The scout master approached. He did not look particularly happy himself, for, to tell the truth, Hugh had failed to succeed in finding any conclusive evidence that promised to take them to where the absent Felix might be found. When he saw how his two comrades were beckoning to hasten his steps, and discovered their triumphant manner, Hugh lost no time in joining them.
“Glad to see that you’ve had more success this time than fell to my lot,” was his salutation as he came up; “now string it off, and tell me what’s happened to make you both look so oh-be-joyful.”
Bud waited for no second invitation. It did not happen every day that he was given such a splendid chance to shine in the limelight, and he would not have been a genuine boy had he failed to take advantage of the golden opportunity. So, in as terse terms as he could possibly summon to the front, he told the story of how, after a myriad of efforts, he had finally run across what seemed to be a most promising clue.
Hugh listened and made little comment until the story had been ended. Then he gripped the other’s hand.
“Bud, old man, I’m beginning to think that the luck of this deal is running strongly in your direction!” he exclaimed, heartily. “If that master schemer of a Luther Gregory is close by, the man he hired must know where to find him; and it stands to reason that if he succeeded in bundling Felix out of camp, even if no one is able to tell how it could be done, why the first thing he’d do would be to take him to that house.”
“Oh! and then all we’ve got to do,” broke in the delighted Blake, who was hardly able to keep from dancing on his tiptoes, such was his increasing happiness, “is to get a detail of the guardsmen, and go there to arrest the whole bunch.”
“Of course that’s our move,” admitted Hugh, “though we mustn’t be too fast about carrying it out. The whole night is before us, you know. They won’t hurt Felix, if our theory is correct. All they want to do is to keep him out of our reach for twenty-four hours.”
“But we ought to see Captain Barclay again, hadn’t we, Hugh?” questioned Bud.
“That would be our wisest move,” agreed the patrol leader, “because we’ll need some help to round up those rascals; and it can only be gotten through an order signed by our friend, the artillery captain.”
“No sleep for me tonight, I wager,” said Blake; but somehow he seemed to glory in the fact rather than put on a doleful expression. Action meant a fresh possibility for a successful ending of his search.
Hugh looked around him. The camp of the guardsmen still presented a wonderfully fascinating picture in his eyes, even though some of the tired militiamen had sought their tents in order to try and get a little sleep, having had their rest broken more or less since leaving their widely separated homes.
“There’s the captain heading this way now!” exclaimed Bud, with sudden zeal. “P’r’aps we had better tackle him while we have the chance, Hugh. He’s got a heap of camp duties to look after, and, according to military rules, they’d have to take precedence above any private business.”
“Come on, then, and we’ll start the ball rolling,” the scout master agreed.
When Captain Barclay saw his trio of boy friends from Oakvale heading toward him, he smiled amiably, and nodded his head.
“Any good news, boys?” he immediately asked, showing that he still remembered about their mission; “heard of Felix Gregory anywhere, and was he visiting in some other part of the camp?”
“No, sir, nothing can be learned about him from any of the men,” replied Hugh, and then immediately adding: “Our chum here, Bud Morgan, happened to learn something that we believe may offer a strong clue.”
“Tell me about it, then,” the officer commanded. “I’m very interested in the result of your noble mission; and this strange disappearance of an enlisted man from camp is bothering some of us. I haven’t mentioned it to any one higher up, but was just thinking of seeing the general about it. Things like that reflect upon the management of a military camp, where it is expected that discipline governs every movement, so that it would appear to be impossible for a single individual to drop out. Now proceed, please.”
Hugh told the story, giving Bud due honors for having made the wonderful discovery that Luther Gregory was hovering near by, evidently bent on sharing some of the foul work with the man whom his money had hired.
Captain Barclay asked several sharp questions. It could be seen that he was intensely interested. Bud made haste to enlighten him on the points that did not appear to be quite clear in his mind.
“Just as you say, Hugh,” he finally remarked, decisively, “things begin to look promising. The chances are ten to one that if Felix has been coaxed or smuggled out of the camp here, he was taken to that lonely house on the road. I believe I can remember noticing the place as we passed from the station this afternoon, where I went to look after some additional baggage that had been shipped by rail from the home town.”
“You’ll help us, won’t you, Captain?”
“I certainly will, to the full extent of my power,” came the hearty response, “though before anything can really be done in the matter I must have a talk with my commanding officer at Headquarters. Fortunately there seems to be nothing of moment to demand my attention. So, if you will once more wait for me here, I’ll see the general again. He was interested in you before, after I had told him some things I knew, and how Oakvale held the scouts in such high esteem.”
“Oh! I hope he agrees to let you help us surround that house, and see if Felix is held a prisoner there,” remarked Blake.
“I don’t have the slightest doubt about the ultimate outcome,” said the officer, “so far as the general’s co-operation goes. Whether we find your cousin there or not is another thing; but I believe the chances are fairly good. Look for me inside of half an hour, boys.”
With that he hastened away, turning his back upon his comfortable tent with its inviting camp cot, which must have appealed strongly to a tired soldier.
“Half an hour he said, didn’t he?” sighed Blake. “Gee whiz! that’s a whole thirty long minutes. It’ll seem like a week to me, I guess. But what’s the use looking a gift horse in the mouth. I ought to be thanking my lucky stars that there’s such a bully chance ahead. I’m going to quit grumbling.”
“What do you expect he meant by saying the general was interested in us as scouts, Hugh?” asked Bud.
“Oh! just what he explained by telling us he’d mentioned some of the things we Oakvale scouts had hung up to our credit,” the patrol leader answered. “I suppose there are few troops in the East that can point with pride to a record like ours. We’ve been a whole lot lucky to have such chances to do things come along.”
“At a time like this,” Bud continued, a look of satisfaction covering his face, “it certainly does make a fellow feel good to know he hasn’t any reason to be ashamed of his past record.”
“There, I saw a soldier stop the captain and salute, after which he handed him something,” Blake burst out with, excitedly. “Now Captain Barclay is pointing straight toward us, boys; and see, he’s handed the thing back again. Looks to me as if he had ordered him to deliver the same to us. I wonder what under the sun it can be?”
“We’ll soon know,” advised Bud, “because here comes the soldier; and by the same token it’s Burch Shafter, Hugh, whom you got to join the battery after convincing his mother it was a duty he owed his country.”[3]
They watched the man in uniform approach them with growing interest. It struck the scouts as having some sort of connection with their mission in the mobilization camp. Perhaps the young fellow was bringing them fresh news—Blake even began to speculate upon the most improbable things, to the extent of wondering whether this might not be some audacious communication from Luther Gregory telling him that his quest would be fruitless, and that he might just as well return to Oakvale, since he could not find Felix within the given time.
Then the artilleryman arrived. Young Shafter recognized them all, and he looked particularly at Hugh with a gleam of affection in his eyes, because the scout master had been mainly instrumental in getting his mother’s consent to his enlistment. Nevertheless, he made a stiff military salute upon first arriving, and then dropped his hand at his side “at attention.”
“Huh! that doesn’t go among old friends, Burch,” chuckled Bud. “Nobody’s watching you now, so you c’n drop your camp manners, and be sociable.”
With that he clutched the other’s hand and shook it. The “rookie” laughed, and from that moment became companionable. Hugh and Blake in turn greeted him; for up to then they had not chanced to run across young Shafter, as he had been in another part of the camp, possibly sent on official business.
“Something was found in Felix Gregory’s tent, and they dispatched me with it to the captain,” he went on to explain. “When he looked it over he said Blake here ought to take charge of the same, and so I’m turning it over to him.”
When Blake glanced at the object that was placed in his hand he gave a cry of astonishment.
“Look here, Hugh, Bud!” he commenced to say, deeply moved, “it’s a letter written by Felix, and sealed; and, would you believe it, the same is directed to Uncle Reuben. Oh! I wonder now did Felix repent of his own accord of those ugly things he said in his hasty temper, and write to apologize? Wouldn’t that be a great thing, though, and a bully ending of the whole silly affair?”
“Don’t be hasty about opening that letter, Blake,” cautioned the scout master, who saw that such a move was indeed contemplated by his chum.
Blake held his hand before he had started to tear an end off the sealed envelope.
“Why, I thought it would be only right to find out if Felix had said he was sorry, Hugh,” he hastened to explain, looking somewhat disappointed. “Because if things did turn out that way, you see I could get this letter to Uncle Reuben, and then the object of our run up here to camp would be accomplished.”
“Yes, I understand all that, Blake,” answered the other, quietly, “but we mustn’t forget that a seal should be considered inviolate, and a letter like this not opened except as a last resort. He hadn’t mailed it, and might reconsider writing the same, no matter what the contents are. Then, again, you can’t be sure that he did repent, and was wanting Uncle Reuben to forgive him.”
Blake gave a big sigh.
“I suppose you’re right about that, Hugh,” he admitted, reluctantly, “though I’d certainly like to see what’s inside of this the worst kind.”
“Better let Hugh keep it in his pocket,” suggested Bud.
“Which means that maybe I might yield to a strong temptation and slit the envelope open some time or other,” Blake remarked, quickly. “Well, it might be just as good that I didn’t have the chance, so here, you keep it, Hugh.”
Accordingly, the patrol leader took the letter addressed to Mr. Reuben Gregory at Oakvale.
“I’ll tell you how we’ll settle this thing,” he proposed, thinking it best to have it decided, and wishing to give poor Blake what measure of comfort he could; “suppose we say we’ll leave the letter unopened until nine tomorrow morning. Then, if nothing comes from our hunt for your cousin tonight, and the mystery of his disappearance is still unexplained, why, I’ll take chances and we’ll see what he wrote.”
“All right, Hugh,” agreed Blake, instantly. “That’s about as good a programme as we could arrange. Still, we have all admitted that it looks promising that Felix went to the trouble of writing a letter to Uncle Reuben, Something must have been worrying him—we’ve heard from one of his comrades here that he hasn’t been himself ever since the battery left Oakvale. It was an uneasy conscience, I’m sure; I know Felix pretty well, and I’m certain that if he began to believe he had acted in a mean way he would get no peace of mind until he had done all in his power to rectify his error.”
Apparently Blake was in a decidedly “chipper” frame of mind since this last odd happening. He seemed to feel that things were finally working out to serve their ends, and that success must soon perch on their banner.
“Well,” remarked the philosophical Bud, “nothing like having two strings to your bow, I’ve always believed. Never put all your eggs in one basket. Now, in case our little excursion along the road to the railway station turns out a complete failure, you see we’ve always got this letter to turn to.”
“And, of course,” added Blake, “when the time limit has expired those men won’t bother trying to hold poor Felix any longer. They’ll believe their game is won, and turn him loose. Now, just ten minutes have dragged by since Captain Barclay left us, and he said half an hour, didn’t he?”
All this was like so much Greek to young Shafter, and, seeing the look of bewilderment on his face, Hugh took pity on him. Besides, since the story was getting to be in general circulation through devious channels, one guardsman taken into their confidence would not matter. Then, again, the telling might serve to kill a little of the time that promised to hang so heavily on their hands.
Accordingly he started in to entertain Burch Shafter with a remarkable story that held his attention closely all the way through. Hugh was not the one to waste words, and so he kept “hewing close to the line” until he had arrived at the point where they were waiting for Captain Barclay to return with permission from Headquarters to take a detail of armed men and ascertain who the inmates of that old house on the roadside were; likewise, whether Private Gregory were detained there against his will.
“All I can say,” remarked the deeply interested listener, after the stirring account of their adventures on the road had been brought to a finish, “is that it beats the Dutch how you scouts do have thrilling happenings come your way. Why, there’s a list as long as my arm of fine things you fellows have done. Here you promise to add another laurel to the wreath you’ve won. I take off my hat to Hugh Hardin and the boys of Oakvale Troop. They are trump cards, every one of them, and that’s the truth.”
He suddenly remembered he was a soldier, and that his time could not be called his own; so, saying a hasty good-bye, Burch Shafter strode away. His coming, and what he had brought with him, had given them all new reasons for gratitude, and the rainbow of promise was once more shining brilliantly in the heavens above.
The time dragged horribly after that, although they talked of many things, so that Blake might not give way to impatience. There was a never-ending source of delight in just glancing around them at all the queer sights by which they found themselves surrounded, with veterans and rookies carrying on a multitude of camp duties. Had it been in the daytime instead of about nine o’clock at night, doubtless the visitors would have witnessed a multitude of intensely interesting things, such as are born of camp life, from comrades being shaved by fresh barbers, to others engaged in taking their first lesson in the art of washing their own clothes under very primitive conditions.
Finally, when Blake had sighed for about the hundredth time, and Bud himself took to yawning because of the inaction, Hugh announced that he believed he had seen an officer hurrying in their direction.
“Unless I’m greatly mistaken, it’s our friend the captain,” he added.
“Sure it is, and no mistake,” chuckled Bud; while Blake drew in a long breath that spelled relief because his “watchful waiting” period was over.
As the officer approached they took new hope upon seeing the look spread upon his face. Surely he would not smile so broadly if he were bringing them bad news.
“It’s all right, boys, all right,” he told them, immediately.
“Then the general has given permission for us to carry out the scheme, has he, sir?” asked Hugh, greatly pleased.
“He told me to take charge of it personally, and leave no stone unturned to ascertain how Private Gregory could be taken out of the camp undetected; also to bring before him those guilty of the outrage, if they could be caught. That house, it seems, comes within the boundaries of the camp, and hence any one living there, or occupying the premises, is amenable to military discipline and rules.”
“Then if by good luck we trap that schemer and good-for-nothing Luther Gregory,” exclaimed Blake, rubbing his hands in joy, “it’s going to be hard for him because he’s interfered with the liberty of one of Uncle Sam’s recruits? Well, I guess on the whole he’ll get only what he deserves, and I’ll be glad of it.”
“Are you going with us, Captain?” asked Bud.
“Yes, and I shall take a detail of men, so as to make doubly sure,” explained the officer, as though he had mapped out his plan of campaign, like a wise soldier, as he came along. “The moon will soon be rising, and we may get some benefit of her light, though that does not matter much.”
He was told about the letter, and seemed to feel a good deal like Hugh in that it had better not be opened, save as a last resort. If other things failed them, and no signs of the missing Felix could be found, then it would be time enough to think of breaking the seal.
“You know,” he went on to say, particularly directing the words toward Blake, whom he guessed had been the one desirous of reading the letter, “there’s always a mean feeling comes on any one when you open a sealed envelope surreptitiously. It’s like a thief breaking into a house in the night; you think you’re doing something you ought to be ashamed of, no matter how good your motives really are. So better let that rest until all other hope has been abandoned.”
“Yes,” added Bud, “and even at noon tomorrow we could telegraph to Uncle Reuben we were on the road with a letter of apology, and he’d be only too willing to wait for us to arrive before changing his will. I reckon the old gentleman would be only too glad of a chance to meet a compromise halfway, if he thinks as much of Felix as Blake Merton here tells us he does.”
“I want you to come with me over to the camp of the aviation boys,” said Captain Barclay. “I have authority to enlist anyone I please in the squad we shall take with us for duty, and that being the case it might be just as well to have that party along who told you about Luther Gregory.”
“Johnston was his name, Captain,” explained Bud, “and I reckon he’s some punkins of an aeroplane pilot, too, because he’s been giving daring exhibitions in lots of county fairs down South last winter. From what he said, I reckon Johnston will be glad to be in the bunch, because things are getting kind of stale for him here, with so little material to work with.”
The captain left them for a short time. When he came back, three men carrying guns followed at his heels. Blake surveyed their armament with considerable interest, as though convinced by this time that the clouds were gathering around the devoted heads of the two schemers who must soon find themselves in the toils.
“There’s the moon just peeping above the horizon, you see, boys,” the captain remarked, as he joined the waiting trio of scouts. “It isn’t more than ten o’clock, either, and we needn’t be in any hurry. Let’s head across to where the aviation squad have their quarters, so as to pick up Johnston, the air pilot.”
As they were proceeding along, the clear notes of a bugle ascended from some point close by, and never would Hugh and his chums forget the peculiar effect produced upon them when, for the first time, they heard “taps” sounded in a military camp while the grim shadow of impending war was hovering over the land. It seemed to thrill them through and through with its significance, for they could not help remembering how it is this same sweet sad call that is invariably given over the grave of a soldier when his comrades bury him with full military honors.
When they finally arrived at the border of the camp, where lay the field that was to be devoted to such aviation work as could be carried on with the poor material on hand, Captain Barclay immediately sought the officer in command of the squad, whom he chanced to already know.
He found no trouble in securing permission to have the air pilot Johnston join them, though, doubtless, the other wondered much what it all meant, for there was no time to enter into full explanations. Captain Barclay did promise to see him on the next day, and tell him an interesting story connected with the visit of these three scouts from his home town.
Johnston recognized Bud, and readily agreed to lead the little expedition to the house where he had seen his old associate in aeronautics, Luther Gregory. As he had, it may be remembered, heard pretty much the whole story of the adventure from Bud Morgan’s lips, at the time the other was coaxing him to tell the location of the house where he claimed to have seen Luther, the aviator did not express any surprise, only satisfaction that his services had been thought worth while securing.
There being nothing else to detain them now, the captain gave the order for marching, and the little company started forth. A sentry on the border of the great camp challenged, and demanded the password, which Captain Barclay whispered in his ear; and so with the last obstacle to their progress removed they began to follow the road that led to the railway station, possibly four miles away.
When Bud Morgan glanced back over his shoulder just as they struck the road and were well launched on their night tramp, he could not help thinking what a wonderful sight it was that greeted his admiring eyes. Bud had always been a great hand for drinking in scenes that were uncommon, and had been known to temporarily forget that he was engaged in a running match, when from the top of a rise a vista of unusual beauty burst upon his vision.
The battered old moon was above the horizon now, and lay low in the east. A myriad of camp fires flickered through the broad valley where the State guardsmen were encamped, waiting to be sworn into the service of Uncle Sam, and entrain for the distant border. All sorts of murmurous sounds came floating to the ear, and formed a medley never to be forgotten.
Bud, finding that the others were fast leaving him in the lurch, hastened to catch up with his chums; but he knew he would carry that wonderful picture in memory as long as he lived. The very mention of a mobilization camp would make him think of the soft dab of yellow in the sky marking the rising moon, the glittering patches scattered about that looked like giant fireflies; and the murmuring sound of many voices, braying of mules, and kindred camp notes.
But “taps” had sounded, and all this would presently die away, for strict military regulations governed the uniformed community.
Bud found a place alongside Blake, while Hugh strode on with Captain Barclay and the aviator guide, Johnston. It was perfectly natural that the two boys should desire to communicate while on the way. Blake in particular wanted to find certain things, and as he could bend his head close to that of his comrade, before they had been three minutes on the road in company, he was whispering:
“Bud, would you mind if I asked you something?”
“Why, of course not, Blake,” replied the other in a soft tone, “only be careful how you speak. Remember that we’re under the captain’s orders now, and he told us not to say anything louder than a whisper. So fire away.”
No doubt Bud understood how very anxious the other must be, for Blake had far more at stake in the successful outcome of their adventure than either of his companions, hence the willingness of Bud to accommodate him; for Blake was a pretty decent sort of fellow, as boys go, and well liked by the Oakvale Troop.
“Why, I only wanted to ask if you could give any kind of guess what the programme is going to be after we get to that lonely house by the road?” Blake asked, showing that, after all, it was more a desire to receive some comforting assurance than a hope for knowledge that actuated him.
“Oh! shucks! how c’n I tell that, Blake?” protested the other. “Just as like as not we’ll first of all throw a loop around the old shanty, so nobody c’n skip out, and then start in to comb it from attic to cellar. All I’m hoping is that they don’t think to carry Felix further away in that little flivver car, you know.”
“Huh! say, Bud, d’ye know that’s just what’s been bothering me right along,” admitted Blake. “Everything hinges on our finding that bunch hiding at the house alongside the road. I wish we were there, so we’d know the worst.”
“Brace up, Blake,” said Bud, encouragingly. “I’ve got a hunch that it’s all going to come off gilt-edged. Show your colors, old fellow, and don’t forget that a scout can keep his fears under control.”
After that Blake fell quiet. Perhaps he realized that it was foolish to give way to these doubts, just as Bud meant to imply. Silently the little detachment advanced along the road, the four armed soldiers bringing up the rear. Once they were challenged, for videttes had been posted even outside the limits of the big military camp, since strict army rules prevailed, and in a hostile country this would be the practice. The captain, however, gave the password in the ear of the man who suddenly challenged them, and they were permitted to move along.
After this had kept up for possibly fifteen minutes, the boys knew they must be close upon the object of their search. Johnston had, in the beginning, said it was less than two miles away, and hence, at any moment now, they might expect to hear a low command to halt, after which the captain would give directions governing their future movements.
Eagerly, Blake was straining his eyes in hopes of discovering some sort of house ahead. More than once he thought he had hit upon it, only to find, upon drawing near, that a clump of trees formed the dark shadow patch upon which his gaze had settled.
But all things must have an end, and in due time the guide of the expedition signified that they were now within stone’s throw of their destination. The captain beckoned them to gather around him, after which in whispers he designated every one’s part in the venture.
The four privates were to circle the house, guarding every exit, whether this be a door or window. Their orders were to hail first, and then, if the fleeing party refused to halt, to shoot, though trying to “pepper” the man’s legs rather than mortally injure him.
As for the three scouts, they were to accompany the captain and Johnston, whose intention it was to enter the building and arrest the inmates.
When Blake heard this he fairly quivered with an excess of emotion and zeal. He was only too delighted at such a chance to be “in at the death,” as he mentally termed it. How good it was of their friend the captain to allow them this privilege. Most army officers would have considered boys a nuisance, and, doubtless, ordered them to stay back until things had shaped themselves, and the danger was past; but then Captain Barclay lived in Oakvale, and knew just how bravely the scouts had carried themselves on numberless occasions.
All of them could see the house, for they were creeping forward again. It happened to be upon the side of the road where the low-lying moon’s rays did not fall, so that the shadows were fairly dense; but sharp eyes could make it out.
Blake was glad to notice that all seemed as still as death around the place. So far as he could see, there was no sign of a light visible. If the inmates were awake and burning a lamp, they must have first carefully drawn the shades, and otherwise darkened the windows, for try as Blake might, he failed to detect even a narrow shaft of illumination.
A near-panic gripped the boy’s rapidly beating heart. He feared that those they sought might not be at the roadhouse—that when the man in the flivver had arrived with Felix in his car they may have continued the flight, and by this time were many miles away.
However, Blake’s fright was of short duration. He remembered what Bud had said about mastering himself, and thus managed to get a firm grip on his weak heart.
Great care was taken while advancing to keep well in the shadow. Although everything seemed so still about the place, there was no telling whether the suspected inmates of the house were on guard or not. For all they knew, hostile eyes might be peering out from some crack, and ordinary caution required that they take just as much pains as though they knew this for a certainty.
By motions rather than even the lowest of words the captain stationed his four men. He had evidently planned his every move, and there was to be no hitch that would imperil the success of the enterprise.
When the armed guards had been placed, the next thing was to approach the door and knock. Blake again had a chilly feeling attack as he realized that the crisis was now at hand, when success or failure would follow. If repeated knocking went without any response, the chances were the house had been abandoned, and that they would have had all their trouble for their pains. Of course, though, Blake told himself, they would give the place a thorough overhauling, so as to make sure those they sought were not hiding.
Well, there was one comfort that appealed to him. This lay in the letter which Felix had written, and now in the possession of Hugh Hardin. If the worst came they could open that, and always have a chance that it would be what they wanted, an apology meant for Uncle Reuben’s eye.
The captain had stepped boldly up to the door. Blake saw him place his ear close to the panels, after trying the knob and finding that a key had been turned in the lock, for the door refused to open. If Captain Barclay detected the least sign of human occupancy, he gave no indication of it; but he did knock loudly with his knuckles.
Everybody listened intently. The four uniformed guards had been cautioned to keep out of sight, and the shadows engulfed them. Had any one peered from a window he would have been able to see nothing, unless in some manner he managed to glimpse that little group on the stone step before the door.
But some person was certainly moving inside, for even Blake heard sounds indicating such a thing. The officer waited a minute, and then again thumped lustily on the panel. A glimmer of light was seen, telling them that some one approached; then came the sound of a key turned in the lock, after which the door swung partly open, revealing a man standing there, holding a lighted lamp.
“Don’t drop that lamp if you value your life!” called out Captain Barclay, as he immediately covered the startled man with a weapon.
“That’s him, Captain—it’s Luther Gregory!” shrilled Blake, forgetting that as the captain lived in Oakvale he must also have known the other in times gone by.
Luther Gregory it was for a fact, and Hugh, upon discovering this, felt a wave of relief rushing over him. He believed they were going to meet with success in their undertaking, and that all would come out well.
“What’s all this mean?” exclaimed the man who held the lamp.
Hugh immediately started to relieve him of the light, for he was afraid that a sudden desperate move toward escape might be inaugurated by the plotter dropping the lamp, and causing either an explosion, or darkness to cover the scene.
“Only that you are under arrest, Gregory, charged with unlawfully taking an enlisted man out of camp against his will.”
With that the captain summoned one of the guards and placed him at the side of the prisoner. When Luther Gregory saw this he laughed and shrugged his shoulders after the fashion of a reckless man who, having played for high stakes, sees his castles in the air falling in ruins, and cares little what becomes of him.
“Oh! the game is up, is it?” he called out. “Well, you won’t hear a squeal from me. I haven’t done anything so terrible that the Government, or the State, either, can hold me for it. Coaxing an enlisted man to desert might seem a crime, but inviting him to visit you, and spend the evening is another. You can’t prove a thing against me, try as hard as you please.”
“We’ll see about that later on,” said the officer, grimly. “Meanwhile we’ll take a look through this house, and make the acquaintance of your confederate in crime. Come with me, boys; fetch him in also, Private Fielder, and keep a tight hold on his arm. Remember you are at liberty to shoot if he tries to break away.”
“I’m not so great a fool as to take such chances, Captain,” the other told him.
When from the hall they stepped into the adjoining room Blake gave utterance to a low cry of mingled concern and joy, for the very first thing his eyes discovered was a figure lying on a cot. He flew across the apartment and bent down.
“It’s Felix, boys, sure it is my cousin!” he called out. “Don’t you know me, Felix? Oh! Hugh, what ails him, do you think? See how he stares at me, just as if he didn’t recognize me one bit. Is he sick, Hugh; or have those men done something to make him act so queerly?”
The scout master knew.
“I think they’ve given him some sort of drug, Blake,” he went on to say, laying a hand on Blake’s shoulder, for he realized that the boy was terribly wrought up. “He’s already recovering, and will be himself soon.”
“Is that the truth, Gregory?” demanded the captain, harshly frowning upon the prisoner, who, however, was too clever to commit himself so early in the game.
“Why, the fact is,” he remarked, airily, with a light laugh, “Cousin Felix commenced to act strangely soon after coming here to visit me. I thought he was going to have a fit, and coaxed him to lie down there as you see. He is getting better, though, and will be himself before very long. But his mind is apt to be clouded, more or less; and I shouldn’t be much surprised if he even got it into his silly head to think I had something to do with his leaving the camp, and coming here to visit.”
Captain Barclay understood what the sly schemer was aiming to do. He smiled in a satirical way, and then remarked:
“You’ll not be able to hoodwink the eyes of a judge and jury when you’re placed on trial for this nasty business, Gregory. You’ve played a high hand, but this time you’re going to get your reward, and see the inside of a State’s prison. But let’s take a look around, and see what’s become of your accomplice; for since I noticed his little car drawn under a shed back of the house, I take it he must still be somewhere around.”
At that Hugh and Bud began to take fresh interest in the case, though Blake apparently had eyes only for his cousin, over whom he was bending, trying to hold the attention of Felix by continual talking. The scout instinct was strong in the makeup of the two lads, and no sooner had the captain suggested a hunt to find the missing tool of the arch schemer than they began to use their eyes in searching out every possible place where a small man might conceal himself in an emergency.
They had good reason to feel anything but kindly disposed toward that man of the flivver. Not only did he curtly decline to assist them when they had engine trouble, but had afterwards done everything in his power to hold them up on the way to camp. The memory of the country constable who believed them to be thieves running away with a car they had taken, as well as what happened at the burning bridge, were things not calculated to make them feel very friendly toward the unscrupulous man who had been responsible for these various happenings.
Hugh noticed almost immediately that while there was no blaze in the big open fireplace, there did seem to be an unusual amount of soot on the hearth. This must have given him his cue, for he stepped forward, bent down, and tried to see up the wide-throated chimney.
“See anything up there, Hugh?” asked Bud, close at his elbow.
“Look at my face and tell me if you see little patches of black on it?” demanded the scout master, turning his head to his comrade for examination.
“Just what there are, Hugh!” exclaimed the other, joyfully, “which announces the fact thatsomebodyis up there in that chimney. How’ll you get Mr. Coon to come down?”
“Captain, please lend me your revolver,” said Hugh, in a loud voice, purposely intended to pass up the chimney flue. “It’s got six cartridges in the chambers hasn’t it, Captain? Well, they ought to be enough to fetch him down, dead or alive.”
Instantly there came a half-muffled groan, and then following an appeal:
“Hold on please, don’t shoot! I’m coming down just as fast as I can. Oh! I’m nearly choked to death with the soot up here. Wait for me, please!”
More black stuff came down in a shower. Hugh stepped back, and with a grin on his face, Bud followed suit. They heard considerable scratching and puffing from inside the chimney, after which there came a thud.
“Oh! what is it?” gasped Bud as he stared at a dusky object that huddled there on the open hearth amidst the piles of soot.
“It’s me,” piped up a half strangled voice. “Jones is my name, Pliny Jones, and, as usual, playing in tough luck. I’ll turn State’s evidence, gentlemen, if you can promise me immunity. But what I want most of all just now is a plain drink of water, because I’m choking horribly. Please accommodate a poor wretch, one of you boys.”
Bud could not resist the appeal, though he was quivering with half suppressed laughter, for it was decidedly comical to see what a sight the small owner of the flivver had made of himself by crowding into the recesses of the chimney—a negro could not have been any blacker, Bud felt sure.
By slow degrees Felix seemed to be coming out of his stupor. He had already managed to recognize Blake Merton, though it was hard for him to realize just where he was, and what had happened to him. In fact, his mind was always in somewhat of a haze concerning the events of the last few hours.
He later on remembered being spoken to by the small man in the car, who had found a way to enter the camp. The other had whispered to him that he was the bearer of an important message from his Uncle Reuben; and as Felix just then was mourning the recent unfortunate break with his guardian, he gave a ready ear to a request to join the other at a certain spot outside the limits of the camp, knowing he could get permission to go there.
He also remembered being told to lean forward, and take a look at some paper held by the other, and that a sudden vertigo seized him as a handkerchief was clapped over his face. After that it was all vague, although he believed he had been stowed away in the small car, and driven a short distance, and only now to awaken from a dream to find Blake there. Some strange things taking place puzzled him greatly.
It was difficult to believe that such a kidnaping could actually have taken place, and yet the evidence of it lay before them. The captain had the two prisoners taken away, to be confined in the guard house until morning, when he expected to put their case in the hands of the commanding general, who, being a lawyer himself, would know what to do with them, so that they might be made to suffer for their miserable work.
Felix, having recovered in part, was taken in the small car to camp, the scouts following after with Johnston the aviator, from whom Bud picked up many hints as they strode along.
Later on that same night Hugh, Blake and Bud gathered in a tent with the genial captain, who was, of course, deeply interested in their affairs, and anxious to see the outcome.
Felix was also present, having by that time fully recovered from his recent adventure, though still pale. Here the story was gone over again, in order that the two listeners might get a full comprehension of the facts.