THEY MARCHED STRAIGHT FOR THE AMERICAN LINES.Ned, Bob and Jerry on the Firing Line.Page 183
THEY MARCHED STRAIGHT FOR THE AMERICAN LINES.Ned, Bob and Jerry on the Firing Line.Page 183
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“Indeed he isn’t, Sir,” answered Ned. “I guess he must be trying some experiment, or looking for bugs.”
“Well it’s likely to be his last experiment,” was the grim comment, “and about all he’ll find will be bullets. Ah, I was afraid so. Look, they are going to capture him!”
As he spoke the Americans, crouching in their trench, saw three German soldiers leap out of their ditch and advance toward the professor. But the latter did not seem in the least afraid. He walked on, for a moment not observing his enemies, who were approaching from one side. Then suddenly he noticed them.
But he did not run, nor did he show any sign of fear, and then the most unexpected thing happened. The Germans suddenly dropped their rifles. Up in the air went their hands, and then they turned and marched straight for the American lines, the professor following behind, and fairly driving them on in some mysterious way. He had made a most unexpected capture.
184CHAPTER XXIIIGREAT PREPARATIONS
Watching him from the security of their trench, Ned, Bob, and Jerry, their comrades, and the officers on duty, could scarcely believe their eyes as they saw what had happened. Yet there was no delusion about it. Professor Snodgrass, rashly venturing across No Man’s Land toward the German trenches, was coming back and with three prisoners. As Bob said afterward, it was like the advertisements of the circus which boasted of three rings and innumerable clowns.
“Three prisoners! Count ’em. Three!” Bob yelled.
“Well, for the love of hot chocolate!” cried Jerry, “what does it mean?”
“Search me!” answered Ned, succinctly. “Looks as if he had ’em hypnotized!”
And so it did, for the Huns, as they came nearer, wore on their faces looks of stupefied astonishment.
Straight for the trench where his young friends were, Professor Snodgrass marched his prisoners.185He was in great danger, but he did not seem to mind that, or even be aware of it. Doubtless it was the latter, but, as a matter of fact, he was within range of the big guns, as well as within shot of rifles or machine guns.
Of course, though, had the Germans opened fire on the professor from their trenches, they would have run the chance of killing their own three men, captives though the latter were. And, too, had the Huns fired there would have at once been answering fire from the Americans, for the latter gunners were always on the alert, and once word was passed up and down the line that the little “bug-hunter” was out in No Man’s Land, every man who knew or who had heard of him was ready with his rifle—Ned, Bob and Jerry among them—ready to take full toll in revenge had he been fired on.
But the German trenches were silent, and for good reason, as was learned later, so the professor marched on with his prisoners, the latter never once looking behind them, but walking with their hands high in the air.
And the little scientist was as unconcerned as though he was on his return from some insect-hunting trip. His appearance was a bit unusual, though, and Ned commented on it.
“What’s that thing on his back?” asked the stout lad.186
“Looks like a magnified haversack of new design,” replied Ned.
“The professor hasn’t enlisted, has he?” some one asked Jerry. “Not but what he’d make a fine soldier,” was the added comment.
“No, I can’t imagine what he has on,” Jerry answered. “We’ll soon find out, though.”
On came the professor, and when he had his prisoners at the edge of the first American trench he exclaimed, with a twinkle in his eyes:
“Here you are! Make yourselves at home! Will some one please take charge of—er—these—specimens?” asked the little scientist, and again his eyes twinkled as he looked at the lieutenant who was in command just then.
“Great guns, man alive! Did you go out to get them?” asked the officer.
“Well, not exactly,” was the reply. “These men tried to interfere with me in my work, and I simply told them to mind their own business and get out of the way. Bringing them over here seemed the easiest way to get rid of them, so I marched them along. Now I will go back and finish––”
“Oh, no! Excuse me for seeming to be brusk and arbitrary,” said the lieutenant smiling, “but I can’t permit you to go back. For our own sake, as well as yours. You might precipitate a general engagement, and while we’re not running away187from anything like that, we are not looking for it just now. Please stay here.”
“Very well, I will,” mildly agreed the professor. “Perhaps I can as well continue my studies here. But what shall I do with my—my specimens?” and he nodded toward the Germans.
The prisoners were still standing with uplifted hands, gazing at the professor as if the issue of life and death depended on him as far as they were concerned.
“Tell them they may put down their hands,” begged the professor of the lieutenant. “They’re in your charge now, and you had better give them orders. Besides, I don’t speak their language very well.”
“Then how in the world did you get them to surrender?” asked the officer. “How did you, alone, without a gun or a sword, or even a hand grenade, capture three Germans?”
“Well, I fancy it was due to this,” and the professor motioned to the strange contrivance on his back. “I threatened them with total annihilation if they didn’t do as I said and march for these trenches, and they did. Whether they understood me or not I don’t know. But up went their hands and on they came.”
“Yes, they came on all right,” said the lieutenant. “We saw that. But still I don’t understand.”188
At this one of the prisoners spoke.
“Haf ve der lieutnant’s bermission to lower our hants?” he asked, speaking with a deep, guttural accent.
“Yes,” said the officer curtly. “But first we’ll search you. Go through them,” he ordered one of his men, and when an automatic pistol and several hand grenades had been taken from each of the prisoners, their hands were allowed to come down. They uttered sighs of relief.
“Now, how did it happen?” went on the officer.
“Ve surrender to suberior force, und dot iss no disgrace,” said the German soldier who had first spoken. “Ven ve saw der little man ve try to capture him. But he turned on us, und by der—vot you call machine—on his back mit total destruction threatened us. As ve did not vant to die—vell, ve surrendered. Dot’s all!”
“Ja!” murmured his two companions.
“Yes, I guess that is all,” said the lieutenant, smiling grimly. “Take ’em to the rear, to the temporary prisoner-cage,” he ordered one of his men. And then, when the Germans, with a last wondering and fearful look at the professor, had gone, the lieutenant, turning to the scientist, asked with a smile:
“What sort of infernal machine have you there, anyhow? Does it generate a new kind of gas?”
The professor laughed and unslung the apparatus189from his back, where it was carried by means of straps, like those on a haversack.
“No, it isn’t a gas machine,” he said. “It’s just a little apparatus for taking moving pictures of insects. It’s as harmless as the chocolate sodas my friend Bob likes so well. I got it up to take views of grasshoppers and crickets, and I wanted to get some pictures this morning of those insects showing them as they hopped about normally. Then, later, I intended to set the machine out in the open space, and leave it there when heavy firing was going on. I hoped to get contrasting pictures then, and show the effect, if any, of the sound of big guns on the creatures. But those Germans spoiled my plans.”
“And I fancy you spoiled theirs,” said the lieutenant with a laugh. “So you threatened them with your moving-picture machine, did you?”
“Yes, I couldn’t think of anything else to do when I saw them confronting me. So I yelled that my machine was a new product of the war, and that unless they did exactly as I said I would at once destroy them, even down to their finger nails, by a blast of terrible fire from the machine. Fortunately they understood my very poor German, mixed with English as it was.”
“Yes, very fortunately,” said the lieutenant. “We saw them drop their guns and raise their hands, and couldn’t understand. But your machine,190harmless as it is, doubtless impressed them as very dangerous.”
When Ned, Bob, and Jerry, as well as the others, looked at the apparatus, they could understand why an ignorant man, accustomed to obey and do no thinking, took the picture machine for some terrible engine of war. The Motor Boys themselves had not seen it before, as the professor carried it in sections in his luggage, and had only fitted it together and used it that day.
It consisted of a black box, with numerous wires, wheels, levers and projecting tubes. These latter contained lenses and shutters, but the Germans must have imagined devastating fire could spout from them. And so they had surrendered.
“But I can’t understand why the others in the trenches didn’t open fire on you,” said the officer.
They learned, later, the reason for this. It was because the Germans had retired from that particular part of the line. Whether for strategic reasons, or otherwise, could not be learned, but the three prisoners admitted that they, alone, had been left in the trench.
Their orders were to remain quiet, and not to attack, but if the Americans came out of their trenches in force the German sentries were to fire their rifles, as many hand grenades and machine-gun rounds as possible, and then retreat, if they could, to the next line of trenches.191
But when Professor Snodgrass approached the lines alone, the Germans, instead of firing, thought they would capture him, and so the trio advanced stealthily on the scientist. The result has been seen.
“Well, it was a great piece of work,” declared the lieutenant. “Not only the capture, but because we learned that the Germans are falling back. This may change our plans somewhat. I must report to headquarters. And you, Professor Snodgrass, had better come with me.”
“But what about my insects?”
“They will have to wait, I’m afraid. Besides, there will be no heavy firing now. Later—well, I’m afraid I can’t tell you of that now. It’s a secret. But I think you’ll soon have a chance to hear all the heavy firing you want.”
“I wonder what he meant?” asked Ned, of his chums, as the professor, returning his “infernal” insect moving-picture machine to his quarters went away with the officer.
“Maybe we’re going to make a big attack,” suggested Bob.
“Perhaps,” assented Jerry. “I heard some rumors of it. Well, we’ll have to wait and see.”
They did not have to wait long, for that day began preparations which, to those who understood, indicated that a great attack was imminent.
Great stores of shell and ammunition were192brought up under cover of darkness to the firing line. Big guns were shifted in position and well camouflaged. And there also arrived at the front where the Motor Boys were stationed several batteries of those wonderful French seventy-fives, those guns which did so much to win the war, the secret of which the Germans tried in vain to learn.
It was after several days of hard work, during which they saw little of Professor Snodgrass, that Bob, seeking out his chums one afternoon, said:
“Guess what’s up!”
“Can’t,” Ned replied.
“Go on! Tell us!” cried Jerry.
“We’re going to have a lot of doughnuts and chocolate candy!” cried Bob.
“Doughnuts!” shouted Jerry.
“Chocolate!” echoed Ned. “Where is it?”
“Safe,” laughed Chunky. “I struck a Salvation Army man with an extra supply and I took all he’d give me. They’re hidden in the trench, near where we go on duty, and to-night we’ll have a feast!”
“Good for you, Chunky!” cried Jerry. “I always said you were all right!”
“Same here!” added Ned.
And that night, when the three chums were about to go on duty in the dismal trenches, Bob led them to a little place he had hollowed out193under a rock, and lined with boards. It was a hiding place known to all three.
“We can stick the stuff in our pockets,” he said, “and eat it when we get hungry. Things are so upset, getting ready for a big offensive, I guess, that maybe the rations won’t come up on time. But we’ll be fixed, anyhow.”
He opened the secret place, and then, as he reached his hand in and drew it out empty, a queer look came over his face.
“What’s the matter?” asked Jerry.
“It’s gone!” faltered Bob.
Consternation showed on the faces of all three. Ned and Jerry made a careful examination of the hiding place after Bob. There was no doubt of it—the treasure was gone! And sweets were really a treasure to the men in the trenches.
“Who took ’em?” faltered Bob.
Jerry looked about, flashed his electric pocket lamp, for the trenches were in the shadow now. Suddenly he picked up a knife, and, as he held it in his hand, he exclaimed:
“Noddy Nixon’s! He’s been up to his rotten tricks again!”
194CHAPTER XXIV“S. I. W.”
There seemed no doubt on the subject, at least in the minds of the three Motor Boys. Bob knew full well that he had left the treat of sweet things in the hole in the wall of his trench. Now the hole was empty, and a knife with Noddy Nixon’s name on it was picked up at the very spot. It surely indicated that Noddy had been there, and it needed no very discerning mind, after one was acquainted with the character of Nixon, to say that he was the guilty one.
“What’ll we do?” gasped Bob.
“Let’s go and accuse him and get the stuff away!” suggested Ned. “Maybe he hasn’t eaten it all yet.”
“Not much chance but what he has,” commented Jerry. “It wouldn’t last long with him and his crowd. Still I’m in favor of letting him know we’re on to his game. Let’s go and have it out with him.”
But this was not to be. Just as the three chums were about to go from their part of the trench to195that where Noddy Nixon was stationed, the signal sounded for Ned, Bob, and Jerry to take their places on official duty.
“Too late!” exclaimed Bob. “We can’t reach him now, and he’ll eat it all up.”
“The pig!” muttered Ned.
And they had to let the matter rest there. They could not ask to be relieved from trench sentry work to go and get back, possibly, doughnuts and chocolate stolen by Noddy Nixon. It was too trivial a matter from a military standpoint, though to Ned, Bob, and Jerry, forced to be on duty during the long, wet, dreary night, it meant a great deal.
But it was another of the fortunes of war, and it had to be borne.
However, it was not as bad as it might have been, for during the night a relief party came along with hot chocolate, and this was grateful to the lads in the trenches.
“But I’ll have it out with Noddy to-day!” declared Bob as he and his chums went off duty in the morning. “I’ll turn him upside down; that’s what I’ll do!”
But again his plans went astray, for orders came from headquarters, shifting many of the regiments, and the three friends found themselves on the move, without a chance to see Noddy.
“But his company moves, too,” declared Ned,196who had made some inquiries. “He’s in the same division we are, and we’ll see him when we get settled again.”
But they did not see Noddy Nixon again for some time, though they heard of him, and under tragic circumstances.
The guess the boys had made about a great offensive was a correct one. The time had come for the turning point in the war, and the backward movement of the British and French was about to stop. The American forces were increasing, and now General Foch was able to put into practice the strategy he had so long waited for. He could attack, and with great hope of succeeding. The turning point had been reached.
There were rumors and all sorts of stories floating around the camp. Ned, Bob and Jerry had been moved to the north and farther toward the great Hindenburg line which was so soon to be pierced, impregnable though the Germans boasted it.
Professor Snodgrass, too, managed, by means of some influence he possessed, to be allowed to accompany that part of the army to which his young friends were attached. He had not ceased his efforts to locate the two girls, but he realized, as did Jerry and his chums, that it was an almost hopeless proceeding now. However, there was still the study of explosive noises on insects to197which the professor could devote himself, and he did.
The boys noted, however, that the strain of his uncertain financial situation was telling on the little man. Cheerful as always, and seemingly oblivious to practical affairs, yet there was at times a strained look about his eyes.
“Yes,” he said one day in answer to a question Jerry put, “I have enough for my immediate needs. If I do not get back what I lent to my old friend—and I may even lose more, as I endorsed a note for him to cover a loan from another—and if I cannot use what Professor Petersen left me, I shall have before long to give up my work here, however. And, of course, the trip to the Amazon and the investigations there must be given up.”
“I am sorry, Professor. Can’t we––” began Jerry.
“Tut, tut!” interrupted Professor Snodgrass, with a kindly smile. “We’ll no doubt find the girls—I hope so for their sake as well as my own—and perhaps my friend may be able to adjust his affairs, though I fear––Poor man, poor Albert! It will be a dreadful thing for him to lose all he has and be compelled to start the world over again at his age.” And Professor Snodgrass walked away, his personal trouble forgotten in sympathy with his friend, the very man who198was the cause of his own anxieties and probable losses.
Vast were the preparations that went on for the advance against the enemy. Never was there such a collection of cannon, large and small. Never was there such a store of powder and shell. The back lines were like a hundred arsenals turned into one. Food, too, there was in great quantities, for it has been well said that an army fights on its stomach, and there must be no lack of nourishment when the troops went forward, as they were destined to do.
All these war-like preparations the three chums noted with every manifestation of delight. They wanted to whip the Hun, and whip him well, and all this argued for success. The soldiers knew they would be well backed-up as they went forward, and forward they were going.
Orders were given that every man must look well to himself personally—to his uniform, his belongings, and his weapons. All gas masks were tested, and those in use for some time, or which showed the least defect, were thrown away and new ones issued. There must be no holding up of the advance once it had begun, because of poison gas. And it could not be doubted but what the Germans would use it lavishly.
Rifles and hand grenades, likewise, were looked to. Everything must be in readiness so there199would not be an instant of unnecessary delay. But it was the store of cannon and ammunition back of the firing lines that was most amazing.
The three chums, being sent on duty to the rear one day, had a chance to observe some of the measures being taken there to insure the defeat of the Kaiser’s troops. The ground was fairly covered with ammunition boxes and shells—well concealed from hostile airmen, of course, even had they been able to pass that far to the rear. And the guns, large and small, lined up ready for the forward movement, were wheel to wheel for miles and miles in extent. The greatest artillery firing in the history of the world was about to take place.
“If the professor wants to see the effect of a rattle-te-bang on his bugs he’ll soon get his chance,” said Jerry, and his chums could only agree with him.
“I only wish one thing,” remarked Bob, as they prepared to go back to the front, after having accomplished their mission.
“What?” asked Ned.
“I’d like to have it out with Noddy Nixon before the big show. I just want to get one whack at him for taking our wood and those doughnuts and cakes of chocolate. Just one whack!”
But this “whack” Bob was destined never to have.200
They again went on duty in the trenches. The day of the great offensive was approaching.
Suddenly a shot rang out in the sector near the three Motor Boys. They started, and Ned exclaimed:
“Can that be the signal for the attack?”
“No, it doesn’t begin until to-morrow,” said Jerry. “That’s one of our own men. Guess his rifle went off by accident.”
There was a little excitement, but what had caused it the boys could not learn at the time, as they must stay at their posts. But a little later, when their lieutenant came through the trench, Ned, saluting, asked:
“Did one of our sharpshooters get a Hun, Sir?”
“No,” was the answer. “It wasn’t that. Private Nixon was shot.”
“Noddy Nixon shot!” gasped Bob. “How?”
“S. I. W.,” was the terse reply of the officer, as he passed on.
201CHAPTER XXVTHE BLACK BOX
The three chums, standing in the wet and muddy trench, looked at one another as this significant remark was made. Bob either did not catch what was said, or did not understand, for he asked his companions:
“What did he say?”
“S. I. W.,” repeated Jerry.
“Self-inflicted wound,” translated Ned. “So Noddy Nixon did that to himself to get out of the big battle! Well, it’s just like the coward! I’m glad he isn’t in our company!”
“So am I,” added Jerry.
“Self-inflicted wound,” repeated Bob.
“Well, he’s out of the fighting now,” declared Ned, “though he’ll have the worst time he ever had in his life. He’d better be dead by a Hun shell.”
Silence fell upon the three in the trench while, not far from them, they could hear the commotion caused as Noddy was taken away to a hospital. And there, for some time, he remained safely if not comfortably in bed, while his companions endured202the mud and the blood of the trenches, meeting death and wounds, or just escaping them by a hair’s breadth to drive back the hordes of the Boches.
But over Noddy’s cot, and over that of several men on either side of him was a placard with the significant letters:
S. I. W.
“Self-inflicted wound.” One of the most terrible tragedies of the war—more tragic, even, than the death of the gallant boys on the day the armistice was signed, yes, within an hour of it. For those letters indicated a disgrace that seldom, if ever, could be wiped out.
Briefly it meant that a soldier afraid of going into action with his comrades, went to some secluded place and, aiming his gun or pistol at some extremity—a hand or a foot—where a wound was likely to be slight and not very painful, pulled the trigger. Then followed the story that a stray German bullet, coming over the top of the trench as the man exposed himself, had done the deed.
But the nature of the wound, the character of the bullet, and, above all, the appearance of the man himself, told the real story. Sometimes the victims would say their weapon went off by accident as they were cleaning it, and this was perhaps203worst of all, for it put the canker of doubt into genuine cases of this sort, and there are bound to be some such in every army.
So Noddy was carried away to the hospital, and “S. I. W.” was inscribed over his cot.
As to the causes leading up to the self-inflicted wounds they are many and varied. Sometimes a soldier may become fear-crazed, and irresponsible for his act. Other men are just plain “yellow,” clear through, and ought never to have gone into the fighting. They should have confessed cowardice at first, though, of course, that would be hard.
Sometimes, though rarely, these “S. I. W.” cases “came back.” That is, they were given a chance to redeem themselves and went to the fighting front with a song on their lips and undaunted courage in their eyes. And then, if they died doing their duty they were absolved. But it was a desperate chance.
Every one recognized that there was an element of doubt in these cases, but as for Noddy Nixon, when his significant question to the surgeon as to the relative pain of a hand or foot wound was recalled, he was condemned already. He had shot himself slightly in the left foot. He was dishonorably discharged when he was cured, and sent home, and, therefore, did not trouble the Motor Boys again, nor did Bob get his revenge for the stolen articles.204
Ned, Bob, and Jerry did not feel much like talking after they learned what had happened. They had no love for Noddy Nixon, and he had treated them exceedingly badly in the past, as well as tormenting them since they had been associated in the army. But they knew that nothing they could have done or said would have been half as effective punishment as that which he had brought on himself. Henceforth, among decent men, he was an outcast; a pariah.
The long night passed. Sentries were changed, a watch was kept to forestall any attack on the part of the Germans, but none came. Save for the occasional clash of a night patrol, or the false alarm of some one on listening post, there was little action during the hours preceding the great offensive.
Their tour of duty ended, Ned, Bob, and Jerry sought rest in the dugout. There, with but few more comforts than in the trenches, they waited until the time should come again for them to go out and take a “mud bath,” as Ned called it.
For it rained often, and the trenches never seemed to dry. Still at this stage of the war there were more comforts for the men on the firing line than when France and England first opposed the advance of the gray hordes.
“When does the big show start?” asked Ned, as he and his chums came out of the dugout for a205few hours’ stay farther behind the lines. “I thought the bombardment was to begin this morning.”
“Must be delayed for some reason,” said Jerry with a yawn. “Come on, let’s go somewhere and sit down. We’ll know when it’s time for the shindig to start.”
“Let’s see if we can find the professor,” suggested Bob. “We may have hard work to get word to him after the fighting begins.”
This seemed a good plan, and it was followed. Professor Snodgrass was billeted temporarily in a farmhouse on the edge of a little French village near which the boys were on duty. Thither they went, and found their friend poring over books and papers.
“Well, how goes it?” asked Jerry, after they had all shaken hands.
“Well, indeed,” was the answer. “I have not yet found the young ladies, but I expect to, soon. I have heard that Mr. Schmouder, the father of the janitor, who was looking after them, and who knew something of their plans, moved from his home town, outside of Metz, lately, and started farther back into Germany.”
“Then I should think it would be harder than ever for you to trace them,” suggested Ned.
“No, I think it will be easier,” said the professor, but he did not explain how.206
“Getting the results you expected from the insect noise campaign, Professor?” asked Jerry.
“Yes, my boy. It is a complete success. I even have some moving pictures taken with my new machine that helped me capture the Germans. Wait, and I will show you.”
He seemed as cheerful as though no cloud of financial trouble hung over his head and as though the World War were being fought to give him opportunity to test the effect of noise on the crickets. He turned to a table in his room, and began delving in a mass of things. To get at something he wanted to exhibit to the boys, he set in the middle of the floor a small, black box.
Just as he did that a soldier, evidently an officer of some kind in the French army, stepped into the room, and in a mixture of French and English asked if Professor Snodgrass was there.
“I am he,” answered the scientist.
“Ah, zen you will please come with me,” said the soldier. “You are wanted at ze headquarters.”
“Wanted at headquarters!” repeated the professor. “What for?”
“Zis will explain,” and the officer handed a note to Professor Snodgrass.
As the professor read it a smile came over his face.
“Ah, I understand,” he said. “I will come at207once. Boys, we will let the insect pictures wait a minute. Perhaps you will be interested in my latest discovery. Come, I am ready to go,” and he picked up the black box from the floor and stood in waiting.
The officer looked a little dubiously at the object in the professor’s hand, and then at the three boys.
“My orders did not include—zem!” he said, indicating Ned, Bob, and Jerry, “nor—zat!” and he pointed to the box.
“This has to come,” replied the professor. “It is part of what I proposed. As for my friends, I will be responsible for them.”
“Very well, sair!” and the Frenchman bowed and led the way.
Wonderingly the boys followed Professor Snodgrass, and presently found themselves at field headquarters. A company of French soldiers were standing about, and while waiting for the summons to the presence of the headquarters officer who had sent for him, Professor Snodgrass set down on the ground the black box he had brought.
Then he suddenly saw a curious insect crawling along and became intent on its capture. The boys were watching him and paid no attention to the black box until they heard some one yell:
“Look out, boys! It’s an infernal machine in208there—a bomb! He’s a spy and he’s going to blow up the whole place. It’s an infernal machine—I can hear the buzzing of the battery inside.”
An American soldier, who had approached the box and had leaned over to inspect it, leaped away and began running as he cried out his warning. There was consternation among the officers and men outside the headquarters building, and Professor Snodgrass, pausing in his search for the elusive insect, gazed up in surprise at the commotion.
“What has happened?” he asked.
“Some one says there’s a bomb in that black box of yours,” explained Jerry.
“If there is, get it out of the way! Douse it in water. Throw it away. Look out!” yelled several.
One or two soldiers started for the black box, and others with ready bayonets for the professor, for there had been a number of spies discovered of late in that sector.
“Don’t touch that box!” cried the professor. “Don’t open it! Keep away from it!”
And, as he hurried toward it, the soldiers leaped back.
209CHAPTER XXVIA DISAPPEARANCE
“Halt!”
It was the ringing voice of one of the officers speaking, and so sharp was the tone that even Professor Snodgrass paused in his movement toward the black box.
“Don’t go any further,” went on the officer, who stood dominating the scene. “Some one secure that man, and then we’ll dispose of the box. Take good care of him!” and he pointed to the scientist.
Ned Slade, Bob Baker, and Jerry Hopkins looked in astonishment at one another. What could it all mean?
“Zere must be some mistake,” said the French officer who had escorted the professor to headquarters.
“Mistake? No!” exclaimed the American officer who had ordered a halt in the proceedings. “But it would be a mistake if we let him get near that black box. I heard all that was said. If that is a bomb the best way to let him carry out his210plan would be to set it going, even if he destroyed himself. Some spies are capable of that.”
“Spy!” cried Jerry, instinctively, forgetting that he was speaking to a superior officer. “Professor Snodgrass isn’t a spy!”
“No, I am sure he is not!”
This was another officer speaking, one well known to the professor, and who knew him. In fact, it was this officer who had summoned the former instructor of Boxwood Hall to headquarters.
“Don’t arrest the professor,” went on the latter officer. “As for his black box, handle it just as he tells you.”
“But, Colonel Lacombe,” protested the officer who had interfered in the proceedings. “Surely you––”
“I understand it perfectly, Major Dustan,” was the smiling reply. “I’m sure you’ll find it all a mistake when I explain, or rather, when Professor Snodgrass explains. That is why I sent for him. Will you come this way, if you please, Professor? And bring the black box––”
At that instant the little scientist, who appeared to have recovered his composure on the appearance of his friend, the colonel, pointed to the black box which, all this while, had remained on the ground in front of the group of headquarters buildings.211
“Look out!” shouted Professor Snodgrass. “The box has been opened by mistake. They’re coming out! Run, everybody!”
Turning, he caught hold of Bob, who was nearest him, and began pulling him along.
The flight of the professor was contagious. Every one near turned and fled, and Jerry, looking over his shoulder, saw what seemed to be a black cloud of smoke coming from the black box.
The heart of the tall, young soldier seemed to fail him. After all, had a mistake been made? Was it possible that a spy was using the innocent and sometimes absent-minded professor for some base and terrible end? Could there have been a substitution made, and one of the harmless boxes of the scientist exchanged for a deadly bomb which he had, unwittingly, introduced at headquarters, so that, exploding, it might kill a number of valuable officers?
These thoughts flashed through Jerry’s mind as he ran along beside Ned. The black cloud from the box was becoming more dense.
“Maybe it’s only a smoke bomb,” thought Jerry. “Or perhaps the powder, or whatever is in it, has become wet, because of so much rain, and is only burning instead of exploding. I hope so.”
Then came a yell from some one. It was followed by several other cries of physical distress.212
“Maybe it’s a new kind of poison gas the Germans have taken this means to set off,” mused Jerry as he leaped along. “But I don’t smell anything. Could it be possible that spies have played this trick on the professor?”
Jerry well knew that even with all his absent-mindedness and his blind devotion to science, that Professor Snodgrass would never, willingly, do anything to harm the Allied cause.
And yet––
More yells came from the soldiers that had been gathered around the black box and who fled when Professor Snodgrass gave the alarm. And the yells began to come from some of the officers, too. They were not above giving vent to either pain or surprise.
And then suddenly Jerry felt a sharp pain on the back of his neck. At first he thought it might have come from some missile, discharged noiselessly from the black box. He clapped his hand to the seat of the pain and at once became aware that he had struck and crushed some small insect. It came away in his hand, twisting and curling in its death agony, and the pain in Jerry’s neck increased.
“Why!” he cried as he saw the bug. “Why, it’s a wasp! A wasp!”
“Of course it is!” said Professor Snodgrass, flapping his arms about his head, and Jerry now213saw the reason. A number of vicious wasps were buzzing about them.
“They’re wasps, with the worst stings of any I ever saw!” yelled the professor. “That’s why I want to get away. I was stung by one of them once, and I’ll never forget it. Look out! Here come more of ’em!”
There was a cloud of the wasps flying about Bob, Jerry, and the professor now, and the tall lad noted that the insects were also hovering around other soldiers and officers. There was a black cloud of them near the small case that had caused such a scare.
“Was that what was in the black box?” asked Jerry, as he dodged a wasp that seemed about to alight on his nose.
“Yes. Wasps,” asserted the scientist. “The most war-like wasps I have been able to discover in this part of Europe. They are a cross breed of theVespidæ Polistes,Eumenes, andOdynerus, and for stings are not to be equalled.”
“Wasps!” cried Jerry, as he swung and swatted at some still buzzing around him. “What in the world did you expect to do with them, Professor Snodgrass? And why did you have them in the black box?”
“I had them to show to one of the headquarters officers,” was the answer. “But I think I had better postpone the explanation until we get214rid of our pursuers. Let’s go under those bushes. I think we shall be safe then,” and the professor unceremoniously dived under a clump of shrubbery, an example followed by Jerry and some of the others.
Ned and Bob, who had managed to accompany the professor and their tall chum, were stung several times before they, also, found shelter beneath the thick leaves, and howls of pain from a number of soldiers indicated that they, too, felt the stings of the insects.
For a while there was as bad a rout of the headquarters staff as if the Germans had overwhelmed it. But finally the insects were dispersed, most of them flying off to the woods, while those that remained were beaten off, so that the officers and men began to drift back again. The professor and the Motor Boys came out of hiding, and then curious looks began to be cast at the scientist and the black box, which was now empty. The displaced cover showed how the wasps had gotten out.
“Is this the new weapon for causing a German retreat that you promised to show me?” asked the colonel of the professor, trying not to smile as he put the question.
“Yes,” answered Professor Snodgrass, “it is. I am sorry, but I am afraid there are no specimens left to show you. Some one must have tampered215with the fastening of the case, and the insects came out.”
“I can offer personal testimony that they came out,” said the colonel, trying not to squirm. “They came, they saw, and they conquered. And all I have to say is that I thank you for your interest in the matter, but that we shall have to decline to add your new and very efficient, but uncontrollable, weapon to the Allied armament.”
“Does that mean you can’t use the wasps?” asked the professor.
“I’m afraid it does,” said the colonel. “You see they are too uncertain—like the poison gas the Germans first used. It came back on them. The wasps might do that to us.”
“Yes,” agreed the little scientist, “they might.”
And then, as the last of the insects disappeared, and the headquarters staff came back from various places of refuge, Professor Snodgrass explained.
He had long wanted to do something to help the Allied cause, and thought perhaps it might be along the line of his studies of insects. Then the idea of wasps had come to him. He knew the vicious nature of the insects, and how fearlessly they would attack anything in their way. It was his idea that many thousands of the wasps might be propagated in artificial nests and loosed on the German armies preceding an attack by the Allies. The wasps would certainly cause disorder, if not216a rout, he thought, and so he had communicated his idea to his friend, the colonel.
That is, he had communicated the fact that he had the idea, but he had not disclosed the nature of the “new weapon,” as he called it in a note. Always willing to test anything new, the colonel had sent for the professor, inviting him to bring a model of the “new weapon” with him. The officer supposed the “weapon” might be a gun, projectile or powder.
“The idea was a good one in theory,” said Jerry, as he and his chums went back with the professor, who carried the now empty black box.
“And it worked out all right in practice,” declared Ned. “I never saw a quicker retreat.”
“The only thing that spoils it, as the colonel said,” added Bob, “is the inability of a wasp to distinguish between a friend and a foe. If they could be trained, now––”
“We’ll delegate that to you,” put in Ned.
“No, thanks! I’m stung badly enough as it is.”
And the professor, sadly shaking his head over the failure of his scheme, went back to work further on his plan of making moving pictures of insects hopping about under the stimulus of the noise of big guns.
But for many a day the story of the wasps at headquarters was told up and down the firing line.217
It was about a week after this, when preparations for the big attack had almost reached completion, that the three chums, having an hour or so to spare, thought to call on Professor Snodgrass. They went to the little house in the French village where he had been staying, and inquired for him.
“He has disappeared, Messieurs,” answered the old woman who looked after the place.
“Disappeared!” echoed the boys blankly.
“Yes, Messieurs. He went out yesterday morning without his hat to chase after a butterfly he saw in the garden, and he did not come back. He has disappeared. I am sorry, for he was a nice man, though a trifle queer at times.”
“Well, what do you know about that?” gasped Jerry, while his chums looked at him in wondering amazement.