By Worthington Green

TWO AMERICAN BOYS IN THE WAR ZONE. Illustrated.

THE BOY FUGITIVES IN MEXICO. Illustrated.

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

Boston and New York

TWO AMERICAN BOYS
IN THE WAR ZONE

[STOP, RAY! THEY’RE GOING TO SHOOT!]

TWO AMERICAN BOYS
IN THE WAR ZONE

BY
L. WORTHINGTON GREEN

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge
1915

COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY L. WORTHINGTON GREEN

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Published October 1915

TO
GLADYS

WHOSE OWN WORK SERVES AS
AN INSPIRATION

NOTE

In writing this story the author has been indebted, for suggestions of local color, to George Kennan’s illuminating article in the National Geographic Magazine, “An Island in the Sea of History,” to Stephen Graham’s fascinating book, A Vagabond in the Caucasus, and to Ruth Kedzie Wood’s excellent guide, The Tourist’s Russia.

CONTENTS

TWO AMERICAN BOYS
IN THE WAR ZONE

CHAPTER I
THE JOURNEY TO RUSSIA

After the Porter brothers, Sidney and Raymond, had escaped from Mexico in their flight from Mexican rebels, they proceeded as rapidly as possible to their El Paso home. There they found their father, who had succeeded, several weeks before, in reaching El Paso from Chihuahua.

Mrs. Porter declared that the boys should then remain at home, at least until they had ceased to be boys. She said that her nerves were not equal to another such strain as they had endured while the boys were in the wilds of Mexico, and that she would have no more wandering in dangerous foreign lands.

Her husband reminded her, however, that there seemed to be nothing in the boys’ recent adventure that would justify so drastic a prohibition. The boys had successfully made a difficult journey without harm, and had proved that they were quite able to take care of themselves under unusual conditions of great danger, as he had all along maintained that they were.

There was no question, though, of their going back to the Mexican mine. The entire State of Chihuahua was so unsettled by the frequent changes of the revolution that even Mr. Porter admitted it would be the wildest folly to attempt to return there. So the boys entered the El Paso High School for the rest of that year and the next, and their father gradually reconciled himself to the idea of losing his entire Mexican investments.

It was difficult for Mr. Porter to settle down quietly at home, where he had no regular business, and, moreover, he possessed in a high degree the American mania for travel. The result was, that one year of inactivity was as much as he could endure, and as the second summer approached he began to long for a change of scene. Being cut off from his accustomed Mexican stamping ground, he was forced to look farther afield. One day he read an account of the great Russian Fair at Nizhni-Novgorod and that reminded him that he had long wished to visit that wonderful mart. So he proposed that the entire family should make the trip. It would, he said, be a liberal education for the boys, and it was providential that the date of the Fair and their summer vacation exactly coincided.

Mrs. Porter was plunged in despair at the proposal, for to penetrate to the interior of Russia seemed to her like invading one of the wildest and most impossible countries on earth. In vain her husband assured her that Russian hotels were notoriously comfortable, and that, indeed, to attain comfort in every department of his living was the ideal of the Russian. To begin with, there was no more delightful course of ocean travel than that supplied by the steamers of the Russian-American line from New York to Libau. And to visit any of the peaceful countries of Europe was a very different matter, anyway, from a journey in strife-broken Mexico. Mr. Porter was obliged to admit that it would necessitate a long journey, but he was sure every part of it would be so delightful that his wife would never regret having gone.

Mrs. Porter was not in the least convinced, but experience had taught her that when her husband once fixed his mind on a thing he seldom gave it up, so she proposed a compromise. She would make one of the party as far as New York, but would remain there with her sister, whom she had long wished to visit, until Mr. Porter and the boys returned in September.

The boys were clamorous that their mother should go with them, and reminded her of the Eastern silks and rugs which she would undoubtedly see, and might buy, at the Fair. They also made a great deal of the delightful long voyage, knowing their mother’s enjoyment of the water; but Mrs. Porter remained firm, and it was finally arranged as she had suggested.

In a very short time, really, though it seemed an age to the impatient boys, they were on the pier in New York ready to board the fine steamer Kursk for Libau, Russia. Mrs. Porter gave the boys final instructions about their clothes, and told them just where, in their trunk, she had placed the box of sewing materials. The boys, besides being crack shots with the rifle and six-shooter, an accomplishment which they had found so valuable in their Mexican adventure, could replace missing buttons, sew up ripped seams, and even put on patches, if necessary.

“Oh,” said Raymond, “I wish we had brought our rifles, though I don’t suppose we should be allowed to use them anywhere. But, mother, if we should get switched off into mountains where we couldn’t send you word, you mustn’t be alarmed if you don’t hear from us for a long time.”

“If I thought anything of that sort would happen,” said his mother with a worried look, “I should refuse now to let you go.”

“Ray is talking wild, as usual,” said Mr. Porter. “We are going by rail direct from Libau to Nizhni-Novgorod, and then back by way of St. Petersburg. I imagine there will not be much chance for a wild mountain trip on that route.”

“I wish it were a mountain trip, though,” said Raymond.

“I guess we’ll have to travel in a civilized way this time, Ray,” said his brother, “and I believe I shall enjoy it more.”

“I am sure,” said Mrs. Porter, “there will be no war, as there was in Mexico, so I don’t see how you can get into any trouble.”

“Of course we shall not get into any trouble, my dear,” replied her husband.

“I told father,” said Sidney, “that we ought to go through Germany, to give him a chance to use his German.”

Mr. Porter’s mother had been a native German, and she had insisted that her boy, during his childhood at home, should speak her tongue. Learning the language in that way he had never known any difference between it and English. He had not, however, been as wise as his mother, and had not taught it to his own boys.

“I should like to do that,” said Mr. Porter, “but it would take too long; you boys would not get back in time for school.”

“Which wouldn’t bother me any,” declared Raymond.

The last good-byes were finally said and the travelers stood on deck waving their handkerchiefs to Mrs. Porter on the fast-receding pier.

While the boys had been great travelers by land, they had never before made a long ocean voyage and the novel scenes and sensations were of constant interest to them. The greatest interest began, however, after the ship had traversed the English Channel and had passed through the Strait of Dover into the North Sea. There the ships which they encountered were numerous and made a pleasant variety after the broad expanse of the Atlantic.

On the eighth day after leaving New York they made the port of Rotterdam and the boys could give a day to quaint Dutch scenes. Then came the delightful voyage up the North Sea, around the north end of Denmark, through the narrow strait into the Baltic and to their destination, Libau, three days packed full of pleasure and charm.

With the Great Fair in prospect there was little in Libau to detain the travelers and at the earliest possible moment they were aboard a train for Nizhni-Novgorod with three days of what they feared would be tiresome travel ahead of them. But the boys found, to their delight, that in the first-class coach they were given a compartment for three. As Raymond said,—

“It’s just like having a private car.”

“And we even have our own bedding,” said Sidney, “which makes it still more private.”

They had followed Baedeker’s instructions and had provided themselves with traveling-rugs and pillows, which is the wisest course to pursue on Russian railways.

However, even the charms of a private car may become tiresome, and all the party were glad when, on the afternoon of August 1, their train pulled into Nizhni-Novgorod. That city is situated along the right bank of the Volga River, and of its great tributary, the Oka. The most important part of the city is on the high bluff that borders the two rivers along that side, and the hotel which our travelers selected was on the bluff near the Kremlin.

Climbing the bluff in a cab they had tantalizing glimpses of the magnificent view, and the boys did not want to go into the hotel until they had seen more of it. Their father, however, suggested that they had better help him select rooms. When that was accomplished and they were alone Mr. Porter said,—

“I asked you to stay, boys, because I want to arrange an important matter. I think I should make a better disposition of our money; it does not seem to me wise for me to carry it all.”

“I don’t want to be bothered with money, father,” expostulated Raymond.

“I think you ought to have a reasonable amount, though,” said his father. “You might want some badly when you were not with me.”

“I would rather have some,” said Sidney. “We should have been up a stump in Mexico, Ray, if we hadn’t been able to use Ramon’s money.”

“What I propose is this,” said Mr. Porter: “I will turn over two hundred dollars to you, Sidney, and one hundred dollars to Raymond. I will keep a couple of hundred myself and will place two hundred dollars in the trunk. I think I had better divide my express checks with you, Sidney, too, and I will place a portion of those in the trunk.”

“Now that’s fixed up, let’s hurry out,” urged Raymond. “I want to see that view before dark.”

Mr. Porter insisted on dividing the money and checks first, but when that was done they went out to the Alexander Gardens, near by.

While there are high bluffs along the right banks of the Volga and the Oka, on the opposite side extend level plains. From the Gardens the travelers saw at their feet the two broad rivers, and on the peninsula formed by the junction of the two streams was situated the great temporary city of the Fair, connected with Nizhni-Novgorod by a bridge of pontoons, transitory, like the community it served.

Beyond the Volga stretched plains, farther than the eye could reach toward the Urals, hundreds of miles of cultivated fields and meadows.

“Gee!” exclaimed Raymond, “that looks like Russia, all right, without any limit.”

“It is evident that one must travel in Russia,” said his father, “to comprehend the size of the country.”

“Those plains look broader, somehow, than our own Western prairies,” said Sidney, “but I guess it’s because we know they are bigger, for often we can’t see across ours.”

Near them stood a gentleman who was also regarding the view. He must have understood what had been said in English, though he turned to Mr. Porter and spoke in German.

“We Russians are used to vast expanses of country, and a view like this has a great charm for me. I have often wished that I might see the American plains; they must be wonderful.”

“The American plains, no less than the American mountains, are wonderful,” replied Mr. Porter in German. “But then, America is a wonderful country.”

“And the Americans are a wonderful people,” said the stranger. “They have accomplished marvels in an incredibly short time. Are many of them linguists like yourself?”

“I can hardly be called a linguist,” replied Mr. Porter. “I speak only German besides English. My mother was German.”

“Ah, your mother was German?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Porter, surprised at the rather significant tone of the stranger’s voice.

A policeman who stood a short distance away, approached in response to an almost imperceptible signal from the gentleman and placed himself at Mr. Porter’s side.

“Will you have the kindness to come with me?” said the gentleman; “there is some business that I wish to transact with you.”

“But, my dear sir,” said Mr. Porter, “why should I go with you, who are a stranger to me? I must beg you to excuse me.”

“I am sorry that I cannot accept an excuse,” said the other, very courteously; “it is absolutely necessary that you should go with me.”

Mr. Porter saw that he was probably being placed under arrest, and concluded it was for political reasons of some sort. Though he believed that any objection on his part would be futile, he determined to make an attempt to at least obtain information.

“I beg of you the favor of an explanation,” he said.

“I cannot give you an explanation,” replied the other, “and I must request you to come with me at once.”

“I have a passport issued from the office of the Secretary of State, at Washington.”

“That will be examined later.”

“May I not appeal to the American Consul, if there be one here?”

“The United States has no representative here.”

“Well, sir, I suppose at least my sons may go with me.”

“It is not desired to detain the young men,” replied the gentleman with considerable impatience. “You must come with me at once.” And he said something in Russian to the officer, who stepped up and placed a hand on Mr. Porter’s shoulder.

“Sidney,” said Mr. Porter as he was being led away, “I am arrested, but this man will not tell me why. I believe I can clear myself of any suspicion, but of course I can’t be sure. You boys go back to the hotel and I will try to send you word. Don’t follow me, it would not be allowed. Good-bye; keep a stiff upper lip.”

CHAPTER II
THE ARREST

Sidney and Raymond, not understanding anything that was said, had listened in great suspense to the conversation between their father and the stranger. At first they had supposed the gentleman’s remarks were merely politely casual. They were made uneasy when he began to show impatience, and when the policeman stationed himself at their father’s side their wonder and fear grew. They recalled tales of arbitrary Russian political oppression, and imagined they were all about to be thrown into a dungeon. Their dismay was hardly allayed by their father’s brief explanation as he was hurried away, and there was only time for Sidney to call after him,—

“Don’t worry about us, father.”

When Mr. Porter had disappeared with the officer, and the man who was, apparently, the officer’s superior, the boys were left gazing at each other in consternation. The whole affair had occupied so little time that they were dazed, and could hardly believe that it was reality and not a dream.

“Wouldn’t that jar you, Sid!” exclaimed Raymond finally. “What do you suppose they have arrested father for?”

“I can’t imagine,” replied Sidney. “It must be a mistake. I am sure he will be released right away.”

“I guess mother was right when she thought Russia was a dangerous country; here we’ve come straight from the ship without stopping anywhere, and couldn’t have done any mischief if we had wanted to, and yet father has been arrested before we have been here an hour.”

“Well,” said Sidney, “it will probably come out all right, and we will be laughing about it to-morrow. But we’d better go back to the hotel, so if father sends a message we shall be there to receive it, or maybe he will come himself.”

With that idea to encourage them, the boys hurried back to the hotel and went directly to their room. Mr. Porter had selected connecting rooms, and their one trunk was placed in the room which he had expected to occupy. When the boys entered they found a man in uniform directing the removal of the trunk by two porters.

“Has my father sent for his trunk?” asked Sidney eagerly.

“Yes,” said the officer with an amused smile, and in English with a strong foreign accent, “he has sent for the trunk.”

“Did he send us any message?”

“No; he sent no message.”

Meantime the men had carried the trunk out into the corridor, and the boys followed in their eagerness to get news of their father. The officer turned and said sharply,—

“Do not follow. Remain here.”

The boys stopped with the sensation of having received a blow, and returned to their rooms feeling very forlorn. There everything looked cheerful and homelike. The windows were suffused with the soft light of late evening in a high latitude, and the prevailing aspect was so peaceful that they were more than ever inclined to think they were dreaming. When they looked about them, however, and saw the trunk was gone, the reality of the situation returned. When they had come from the train the traveling-rugs and pillows had been thrown across a couch, and there they still lay, not having been noticed by the men who took the trunk. Mr. Porter’s handbag was gone, but a small one which Sidney had carried was on the dresser in the boys’ room. That bag and the rugs were all that remained of their belongings.

“I don’t believe father sent for his trunk,” said Raymond; “the authorities have simply seized it.”

“I’m afraid that is so,” replied Sidney; “but I can’t think of any reason unless there has been a mistake, and father has been taken for some one else. Let’s go down to the office; the man there speaks English, and we may learn something.”

Accordingly they descended to the office and found the English-speaking clerk.

“Do you know the officer who just went out with our trunk?” asked Sidney.

The clerk looked at him hesitatingly for a moment without replying; then after a cautious glance about the lobby, where there happened to be no one within hearing, he said,—

“You are not Germans, are you?”

“Of course not,” replied Sidney; “we are Americans.”

“But your father speaks German.”

“Yes, he does, but we don’t. His mother was German.”

“Ah!” and the man shook his head dubiously; “Germans will not be safe in Russia now.”

“But we are not Germans,” protested Sidney. “Anyhow, why should they not be safe here now?”

“On account of the war.”

“I didn’t know there was a war.”

“Germany declared war on Russia to-day.”

“That’s just what is the matter, Ray!” —and Sidney turned to his brother excitedly. “They think father is German because he speaks the language. But they must have known before that he speaks German, for that man who spoke to him in the park must have had everything arranged to arrest him.”

“Don’t you remember, Sid, that father replied in German to a man who asked him some question when we left the train?”

“Yes, I believe he did. I am greatly relieved, Ray, for I am sure father can prove he is American. He will show his passport and that will settle it.”

“Your father’s passport is here in the safe,” said the clerk.

“Did the officer who arrested father see it?”

“Yes, he examined it before he followed your father to the park.”

“And yet they arrested him!” exclaimed Sidney.

“Many Germans,” said the clerk, “will be coming from America now, and some might come directly here as spies.”

“Do you mean they have taken my father for a spy?” And a vision of Major André of Revolutionary times rose before the horrified boy, whose face turned pale at the thought.

“I do not know,” said the clerk, looking with pity at the distressed boys; “but I would advise you to wait quietly and your father may return in the morning.”

That seemed to be good advice and the boys determined to follow it. It was then time for dinner and they tried to eat something, but with poor success. They were so uneasy about their father that they could hardly think of anything else, and they had not yet begun to consider what they, themselves, should do. All thought of the Great Fair, which they had come so far to see, had entirely left their minds. Their trouble, however, did not prevent them from sleeping well, and when they went to bed they knew nothing more until long past daylight the next morning.

After such a night’s rest things did not appear so bad to the boys as they had seemed the day before, and they ate a hearty breakfast. Then they hunted up the English-speaking clerk again, for they had received no message from their father. That person could tell them nothing and they went out on the street. The evening before they had noticed nothing unusual in conditions, or if there had appeared to be great activity, they had supposed it was only the ordinary business of the city. With their knowledge that war had been declared, however, the boys plainly perceived an air of suppressed excitement everywhere. Automobiles raced through the streets, and the boys noticed that the cars always carried men in uniform. Private automobiles seemed to have strangely disappeared, and the boys did not know that all such cars had been commandeered by the Government.

There were groups of people talking earnestly on the streets, but not a word that the boys heard could they understand, and they felt very much out of everything and very forlorn. In their far Southwestern home their ability to speak Spanish besides their native English had been all that they ever needed, but in Nizhni-Novgorod both English and Spanish seemed to be unknown. They felt finally that they could no longer endure the suspense of not knowing what was being done, and determined to return to the hotel and seek their English-speaking friend again.

“Has our father sent us any message?” asked Sidney when they had found the clerk.

“No,” replied the man; “we have heard nothing from him, and I think you young gentlemen ought to leave the city at once. If you stay much longer you may not be able to get out of the city at all.”

“How can we go,” cried Raymond, “and leave our father here in prison?”

“You cannot help him by remaining,” said the man; “and when he is released he will come here and will learn where you are gone.”

“I think that is right, Ray,” said Sidney; “and I am sure father would want us to get away where we shall be safe. We had better take the first train back to Libau and then sail for New York by the first ship. Mother must be feeling pretty anxious, for she probably knows a good deal more about the war than we do. When is there a train for Libau?” —and Sidney turned to the clerk.

“You cannot go to Libau; the Government has taken all trains to transport troops. You cannot go either west or north from here.”

“Then we can’t get away at all,” declared Raymond petulantly. “Why did you advise us to go?”

“You can go by boat down the Volga and across the mountains to the Black Sea. You would be almost sure to find either American or English ships there.”

“Would it be difficult to cross the mountains?” asked Sidney.

“Not very; there is an excellent road by the Dariel Pass, the Georgia military road. I have been through there.”

“But how are we going to get away?” asked Sidney dolefully. “I have heard that one cannot move a step in Russia without a passport, and we can’t take my father’s passport, for he will need that when he is released.”

“No,” said the clerk; “we could not let you have this passport, which is made out in your father’s name, but I think I would be allowed to take it down to the boat and show it to the purser, who would probably be satisfied with that.”

“What should we do when we had to make a change, and would need to show a passport again?”

“There are steamers here that bring up petroleum from the Caspian ports of the Caucasus. Some of them carry passengers, and I think I can find a boat that will take you directly to Petrovsk where you would leave the Caspian to go across the mountains. By one of those boats you would not have to make a change, and showing your passport once would be all that was necessary. Those steamers are not so fine as the regular passenger boats, but they are comfortable.”

“It seems pretty bad, Sid,” said Raymond, “for us to run away and leave father here in prison.”

“I know it does, Ray, but I believe he would want us to go. If we could help him by staying I shouldn’t think for a minute of going, but we should probably only be a burden to him after he gets out. If we reach home, perhaps we can help him more there.”

“I think you should go at once,” said the clerk; “we can’t tell what may happen before to-morrow. Already twenty of the waiters and porters have been taken from the hotel to serve in the army.”

“There is one thing, Ray,” said Sidney; “we must first cable mother in New York what we are going to do. I don’t believe we had better tell about father, though, except to say that he has been detained here.”

“I am sorry,” said the clerk, “but it is not allowed to send any private telegrams out of the country.”

“Could letters be sent out?”

“Oh no; I am sure the German fleet in the Baltic will intercept all mail.”

“The only thing we can do apparently,” said Raymond, “is to get out ourselves, if we can do that.”

CHAPTER III
THE FLIGHT DOWN THE VOLGA

The boys were not sure that they were really going to be allowed to leave Nizhni-Novgorod until the boat had actually started on its voyage down the river. Even then they feared that it might be stopped and they would be taken off and thrown into a Russian dungeon. When they found, however, that they were truly leaving the city where their father was held in some sort of mysterious restraint, his plight seemed more dreadful to them than it had before. The thought that they were deserting him when he might be in great danger made them so miserable that they almost determined to ask to be put ashore and then to make their way back to the hotel and stay quietly there until their father was released or they received a message from him.

“It makes me feel positively sick,” said Raymond, “when I think we are leaving father in an awful Russian prison.”

“It does me, too,” said Sidney, “and I’ve a good mind to go back.”

“I expect it would be pretty tough, though, Sid, to stay at the hotel, maybe for weeks, without hearing from father.”

“And then when he got out perhaps we shouldn’t be able to leave the city at all, and mother would think we were all killed.”

“That’s so,” said Raymond; “if we reach some place where we can telegraph, it will be a great relief to mother.”

“You know, Ray, when father was shut up in Chihuahua by the rebels he sent us a message to get home the best way we could, and said he could depend on us to take care of ourselves. I believe he would want us to do the same thing now.”

“I guess that’s right, Sid, and we are doing the best thing after all.”

When the matter was finally settled and the boys had decided that they were doing the right thing, they felt easier in their minds and were able to enjoy the strange sights on the boat. Their cabin, in the bow on the upper deck, was very comfortable, and with their soft rugs and pillows they made up an excellent bed, for on Russian steamboats and trains bedding is not supplied without extra charge, so most travelers take their own.

While the boat was classed as a freight carrier there were really a great many passengers, and all were Russian, or people under Russian rule. Many of the latter were decidedly Eastern and gave a very Oriental atmosphere to the scene.

Down on the lower deck, squatting about on the floor playing various games, were many brown-clad Tatars, their brown garb extending even to the heavy brown cloth head-coverings. Less socially inclined were gaunt Kalmucks with shaven heads. All showed their Mongolian origin by their narrow, slant eyes. Of Mongolian origin also, but Russian in appearance, were several Mordvin families going back to their homes in Simbirsk and Samara. These people, as well as nearly all the Russians, were preparing their afternoon potation of tea, made from pressed tea bricks and hot water which they obtained from the waiters.

The current of the Volga is very slow and even, the fall being slight, and as the boat stopped only at large towns, which on the river are widely separated, the boys on going to bed slept as soundly as they would have done in their own home.

On the right bank of the Volga there are usually bluffs, sometimes quite high hills, while much of the country on the left bank is low and flat. The boys spent the greater part of the next day lazily gazing out over the level fields, or inspecting the villages past which they steamed.

On the third day, August 5, they reached the large city of Kazan, where the boat stopped several hours to make a considerable change of cargo. The boys stationed themselves near the gangplank to watch the unloading, for the city is some five miles from the landing and they thought it too far away to visit. There was a great deal of animated talking between the men of the boat and the men on the wharf, and the boys wondered if the Russian roustabouts were always so vivacious. Presently one of the Russian sailors, whom they had not especially noticed, addressed them in excellent English.

“I suppose you young gentlemen don’t understand what these men are saying.”

“No,” said Sidney; “we don’t understand a word.”

“They are talking about the war; it’s going to be a big fight.”

“Then Germany and Austria will both fight Russia?”

“Yes, but Russia is backed up by England and France.”

“Has England joined in the war, too?”

“She joined yesterday; she and France are Russia’s allies, and they are bound to help her.”

At that moment the officer in charge of the unloading called out sharply and the sailor hurried along with his load. After the boat had left the wharf at Kazan, the boys took every opportunity to speak to the sailor, it was so pleasant to be able to talk English with some one. They asked information about the country through which they were passing, and about the strange people on the boat. The topic that would have interested them most was the war, but the sailor could tell them very little about that. The man, though a Russian, had served on English ships, and had been in many English and American ports, in that way learning to speak English well. In the course of the voyage to Astrakhan the boys picked up many Russian words and phrases and soon began to feel that they were prepared to travel anywhere in the empire.

On August 8 the boat tied up to the wharf at Astrakhan, where the English-speaking sailor gathered the news and imparted to the boys the information that President Wilson had issued a proclamation of neutrality.

The boys soon began to notice that the people on the boat appeared greatly interested in them, though at first they had attracted little attention. After passing out on to the Caspian not only the captain but other officers of the boat talked with them through their friend the sailor, for it happened that none of the officers spoke English, as would not have been the case on a boat in the regular passenger service.

They told the circumstances of their trip very frankly to the captain, who assured them that they need not be alarmed about their father, for he would certainly be released, though he might be held some days. All Russian officials, the captain said, would be extremely busy in the mobilization of the army, but he was sure that Mr. Porter would not only eventually be released, but would probably be helped back to America. The captain informed the boys that the Government had wired instructions to the chiefs of police in all towns where there was likely to be any foreign travel, that all English, French, and American travelers, but especially the latter, should be treated with the utmost consideration, and should be assisted whenever possible. Such a message had been received at Astrakhan.

Sidney asked why Americans should be treated with greater consideration than the citizens of other countries, and was told that it was because the United States was the only great nation that had remained neutral, and would probably continue to be neutral throughout the war.

The boys became quite excited at that information, and imagined that their father might even then be at liberty. Sidney declared that when they arrived at Petrovsk he would try to reach his father with a telegram, and if he succeeded they would return to Nizhni-Novgorod.

The captain dashed their hopes, however, by telling them that all telegraph lines had been monopolized by the Government, and that it would be impossible to send a private message of any sort. He advised the boys to continue as they had planned, saying that they would probably reach home before their father. He said, moreover, that he could be of great help to them at Petrovsk.

When they arrived at that port, where the boys were to leave the boat, the captain went with them to the chief of police, taking the sailor along to assist in the conversation. He explained the state of affairs to the official, and though no instructions concerning foreigners had been received at Petrovsk, probably because that town was so insignificant a place, the chief of police was finally convinced that it would be his duty to help the boys to the extent of his power. The captain assured him that he had seen the order sent to Astrakhan, and he was certain the Petrovsk official would rue the day that he went contrary to the spirit of those instructions.

The boys had expected to proceed from Petrovsk by rail to Vladikavkaz, and then by wagon along the Georgia military road through the Dariel Pass to Tiflis. They had been told there was a daily automobile stage through the pass, but feared that if they indulged in such luxury, they would not have money enough to reach home, so decided to choose the very much slower, but also very much cheaper, mode of travel.

When the captain learned, however, that mobilization of the army was being pushed so vigorously that the Dariel Pass would be filled constantly with moving troops, he feared that it would not be safe for the boys to attempt that route, and advised them to give it up. He said they would be almost certain to encounter acts of aggression by the soldiers, no matter how well disposed the officers might be. The chief informed them there was another possible way of crossing the mountains by trails that led almost directly south from Petrovsk. But the mountains through which those trails passed were extremely rugged and difficult, and the people who inhabited them were very rough and sometimes even fierce. That it would be, in short, a dangerous road, and he doubted if young boys who were strange to the country could accomplish a passage. When those drawbacks were explained to the boys, however, they declared that they were too familiar with mountains to be scared by anything of the sort. Indeed, the mountain route looked very attractive to them, and they immediately chose it.

The captain thought if the boys were to pass through so wild a country that they should have something in the nature of a passport which they could show, and suggested that the chief of police should give them one. As a result, probably accelerated by a fee of five rubles offered at the captain’s suggestion, a paper was made out which stated that Sidney Porter and his brother Raymond were returning to their home in the United States on account of the war in which Russia was engaged, and that all officials of Russian towns through which they passed should help them on their way in obedience to an order received from Petrograd. Signed by the “Chief of Police of Petrovsk, Province of Daghestan.”

The sailor read this paper to the boys so they would know exactly what they were offering as a passport. When he came to the end Raymond exclaimed,—

“Where in the world is Petrograd? I never heard of that place before.”

The man could not inform him, for he had never heard of the place either; but when he asked the captain, it was explained that the Czar had just changed the name of St. Petersburg to Petrograd, on account of the German origin of the former name.

“Well, if they feel that way about everything German,” said Raymond, “I don’t wonder they arrested father, who could speak the German language.”

When that matter was arranged, the captain said that he must return to the boat. He accordingly bade good-bye to the boys and embraced them most affectionately. But he left the sailor with them until they should have purchased horses and whatever of an outfit they needed for their mountain journey. The boys learned from the sailor that the captain remained in port several hours longer than he would otherwise have done, solely to help them get started on their way.

With the assistance of their friend the boys purchased two young, spirited horses and high Tatar saddles. They also bought heavy boots, horsehair cloaks, and saddlebags. Then they bade good-bye to the sailor with hearty thanks for his aid, and went to the inn to get a good rest in preparation for hard work the next day.

There was a very passable wagon road as far as the provincial capital, Timour Khan Shoura, and by getting an early start from Petrovsk the boys hoped to cover that first stage of their journey in one day. Accordingly, they made all final arrangements the night before so there might be no delay in the morning. Their traveling-rugs and the new horsehair cloaks they would tie behind the saddles, but the pillows which they had brought with them down the Volga they could not carry any farther. Those desirable accessories to a comfortable journey they accordingly presented to the chief of police, who had taken so active an interest in their welfare. The contents of their handbag they transferred to the saddle-pockets, and the bag itself they gave to the landlord of the inn, who also had been very attentive to their needs and comfort, as far as his limited resources would allow. The saddlebags were destined to hold also a limited supply of food, consisting mainly of cheese and the hard bread of the country.

The boys were on the road in the morning quite as early as they had desired, and the new horses proved admirable under the saddle, though almost too ambitious, requiring constant watchfulness. The immediately surrounding country was barren and uninteresting, but in front the ground rose gradually until, in the dim distance, it culminated in the colossal wall of the Caucasus Range, which they must cross. The principal objects of interest were the people, chiefly Tatars, whom they met, or who passed them, dashing furiously ahead on their wiry horses of the Steppes.

The day wore on to late afternoon and the boys judged they were approaching Timour Khan Shoura, when there appeared a considerable cavalcade approaching them. There were a number of loose horses being driven by half a dozen soldiers under an officer, who gave a command on reaching the boys, and the soldiers drew up across the road, blocking the way.

CHAPTER IV
AN INVOLUNTARY CONTRIBUTION TO THE RUSSIAN ARMY

“We’re going to be robbed by bandits, Sid!” exclaimed Raymond when he saw that they were about to be halted by the men in front of them.

“They can’t be bandits; they must be soldiers, for they’re in uniform.”

“I guess Russian soldiers would be as bad as bandits.”

The officer, who, the boys thought, must be a lieutenant, said something to them in Russian which of course they did not understand. Then he made a motion which seemed to indicate that he wanted them to dismount. “He is telling us to get off,” said Sidney. “I’m not going to get off,” declared Raymond. “Show him your passport.”

Sidney took out the passport and presented it to the officer, who received and read it. He then returned it with a polite bow and with a statement of which the boys understood only the words meaning “government” and “army.” Still he motioned for the boys to get off their horses.

“We are Americans,” declared Sidney to the officer, “and are returning home. The Russian Government has ordered that all Americans be helped to leave the country.” The man replied in his own language, which was Greek to the boys, and they concluded that he did not understand them any better than they did him.

When the officer saw that the boys did not obey his request he gave an order to his own men, and one of the soldiers dismounted and took Sidney’s horse by the bit, motioning to the boy to get off.

“I tell you what, Ray,” said Sidney, “he’s going to seize our horses for the Government to use in the army. See, some of those loose horses have saddles, they’ve taken them away from somebody else.”

“He’s not going to have my horse.” And Raymond dug his heels into the horse and struck him with the end of the reins. The spirited animal leaped forward and dashed to one side of the road to pass the little group of mounted men and their herd of horses. The officer gave a sharp order and the men whipped out their pistols. Sidney, when he saw the threatening movement, shouted to his brother,—

“[Stop, Ray! they’re going to shoot].”

Raymond either did not hear or did not care, for he struck his horse another blow and dashed past the obstructing group. Just as he reached the clear road beyond, the officer gave another sharp order and the soldiers fired a volley, all together.

Sidney turned sick and faint, expecting to see his brother fall from his horse pierced by half a dozen bullets. Instead, the boy pulled his horse up with a jerk and took off his hat, which he examined ruefully.

“They plugged my hat,”—and he exhibited a hole through the brim,—“but if I had my pistol here I’d show them better shooting than that.”

“What made you run, Ray?” Sidney remonstrated, who was trembling with fright; “I don’t see how you escaped being killed.” “Pshaw! these fellows couldn’t kill anybody. I’ll let them see how we shoot in Texas.”

Raymond jumped off his horse, and going up to one of the soldiers took hold of the pistol which the man was still holding in his hand, at the same time asking him, of course in English, for the loan of it a few minutes. The soldier looked inquiringly at his officer, who made no comment, and the man yielded the gun.

“Gee! if it isn’t a Colt .38.” And the boy gazed longingly on the revolver. “That sure looks like home.”

He held back the hammer and ran the cylinder around two or three times in wistful admiration, then he picked up two small rocks and throwing them into the air he fired twice in quick succession, shattering both rocks while they were still high in air.

There were exclamations of wonder from the soldiers, and the officer said something which was apparently very complimentary.

“I’ve just got to have that gun, Sid,”—and Raymond handled the revolver lovingly,—“I’m going to see if I can’t buy it.”

He took twenty rubles from his purse and holding the gold out to the soldier, pointed to the revolver. The soldier looked covetously at the money, but the officer shook his head, and taking the revolver from Raymond he showed some letters cut in the barrel, which evidently marked it as belonging to the Government.

“They wouldn’t dare to sell government property,” said Sidney, “and anyway we can’t spare money to buy guns.”

“I suppose we can’t, but I’m thinking we may wish we had some before we get through the mountains.”

Raymond turned around to his horse, which he had left standing when he dismounted to give his exhibition of shooting, and was surprised to find that one of the soldiers had the animal in charge and had led him over to the bunch.

“Well, they’ve got my horse, all right. I guess you’ll have to turn yours over too, Sid.”

“I suppose so, but it’s certainly a shame.”

Sidney dismounted and left his horse with the soldier, who still retained hold of the bridle. The officer gave an order and two of the men untied the rolls of blankets and cloaks from back of the saddles and laid them on the ground. They then emptied the saddlebags and placed the contents with the blankets, but did not remove the bags themselves. The officer then made out and signed a paper which he gave to Sidney, and which the boys assumed was a receipt for the horses.

“You want to take good care of that paper, Sid,” said Raymond; “it will be a fine souvenir of the trip, and I expect that’s about all it will be good for.”

When that was done the soldiers sprang into their saddles, rounded up all of the loose horses, including the two which had so recently belonged to the boys, and galloped off, the officer giving a courteous salutation to the boys as they departed.

Sidney and Raymond stood in the road and looked after their vanishing steeds, then at the rolls of blankets which lay on the ground near them. For a few minutes neither spoke, then Raymond said,—“We’re stranded all right this time, Sid. This beats Lower California.”

“It certainly does, and look at that range we’ve got to cross.” And Sidney gazed doubtfully at the far Caucasus, whose northern heights were white even at that distance.

“I move we go back to Nizhni-Novgorod,” said Raymond, “and wait for father.”

“I don’t believe it would be wise to try that,” replied Sidney. “By the time we reached the Volga probably all of the boats would be taken over by the Government to carry troops; you remember the captain said that Russia would mobilize more than five million men. We might not even be able to reach Astrakhan. It seems to me the quicker we get into the mountains the better, for I imagine they will take soldiers out of those mountains only as a last resort.” “Well, it’s going to be dark pretty soon, and we’d better hustle for this town ahead; what’s its name?—Timmy Can Show you.”

Sidney laughed, “I’m sure I hope Timmy can show us, for we may, like the Missourian, need to be shown.”

“It’s simply fierce that we’ve got to tote these things.” And Raymond kicked the blankets vindictively. “And what are we going to do with the plunder that came out of the saddlebags?”

The saddlebags had not contained very much,—only the few things that Sidney had carried in his handbag when they arrived at Nizhni-Novgorod: a suit of pajamas for each of them, socks, handkerchiefs, brush and comb, and their toothbrushes. Those few things, however, added to their blankets and cloaks, seemed to Raymond to be the culminating straw.

“We must hang on to those pajamas,” continued Raymond; “they’ll be great when we make our bed toilets on cold nights under the lee side of a rock.”

“I’ll tell you what they will be great for, Ray, and that is to put on under our other clothes when the weather does get cold.”

“Well, I suppose we’d better take them along,” said Raymond grudgingly; “and we may as well start.”

The small articles the boys crowded into their pockets, and each made a long roll of his blankets and cloak, and carried it over one shoulder, tying the ends together under the opposite arm. In that way the bundle rode well, with very little inconvenience to the traveler.

When their packs were arranged the boys started out, and passing through a small ravine, on emerging into a broader valley, they were cheered to observe the town which was the goal of their day’s journey. For the capital of a large province like Daghestan, Timour Khan Shoura appeared very insignificant, and when they reached the inn, they found it to be primitive in the extreme.

Sidney presented their passport to the landlord, who seemed properly impressed, though it was plain that he could not read it. The news of their arrival must have been spread very promptly, for immediately there appeared men of all sorts and conditions, who apparently came solely to view the travelers. In this crowd was the chief of police, to whom the passport was turned over, and who seemed to consider it satisfactory. He read the paper aloud, and its effect on the assemblage was great. There was instantly a Babel of talk, and the boys were familiar enough with the sound of Russian to know that a large part of the conversation was in some other language.

The chief of police asked them a long string of questions of which they understood only an occasional word. Sidney assumed, however, that the official was asking who they were, where they came from, and where they were going, so he politely imparted that information, to Raymond’s great amusement.

“See how wise the old owl looks, Sid, and I’ll wager he doesn’t understand a word you say.”

“I hope he doesn’t understand a word you say. You ought to be careful, Ray; we may sometime run up against a man who does understand English.”

“I’d like to meet him now; his voice would sound good.”

The chief looked at the boys while they were talking, with a certain amount of suspicion, as though he thought they might be plotting something revolutionary, then he asked another question, of which Sidney caught the word for “horses.”

“He’s asking if we have no horses,” said Sidney, and he related how their horses had been taken, giving it all in English except the words “government,” “army,” and “horses,” of which he knew the Russian equivalents.

The chief appeared to grasp his meaning without any difficulty, and to be rather amused by it, for he made a remark to the surrounding men, who all laughed, and the talking began afresh.

“They think it’s a great joke,” growled Raymond, “that our horses were stolen. Maybe they’ll lose some if they don’t look out.”

“I expect they have lost some already,” said Sidney, “and that is the reason they are so interested.”

“Don’t you suppose, Sid, that we can buy horses here?”

“I doubt it, and I don’t believe we had better buy more horses even if we can get them, for we should probably lose them in the same way.”

“But I don’t see how we are going to cross that range on foot, Sid. If we only had a pack-mule now,—old Tuerto, for instance,—we should get along fine.”

“What seems the worst to me,” said Sidney, “is the time it will take.”

“Yes, that will be bad; but I must say I don’t hanker after climbing those mountains on foot, even if we had all the time there is.”

“Well, I’ll ask about horses, if I can make them understand.”

Sidney took some gold out of his pocket and showed it to the chief, using the Russian word for “horses” and holding up two fingers. The man shook his head and made a vigorous statement in which occurred the familiar Russian words for “government” and “army.”

“I guess he is saying that the Government has taken their horses too, but I did a foolish thing to show that money.”

“There are certainly some villainous faces in the crowd,” said Raymond. “I think we had better buy guns.”

“I don’t know but you are right, Ray. Suppose we buy one gun; I guess we can spare money for that.”

“We can better spare money for that than to lose all we have.”

“Then we’d better go out and find one now, before it gets dark.”

The streets of Timour Khan Shoura were so narrow and dark that the boys feared they had waited too long as it was. They found, however, to their great surprise, that the bazaars of the town were well stocked with excellent guns, though their pattern was somewhat Oriental. They did not know until afterward that many of the weapons were manufactured there.

After a short search they purchased a five-shot, .38 caliber revolver with a silver-trimmed stock. The decorative part of the gun they would have been willing to omit in order to save expense, but they could find none simpler that satisfied Raymond. With the purchase of a box of cartridges, five of which went immediately into the cylinder of the new gun, Raymond said he felt more like himself.

When they returned to the inn the landlord indicated that supper was prepared, and after they had partaken of that they went to their room, which was on the second floor. Sidney had been made rather nervous when he thought about his mistake in showing money to the crowd of strangers, and his first care was to assure himself that the room was secure. He found to his relief that the window overlooked a clear space with no other building near. The door was very solid, but the lock appeared to be more ornamental than effective.

“I don’t think much of that lock, Ray,” he said, “and I don’t want to run the risk of a visit in the night from one of those men.”

“We can soon fix that.” And Raymond dragged up the only chair, a very heavy oak one, and braced it under the door handle in such a way that the door could not be opened from without. They then swung the window back for air, as there seemed to be no possibility of danger from that quarter.

“I’m going to divide my money,” said Sidney, “and you had better do the same. We can’t tell what may happen on the road.” He knotted the greater part of the gold which he carried in a handkerchief and suspended it from his neck underneath all of his clothes.

“Now, if we are held up, unless we are stripped, the robbers will think the forty rubles I have left in my purse is all I have. It’s lucky father insisted on dividing his money with us. If he hadn’t we should not have any now to hide from robbers.”

“We shan’t be so likely to be held up,” said Raymond, “now I have this gun. I wish I had had a chance to show them the way I can use it. They would have greater respect for me.”

CHAPTER V
NIGHT PROWLERS

When the boys had disposed of their money, most of which they carried to bed with them, and had barricaded the door, they went to bed with a feeling of tolerable security. They were usually both very sound sleepers, but Sidney had worried so over his ill-advised exhibition of money that he slept very lightly that night, and was constantly rousing to a half-wakened state.

As he lay in an apprehensive half-slumber he dreamed that the captain of the river boat had come to call on them and was trying to open the door. But for some reason, which Sidney could not fathom, he could neither admit the caller nor call out to him to come in. Suddenly he wakened fully, and realized that there was some one really at the door.

He listened intently and could hear a movement outside, as though a person were cautiously manipulating the door handle. He took hold of his brother’s arm and shook him gently. Raymond started up in bed as though he had been dreaming too, but Sidney put his hand over his brother’s mouth and said “Sh-sh.”

The boys held their breath and listened. After a few moments there was a slight grating sound and the fumbling ceased. Then the door strained against the chair, which, however, held without sliding on the floor. Whoever was attempting an entrance had, without doubt, succeeded in shooting back the bolt of the lock, and had then tried to push the door open, but had been balked by the chair.

After it was discovered that the door was blocked on the inside, no further noise was audible. Indeed, what noise there had been was so slight that it would not have roused the boys if Sidney had not been nearly awake and really expecting something of that sort.

They sat up in bed and listened breathlessly for what seemed a long time, then as they heard no sound, they lay quietly back on the pillows. They did not talk, for they did not want whoever might be lurking outside to know that they were awake.

The door was on Sidney’s side of the bed, and the window on Raymond’s. From the bed, as the boys looked out of the window, they looked directly against the sky, which was clear and brilliant with stars. The boys were too thoroughly aroused to go to sleep again, and lay there thinking about the possible future dangers of a journey that had begun so ominously, when they were conscious that the light from the window was darkened.

They turned their faces that way and saw the figure of a man outside the open window. At first they thought he had climbed up from below, but in a moment they saw that he was suspended by a thick rope from above, and had without doubt let himself down from the flat roof of the building.

A dark hand grasped the window sill and the intruder was evidently steadying himself for the entrance. Raymond seized his new revolver, which he had placed under his pillow, raised on his elbow, and, taking a quick aim, fired. The figure at the window disappeared, and there was a heavy thud.

“Oh, Ray!” whispered Sidney, “did you shoot him? I’m afraid we’ll get into trouble for that.”

“No, I didn’t shoot him; I only cut his rope and let him down gently.”

“Did you aim for the rope?”

“Sure thing.”

Sidney lay back on the bed and shook with noiseless laughter. When he was able to speak he whispered again,—

“I hope it didn’t jar him much when he struck the ground. He must have been somewhat surprised.”

“I have just noticed a thing that has surprised me,” said Raymond.

“What is that?” asked his brother.

“You don’t see that rope at the window any more, do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, after I cut it in two, the rest of it was drawn up. There was somebody on the roof who let that fellow down. I believe the whole caboodle of them were in on this thing.”

“You did a good job, though, Ray, when you cut his rope. I imagine they will all be careful how they come within range of your gun again.”

“Yes, unless they think I tried to hit the man and couldn’t. Never mind, maybe I’ll fool them next time.”

The boys expected that some one would come to their room to inquire about the shooting, and they waited in some apprehension, but no one came. There was no more sleep for them, and they lay in bed wide awake. Presently the dawn flushed the sky and the light intensified until it was day. Then the boys got up and dressed, and by the time that process was concluded the muezzin’s call to prayers sounded from a near-by mosque. The faithful were putting up their petitions in preparation for the activities of the day. The boys descended from their room, and were greeted with most obsequious politeness by the landlord, who placed before them an appetizing breakfast.