“Huh! that ought to settle the case against us, I should think,” laughed Bud as the boy finished his recital, which, though framed in ungrammatical language, loomed as high as any speech ever delivered before a judge in an appeal to free the accused before the bar.
The sheriff threw up his hands.
“Boys,” said he, briskly, “you win. Instead of plucking you, and running you in for attempted arson, I’m goin’ to thank you most heartily on behalf of the village of Scroggs Corners, which I happened to be visiting this afternoon on business. Only for your efficient work we’d have been a bridge shy tonight. Shake hands with me, and kindly excuse my excess zeal that might have worked you all an injury.”
Well, the boys bore no malice. They were only too happy to know that nothing was going to interfere with their onward progress. In fact, they felt as though victors in the brisk engagement between this clever foe and themselves. It was likely to be the last expiring effort of the unscrupulous schemer; after this he would have to give up the attempt to keep them from the camp until sufficient time had elapsed to destroy all hopes of Felix making his peace with his uncle.
“If you could only manage to round up that smart rascal who did set this fire, Mr. Sheriff,” Bud could not help saying, when shaking hands with the official, now very friendly toward their cause, “it might be possible to prove the crime against him. Perhaps you may discover he had been carrying kerosene in his car, and that would be a strong piece of evidence against him. He’s given us heaps of trouble, which is partly why I’m showing such a rattlesnake spirit toward him.”
“I mean to send word along the line, and round him up if he can be headed,” the sheriff admitted, though Hugh really believed he had not dreamed of such an idea until Bud made his suggestion.
Of course, even those who had been most disposed to believe the boys guilty of arson had now been convinced of their innocence by the statement of the boy who had seen all that went on from his hiding-place. So when Bud started the car once more there was no sign of opposition; indeed, only cries of goodwill followed the scouts as they proceeded.
Passing through the village, which they found to be laboring under more or less excitement, the trio continued on their course. Later on, when they came to a steep hill, the engine balked again, so that half an hour was lost in coaxing it to be good.
Blake had been sighing with impatience through the operation. Once he had even gone so far as to suggest that he and Hugh start on foot, since it could only be a matter of a few miles at the most that lay between them and their intended destination. The working mechanic, however, nipped this scheme in the bud by declaring that he was getting the upper hand of the balky engine, and hoped to be able to make a fresh start before ten minutes more had passed.
Still, that half-hour delay was fated to have some effect upon their fortunes.
When the engine trouble had been mastered, and they were again on the way, Blake seemed content. The persistent manner in which his comrades managed to meet each new crisis as it appeared, and win out through any and every kind of trouble, elicited his ardent admiration. Blake was ready to declare that the day’s reckoning would only redound to the credit of scout efficiency.
Hugh suspected that they were now close upon the big camp. He must have caught certain sounds to tell him this. At least, as they drew near the top of the slope, he bade both his chums keep on the lookout, because he believed they were due for a pleasant surprise.
Loud exclamations broke from their lips when, on reaching the summit, they beheld a wonderful spectacle spread before them. Night was gathering, and already the broad valley beyond the ridge lay in semi-darkness, for the moon would not rise until very late.
Scores, almost hundreds of fires, were burning a mile or more away, looking weird to the startled eyes of the three scouts. They could also discover a myriad of the same kind of khaki waterproof tents that Battery K had used in Oakvale when endeavoring to drum up recruits at the station in the public square.
There lay the great mobilization camp of the State before them, with some thousands of stalwart young men training so as to be accepted by the Government for service along the far distant Mexico, where the threatening shadow of war hovered.
“Well, this sure pleases me!” exclaimed Bud, as he stopped the car on the summit of the ridge, so that they could feast their eyes on the remarkable spectacle of all camp fires burning in the near distance.
“It is wonderful,” breathed Blake, “and well worth all the trouble it’s cost us to get here. I reckon that we must be close to the border of the camp, and can expect to be held up by a sentry any minute.”
“I’m going to start up my headlights going down this decline,” admitted the pilot. “The more we drop into the valley the darker it’ll be; and we can’t afford to meet with a smash-up at this stage of the game, when we’ve about won out.”
He took especial pains in going down the slope, and finally the bottom was reached in safety. Here they were suddenly greeted with a gruff command to halt, and discovered a soldier in khaki bearing a gun standing alongside the road.
“Say, this does look like war-times, doesn’t it?” said Blake, in a low tone, “when you get hauled up by a vidette post. Hugh, please fix it so we can go on.”
Some conversation followed between Hugh and the guard. Then a non-commissioned officer was called, and more talk ensued. Hugh had laid out his plan in advance, and so sagaciously that in the end he was given permission to move on, although a soldier was placed upon the footboard of the car to accompany the scouts to the quarters of Battery K.
Possibly the fact that they too wore the khaki had something to do with their being allowed to enter the camp at this late hour, so long after the time when soldiers were given a chance to see relatives and friends. No matter what the reason, all of the boys felt as though they had won fresh laurels in making that run from the home town in such a rack of a car, and also being obliged to overcome baneful opposition of an unscrupulous enemy.
They followed the road and were soon amidst some of the glowing fires. Here they found guardsmen sitting around, and eating their supper, which had evidently been prepared by the company cooks according to the rules that govern the summer training camps.
So far as Hugh and his chums could see, they were a jolly crowd, laughing and carrying on as though they did not have a care in the wide world. Once the bitterness of parting from their loved ones had been passed over, these healthy-minded young soldiers could play their part like men, and meet every situation that was likely to arise.
“I tell you I’m nearly tickled to death because I came,” Bud was saying as they rolled along the road between two rows of fires that crackled and sent up myriads of sparks. “Talk about camping out, this has got all our experiences knocked to flinders. Why, there must be millions of soldiers here in this big valley.”
“Better say thousands, and be nearer the truth, Bud,” cautioned Blake. “But it is a great sight, and one we’ll never forget, either. If a fellow needed to have his patriotism stirred to the bone, he’d get it done here. See how Old Glory is fastened up over that big tent yonder. Now I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the colonel’s tent; or it might even be Headquarters for the general in charge of all these forces of the State.”
“We’ve got to pass through the whole camp before we come to where Battery K is located, so the sergeant said,” Hugh remarked, as they moved slowly on.
Numbers of the soldiers came forward to have a look at those in the car. Possibly some of them may have entertained vague hopes that the newcomers might turn out to be friends or relatives, urged to make the trip by a desire to glimpse a dear face once more before the guardsmen were ordered South. Hugh believed there was a wistful expression on many of the faces he saw turned their way.
As for Blake, he could hardly restrain his impatience. The fact that inside of a comparatively few minutes more he was to see his cousin, and that there was still plenty of time for accomplishing his mission before another day dawned, filled him with ecstacy.
“Don’t you think we must be nearly there, Hugh?” he would say, pleadingly. “There couldn’t be any mistake now, could there, so that we’re going the wrong way to strike our boys of Battery K? Are you sure it’s directly along this road, Bud, we ought to keep on going?”
“That’s what thenon-com.told us,” replied the driver of the car, “and we must abide by orders when we’re in a military camp. Besides, we’ve got some one along with us to show us the way; so ease up, Blake, or you’ll crack sure.”
“Guess you’re right, Bud,” admitted the other, “and I’ll try to hold myself in; but somehow I can’t feel dead sure till I’m shaking hands with Felix, and know it’s going to be all right.”
The fact of the matter was, as Hugh suspected, Blake was now beginning to fear that his impulsive cousin might prove obdurate, after all, and absolutely decline to humble himself so as to write a letter of apology to his uncle and guardian. Of course this would settle the matter just as positively as though that agent of Luther Gregory had succeeded in holding them up by having them arrested and kept for twenty-four hours in some village jail.
“Look yonder, will you?” suddenly exclaimed Bud, nodding his head, and using one hand to point to the left with, “there’s a battery of field-pieces, but it isn’t the one from Oakland. Just beyond must be the camp of the Engineers, because you can see a heap of picks and shovels and such tools lying there. You know the Engineer Corps have to make roads, build cook-houses, lay tent-floors for the officers’ quarters, and do heaps of things like that. A fellow told me about it who used to belong, and quit because he said it was such hard work.”
“Look over on this side, Bud, and you’ll see something that tickles you,” called out Blake.
“The Signal Corps’ headquarters, I’ll be bound!” ejaculated the other in sudden admiration. “See the wires they’ve run out. I warrant you every command in the whole camp has a telephone in its headquarters, with a Central station to boot. Now, if only I could run across the aviation field, and see a few hangers for aeroplanes in evidence, I’d be happy.”
“Oh! they’re further away, over to the right,” explained the soldier who stood on the footboard of the car. “We have three ’planes working every day now, and more coming along. My brother is one of the air pilots, you know, so what I’m giving you is straight goods, boys.”
They were by this time gradually approaching the other end of the great camp, as could be told from the fact that the fires were becoming less numerous beyond them.
“Your battery lies just ahead of us now,” announced the soldier, who seemed to be thoroughly acquainted with the lay of the camp, and able to direct any one to the location of each and every unit composing the entire mobilization centre.
Yes, they could already begin to see guns posted in a clump, or “parked,” to use a military term. These seemed to have a familiar look to the Oakvale scouts, because they had many times handled the dull-finished modern field-pieces, doubtless envious of the luck of those whom they chanced to know as members of the company.
Leaving the car alongside the road, the boys followed after their guide, who led them directly over to where the battery had its tents, Immediately Hugh and his two chums began to recognize familiar faces. A number of the men jumped to their feet and hurried toward the newcomers. Hugh noticed that in some cases it was a look of sudden concern that came upon the reddened faces of the young artillerymen; and he could give a pretty good guess why this should be so. They were assailed with sudden fears lest something terrible might have happened to those left behind in the home town, and that the scouts had been dispatched to carry the sad news.
“Hello! Hugh. Hello, boys. What fetches you away off here?” called out one of the Battery K members; and his question must have voiced what was on the minds of several others, since they all waited anxiously to hear what Hugh might say in reply.
“We’ve come to have a little chat with Blake Merton’s cousin, Felix Gregory, that’s all,” the patrol leader answered, at which something like a look of relief passed over several faces.
“Well, it must be something pretty important to fetch the three of you forty and more miles in a car?” suggested one fellow.
“Just what it is,” jauntily admitted Blake. “Now, can any of you direct us to where we’ll find my cousin Felix?”
“I was talking with him about half an hour back, but haven’t seen him since, now you mention it!” one called out.
“I’d advise you boys to look up Captain Barclay, and he’ll put you in touch with Felix, who must be around somewhere, because we have orders not to wander beyond bounds. There’s the captain’s tent over yonder, Hugh.”
The speaker was big Hank Partridge, a cousin of Lige Corbley, and quite well known to Hugh. As the advice seemed sound, the scout master immediately turned his face toward the tent thus pointed out.
“Come along, boys, and we’ll see what the captain can do for us,” he told his two mates, at the same time starting forward.
Blake was by now beginning to have that worried expression steal back upon his face. His old fears had awakened again, as was evidenced by the remark he made almost immediately after they started toward the captain’s tent.
“It’s mighty queer, I think, how not a single one of all those fellows could remember seeing my cousin inside of half an hour. Things have been happening so contrary lately I’m beginning to be afraid that something may have come along to whisk Felix out of the old camp here so I never will find him.”
“Oh! how silly to let yourself borrow trouble in that way, Blake,” Bud told him, scornfully. “What could carry him off but an aeroplane, and I’m pretty sure they haven’t yet got to ducking down in the heart of a camp, and snatching a fellow up bodily. Just hold your horses, and we’ll run on him pretty soon now.”
They reached the tent of the commanding officer, where a sentry always stood on guard. Hugh, knowing the rules that applied, asked to see Captain Barclay, with whom he was, of course, well acquainted. In another minute the captain himself came forth.
He shook hands with Hugh and the other two scouts. Then the story was briefly told, particular emphasis being laid on the numerous attempts that had been made to keep them from meeting Felix Gregory. The officer was, of course, deeply interested. To lose such a fortune as Uncle Reuben owned would, he felt sure, be a calamity for any young fellow.
“You deserve every encouragement, boys, after what you’ve done to save Felix from the folly of his quick temper,” he told them at the close of the recital. “I’m sure he must have been sorry long before. I know his generous nature well. I’ll send out and have him come here to you. Then Blake can talk with him aside, and, if my influence is worth anything, you can depend on it I’ll only too gladly say a good word.”
So he gave an order, and the soldier to whom it was delivered hastened away. While he was gone the boys continued their chat with the captain. Finally the messenger returned, made his salute to his superior officer, and said something. Hugh was watching and saw the other look grave. Blake clutched the arm of his chum when the captain of Battery K, advancing slowly toward them, went on to explain.
“Strange to say, boys, so far no one can be found who has seen Private Gregory inside of half an hour. He seems to have mysteriously disappeared; but, of course, he can be found, and if you will wait for me here I’ll go the rounds myself and rout him out. Don’t worry while I’m gone, for it’ll be all right.”
When the captain turned and left them again, the three scouts exchanged uneasy glances. Blake suffered more than either of his chums, for his heart had been wrapped up in his task. It meant much to him whether he failed or won out in his self-imposed mission to the camp.
“Hugh, do you know I expected something like this would happen,” was the way he expressed himself. “Somehow, even when we had beaten that scheming rascal at his game several times, I seemed to have a feeling that in the end he might be too smart for us.”
“Apparently, then,” remarked Bud Morgan, “you’ve already made up your mind that this queer disappearance of your cousin Felix can be laid at the door of the same man we had so much trouble with on the road, the chap in the flivver?”
“Doesn’t it stand to reason it must be that way?” demanded Blake. “Why should Felix clear out of camp here otherwise? These fellows of Battery K are in for the war, and wouldn’t desert for all the money going. Felix is as loyal as they make ’em; he’d sooner cut his hand off than be thought a coward or a quitter. So there’s only one way of explaining his vanishing; which is through this man.”
“How about it, Hugh?” and Bud turned toward the patrol leader, as had become a chronic habit with most of the members of the troop whenever anything arose to bother or mystify them.
“All I can say as yet,” replied the other, steadily, “is that it begins to look a whole lot that way. We had better wait a bit before deciding. The captain may pick up some information that will give us a pointer. Men don’t disappear from a mobilization camp, as easy as all this, without leaving some traces behind them.”
Blake shook his head dismally. Apparently he was losing heart, for so many things had arisen to balk his ambition that the strain was telling on him.
“Well, all I can say is I wish this business was all over,” he observed, plaintively, “and we were on our way back home with that precious letter to Uncle Reuben. I tell you I’ll feel like shouting if we do win!”
“Victory is always sweeter when you’ve had to fight hard to get it,” Bud declared, with boyish philosophy. “Don’t we all remember that when we’ve been up against a tough proposition, and had to take the bit between our teeth before we could land? Never lose faith in what you’re doing, Blake. For one thing, you’ve got a couple of comrades along that mean to stand back of you through thick and thin. That ought to be some comfort to you.”
“It is, Bud, it certainly gives me a heap of satisfaction, the way both of you stick to me. I’m going to take a brace up! We’ll get there yet, we’ve justgotto, and that’s all there is about it.”
Brave words, those, and possibly Blake Merton meant them, but, nevertheless, there were times when that anxious look would creep over his face again, as fresh difficulties kept piling up before them, and the desired end seemed as far away as ever.
They continued to stand there and talk for some little time, all the while eagerly awaiting the return of the friendly captain, whom all of them knew very well, since he was a prominent business man in Oakvale.
“There he comes!” asserted Bud, suddenly.
Blake lost color, and his hand trembled when he accidentally touched the sleeve of Hugh’s khaki coat—perhaps, after all, it was through some design that this contact came about, for a positive realization that the scout master was standing by him must have given Blake renewed confidence, of which he was evidently in great need just then.
Captain Lawrence Barclay came hastily toward them. Hugh, discovering the look of annoyance still on his face, guessed that he bore bad news.
“Brace up, Blake, and show that you can stand whatever may be coming,” he managed to say in a low tone to his companion.
Then the commander of Battery K arrived. He was a bluff sort of a man, not much given to beating around the bush when he had anything to say; nor could he smooth over disagreeable news as some men might.
“I’m sorry to report that young Gregory seems to have disappeared from camp altogether,” he immediately remarked. “It is a most extraordinary occurrence. In fact, several officers with whom I’ve spoken say they would never have believed a man could vanish from the midst of a thousand or two of his fellows, with sentries posted, and camp rules in force. But I’ve sent out in every direction to find Gregory, but without any success so far.”
Both Blake and Bud left things pretty much to Hugh, knowing his ability to handle such a case. Like a wise scout, the patrol leader immediately began to ask questions, with the design of getting facts that might give them a clue to the solution of the camp mystery.
“Captain,” he started in to say, “would you mind telling us when Felix Gregory was last seen about here?”
“Several men seemed to agree on that point,” replied the accommodating officer, “and I am inclined to say that it was just about half an hour back. At the time he was talking with a civilian who had managed in some way to gain permission to enter the camp in his car. From what I have learned, I believe Felix appeared to be considerably excited while he held this conversation with the stranger.”
“Hugh, just as we suspected, it must have been that man!” gasped Blake. Bud Morgan nodded his head, and pinched the other to keep him quiet.
“Did any of them describe the man and his car, Captain?” continued Hugh. “You remember what we told you about the party who gave us so much trouble on the road? He was a small fellow, with a dark face, and snappy eyes, and his car was one of that cheap class called a flivver. Does that agree with what any of the men said, sir?”
“It seems to cover the case exactly, Hugh,” the officer hastened to admit; “and, taken in conjunction with your remarkable story, makes the matter seem more mysterious than ever. Apparently, then, that man who tried to prevent you from getting to camp, finding that all his schemes had failed, turned another tack, and now aims to keep Felix from seeing you. How he has been able to get him out of the camp beats me; it would seem to be an impossible task.”
Hugh was on his mettle now; his fighting blood aroused. The gleam in his eyes told that, as he shut his teeth together with a snap, and went on to say:
“There will be some way of tracking them, and we’ll find it out by hook or by crook, Captain Barclay. If that man succeeds in keeping Felix hidden away for the next twenty-four hours our goose is cooked, because then it’s going to be too late for any reconciliation between him and his guardian. But there will be hours before that happens, and every minute of that time the three of us here will be working like beavers to find out the truth. We never give up until the last gasp; that’s a slogan of the scouts, you know, sir.”
“A mighty fine rule for any one to go by, I must say,” remarked the officer, looking admiringly at the speaker’s flushed and determined face. “I’ve heard lots of good things said about you Oakvale scouts, and now I can understand why you’ve always met with such splendid success. I want to say, Hugh, that you can count on me to render any assistance in my power. What can I do for you now?”
Hugh was equal to the occasion. Although he had had little time in which to map out his course, owing to the sudden surprise by which they had been confronted, he knew that one thing would be needed.
“If you could manage it, Captain Barclay, so that we three might go about camp without being held up, and put to a whole lot of inconvenience, it would help us a heap.”
“That can be arranged, I think, Hugh,” said the other, after a brief period of reflection. “I’ll try and get the general to write out three passes, such as they may be, and word them so that you’ll be likely to have no trouble moving about. It is something unusual, of course, to allow civilians to remain in camp at a time like this, especially over night; but I think I can manage it all right.”
Leaving the three lads again, the captain entered his tent to start operations looking to securing the passes. There was more or less sending of messages, possibly between Battery K and Headquarters, while Hugh and his companions tried to possess their souls in patience.
Finally, after a long delay, Captain Barclay again made his appearance, and in his hand he bore several folded papers.
“I’ve had more trouble than I expected, boys,” he told them pleasantly; “but I believe everything is smoothed over now, and you will find little trouble in moving about. Only a few newspaper correspondents have so far been given the same privileges; but when the general learned what fine things you scouts had to your credit in and around Oakvale, he obliged me with his signature. Which shows again how a good reputation pays every one a high rate of interest.”
Each of the boys received one of the “passes” that would allow them to wander at will through the mobilization camp for the next twenty-four hours, the privilege expiring with the setting of the following day’s sun; for after that time Hugh and his comrades would have no longer any desire to remain there, since their mission before then must be either a success or a failure.
“You didn’t tell us what others thought of the disappearance of Felix Gregory, Captain?” Hugh remarked, as though anxious to learn this fact, since it might have a bearing on the solution of the mystery.
“Well, I interviewed one man in particular who was rather chummy with Felix,” replied the officer. “His name is Andrew Burtis, and you all know him well. He told me he felt sure there was something on the mind of Felix, for he brooded over something, and acted strangely for a fellow of his happy disposition. In fact, it was Andrew who suggested that possibly the young chap had gone out of his mind over some trouble, and while in this condition had managed to leave the camp, for some purpose or other.”
“But we know what it was troubling Felix, sir, as we have told you,” burst out Blake Merton, eagerly. “I guess he was worrying about that quarrel with his uncle, because they had thought a good deal of each other. But it would never cause Felix to go out of his mind, Captain, you can believe me. No, that man was responsible for his going away; and Hugh here will get on the track, some way or other, I’m certain.”
“Well, you have my best wishes, boys,” said the officer. “I must leave you now, as I have duties to look after; but if I can do anything to assist you later on, be sure and look me up.”
He shook hands most cordially with each one of them in turn, and there could be no question about his sincerity when he made that assertion. Left to themselves, the scouts faced a situation calculated to try their mettle to the utmost. Poor Blake in particular looked woe-begone as he turned a beseeching eye on Hugh, fully conscious that the last lingering hope of finding his missing cousin rested with the scout leader’s dogged pertinacity. Belonging to theWolfPatrol meant a good deal to Hugh Hardin; for in a case of this kind he knew that it would be necessary to emulate the example of the wolf that follows the track of a deer over hill and through valley, hour after hour, day and night, until by sheer persistence he has run the tired quarry to earth, and so secures the meal he sought.
So Hugh would never give up so long as a shred of hope remained. He was determined to start out and seek for a clue capable of leading him to success. Yet, after all, it happened that accident had considerable to do with the final outcome of the big game upon which the three scouts had embarked.
“What’s our plan of campaign, Hugh?” asked Bud Morgan.
“I was just going to say,” remarked the scout master, “that if we separated, and covered as broad a field as possible, the chances for picking up some sort of clue would be all the better. In that way we could agree to meet here, say in an hour or so, and compare notes. Then if by good luck one of us managed to strike a warm scent we could lay out a scheme for taking up the trail. What do you say to that, fellows?”
Both of the others admitted that what Hugh proposed would be the wisest move. Doubtless, Blake would have been happier had Hugh decided to keep him in his company; but, then, he was too proud to hint at such a thing. Besides, he realized that the greater field they covered, just as Hugh had said, the better would be their chances for picking up news.
So they separated, with the understanding that in about an hour from that time they were to come together again near the tent of Captain Barclay, so as to compare notes and decide on the next step.
Bud Morgan was more than eager to wander about the big, bustling camp. There were a thousand interesting things he wanted to see for himself. This was a golden opportunity which he meant to utilize to the utmost. He had been yearning for just such a legacy of good luck; and it had really come to him. That magical paper, signed by the general himself, would allow him to move at will. If any sentinel challenged his right to be amidst the tents of the assembled guardsmen representing the sovereign power of the State, all he had to do was to flash that document before his eyes, and the sight of the name signed at the end of the pass would end the detention instantly.
So Bud started forth with high hopes. He really meant to do all that lay in his power to assist poor Blake find his missing relative; but, then, while thus engaged there was no reason that Bud could see why he should not have a look-in at those things in which his heart were was bound up.
For a short while, then, he talked with some of the Battery K boys whom he knew, and who were naturally delighted to see any face from the home town.
Bud managed to show nice discretion. He was averse to telling the story of Felix, and his silly quarrel with his rich uncle and guardian to every one; and so, when by a few judicious questions, he found that those with whom he chatted had no information to give him, he soon broke away and resumed his wanderings.
In this fashion he soon exhausted the limited fund of information that could be picked up among the artillerymen of Battery K. The result was so meagre that Bud felt disgusted. He must branch out and seek other fields. Far and wide he would continue his investigations, ask his leading questions, and seek by every possible means in his power to get a clue worth having.
By degrees, however, his ambition began to wane. He met with so little success that he began to allow himself to grow slack in his efforts. Hugh would be almost certain to unearth some clue, for he most always did accomplish whatever he set out to perform. Then Bud was wild to spend a little time with the Aviation Corps, for deep down in his boyish heart he cherished an ambition to some day be an air pilot.
This would account for his fetching up in the distant section of the camp where he had been told the aviation squad had their hangars. More than half an hour had passed since parting from his chums, and Bud could truly say that he had worked faithfully to unearth a few crumbs of comfort for Blake.
“I deserve a little recreation,” he told himself. “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. I may never get another such a fine chance to talk with fellows of the aviation class.”
Having thus relieved his mind of any remorse he might have felt, Bud hurried his steps, and before long found himself in the region of the odd-looking hangars, or sheds, hastily constructed, in which several aeroplanes rested when not in use.
He had met with little obstruction thus far. Several times a sentinel had stopped him, acting under orders, but the sight of the magic paper had always sufficed to cause the man with the bayonet and gun to wave him along; so that by this time Bud was under the impression he could go anywhere he pleased.
Arriving at the ground where the birdmen held forth, he found a number of bronzed young fellows squatting around a fire, and swapping stories of possible past experiences. As Bud came up and stood there, curious glances were cast upon him. Perhaps most of them jumped to the conclusion that he must be the representative of some important newspaper, for Bud was a pretty husky sort of a fellow for his age; and young blood is often sought after by the great metropolitan dailies.
So Bud presently dropped down, and sat there listening. He drank in all he heard those aviators saying. One of them, it seemed, had been across the sea, and taken part in some of the dangerous forays, when Allied aeroplanes made daring raids on fortified towns or military concentration camps in the rear of the enemy forces, and his reminiscences of the thrilling scenes upon which he had gazed held Bud spellbound.
Others in the little group had not been so fortunate in seeing actual hostilities, but each man in turn narrated certain adventures that had befallen him; for even in piping times of peace aviators meet with perils calculated to make a stirring story.
One man in particular interested Bud. At the time he hardly knew why this should be so, for they were all strangers to him. Afterwards he was inclined to believe there must have been some sort of intuition about it, causing him to listen to everything this air pilot was saying.
His name seemed to be Johnson, for Bud heard him called that several times. The conversation had turned upon odd incidents connected with meeting people under peculiar conditions, and as he listened Bud heard Johnson saying:
“Queer how people bob up that you’d never expect to meet. Now, today while we were on the road here from the station, with the truck carrying our ’plane, I had a thing like that happen to me. Two years back it came about that I was flying at county fairs down in Florida. I did it as a means for making ready money, because I wanted to get hold of a new model hydroaeroplane that I was wild to own. My companion in the Fair venture was a fellow I never really liked, though he certainly had plenty of grit, and knew a heap about this flying business.
“Well, we separated in the end, because I couldn’t stand for some of his crooked ways. From that day to this I did not see him once; yet today, when we passed a little old house on the road here from the railway station, who should I see looking from the second-story window, and staring at all the aviation squad moving along, but my former partner of the Florida county fair flights. Which shows how small this old world is, after all. Why, I wouldn’t have been any more surprised if I’d landed on top of Mount Washington, and come face to face there with Luther Gregory!”
Bud almost fell over, he received such a shock at hearing the aviator calmly mention that name. Luther Gregory, the wild son of Uncle Reuben, the very man whose scheming had caused the scouts all that trouble while on the road to the mobilization camp—it came to Bud almost like an inspiration that in this astonishing way he had struck a clue.
Through his brain chased a dozen brilliant thoughts. Why, if Luther Gregory had really been the employer whose money had hired that clever trickster in the flivver to do everything in his power to obstruct the progress of Blake and his chums, didn’t it stand to reason that the chief plotter must have come on the ground in order to have a hand in the final attempt to keep Felix from making up with his uncle?
Bud wanted to shake hands with himself, he felt so tickled. For some little time he sat there and communed with himself, laying out various plans whereby he and Hugh and Blake might yet win the game that had seemed to be going against them.
He was suddenly aroused by seeing Johnson getting on his feet, and yawning, as if he felt sleepy, and thought of turning in, although “taps” had not yet sounded.
Bud came to a quick determination. He must have a little chat with the air pilot, and learn a few facts from him. In order to accomplish his end it would be necessary for him to relate the story of Felix, but he could bind the other to secrecy. So he also arose and followed the aviator.
When a tap came on his shoulder, and Johnson turned to find himself confronted by the boy, he may have noticed sitting near the fire, listening, no doubt he felt a little curiosity as to why he had been picked out for an interview.
“Guess you’ve selected the wrong man, young fellow,” he went on to say with a jolly laugh, “if you’re expecting a thrilling yarn for your paper. Better tackle Tom Sherlock, who’s seen exciting adventures over the big drink. He can spin you a story that will make your readers’ hair stand on end.”
“But I want to have a little chat with you, Mr. Johnson,” urged Bud. “I would thank you to give me just a few minutes of your time. It is on a matter that means a whole lot to a chum of mine. The queer part of it is that the mention of Luke Gregory’s name by you is the whole cause of my asking this favor.”
The aviator, naturally enough, was surprised.
“Well, you’ve managed to arouse my curiosity from the start, my boy!” he exclaimed, heartily. “I’ll be only too glad to listen to anything you may have to say. Come over here to my tent and sit down on a bench there; we can talk better at our ease. Right from the beginning let me say that if Luther Gregory has any share in your story, I’d wager it isn’t going to be to his credit.”
“You hit the nail right on the head when you say that, Mr. Johnson!” declared Bud, mentally hugging himself with delight over the wonderful success that had come his way.
He started in by telling how he and Hugh had been trying to find some reasonable excuse for visiting the mobilization camp, when Blake came along and told about the unfortunate quarrel between Felix and his uncle. Then Bud went on to relate how they had started for the camp in the old car. Step by step he narrated the difficulties they had to surmount, and how they felt positive most of their troubles came through the plotting of the man in the flivver, and who had been seen talking in a mysterious fashion with Luther Gregory in Oakvale.
It was an altogether thrilling story, and the aviator listened with rapt attention until Bud had come down to the point where he heard him mention that name of Uncle Reuben’s profligate son, and tell how he had actually seen him close to the border of the camp.
“All I want you to tell me, Mr. Lawrence,” Bud wound up with, “is the location of that little old house where Luther Gregory, you say, was looking out of the second story window as your Aviation Corps passed this afternoon. Don’t you see, if they have managed somehow to sneak Felix out of camp, it stands to reason he would be taken to that place, and kept hidden for twenty-four hours or so, until the time limit was past. Oh! please tell me, so I can carry the news to my chums, who will be tickled half to death to hear it.”
The air pilot saw the point, and proceeded forthwith to enter into such explanations that Bud felt sure he could not miss finding the place; and after that he hastened to break away, being fairly wild to see Hugh, and tell him the great news.
When Bud presently arrived at the appointed rendezvous neither of his comrades were in sight. He was nervously walking up and down when a few minutes later Blake put in an appearance.
Blake looked particularly woe-begone. Evidently all his efforts to pick up a promising clue to the solution of the great mystery had failed miserably. Seeing Bud’s nervous stride, he eyed him hungrily.
“Something ails you, Bud, I’m sure it does from the way you act!” he exclaimed, fresh hope struggling to gain a new grip on his heart. “Please tell me if you’ve found out anything at all, because I haven’t had the least bit of luck.”
“Well, I’ve nosed around like a regular bloodhound on the scent,” observed Bud, with perhaps a little pardonable pride, “and I reckon now I’ve got someimportantnews for Hugh when he shows up here.”
“Oh! have you found Felix?” burst from Blake, excitedly.
“Er, hardly as strong as that,” admitted the other, “but I’ve run across a man who saw Luther Gregory looking from the second-story window of a house not two miles from the border of this camp, and only this afternoon, in the bargain; which you’ll have to own up is some evidence that he knows what’s happened to your cousin.”
Blake proceeded forthwith to pump the hand of his wideawake chum as though in this fashion alone could he show his sincere appreciation of the wonderful news Bud had brought in.
“There comes Hugh right now,” added Bud, with the smile of conscious superiority spread across his face, “and there’ll be something doing soon, believe me.”