose the serpent near one of the buildings, but I forgot all about it, thinking of the problem I have to puzzle over. I also forgot for the time being, that you boys were here at Camp Dixton, or I should certainly have communicated with you and got you to help me.
“But I went at it alone. Pete and I carried the box, with the snake in it, of course, close to one of the buildings. I did not know until later that it was the officers’ mess hall. Then Pete left me alone.”
“How did you manage to get through the sentry lines unchallenged?” asked Jerry.
“I don’t know,” frankly answered the professor. “I suppose it was because no one saw us; or they may have supposed we were bringing some supplies to one of the officers. Then, there was a sham battle going on not far away at the time, and that may have taken the attention of the sentries. Anyhow, I got through the lines, and, opening the box, let Ticula out to roam about and catch a rat if she could.
“I was crawling around after her, watching her as she went under the building when suddenly a soldier pounced on me and yelled that I was a German spy. I was never more surprised in all my life.”
Jerry and Bob chuckled.33
“I should think you might be!” laughed Ned. “Then what happened?”
“Well, they handled me rather roughly, and took me into custody, as I suppose it is called. They seemed to think Ticula’s box was an infernal machine. They were very much excited, and I was trying to explain to them who I was, when Ticula suddenly crawled up through a hole in the floor in the building where I was being questioned.”
“And then there was more excitement, I suppose,” said Jerry.
“There was—considerable,” admitted the professor. “Then you boys came in, and—well, it’s all over now. But I surely feared for a moment they might shoot my snake.”
“Yes, it was rather a close call,” observed Bob. “But did you have a good dinner with the colonel?”
“Listen to him, would you!” protested Ned. “All he can think of is eating!”
“Cut it out!” growled Bob, as Ned poked him in the ribs. “I just wanted to know what sort of feed they give the officers.”
“Oh,” said Jerry significantly. “Merely an academic interest, I suppose.”
“Sure!” assented Bob. “That’s all.”
“Well, the dinner was very good, though I cannot say that I remember what I ate,” confessed34the professor. “I was thinking too much of something else.”
“Do you mean you were puzzled as to how to study the effect of the noises of the French battlefields on grasshoppers and crickets?” asked Jerry.
“No,” and the professor shook his head. “This is an altogether different problem. It is, as I might call it, the problem of two girls.”
“Two girls!” cried the three Motor Boys in a chorus. “Two girls?”
They looked at the little professor, whose eyes, mildly blinking behind his strong glasses, regarded the lads curiously.
“Two girls,” repeated the little scientist. “The problem I have to solve concerns two girls.”
35CHAPTER VMORE GIRLS
Ned, Bob and Jerry looked at one another. Then they turned their glances on the professor.
“Whew!” softly whistled Jerry. “Can it be possible that our dear friend is in love—and with two girls at once? This is getting serious!”
It would have been had Jerry’s diagnosis been correct. But it was wrong, as was proved a moment later, when the professor, with a sigh, resumed his narrative.
“Yes,” he said, “I am much concerned over two girls—young ladies I suppose would be the more proper designation. I have never seen either of them.”
Jerry breathed more freely, and so did his chums. Clearly if the professor had not seen the two girls he could not be in love with them. And the professor in love was something unthinkable. He never would have remembered, from one day to the next, the name of the favored lady.
“And, boys,” went on Professor Snodgrass, “I think you will agree with me that it is quite a problem36to try to find in Europe, at this particular time, two girls I have never seen, that I may deliver to them a small fortune, and claim one myself.”
“Say, this is getting worse and more of it!” cried Ned. “What does it all mean, Professor? Are you in earnest about these girls and the effect of war noises on insects?”
“I am in earnest about both problems—never more so,” was the answer, and it needed but a glance at the face of the scientist to disclose this fact. “But perhaps I had better explain.”
“Perhaps you had,” said Jerry with a smile.
“And never mind about the insects—tell us about the girls,” urged Bob.
“Yes, relieve his mind,” agreed Ned. “He hasn’t heard from his dear Helena in some hours, I guess.”
“Oh, cut it out!” protested the stout lad.
“The two girls to whom I refer,” went on Professor Snodgrass, “are the nieces of my late friend, Professor Emil Petersen.”
“The man who wrote the book on trigonometry that we used to study at Boxwood Hall?” asked Ned.
“The same,” murmured Professor Snodgrass. “Professor Petersen was an eminent mathematician, and the world did not fully estimate his worth. His mathematical work was only a branch37of his many-sided activities. Professor Petersen died about three months ago, and he left me a most peculiar legacy.”
“Peculiar in what way?” asked Ned.
“It is like this,” said the little scientist, as he pulled up a blade of grass, and examined it under a powerful hand glass to see if any strange insects might be crawling on it. “Professor Petersen, unlike most of us professional men, was very wealthy. He was a Swede, and his wealth came to him from his father. He never used much of it, and the money accumulated.
“After his death I was surprised to learn that he had made me one of his heirs, but under certain conditions. It appears that in his younger days Professor Petersen was estranged from his brother and sister, on account of some family matters. They received an equal share with him from their father’s estate, but they made unwise investments, and soon lost the major portion of their inheritances. The professor kept his. Perhaps that was one reason for the estrangement.
“At any rate, some coldness existed, and it was not until just before his death that the professor wished to be reconciled. Then it was too late, as his brother and sister were both dead. But each had left a daughter, and the young ladies were studying abroad—somewhere in France or Germany, I believe, when the war broke out.38
“I was greatly surprised, when the will was made public, to learn that I was to have half the professor’s not inconsiderable wealth, on a certain condition.”
“And what condition?” remarked Jerry, as the professor hesitated.
“That condition is as follows. I am to seek out these two nieces of my dead friend and give them each a fourth of his estate. The other half I am to have for myself if I fulfill the trust. That is, I get it if I can succeed in finding the two girls, and I need not tell you that I shall be very glad of the large sum of money—not for myself, oh, no!” said Professor Snodgrass quickly, “but that I may devote it to the furtherance of the interests of science. If I can solve the problem, and find the two girls, I shall have a large sum at my disposal, and I can then fulfill a life-long desire to undertake the study of the insects of the Amazon River. That is what I have always desired to do since I took up my studies, but I always lacked the means. Now, if I succeed in finding these two girls, I shall have wealth enough to travel in South America.”
“And where are the girls?” asked Jerry.
“Somewhere in Germany or France,” was the answer. “The latter country, I think. I have, among my papers, their last address. But since the war there is no telling where I may find them. I have written a number of letters, but have had39no answers. Now I must go to seek them, and, at the same time, make a study of the effect of battle noises on crickets and grasshoppers. Is it any wonder that I seem puzzled? Was there ever such a hard problem for a peace-loving scientist to solve?”
“It isn’t going to be easy,” admitted Ned. “Then you really expect to go across?”
“Yes. And since I understand you are going, we may go together; or at least meet there, for I suppose I shall not be allowed on a transport, being a civilian.”
“Hardly,” assented Jerry. “But if, as you say, you have passports and credentials and letters of introduction, it may be arranged. You had better see our colonel. He seems to have taken quite a notion to you.”
“Thank you; I will,” promised the scientist. “And now I think I had better go back and see about Ticula and Pete Bumps. Pete may be worried about me.”
“Just a moment,” suggested Ned. “If we are to help you in the search for these two girls, we ought to know something more about them.”
“That is right,” assented the professor; “and I hope you will help me. The problem of finding the two young ladies would be easy were it not for the war. But they have been missing since the conflict started, and I can get no trace of them.40I hope they are still living, for, if they are dead, all the wealth Professor Petersen left goes to a humane society for the care of distressed cats and dogs and to provide a shelter for them. Not that I object to cats and dogs,” he hastily added, “but I think some other form of scientific activity might be chosen. However, Professor Petersen was very peculiar, and, after all, it was his money. Will you boys help me?”
“Indeed we will!” cried Jerry. “But how are we to go about it? What part of France were the girls last in?”
“And what are their names?” Bob demanded.
“And what do they look like?” asked Ned.
“That last question I can answer first,” said the professor. “I happen to have recent pictures of them. They sent them to their uncle following the deaths of their parents, and after the reconciliation, and Professor Petersen left them to me, with certain other material, documents and such, to aid me in the search. Here are the girls—their names are Gladys Petersen and Dorothy Gibbs.”
He reached in his pocket and took out a folded paper. As he opened it he gave a start and hastily closed it again.
“That isn’t it,” he murmured. “Those are some dried specimens ofamebathat I wish to study under a microscope.”41
“What areameba?” asked Jerry. “Fish?”
“Not exactly,” answered the professor with a smile, “though I secured these from a little pond on the other side of the camp.Amebaare microorganisms of the simplest structure—a protoplasm which is constantly changing in shape. Very interesting—very interesting indeed, but not the pictures of the girls. Ah, here they are,” he added, as he replaced the first paper and took out a second. From the folds of that he produced two unmounted photographs at which the boys gazed with interest.
They saw the likenesses of two pretty girls in traveling costume, and the pictures had, obviously, been snapped by an amateur at some country place, for there was a barn and fields in the background.
“The girls took these pictures themselves, I understand,” explained the professor. “They sent them to their uncle.”
“Which is which?” asked Jerry. “I mean which is Gladys and which is Dorothy?”
“The names are on the reverse side of the photographs, I believe,” said the professor, and so it proved.
“They are both pretty,” observed Jerry.
“I rather fancy Gladys,” murmured Ned.
“Dorothy seems real jolly,” stated Bob.
“Here! None of that, young man, or I’ll write42to Helena Schaeffer, and tell her how you’re carrying on!” warned Jerry, shaking a finger at his stout chum.
“Aw, you––” began Bob.
But at that moment there came an interruption. A small, very much excited lad came fairly bounding over the grass toward the figures of the three chums and Professor Snodgrass.
“Oh, here you are!” cried the newcomer. “Found you at last—thought I never would—asked everybody—nearly got stabbed by a sentry—had to jump out of the way of a bullet—whoop—but here I am—Gosh! Say, it’s good to see you again—I told ’em I could find you—awful hot, ain’t it? Lots of things going on—never saw so many soldiers in all my life—here they are, girls! I found ’em!”
Ned, Bob and Jerry gazed in amazement at the small lad. Ned murmured his name—Andy Rush—and then Jerry, looking over the head of the excited little chap, descried three girls approaching.
“Girls! Girls!” murmured the tall lad. “More girls! What does it mean?”
43CHAPTER VINODDY NIXON
Events were transpiring so rapidly for Ned, Bob and Jerry in the last few hours, that it was no wonder they were somewhat startled. Coming from strenuous bayonet practice to hear of a spy alarm, to have that augmented by excitement over the big snake, to learn that the “spy” was none other than Professor Snodgrass, and then to hear of his strange mission, would have been almost too much for any group of lads less sophisticated than this trio.
And hardly had they digested the news about the two missing girls, in a search for whom they mentally agreed they would join, than along came excitable Andy Rush and—more girls.
“There’s Mollie Horton!” cried Ned, recognizing a girl who lived near him in Cresville, and with whom he was very friendly.
“Yes, and I see Alice Vines,” added Jerry.
“And Helen Gale is with her,” commented Bob. “I’m glad she came! Helen’s a great girl for sport and––”
“You’d better be careful how you talk,” warned44Jerry, as the girls continued to approach. “Helen and Helena are names very much alike, but if you get them mixed up—well, Helen isn’t one to stand any nonsense.”
“Aw, say––” began Bob, and then the nearer approach of the three girls, to whom Andy Rush was beckoning, put a stop to any further talk concerning them.
It might be added, to explain Jerry’s reference, that Helena Schaeffer was a girl in whom Bob Baker felt more than ordinary interest. At first, because of the pro-German leanings of her father, she had been a bit cold toward Bob when he joined the army with his chums, to fight the Kaiser. But, as readers of the volume preceding this know, Helena changed her attitude, much to Bob’s relief.
“Well, of all the sights that are good for sore eyes!” cried Ned, as he hurried forward to greet the girls, an example followed by his chums. “What fine wind blew you here?”
“We didn’t come in an airship!” burst out Andy Rush. “I wanted to, but they wouldn’t—’fraid they’d fall—swoop up—swoop down—get here quicker—fall maybe—maybe not—lots of fun, anyhow. Gosh, it’s great—I say, fellows, are you going––”
Jerry gently but firmly took hold of Andy by the ear, and, pointing to Professor Snodgrass,45who was wandering about a distant field in search of possible insects, said:
“Andy, you go and aid in the interests of science, and, incidentally, cool off. We’ll see you later.”
And Andy, whose rapid flow of words had been suddenly stopped, looked once at the tall, bronzed lad, and then followed the instructions to the letter. So, whether he wanted it or not, Professor Snodgrass had the assistance of the small youth.
“Well! Well!” exclaimed Jerry, as he shook hands lingeringly with Alice. “How did you get here?”
“Going to enlist?” asked Ned.
“Maybe they’re going to join the girls’ motor corps,” suggested Bob, who had attached himself to Helen.
“No, we just came on a visit,” explained Mollie.
“To see us?” asked Ned.
“Of course!” was the mischievous answer. “We got lonesome back in Cresville, with all the nice boys gone, and so we got Andy to bring us down here.”
“And if we believe that, I suppose you’ll tell us another,” laughed Jerry. “Seriously now, how did you happen to come, and how long are you going to stay? Fellows, we’ll have to get furloughs and take the girls around. Not that there’s46much to see down here, but we’ll do our best,” he added.
“Cease! Cease!” commanded Ned, holding up his hand like a traffic officer in front of Jerry. “Let’s hear how they happened to come.”
“Oh, that is soon told,” remarked Alice. “Mollie’s aunt lives not far from here.”
“And she invited Mollie down on a visit,” added Helen. “And Mollie was good enough to ask us, so we all came together. We reached there yesterday, and, knowing you boys were at camp here, we decided to come out to see you, which we have done.”
“And for which we are duly grateful,” added Jerry. “But what about Andy Rush? I never was more surprised in my life when I heard his usual flow of language. How did he happen to be with you?”
“That was just an accident, a coincidence, or whatever you want to call it,” said Mollie, with a laugh. “When Andy heard we were coming down this way he asked if he couldn’t come with us. He says he is going to enlist. He isn’t going to wait to be drafted. He said he’d sort of look after us on our way down.”
“But it’s been the other way about!” laughed Alice. “We’ve had to watch him all the while. He was always hopping about, talking to strangers, and every time the train stopped at a station47longer than a minute he’d get off, and we’d be in a fix for fear he’d be left. But he’s here, thank goodness!”
“Going to enlist!” cried Ned. “Why, he’s toosmall.”
“That’s what they told him back in Cresville when he tried it,” remarked Alice. “But we must give Andy credit for being a determined little chap. He’s sixteen, and he says lots of boys of sixteen have gone in, and he’s going. He said if the recruiting officer at home wouldn’t take him one here at camp might. So he came with us, and I believe he’s going to ask you boys to use your influence to get him into the army.”
“A heap of influence we have!” laughed Ned. “Privates—with Jerry just made corporal.”
“Well, Andy was very nice to us on the way down,” said Helen, “so please do all you can for him.”
“We will!” promised Jerry. “And now tell us about yourselves, and how all the folks are at home. Oh, but it’s great to see you again!”
Then followed a talk until it was time for the three chums to report for drill duty.
“What are you girls going to do this evening?” asked Bob.
The girls looked at one another.
“Oh, just sit around, I suppose,” remarked Mollie.48
“No, you’re not!” cried Jerry. “There’s a dance in town—a really nice place—and we’ve been wishing for some girls to come along to help us out. It’s under the auspices of the local Y. W. C. A. And if we can get off––”
“Oh, we’ll get off all right!” broke in Ned eagerly.
“If worst comes to worst, we’ll have the professor ask the colonel on our behalf. The prof seems to pull a pretty good stroke with the C. O. So a dance it is to be!” declared Bob.
And a dance it was. The boys received permission to remain away from camp until midnight, passes being issued to them, and they at once proceeded to “doll up,” as Bob expressed it.
A joyous week followed, for the girls were to remain in the vicinity of Camp Dixton, at Mollie’s aunt’s house for some time, and they asked nothing better than to have the company of the three chums as often as it might be possible.
Of course, Ned, Bob and Jerry did not have very much time to themselves during the day, and some of their nights were occupied. But fate was kind to them, and they had several dances with the girls, and also went to “shows” at the local Y. M. C. A., as well as entertaining the girls by escorting them about the cantonment.
Meanwhile, Professor Snodgrass received permission to loose his pet snake, Ticula, in certain49restricted areas, so that he might observe her feeding habits in the open.
“But I cannot stay here very long,” he told the boys. “I must soon begin to prepare for my trip to Europe. I simply must make an attempt to find those two girls.”
“And we’ll help you!” declared Jerry. “Just wait a few days more. I think our orders to go across are coming.”
And come the orders did. The day before the three home-town girls were to return to Cresville orders came for the larger part of the soldiers at Camp Dixton to leave for France.
“Hurray!” cried Ned, Bob and Jerry, as they saw the orders posted. “Now we’ll get a whack at the Germans!”
“And I’m going, too!” declared Andy Rush. “I’ll go if I have to leave as a stowaway! I’ve simply got to fight—get me a gun—let me go in an aeroplane—I want action—got to do something—can’t keep still—Hurray for Uncle Sam!”
“Say, you’ll burst a blood vessel if you aren’t careful!” cautioned Ned. “Better go slow, Andy.”
But Andy Rush was not the lad for that, and he hurried about the camp, more excited than ever, seeking for a chance to go abroad.
Ned, Bob and Jerry, with thousands of their chums, were to go to Hoboken, New Jersey, there50to go aboard a transport and be escorted to France. By a stroke of good luck, and by pulling some official, or scientific wires, Professor Snodgrass received permission to go on the same vessel. He hurriedly sent his pet snake to a museum to be cared for until his return, mailed his specimens ofamebato a scientific friend to be made into microscopical slides, and then, having fitted himself out with as many specimen boxes and other paraphernalia as he was permitted to take, announced that he was ready for his dual mission—the seeking out of the two girls that he might apprise them of their good fortune and to undertake the study of the effect of war noises on crickets and katydids.
The final drills, bayonet practices, hikes and other camp activities were held, and then the order came to break camp. Professor Snodgrass went on ahead, promising to meet the three chums in Hoboken, and Mollie, Alice and Helen departed for Cresville, their good-byes to the boys being rather tearful, it must be admitted.
As for Andy Rush, he disappeared on the day when the young soldiers were to take the train for the North, and no one seemed to know what had become of him.
“Guess he found he couldn’t get in the army, and he went back home,” remarked Ned.
Finally the three chums were on their way for51the fighting front with thousands of fellow soldiers, some being volunteers and others of the selective service.
Many and varied were the thoughts of our heroes as the train bore them northward. What would be their fate in France? Would they ever see home again, or would they be left across the water with the others who died that civilization might live? And mingled with these thoughts were others as to the mission of Professor Snodgrass.
“It surely is some commission—trying to find two girls with just their photographs and nothing much else to go by,” commented Ned.
“But we have done harder things,” added Jerry.
The journey North was rather tiresome, but the boys and their companions enlivened it as much as possible by singing, telling stories, and general activities.
Once, when the train was delayed at a junction the three Cresville friends got out, as did hundreds of others, to “stretch their legs.” There was another train-load of young soldiers on a siding, having come from another camp, and lads from this were also walking up and down.
As Ned, Bob and Jerry stood together, looking at a group of recruits who had been trained in Texas, they heard a voice saying:52
“This drafting business makes me sick! I don’t like it at all!”
“Maybe you’d rather have been passed over,” suggested some one.
“Naw, you get me wrong!” was the answer. “I want to fight all right, but I want to do it my own way. I’d have enlisted in the air service if they’d given me time enough. I was thinking of it when the draft law went into effect, and then I couldn’t. I know a lot about airships. I used to run one, and I invented one, too.”
“Did it fly?” some one wanted to know.
“It would have if it hadn’t been for some mean fellows in my town who didn’t want me to beat them,” was the announcement. “You wait until I get on the other side! I’ll show ’em what flying is, if they give me the chance, and Jerry Hopkins and his pals sha’n’t stop me, either!”
“Did you hear that?” asked Ned in a low voice.
“I should say so!” exclaimed Bob. “We ought to know who that is.”
“Noddy Nixon, without a doubt!” remarked Jerry. “And up to his old tricks! I hope he isn’t going on the same transport with us!”
53CHAPTER VIIOFF FOR FRANCE
Noddy Nixon needs no introduction to my old readers. This rich and impudent lad had, more than once, done his best to injure the Motor Boys, and, with the plotting of Jack Pender and Bill Berry, a Cresville n’er-do-well, had too often succeeded.
“Well, I don’t see anything of Bill or Jack,” observed Jerry, as he looked toward Noddy Nixon, and noted, that the bully was surrounded by a group of strange recruits.
“Yes, if he’s by himself he won’t be so hard to handle,” agreed Ned. “But I wonder where he came from? He ought to be in jail!”
“I suppose he came from some training camp—same as we did,” observed Bob. “And he looks as though he had been well fed, too. He’s as fat as butter.”
“That’s Chunky all over—thinking of the eating end,” laughed Ned.
“Yes, Noddy is fat all right—too fat!” declared Jerry. “He hasn’t been drilled as hard as we54have, or else he got a desk position somewhere and held on to it.”
“Did you hear the bluff he was throwing about trying to enlist in the air service?” asked Ned.
“Yes,” agreed his tall chum. “Talk about his being an expert flier! Say, do you remember hisTin Fly?”
“I should say so!” laughed Bob. “The flying machine that wouldn’t go up. That was a hot one! But keep quiet—he’s looking over this way.”
Noddy, indeed, seemed to have his attention attracted to the three friends. At first he looked uncomprehendingly, and then, as the features of the lads toward whom he had acted so meanly became plainer, he stared and finally exclaimed:
“What are you fellows doing here?”
“The same as you, I imagine,” was Jerry’s cool answer. “We are going to fight in France.”
Jerry said afterward he wanted to add that he and his chums had “volunteered” to do this fighting, but he did not think it would be quite fair to the drafted men with Noddy who, to do them justice, were in the same class as the best of patriots. The selective service law solved many problems, but Noddy’s was not among them. As the boys learned later, the town bully had done his best to evade the draft, and had only registered when threatened with military action.55
Then he made a virtue of necessity and talked big about having tried to volunteer in the air service, only to be refused. But most of those who heard Noddy Nixon talk understood him, and were not at all taken in.
“Where’d you fellows train?” asked Noddy, moving over toward his Cresville acquaintances.
“Camp Dixton,” answered Ned. Then he added to Bob and Jerry: “Come on, fellows, I think our train’s about to pull out.”
None of the Motor Boys had any relish for talk with their former enemy. As for Noddy, he seemed to think he was doing them a favor by noticing them, and as they turned away he said:
“Camp Dixton isn’t in it with Upyank, where our bunch was trained! We’ll show you when we get to France!”
“I hope we don’t run across him,” murmured Jerry, as they got back to their seats, for Ned’s alarm had proved true, and their train soon did pull out. Noddy and his crowd were a little later in starting from the junction, and then, as the Motor Boys were hauled on to their destination to embark for France, they discussed the past doings of the bully, and wondered how he would conduct himself in war.
From that they switched to the more pleasant topic of the recent visit of the girls, and speculated on what had become of Andy Rush.56
“They might enlist him and let him talk some of the Huns to death,” suggested Ned. “He could do that to perfection. But I’m afraid he’s too small to get in the army.”
“I wonder if we’ll ever find the professor’s two girls?” ventured Bob, meaning thereby Gladys Petersen and Dorothy Gibbs.
“I don’t believe we’ll have much time to look for them, if the fighting keeps up as fiercely as it has,” and Jerry handed his chums a paper he had purchased, which gave a detailed account of some of the first fighting of the American Expeditionary Force, in the Toul sector, at Seicheprey. This fighting had taken place in April, and it was late in June when Ned, Bob and Jerry, with others from their camp, were on their way to France in that great movement of troops which was to prove the turning, and winning, point of the war. The account in the paper of the fighting at Seicheprey was a delayed one sent through the mail by a correspondent.
“Yes, it is getting hot,” observed Ned. “But still we promised the professor we’d help him look for the girls.”
“And so we shall, if we get the chance,” declared Jerry. “I know what it would mean to the professor if he lost his half of the fortune and had to give up his work on the insects of the Amazon. Oh, we’ll help him all right!”
THOUSANDS OF SOLDIERS WERE CROWDING ON BOARD.Ned, Bob and Jerry on the Firing Line.Page 57
THOUSANDS OF SOLDIERS WERE CROWDING ON BOARD.Ned, Bob and Jerry on the Firing Line.Page 57
57
The journey of the boys to the “Atlantic Seaport,” as Hoboken and New York, as well as other well-known cities, were called in the newspapers during the war, was not eventful. Their train was one of many hundreds rushing troops to the transports, and in due time Ned, Bob and Jerry found themselves getting off at a big dock in Hoboken and going aboard a transport—a former German liner, her machinery rebuilt after the ship’s German crew had done their best to disable it.
“Well, we’re here!” announced Jerry, as he eased his pack from his shoulders to the deck, an example followed by Ned and Bob.
“Yes, we’re here, and we’ll soon be—there!” and Ned nodded in the direction of France—or where he thought it was.
Somewhere a band was playing. Thousands of soldiers were crowding on board, and there would be more thousands after them—a stream that would not end until Prussianism had been dealt its death-blow.
There was a period of seeming chaos while the troops were getting settled and disposing of their baggage. Then the three chums had a chance to look about them, and proceeding to the stern of the vessel they glanced across the Hudson to New York, where the towering buildings showed dimly through a harbor haze.58
“Wonder when we’ll see them again,” remarked Jerry, in a low voice.
Neither of his chums answered. They were thinking, though.
Late that afternoon the preparation and bustle seemed redoubled. More soldiers and a number of officers came aboard, and then, suddenly, after bugles had blared and bells had clanged, there was a tremor through the big transport.
“We’re off!” cried Bob.
“For France!” added Ned.
“And I’m glad to be with you!” said a voice behind Jerry, who, turning, beheld Professor Snodgrass.
59CHAPTER VIIITHE TRAINING CAMP
My readers may well guess that Ned, Bob and Jerry were glad to see the scientist. He was like part of their “own folks,” and though they had many friends among their army chums, and though they liked, and were liked, by their officers, our three heroes felt that with Professor Snodgrass along it was like taking part of Cresville aboard with them.
“So you got here all right, did you?” asked Ned with a smile, as he and the others shook hands with the scientist.
“Yes, I’m here; and I wish we were across. I dread the voyage.”
“Submarines?” asked Jerry.
“Oh, no, I wasn’t thinking of them,” answered the professor. “But I am anxious to get across, not only to begin my study of the effect of war noises on European insects, but to search for those two young ladies. I have been reading considerable about war conditions in France and Germany since Professor Petersen made me his part heir,60and I fear the young ladies may have a hard time.”
“Yes, they are very likely to,” assented Ned. “But until we get there we can’t do anything to help them. However, we’ll do our best for you and them when we do get there—if we have a chance—after getting a Hun or two,” he added.
“That’s right,” said Mr. Snodgrass. “The winning of the war is the first consideration. I wish I were young enough to fight. But I have contributed to the Red Cross, to the Salvation Army, the Knights of Columbus and the Y. M. C. A. and the Y. W. C. A.; and I’ve mailed every magazine I finished reading and sent over all the books I could spare.”
The boys winked at one another. They gave full credit to Professor Snodgrass for his contributions to the five organizations, which, with the Jewish Welfare League, did so much to help win the war.
“But if the boys in camp over there had to depend for reading on the dry, scientific magazines and books the professor sent them they’d be hard put,” commented Jerry to his chums, afterward.
“Well, we’re moving, anyhow,” observed Bob, as he and the others noticed that tugs were backing the transport out into the river. “Now that we’re under way, don’t you think we’d better go and see about––”61
“Grub!” finished Jerry, fairly taking the word out of Chunky’s mouth.
The stout lad glared a moment, and then said:
“Well, yes, grub! Why not? We have to eat, don’t we?”
“You said it, Bob!” exclaimed Ned. “Go to it!”
But the boys found they need not have worried about the matter of eating or sleeping. Competent hands had the comfort of the soldiers in charge and there was nothing lacking that could be obtained. They were taken in charge by officers, divided into squads, assigned to certain lifeboats, and told where to report when an alarm for a submarine attack, real or simulated, was sounded.
Professor Snodgrass told how he had secured permission to come aboard the transport with his friends, the young soldiers—no easy matter—and how he had been designated as a “correspondent,” though Jerry Hopkins, on hearing this, remarked:
“I suppose if he did send any news it would be to theBug Hunter’s Review, describing the life of an insect on an army transport.”
“Very likely,” agreed Ned.
And so, amid the blaring whistle salutes of river craft, the former German liner dropped down the bay and started for France with the young soldiers62who were to do their part in ending barbarous militarism forever.
It was not exactly a gay trip. There were many who were seasick in spite of the calm weather, and there was little to do on board. Only a few books were available to read, and these were in constant use. Aside from lifeboat drill there was little to occupy the boys.
But there was always the fear of a submarine attack when they should reach the infested zone, and the boys looked forward to this as something that would relieve the monotony.
There was a gun crew on the transport—several of them, in fact—and the troop ships were escorted by war vessels and the swift, snake-like destroyers, which moved with such remarkable speed.
One day, after the usual lifeboat drill, which was held at different hours each day so that none would suspect when it was coming, the three chums were standing near the forward gun, rather idly scanning the water. The night had been a dreary one, cooped up as they were in the darkness, for now that they were approaching the danger zone, all but the most necessary lights were dimmed.
Up above, and on various parts of the deck, were the lookouts, scanning with strained and eager eyes the expanse of water ahead of them for a sight of the white wake that would indicate a63periscope, or, perchance, hoping to see the wet, glistening sides of a “steel fish” itself, as it broke water before sending the deadly torpedo.
“Well, boys, how goes it?” asked a voice behind the three chums, and they recognized Professor Snodgrass.
As Jerry turned to speak to him, having finished a remark in which he had speculated as to what had become of Noddy Nixon, who was not on board, one of the men cried:
“What’s that?”
He pointed to a spot about two points off the port bow, and Ned, Bob and Jerry, as well as several others, distinctly saw a little commotion in the water.
“A sub, as sure as you’re a foot high!” cried a marine, just as a bugle call to quarters was blown, for a lookout, too, had observed the disturbance in the water.
Instantly the gun crew was in action, and several shots were fired from the bow gun. The reports had hardly ceased echoing when some remarkable activity was displayed, not only aboard the transport, but on the part of the convoying squadron.
As the shells splashed into the sea near the spot where the commotion had been observed, there were smudges of black smoke at several points on either side of the troopship. These were the funnels64of the destroyers belching out clouds of vapor that told of their approach under forced draught. And as the other guns on the transport awoke and began firing on the suspected submarine, up came racing the swift craft, the men on board eagerly looking for a target.
Then their big guns got into action, and for a time the sea in the vicinity of the suspected place was churned by exploding shells, while one destroyer, the fastest of the flotilla, shot right over the place where the lookout thought he had seen a periscope, and dropped two depth bombs that added further to the churning of Neptune’s element.
Meanwhile, for the second occasion in a short time, lifeboat stations were sounded, and the soldiers, donning their life preservers, took their places to await what might follow—possibly, an order to abandon ship after she had been struck by a torpedo.
But this contingency did not arise. The destroyers swarmed around the transport, seeking in vain for something substantial on which to expend their ammunition, and then the scare was over.
And whether it was only a scare, or whether a real submarine had shown her periscope and then dived before sending a torpedo, could, of course, only be surmised. But no chances were being65taken, and the transport on which the Cresville boys traveled was not the only one of the American Expeditionary Forces that believed itself the object of a frustrated attack.
“If that was a sub, it came out pretty far to meet us,” observed Jerry, when the excitement had died away and they were at ease once more.
“No telling where they’ll be found,” said a noncommissioned officer. “If that had been one I believe we’d have got her, though.”
“Surest thing you know!” declared Ned Slade emphatically.
This was the only incident that marked the passage. Of course, at various times, especially during the nights, the lookouts may have imagined they saw the wake of a periscope or a torpedo, but there was no general alarm.
And finally, after what really was a tiresome voyage, and one the end of which was welcomed by all, the transport docked at a certain port in France, and Ned, Bob and Jerry were able, with their water-weary comrades, to go ashore.
“Here at last!” murmured Jerry, as he and his chums sought their own company.
“And where are the Huns we’re going to fight?” asked Bob, looking around at the strange scenes.
“Oh, we won’t see them right away,” returned Ned. “It’ll be more training camp for ours for66a while. But we’ll see real fighting soon enough. Don’t worry.”
“It can’t come any too soon for me, Buddy!” exclaimed a tall, Southern lad, with whom the Motor Boys had become chummy at Camp Dixton. “Lead me to it!”
But there was much to be done before this would occur. After the boys had disembarked they were inspected, roll was called, and then they were told to march to a designated depot, there to eat and be fitted out for a march to the French village where they were to be billeted until sent to a training camp.
Professor Snodgrass could not, of course, stay with the army boys, but he announced that he would follow them as closely as possible, and keep in communication with them. As soon as might be he would arrange to begin the search for the two missing girls.
Not all that Ned, Bob and Jerry had read of the gigantic work undertaken to fit out and maintain the American armies in France prepared them for what they saw. The port where the transport docked had been transformed. Great storehouses and warehouses were erected. Whole railway systems had been built, with the American locomotives replacing the diminutive French ones. And the French population and army representatives were as much surprised at the initiative and wonderful67progress of the American forces as were the new recruits themselves.
“Say, we’re going into this war with both feet!” exclaimed Jerry admiringly.
“That’s the only way to do it,” said Ned. “The harder we go at it the sooner it will be over.”
They had their “chow,” and even Bob admitted that it was “mighty good,” and, as you know, he was a connoisseur.
Then, with their comrades, the three Motor Boys marched to the place where they were to spend the night before going to the training camp. This was a small French village, and its quaint beauty, unspoiled by the Germans, was very attractive to the sea-weary soldiers.
Ned, Bob and Jerry were billeted with five others at a French farmhouse, where they were given beds in the attic. The “beds” were only piles of clean straw, but the lads were delighted with them after their close bunks on the ship.
“I can roll over now without falling out,” said Ned, with a sigh of comfort as he stretched out.
They drew their rations the following morning, and breakfasted most heartily, if not luxuriously, and were ready for what the day held for them. This was nothing else than a journey to their training camp, which, they learned, was some miles behind the front lines where the fighting was going on.68
“But you’ll be moved up as fast as it’s possible to do so,” said the officer who directed them. “The fighting’s getting heavier and heavier.”
And this was true, for about this time the 42d American Division was in position east of Rheims where, a little later, a great German attack was launched, and, as all the world now knows, was flung back with disaster to the Hun forces.
The railroad journey, from a point near their disembarkation port to their training camp, was not a very comfortable one, as the troops had to travel in cars that were used at times for horses. But every one was in good spirits, and little inconveniences were laughed at.
And finally, after three days, the welcome word was given to leave the trains and march to the camp. This was situated in a beautiful part of France—that is, it had been beautiful before the spoliation by the Huns, and there Ned, Bob and Jerry, with thousands of their comrades, prepared for the last phase of their training. Before them was the enemy.
“Well, here at last!” remarked Jerry, as he eased himself from his pack, and, with his two chums, stacked the guns together. “I wonder what happens first?”
“Suppose you come over and have some chocolate?” suggested a voice behind the boys, and, turning, they saw a pleasant-faced young man,69whose hair, however, was gray. He wore a semi-military uniform, but a glance at his sleeve showed the red triangle, and the letters “Y. M. C. A.” were not needed to tell his character.
“Come over and make yourselves at home,” he went on. “You’ll have time before you’ll be called on to report.”
“Thank you, we will,” said Jerry. “Some chocolate would touch the spot.”
“I’ve got two spots that need touching,” laughed Bob.
“Won’t you boys come, too?” invited the Y. M. C. A. worker, as he turned to some others who had marched up as Ned, Bob and Jerry were moving away.
“What? Trail in with a lot of psalm-singing goody-goodies?” was the sneering retort of one, and it needed only a glance to show that the speaker was Noddy Nixon.
“He’s here—worse luck!” murmured Ned.
“No Y. M. C. A. for mine!” sneered Noddy.
“Boor!” muttered Bob, in protest.
“There is a Knights of Columbus station next to ours, and a Salvation Army hut, as well as a Jewish Community station, here in camp,” was the gentle answer of the secretary. “If you prefer one of those you will be very welcome, I know. We are all working together for you boys.”70
“None for mine!” sneered Noddy. “I want some cigarettes!”
“I can let you have some at myfoyer,” said the secretary, with a smile. “I don’t smoke myself, but I like the smell of it mighty well. Come along.”
But Noddy laughed sneeringly, and would not go. However, Ned, Bob and Jerry accompanied the Y. M. C. A. man, and very glad they were to buy, at a modest price, some cups of chocolate, and also some cakes of it to put in their pockets.
“These Y. M. C. A. and K. C. places are all to the merry!” voted Ned. “They were great back at Camp Dixton, but they’re twice as good here!”
“And we’ll look after you, as well as we can, when you get on the firing line,” said their new friend. “You’ll have to depend on the Salvation Army lassies for doughnuts, but we can give you smokes and chocolate almost any time. Have some more!”
He made the boys and their comrades so welcome that they hated to leave to go to roll call. But this must be done, and soon they were assigned to barracks, much the same as in Camp Dixton.