THE BOY SCOUTS
AT
MOBILIZATION CAMP

BY
ROBERT SHALER

AUTHOR OF “THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE SIGNAL CORPS,” “THE BOY SCOUTS OF PIONEER CAMP,” ETC., ETC.

NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1918, by
Hurst & Co., Inc.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER. PAGE. I [Good Luck] 5 II [A Breakdown on the Road] 18 III [Rising Suspicions] 30 IV [The Hold-up] 39 V [An Echo from the Past] 48 VI [The Burning Bridge] 62 VII [The Accusation] 73 VIII [In the Mobilization Camp] 84 IX [the Disappearance of Felix] 95 X [Bud Morgan on the Scent] 106 XI [The Value of a Good Reputation] 117 XII [The Search Squad] 128 XIII [The House by the Roadside] 140 XIV [A Successful Round-up] 149

The Boy Scouts at Mobilization Camp

CHAPTER I
GOOD LUCK

“Honest Injun, Hugh, I never wanted to go anywhere half so much as I do right now to drop in at that State camp where the militia has started mobilizing.”

“Just so, Bud, and, to tell you the truth, I’m feeling the same way myself. Ever since we scouts waved good-bye to our gallant Battery K some five miles up the road, and watched the last gun, caisson and supply wagon disappear over the crown of Kettledrum Hill, I’ve had that picture in my mind.”

“Say, I wager things are just humming over at that same camp, Hugh,” sighed the first boy in faded khaki, “Bud” Morgan by name, and a member of Oakvale’s famous Boy Scout Troop.

“They certainly must be,” admitted his comrade, who wore the insignia of rank that marks not only a patrol leader, but an assistant scout master as well. “This morning’s paper says that besides our fellows, there is a full regiment already in camp, not to mention other commands, such as the Engineers’, Signal Corps and Red Cross detachments.”

“Don’t forget to count the Aviation Squad, Hugh,” added Bud, eagerly. “You know, I’m head over ears interested in the birdmen and their doings, as well as in signaling, surveying and inventions.”

“Yes, it certainly must be a glorious sight,” Hugh said enviously. “To tell you the truth, old fellow, I’m lying awake nights trying to think up some reasonable excuse for paying a flying visit to the concentration camp.”

“Anyhow,” remarked Bud, brightening up a little, “we can squeeze some satisfaction out of the fact that the scouts had a heap to do with getting Battery K off to the camp with their roster on a full war footing.”[1]

“We’ve undertaken an all-summer job helping to run the Pastor farm for the crippled old man, so his boy, Corporal Tony, could go to the Mexican border with his company. That’s one way scouts can help Uncle Sam when trouble comes along. It’s partly on account of that promise I’m holding back about leaving Oakvale.”

“Oh! so far as that goes, Hugh,” said Bud, slyly, after the manner of a tempter, “you’ve got the programme all laid out, and Alec Sands could take your place for a week. The site for the camp we expect to start up there near the Pastor farm has been arranged, so the boys would make the hike, and then be handy in getting the hay crop cut, and have it taken to the barn inside of ten days. If you took a notion, Hugh, don’t you think the two of us might manage to get away? Try hard and think up some good excuse for making the trip. A dozen people here in Oakvale would want to send messages and packages to their boys, you know.”

Hugh Hardin laughed at the entreating manner of his companion. They were standing at the time in front of the post office building, where people kept coming and going in squads and singly, for that was one of the busiest places in the mill town of Oakvale.

Hugh and Bud both belonged to the Wolf Patrol of the troop, which was in a most flourishing condition, having four full patrols, and another well along. These enterprising lads of Oakvale had been more or less in the limelight for several seasons past. Circumstances had allowed them to engineer quite a number of really successful enterprises that were one and all to their credit. Those readers who may be only making their acquaintance with Hugh and his friends in this story, if at all curious to know what some of those stirring adventures were, should secure previous volumes in this series, and enjoy reading accounts of scout activities as related therein.

One thing certain, those same enterprising and ambitious scouts had succeeded in convincing the most skeptical persons that the coming to town of such an organization had been the means of a regeneration among the boys of Oakvale. Many things had been tolerated under the old order, with the familiar excuse that “boys will be boys, and you must expect them to play practical pranks, and do all manner of shocking things in order to work off their extra enthusiasm,” but such outbreaks were quite unknown in these later days. The reason was that a new means for allowing the high-spirited lads to “let off steam” had been found.

On the morning the call of the President came summoning the National Guard to mobilize, with a view to being sworn into the service of the Government, so as to proceed forthwith to the Mexican border, and guard the same against aggression, it sent a thrill across the entire country from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

Tens of thousands of young fellows flocked to the armories, and the most intense excitement followed, as hurried preparations were started looking toward increasing these various military organizations from a peace to a war footing.

Oakvale had a battery of four guns, together with such equipment as was necessary for utilizing these field pieces; but just then it happened, as in many similar organizations, that the roster contained just enough names to prevent the company from being disbanded under the law by the State authorities.

Consequently a feverish hunt began to enlist new units, or, what was better yet, former members who had left the ranks to sign again, so as to swell the number to a high level of which the town might be proud.

In this little drama it chanced that Hugh and his fellow scouts bore themselves right handsomely, so that it was chiefly owing to their manly efforts that a number of former members came forward again to put their names down.

After a very eventful period of preparation, which lasted for several days, Battery K had started for the mobilization camp. As connections on the railroad did not happen to favor them, they concluded to make the trip overland, knowing that it would take less than two full days, and must prove of considerable benefit to both men and horses in the way of practice, which they greatly needed.

Once more Oakvale had settled down to the humdrum monotony of customary life. Things resumed their former conditions, but after the feverish outburst of patriotism people found it difficult to attend to business. They missed the faces of those gallant young fellows who had gone to serve their country. So, too, they found things terribly dull after all that exhilarating music which the fine Oakvale brass band had provided while the battery lay encamped on the grass-covered public square. They missed the enlisting officers’ tent, surrounded day and evening by a curious throng, where the khaki-clad men urged their friends to sign the muster roll so as to bring the local company up to a war footing.

Some of the boys had been inconsolable ever since they watched the last of the troop vanish over the hill, as Hugh had described. Being ambitious and patriotic lads, they would have liked nothing better than a chance to accompany those artillerymen to camp, and even to the far distant Southwest border where the followers of the Mexican bandit, Villa, were threatening further bold raids across the international line.

Never dreaming of having their ardent wishes suddenly realized, the two boys continued to stand there, chatting of scout affairs in general, and what they expected to do while in camp in particular. Bud, upon turning his head, discovered something which he communicated to Hugh in his breezy fashion:

“Unless I miss my guess, Hugh, we’re going to hear some news worth while. There’s our comrade, Blake Merton, heading this way like a schooner with all sails set. He looks considerably worked up, too. I wonder what ails him? Perhaps something’s happened to keep him from joining the bunch when we start on our hike tomorrow for that camp up near the Pastor farm?”

Hugh, taking a look, remarked calmly:

“We’ll soon know what’s up, for he’s heading our way, and making signals that he wants us to wait for him. I hope it hasn’t anything to do with that case of scarlet fever my folks were talking about this morning, because it happens that the Werner house is close to where Blake lives. If one of his younger sisters came down with the disease they’d have to quarantine the Mertons, and so Blake couldn’t go with us.”

“Wee whiz! that would be tough luck—with vacation just starting in!” the sympathetic Bud went on to say.

“Hello! Hugh!” remarked the newcomer as he arrived, partly out of breath from hurrying so fast, and looking excited as well, “I’ve been searching for you all over town. They put me on several false scents, but I’m awful glad to find you at last!”

“What’s the trouble, Blake?” asked the patrol leader; for, although the Merton boy belonged to the Hawk Patrol, somehow, when he wanted counsel and advice, he turned to the assistant scout master rather than to Walter Osborne, who was the Hawk leader.

Blake glanced toward Bud, and then, as though making up his mind, quickly exclaimed:

“I guess Bud can be depended on to keep a secret as tight as a drum, and so I’m going to speak up. Fact is, Hugh, I’m in a peck of trouble about my cousin, Felix Platt.”

“Oh! I remember that he went away with the battery, being a member of the same,” Hugh observed. “What ails Felix? Has his mother fallen sick, and ought he come home again before being mustered into Uncle Sam’s service?”

Blake Merton shook his head.

“No, it isn’t that, Hugh, worse than that, even, I should say!” he declared.

“Well, you’ve got us worked up, all right, Blake,” exclaimed Bud, feverishly, “so please explain what you mean when you say that. I hope your cousin hasn’t gone and done something wrong?”

“He’s made a fool of himself, I’m sorry to say, and stands a good chance of losing all his uncle’s property. You must know that Uncle Reuben is his guardian as well, and has made his will in favor of Felix, so as to cut off that bad son of his who disgraced him several times.”

“Yes, we know all about what Luther Gregory has done to worry his father,” admitted Bud, encouragingly. “But Reuben isn’t any blood relation of yours, is he?”

“Oh! no, though Felix happens to be my second cousin. You see, they had some warm words the night before the battery left town, and Felix, being a hot-blooded young fellow, said something he shouldn’t, and which has cut Uncle Reuben to the quick. Just this morning the old gentleman had his lawyer, Judge Marshall, to change his will once more, cutting off Felix. The good old judge managed to coax him to wait a bit; and so Uncle Reuben has vowed that if he doesn’t receive an apology from Felix by sundown of tomorrow, nothing will keep him from doing as he threatens, much as he has cared for the boy since his own son failed him. Yes, he threatens to leave every dollar of his big fortune to charity.”

“That’s too bad,” mused Hugh, shaking his head, for he had always liked Felix, who was a pretty fine sort of a young chap, as they go in these days. “But how is it you come to know about this matter, Blake?”

“Just this way, Hugh,” came the ready reply. “Uncle Reuben made Judge Marshall promise that he wouldn’t communicate with Felix, or send him any direct word; but, having the best interests of all parties at stake, and, believing the old man would secretly applaud his action if ever he knew it, the judge called to me over the wire to drop in right away and see him. Then he told me about it, not suggesting a single thing, mind you, but leaving it up to me to do what I thought best, because he knew how fond of Felix I’ve always been.”

“Well, then,” said Hugh, beaming on him, “why don’t you get busy, and write Felix a letter right away, explaining the case, and begging him to send the apology? By now he’s cooled down, and ten chances to one is mighty sorry for speaking as he did.”

“Hugh, I thought of that the first thing, but what if the letter didn’t reach him?” objected Blake, frowning as he spoke.

“You could register it, or send with a quick delivery stamp,” remarked Bud.

“Even then there would always be a lot of uncertainty about it,” continued the other, stubbornly.

“Evidently, then, you’ve got some other dandy scheme up your sleeve!” exclaimed Bud, suspiciously. “Let’s hear about it, Blake, if you need any advice.”

“Well, I’ve always believed that when you want anything done, the only safe way is to do it yourself. You remember the bird telling her young ones in the nest that so long as the farmer depended on his relatives and friends to help cut the wheat there was no need for worry; but when finally he told his son they’d start in and do the job themselves the mother bird admitted it was time for flitting. Now, Hugh, I’ve got a hunch that if only you’d go along with me to give advice, I’d make a start for the mobilization camp right away, and tell Felix face to face what a fool he has been, as well as fetch back a letter for Uncle Reuben that would heal all the bitter feelings in the old gentleman’s heart. What do you say to that, Hugh?”

CHAPTER II
A BREAKDOWN ON THE ROAD

Hugh and Bud exchanged glances, and then the latter burst into a laugh.

“Blake, bless your heart, of course Hugh will be glad to go along with you over to the big State camp so you can tell Felix what a silly he’s made of himself. You know, scouts are always ready to perform a good deed, and bringing Uncle Reuben and his favorite nephew together again would be just bully. And, say, you’ve got to count me in the deal, ditto, understand?”

“Why, I don’t know just how that might be?” stammered Blake; when energetic Bud broke in upon him with a vigor that would brook no refusal.

“I’ll tell you several reasons for my going along, Blake,” he said, tapping one finger after another. “First off, it happens that Hugh and myself were just saying we only wanted some half-way decent excuse for deserting the other fellows right now, and heading straight for the big camp. Then, secondly, I c’n get a sort of decent old car in which we could make the run, if nothing happened to ditch us on the road. Then, last, but far from least, I want to go! And that settles it.”

“All right, Bud,” agreed the other, carried away by this enthusiasm and desire to serve a comrade in trouble, “what you say goes. That idea about the car is a good one. Hugh, you haven’t told me what you think yet; please help me out of this pickle, won’t you?”

“Oh! just as Bud here remarked,” laughed the patrol leader. “I’m like a hungry fish biting at the first baited hook I see ahead of me. I certainly do want to go over to that mobilization camp the worst way, and the only thing that kept me from starting was the want of a decent excuse. Now that a comrade has called on me to assist him, there’s no further reason for holding back!”

“Bully for you, Hugh!” exclaimed Bud Morgan, beaming happily on his two comrades.

“I just knew I could depend on you to help me tide over this trouble, Hugh,” said Blake, grasping the other’s hand, and squeezing it warmly. “Now that we’ve got all that fixed, let’s make the necessary arrangements as soon as we can; time counts in a game like this; and, besides, I’ve got certain reasons for fearing there may be interruptions.”

He did not choose to enter into any explanation for these rather strange words, seeing which Hugh presently went on to say:

“I’ll get in touch with Alec Sands, the leader of the Otters, and tell him that he must take charge of things for some days while I’m away. Alec can see about the hike tomorrow; making camp up there near the Pastor farm; and even starting in at the hay-cutting if we’re not back in time. Fortunately, Alec knows considerable along the line of farm work; and then, too, old Mr. Pastor can coach the boys.”

“But, Hugh, please don’t drop a hint about why you’ve got to go over to the big camp,” pleaded Blake. “You see, it might happen to get to the ears of Uncle Reuben, and offend him. That’s got to be a dead secret between the three of us until I can put a letter from Felix in his guardian’s hand, and know the old gentleman’s really forgiven him for his hasty words.”

“We’ll both shake hands with you on that, Blake,” said Hugh, wishing to make sure that Bud would be willing to take the same vow of secrecy on himself.

When this operation had been completed, Blake appeared to be much relieved.

“How long do you expect it will take you to see Alec, and arrange other things, Hugh?” he asked.

“Oh!” the patrol leader immediately replied, “so far as that goes, I believe an hour ought to cover everything, such as telling my folks at home, and getting Alec to take charge. How about you two?”

“I can do it in far less time,” admitted Blake.

“Same here, unless the old car has to be fixed in some way. Generally the tires aren’t holding any too well,” explained Bud. “But, then, a fellow mustn’t look a gift horse in the mouth; all it’ll cost us is the gas and lubricating oil. We c’n fix that up among us easy enough, eh, boys?”

So it was agreed that they should rendezvous at a certain spot as soon as possible. If Hugh could accomplish his several errands in any shorter time so much the better, he remarked. The three boys hastened away in as many different directions, each one making all possible speed, for their hearts were evidently in the work that now engaged their attention.

So well did luck stand by them, that before three-quarters of an hour had passed by the trio met again at the appointed place. Each carried a small package, and, besides, Bud had driven up in a rather dilapidated looking old car that doubtless had a past history, and now quite out of the running where speed was considered a prime requisite.

Still, as Bud himself had remarked, it was not polite to be too particular of a gift. The car might carry them in safety over the forty miles or more that lay between Oakvale and the mobilization camp; then, again, they might have a few punctures or blowouts, for the tires were certainly in poor condition.

Hugh looked the machine over, and raised his eyebrows expressively; whereat Bud hastened to say:

“Don’t condemn the old rattletrap yet awhile, Hugh. Sometimes things turn out mighty deceptive, you remember. She’s seen heaps of service in her day, for a fact, and been pretty dependable, too, I wager. May be she’ll behave scrumptuously for us on this trip. We’re going on an errand of mercy, and deserve encouragement, for a fact. Jump in, fellows, and we’ll get started.”

So they were soon off. The car groaned and wheezed when power was applied, and Blake looked pretty anxious until finally they began to move along the road out of Oakvale at a fair clip.

“Say, she seems to go pretty decent, after all!” declared the driver, for Bud, likewise Hugh, knew much about the mechanism of cars, and could pilot one as well as any boy around Oakvale. Blake was a novice at such things.

“We must be making as much as ten miles an hour right now!” laughed Hugh.

“Which rate of speed, if continued, would fetch us to the camp in less than five hours, wouldn’t it?” demanded the now sanguine Blake.

“Oh! well, the worst is yet to come!” grinned Bud Morgan. “You see, we’re going on the level now, and there happens to be some pretty tough old hills which have to be surmounted before we reach our haven. Hills can play hob with most old worn-out cars. I’m not boasting any yet, Blake, you notice; hold your horses, and we’ll see what happens.”

For some little time they continued to move along fairly well, and a number of miles were placed behind them. Indeed, they had even managed to climb several good-sized elevations; and, although once it seemed as though the machinery was about to give up with a last groan, clever Bud managed to pull the machine to the top of the rise, so that they could coast down the declivity, which they did in great style.

“She can run like a bird, once you cut the power off, and let her coast,” shrilled the enthusiastic pilot, as they continued to “scoot” along the level below.

“Whee! but look what’s ahead of us?” cried Blake, in an appalled tone.

“Oh! that hill isn’t half as bad as it seems,” Bud told him. “I’m going to take it on the run, and get to the top, all right, watch me!”

He made an heroic effort to accomplish the end he had in view, and, in fact, did manage to negotiate more than three-fourths of the climb. Then suddenly the engine gave up the ghost, and only through a frantic use of the brake did the pilot keep the car from starting backward down the steep incline.

“Well, here we are, held up!” he remarked, calmly; “it’s up to me to get busy and see what’s wrong.”

“I’ll help you to it, Bud,” Hugh told him, stripping off his coat, and donning one of the old linen dusters Bud had thoughtfully fetched along for just this purpose, since he suspected they would find good use for it.

They were a busy bunch for the next hour, the two boys most of the time working under the car and Blake hovering near, growing more and more anxious as the precious minutes slipped past.

“How far have we come, do you reckon, Hugh?” he asked once.

“I should say about seventeen miles,” the other replied, after mental figuring; “though that’s only a guess, because we don’t happen to have any way of telling. This car isn’t equipped with a cyclometer, you know, or any other thing that costs money. I’m surprised that the tires have held out so well.”

“That isn’t much more than one-third of the way to camp, either,” declared Blake, disconsolately. “I’m wondering what I could do in case, after all your work, you fail to coax the poor old engine into going again. It’ll be too bad if we get to the camp too late to carry that letter back to Uncle Reuben in time; for he is a terrible man to keep his word, and he’ll make that new will tomorrow night as sure as anything, unless he hears from Felix by sundown.”

“Well, if it comes to the worst,” Hugh told him, soothingly, “you could wire Uncle Reuben to hold up, and that a letter was on the way with an ample apology. I suppose you don’t have any doubt about Felix giving you such a letter, Blake?”

“No, I don’t, Hugh. Not that he cares so much about the old gentleman’s money, because, you see, he has some of his own coming to him in another year or so; but Felix is a good-hearted fellow, and really cares a heap for his guardian.”

Meanwhile, Bud Morgan was working with all his might, trying to locate and cure the engine trouble. Bud was a very determined fellow, as his chums had learned many a time in the past. Once he set his mind on accomplishing anything he would persist everlastingly at the job, even when it seemed next door to hopeless.

“I’m beginning to get on to it, boys, I want to tell you,” he finally said, as he crawled out from under the car so as to stretch his cramped limbs, and wipe the perspiration from his forehead with a bandanna that had once upon a time been a beautiful red, but was now sadly faded.

“But almost two hours have slipped by since our plug engine balked on us,” complained Blake Merton, painfully. “Not that I’m trying to rub it into you fellows, because both of you are doing the work, while a greenhorn like me has to sit around and grunt, and count the minutes. If only some other motorist would come along about now maybe he might be able to lend us a hand.”

“Wish to gracious one would show up,” sighed Bud. “What a fellow doesn’t know about pesky engines like this would fill a book. Another pilot might just happen to be familiar with this particular kind of trouble. ‘Many men, many minds,’ you remember. But don’t think I’m going to give it up. There’s a little of the old U. S. Grant about me, and I purpose ‘fighting it out on this line if it takes all summer.’”

“That’s a bully way of looking at it, Bud, and I give you lots of credit,” said Blake, shrugging his shoulders. “If we stick here until tomorrow I might just as well head back toward Oakvale, for all the good a visit to camp will do me.”

“Listen!” warned Hugh, holding up a finger.

“Ginger! some one coming, as sure as anything!” ejaculated Bud, looking inexpressibly relieved.

The plain sound of an approaching car could now be heard. It was also coming from the same direction as their course had just covered, that is, from distant Oakvale.

“I can see him starting to take the hill,” announced Blake, eagerly, “and, say, if it is only a flivver, it tackles the rise as if no ascent had any terrors for it. One man is in the little car, but, then, he may be an angel in disguise. I hope so, I certainly do.”

So the trio of anxious scouts waited for the coming of the lone motorist whose small car was already courageously mounting the elevation.

CHAPTER III
RISING SUSPICIONS

The oncoming car soon reached the spot where Hugh, Bud and Blake were stalled. Hugh threw up his arm as a signal that they would be greatly obliged to the party in the lone machine if he would stop for a brief time to hear their tale of woe, and either assist them, or at least give advice.

The occupant of the little car was a dark-faced man of middle age with what seemed to be a perpetual smile on his face, or was it a leer? Hugh did not like his looks any too well, he confessed to himself. When motorists are in trouble they have no business to find any fault with the looks of a possible Moses who might lead them out of the wilderness. Whether he is handsome or homely, pleasant-looking or a sour-visaged man matters little if only he is accommodating.

“We’re in a mess, it happens, sir,” Hugh commenced saying.

“So I see,” sneered the man, looking suggestively at Bud’s grimy hands, and then toward the stalled ramshackle car.

“Our knowledge of mechanics isn’t all it should be,” continued Hugh, determined not to be daunted by this poor beginning, “and if you could spare five minutes to take a look at the cause of our trouble, perhaps you might tell us how to remedy the same. I’m sure we’d feel under heavy obligations, sir.”

“We certainly would,” added Blake; “it’s of prime importance that we get along just now, because we’re heading for the mobilization camp, on an important errand, sir. Please oblige us, won’t you?”

He tried to throw all the pathos possible into his application. Hugh thought the man was laughing in his sleeve, so to say. At any rate, he failed to make the first movement toward getting out of his still throbbing car.

As a general thing, motorists are most accommodating toward those in distress. It seems to be a rule of the road that when the signal is given, any one passing by must be adjudged next door to a criminal. A fellow feeling makes all men who drive motors sympathize with one another, for there is no telling just how soon they may themselves be in dire need of the same help.

“Sorry to say I’m in a desperate hurry myself, boys,” snapped the man, between his set teeth. “I’d like to help you, but any delay just now might cost me a big amount in money. I reckon you’ll get her going, some way or other. At the worst, you could let her drop back down the hill. I think there’s a farmhouse up that little dirt road half a mile or so where you could stay over-night. So I’ll have to push along and leave you. Sorry, too, for I’d like to help you.”

With that he once more started along, and the three scouts stared after him struggling under various emotions.

“The mean skunk!” gritted Bud. “I’ll fix my old engine if it takes a leg. Course, he might have shown me a better way, but I’m coming along.”

Blake Merton was shaking his head as though some new thought had taken possession of his mind.

“This means something, I tell you, Hugh!” he burst out with. “It isn’t just one of those accidents that bob up now and then. That chap was chuckling to himself all the while, just because he had come on us stalled here.”

“What’s that?” asked Hugh, somewhat startled by such an assertion. “Why should a stranger care whether a pack of scouts were held up with engine trouble or not?”

“I’ll try and tell you, Hugh,” came the quick reply, as Blake’s eyes snapped. “I didn’t think to mention it before because—well, so many other things chased through my brain, you know. But this is the same fellow I saw talking to Luther Gregory.”

“You mean the degenerate son of Uncle Reuben, the tough case he threw over, and vowed never to have anything to do with again?” gasped Bud Morgan, stopping when about to once more crawl under the stalled car.

“No other,” came the quick reply.

“Has he been seen again in Oakvale lately?” demanded Hugh. “I remember that he got mixed up in some row, and his father paid the bill only on condition that Luke promised to shake the dust of the home town off his feet, and never show up again. If the slippery fellow hadn’t agreed to this, Mr. Gregory was going to let the law take its course, for his patience had reached the limit.”

“Listen,” said Blake, earnestly. “I saw Luke this very morning while getting my little package, after leaving you fellows, and going home to say good-bye to my folks. I, too, was surprised to set eyes on him, knowing about that promise to stay away from Oakvale. He was talking with that very man we just saw pass us. Hugh, they seemed to be on good terms, for I saw them shake hands as if to bind some sort of bargain. Then Luke discovered me, and gave the other a nudge. I thought that man stared mighty hard at me as I passed, just like he meant to remember my face. Now, I’m wondering what all that could mean.”

Hugh was silent for a brief spell. His mind was endeavoring to grapple with the problem that confronted him.

“It seems almost too big a thing to be true, Blake,” he finally remarked; “but if Luke Gregory could have in some way learned what his father was meaning to do about making another will, and cutting Felix out entirely, why, he might think it worth his while to plot so as to keep you from seeing your cousin in Battery K.”

Bud Morgan whistled to indicate his deep interest in the matter.

“Now, I happen to know that Luke Gregory used to be a right smart sort of a chap when he lived in Oakvale,” Bud observed. “I wager he’s up to just that kind of a game. However he could have learned the news we’ll never find out. He may have a spy among the servants in the Gregory house, some one who used to care for him when he lived at home, and who reported the interview his father had with Judge Marshall. Then, again, it might be that same spy followed the lawyer, and saw him talking with Blake here.”

“That’s pretty far-fetched,” admitted Hugh. “You must remember that it was over the ’phone the judge asked Blake to come and see him. Possibly, though, this spy in watching the lawyer’s house noticed Blake going in, and guessed why he had been sent for. But, no matter, there seems to be a chance that Luke did know, and that he believes it to be to his interest to prevent a meeting between Blake and Felix until the time set has expired.”

“It might be,” mused Blake, “that Luke has never stopped hoping he might yet be able to make up with his father, and that he thinks his first move should be to get Felix out of the running. This, then, would be too good a chance to be lost. He has started that man toward the camp, knowing about our coming. So, now, we can understand why he seemed to be grinning all the while.”

“It did seem to tickle him, seeing us stalled here, and likely to stay for goodness knows how long,” admitted Bud, frowning.

Hugh took more stock in the theory the longer he considered it. Although at first it may have seemed far-fetched, just as he had remarked, “familiarity did not breed contempt” in this case.

“Well, there’s nothing to be done but, get our engine running again, if we can,” he said, while Bud was hammering noisily under the body of the car. “If, in the end, that fails, we’ll try and think up some other scheme, for the more difficulties that crop up in our path, the more stubborn we become.”

“Oh! thank you for saying that, Hugh!” exclaimed Blake. “I know mighty well that when you’ve set your teeth, and start in to win, something is bound to come from it. I was beginning to get discouraged, but, say, that’s passing away now, and I seem to be drawing in my second wind.”

Just then there came a whoop from underneath the car.

“Cheer up, fellows!” called out a muffled voice.

“Do you think you’ve found out how to fix her up so she’ll work again, Bud?” cried Blake, his face aglow with renewed hope.

“Watch my smoke, that’s all,” was the reassuring reply, followed by additional pounding; and presently Bud wriggled out from his confined quarters, a sight to behold, so far as face and hands and discolored duster were concerned; but Hugh paid little or no attention to these things, because he saw that a huge grin decorated the greasy countenance of his chum.

Some more pottering followed. Then Bud gave the crank a few turns. There was no response, and evidently the balky engine still declined to behave itself. Nothing daunted, Bud tried a second, and then a third time. When still once more he flirted with the crank there came a sudden roar, and sure enough the car rocked under the pulsations of the conquered motor.

“Hurrah! you’ve done it, Bud, sure you have!” cried the happy Blake, as he danced up and down in his excitement.

“Wait till I get these things back again, and wipe some of this mess from my face and hands,” said the mechanic, “and then we’ll start right up the hill with a push that can do next door to anything.”

“I really believe she’s working better than ever before,” suggested Blake.

“Well, considering what I did in cleaning things up,” grinned Bud, holding out his grimy hands, “that isn’t to be wondered at. She was fairly clogged with dirt. Give me just another minute, boys, and then we’ll be on the jump!”

CHAPTER IV
THE HOLD-UP

“This is something like living,” Blake remarked, after they had easily made the top of the hill, and were coasting down the other side with increased celerity, though Bud apparently did not dare allow full speed for fear lest something would happen to a dilapidated part of the worn machinery, and cause a bad accident.

All of them were pleased. Although much time had been lost, still, with anything like decent luck, they should easily be able to make the camp while the sun still hung above the western horizon. Blake asked for nothing better.

“That scamp in the flivver had nearly an hour’s start of us, boys,” Blake later on observed. “By rights he ought to be ten miles and more ahead of us, I say; but do you know I half thought I caught a glimpse of his car when we came over the top of the last rise, and not so very far away, either.”

“I certainly heard a sound that might have been made by a car dashing across a short bridge ahead, there,” admitted Hugh.

“All of which looks queer to me,” continued Blake. “Do you think, Hugh, he might have held back to see how we came out of that scrape? Would he be figuring on doing something to hold us up on the way?”

“I don’t know,” was the reply of the patrol leader. “All we can do is to keep a good lookout as we go along, and fight shy of breakers. If only Bud can keep that engine going, we’re bound to arrive, some time or other. If that man tries to bother us, he may wish he hadn’t,” and the light that shone in Hugh’s eyes as he said this told how he meant every word.

“Huh! he wouldn’t be the first fellow who felt sorry he’d fooled with the scouts of Oakvale,” boasted Bud, with memories of previous exploits crowding his brain. “If a silly bear will monkey with a buzz-saw, he c’n expect to get hurt, that’s all.”

“Pull up!” hastily ejaculated Hugh as he saw something glisten in the road ahead of them.

They had just started around a bend, and were going at a fair pace at the time. Bud put on the brake, and the car speedily came to a stand, but, alas! just a trifle too late to avoid the breakers. There was a sudden explosion.

“Gee! a tire’s busted!” cried Blake, in dire dismay.

All of the boys jumped out, and it needed only one look to tell them the truth, for the left front tire lay flat.

“Glass!” snapped Bud, wrathfully, as he glanced around. “Just think of anybody heaving a bottle overboard like that, when there are so many stones around. Seems to me the least the rascal could have done would be to throw the same into the bushes here.”

Hugh was bending over as though deeply interested, and just then he electrified his two companions by crying out:

“It was no accident, after all, fellows, but a part of a cleverly arranged plot! These bottles were fetched along purposely. They were broken right on this rock, where you can see all the fine glass; and the pieces were put on the road so that a car couldn’t pass along without being terribly cut. See here, and here, and here!”

Bud was furious. He gritted his teeth, and growled like a “bear with a sore head,” as he himself afterwards explained it.

“Hugh! you’re right, hang the luck if you ain’t!” he went on to say, as he looked the ground over. “That miserable skunk laid the plot, and I’m sorry to say it worked like a charm. See how he chose a place just around a bend, so we mightn’t get warning in time by the sun glinting from the broken glass? Oh! he’s a corker of a schemer, that chap is; and I’d like to get my hands on him! Say, what I wouldn’t do to him would be hardly worth mentioning.”

“Forget all that, Bud,” cautioned wise Hugh. “That sort of talk never mends cut tires. All of us must get busy, and see what we can do. Luckily enough you made out to have an extra tire along, even if it’s a tough proposition. Let’s make the change in double-quick time.”

All the while they worked the boys exchanged opinions, and if that man could only have heard what they thought of him surely his ears would have burned.

“One thing certain,” Hugh was saying later on, as the job progressed fairly well, “this thing has settled the question about his being interested in keeping us out of the mobilization camp.”

“Just what it has, Hugh,” admitted Blake, jubilantly. “When once you know what you’re up against, the chances of winning out are stronger; anyway, that’s always been my opinion.”

“Have you cleaned off the road ahead of us, Blake?” asked Bud, “because we’ll be on the move again as soon as I get a little more air in this tire.”

“I walked along the road for a hundred yards,” replied the other, “and found no more of the glass. I reckon he bunched it all around here, so we couldn’t dodge running smack into the same.”

“After this,” said Bud, grimly, “I’ll slow up whenever we come to a turn. You never can tell what a wretch like that may have fixed around the bend. Once bit, twice shy, isn’t a bad motto. I don’t mean to get trapped in the same way again, if I know it.”

“So I was right, wasn’t I?” Blake remarked, with a touch of satisfaction in his voice, “when I said I felt sure I had seen that flivver a mile or two ahead of us, when it should have been at least ten miles further along?”

“That’s correct, Blake,” assented Hugh; “your eyes told you the truth. All of us will have to keep on the watch right along. The man who could play such a mean trick on people in a car with such bad tires as this one has would be equal to anything, in my opinion. Ready now, Bud?”

“Yes, and that tire seems to be pretty snug,” came from the hard-worked pilot, who, however, never once complained, for Bud was not a shirker, if he did have certain faults of his own to contend with. “I only hope the others don’t turn out to have been cut so they’ll go back on us sooner or later. Glass like this is a bad proposition when you’re running on worn rubber.”

Once more they were moving along. How keenly they kept their eyes on the lookout for further trouble ahead could be detected by the manner in which all three forgot to observe the scenery around them, the dusty road monopolizing their attention.

As the minutes continued to slip past they had the satisfaction of knowing that they were putting the miles behind them. Five and more had been dropped since that last accident. Blake asked further questions concerning the probable distance over which they had now come, and as usual Hugh was able to give a conservative guess.

“All of twenty-five miles from Oakvale by now, I should say,” he announced. “If you want to know how I’m able to say that, let me explain. I have a rough map of the country up here. I copied it hastily from one they had at the recruiting tent, for you know the battery must have come along this same road we’re now on. A mile back we saw a crossroads. That was marked on the map with the figures twenty-four; so after all it was easy to add another mile to that score; and there you are.”

“Only for your long head in making a rough copy of that road map, Hugh,” declared the admiring Blake, “we would certainly be up against it now. Well, that leaves some fifteen or twenty more miles. Can we fetch it by sundown, do you believe, Bud?”

“Oh! easy going!” came the flippant reply, though accompanied by a side wink in the direction of Hugh, which was possibly intended to convey the meaning that the aforesaid result could be attained if they were fortunate, and met with no further mishaps such as had already delayed them on two occasions.

“I think we’re coming to some sort of village,” observed Hugh, later on, “for I can see a small house on one side of the road, with some chickens and a dog in the way. Slow up, Bud; we don’t want to race through here, and be hauled up for exceeding the speed limit; or else have to stop and pay for some silly hens that were bound to get under our wheels.”

Several cottages were passed. Then they came to a stretch of woodland, beyond which, doubtless, the town proper lay, for they could see signs of smoke rising, and there was also a sound as of an engine working in some sort of mill.

Suspecting no immediate trouble, the boys were running along quite smoothly when, without the slightest warning, they received a sudden shock. Again it came to them just around a bend in the road, though Bud had kept his word, and was moving slowly at the time.

A rope was stretched directly across from one tree to another. To make the hold-up even more positive, a log had been rolled out, and lay there, blocking the road, so that even should a swiftly-going car have broken the rope, it was bound to come to grief against that other obstacle.

“Pull up, Bud! quick!” almost shrieked Blake Merton, but he might just as well have spared himself the trouble of letting out this frantic appeal, for the driver had his car well under control, and was easily able to bring it to a halt some ten feet away from the obstructions.

No sooner had they halted than a gruff voice was heard calling out:

“Throw up your hands and surrender, you three young raskels! I’ve got yuh covered, all right, and yuh might as well give in peaceable like, because you’re up against the strong arm of the law!”

CHAPTER V
AN ECHO FROM THE PAST

The boys, following up this rasping voice, stared to see the figure that broke out of the scrub close to the barrier, and approached them. No wonder they almost felt their breath taken away, for had this been a scene from some ridiculous motion picture play, the representative of the majesty of the law as met with in a country marshal or constable, could not have seemed more ridiculous.

The man was old, and spare of figure. He was dressed in gray garments, and wore a large soft hat built after the Western sombrero model. It had a gilt cord around the crown, and was tilted up rakishly on one side. Even to the glistening nickel star, that decorated his left breast, was this representative of law and order, gotten up to shame one of those stage sheriffs at whose antics youngsters in the cheap “movies” scream with laughter.

“Don’t laugh, fellows, on your lives!” whispered Hugh, instantly, afraid lest rash Bud, for instance, should break out into a loud roar that would seriously offend the officer, and mean further trouble for them.

He raised his hands, as did the other two boys, though Blake was complaining after his customary fashion.

“But, say, we couldn’t have broken any speed law, Mister, because you saw yourself we were just fairly crawling along?” he protested, weakly.

The officer was holding a tremendous horse pistol of an ancient vintage; it had an ominous look, and doubtless could give a fair account of itself if fired, for they made good weapons in old-time days.

“I never said as how yuh was pinched for speedin’, did I?” he went on to observe, with a grim smile hovering about his stern mouth, while his beady eyes continued to rove from one boyish face to another. “Huh! I guess now it’s somethin’ a heap worse nor that you’re wanted for. Where did yuh git this car?”

“Why, it belongs back in Oakvale,” stammered Bud, hardly knowing what it meant when the man with the nickel star shot this question directly at him as the pilot of the expedition, or at least the one who was handling the wheel.

“K’rect. That corresponds with the information I had given tuh me,” continued their strange captor, nodding his head until his goatee made him resemble a pugnacious billy-goat.

Hugh instantly began to see a faint glimpse of light. Something about the words which the constable had just uttered gave him a suspicion as to the possible truth. He began to take a deeper interest in the hold-up, which could turn out to be of an altogether different character from what they had up to that moment believed.

“My friend,” he started to say, giving the constable one of his frank smiles, “after all, don’t you think you may have made a mistake in holding us up as you have? Honest, now, do we look like fellows who would steal a car; and even if we ever had such a scheme afoot, wouldn’t we be apt to pick out a machine worth taking, rather than a rattle-trap like this ramshackle thing?”

The constable somehow seemed a bit impressed. There might have been that in the manly bearing of the boy who was speaking, as well as something in his voice that touched a responsive chord in his old heart. He stroked his straggly chin whiskers with his unemployed hand, and continued to ogle the three lads so eagerly leaning toward him from the car.

“Uh! waal, it does seem like yuh’d be a passel o’ fools tuh grab a rattle-trap car as this un when yuh might a had your pick. But then he says tuh me there was a reason why yuh did it.”

“Oh! then some one put you wise to our coming along this road, did they?” Bud flashed out. “Guess we can hit on the skunk, all right, Mister. He was a little ornery reptile, wasn’t he, with a grin on his black face all the time? Tell me, doesn’t that cover his description all right, sir?”

“My name is Eben Wheezer, and I am the reg’lar authorized constable of Halletsburg,” the other went on to explain. “I’m free to confess that I was give a pointer concernin’ yuh boys. Mebbe it’s jest a lark you’re playin’, but, all the same, when a car has been taken without the owner’s knowledge or permission, the eye of the law looks on it as a bony fide theft. It becomes the duty of a constable to pinch the offenders.”

“Listen, Mr. Wheezer, please,” urged Hugh. “Delay of even an hour would mean a serious thing to us just now. We are on our way to the mobilization camp, and it is of extreme importance that we get there some time this evening. That man you talked with seems to be an enemy of ours. He is connected with a scamp back in Oakvale who would be glad if we failed to get to the camp, because it might mean money in his pocket. He has already done his best to knock us out, even filling the roadway with glass from broken bottles, so as to cut our weak tires, and keep us from getting on.”

“Which happened, too, as you can see if you glimpse that tire we’re carrying, and which is slashed something terrible,” interjected Bud, impulsively.

The country constable was interested, seeing which Hugh returned to the attack on the principle that when you have the enemy started a vigorous offensive should be carried out to get him on the run.

“Besides, Mr. Wheezer,” Hugh went on to say, confidingly, “we are, as you see, scouts. Our uniforms will tell you that, our badges too; and, if you want, I can show you a number of clippings from the papers that tell of certain things of merit the Oakvale scouts have done in the past.”

“By gum! what’s that shiny medal you’re wearin’, son, stand fur?” suddenly demanded the constable, fixing his glittering eyes on Hugh’s left breast. “She looks a heap like the real stuff to me, an’ gold, at that!”

Hugh at once took it off and passed it over. If ever he felt proud on account of the possession of such a fine medal, that time was then and there, because he believed it was going to save himself and chums a good deal of trouble and time.

The constable put on a pair of glasses with huge horn rims, and peered at the inscription, turning the neat little medal over in his hands. When he looked again at the owner there was a marked interest in his thin and pinched face.

“Tell me, air yuh this same Hugh Hardin it speaks of here?” he demanded, hoarsely, taking a step nearer the halted car.

“That happens to be my name, sir,” replied Hugh.

“Did yuh git this here medal fur savin’ lives when that flood was rampagin’ through the town of Lawrence?” continued the officer, his voice now showing signs of hoarseness that might have come from excess emotion.

“Why, yes. Several of my chums and I were visiting there when that dam up the valley broke, and the bridge over the river was carried away. We had a pretty lively time of it during the few days we were detained there, on account of no trains running. We managed to hold out a helping hand to some of the poor people caught in the flood. You know, sir, that’s what scouts live for, to assist others not so well off as themselves.”

Eben Wheezer heard the boy through. Then he did a number of queer things, first of all ramming that ancient pistol out of sight in one of his pockets, and then actually holding out a thin and trembling hand to Hugh.

“Say, son, I want tuh shake hands with yuh, that’s what I do!” he startled them by saying, enthusiastically. “This hold-up is all off, yuh understand. I was an old fool tuh take that rascal’s seegar, and b’lieve half he says tuh me ’bout some boys comin’ along the road here as how he reckoned had stole a car, and that there was likely tuh be a reward offered fur their apprehension, which I might jest as well rake in as the next un. But I kin see it all now, an’ I’m right glad tuh meet up with Hugh Hardin.”

“What do you know about me, Mr. Wheezer?” asked the patrol leader, flushing at the same time with pleasure as he felt the cordial grip of that lean hand.

“Oh! only this, son,” laughed the old constable, pumping the boy’s hand as though he might be the milkman making up a deficiency in his cans, “it happens that I had an ole wife a visitin’ over there in Lawrence at the time that dam broke. Yes, and, what’s more, she told me it was a boy named Hugh Hardin that kim along with some other scouts in a rowboat and saved her from a house that was a-floatin’ off in the flood. Huh! think I’d ever forgit that name when it belonged to the lad who kept me from bein’ a forlorn widower? This here is a joyous occasion for me, I tell yuh.”

Bud gave a whoop, and danced around like a crazy thing.

“Talk to me about bread cast upon the waters returning before many days,” he was crying excitedly. “Did anybody ever hear the equal of this! See, Hugh, how your good deeds repay you heaps of times over. We thought we had run across another enemy, and he turns out to be a bully sort of a friend. Won’t you shake hands with me, Mr. Wheezer, even if I wasn’t lucky enough to be in that bunch that did such good work at Lawrence—the honor of that exploit goes to Hugh, here, Billy Worth and Monkey Stallings. But, then, we’re all chums, you know, sir, and in the same boat.”

The delighted constable was only too glad to oblige Bud, and so warm was his grip that possibly the other felt a tinge of regret at insisting upon being given a hand-shake. Blake Merton felt that it would not do for him to be left out in the cold, so he had to grimace and bear it when Eben got to working his lean fingers.

Indeed, all of the boys felt they had good reason for feeling thankful. What had threatened to prove a disaster and promised to overwhelm their plans was now working in their favor. The wearing of his badge, given by Scout Headquarters to those members of the organization who have saved human life at great peril to themselves, had turned out to be a most wonderful blessing to them. Instead of being held up, perhaps thrust into a miserable country lock-up until the next day, with their plans ruined, they were now free to proceed along their way.

Hugh did not want to lose any more time than could be avoided, so instead of entering into a long conversation with the constable, he hastened to say:

“If we were not in such a great hurry, Mr. Wheezer, it would give me great pleasure to stop over with you, and visit your home, to meet your wife. I reckon I would know her again if I saw her. I’d be glad to tell you the story of what happened over in Lawrence when the flood swept down the valley. But we have a big stake in trying to make that camp by tonight. One of my chums here has a cousin in the battery who stands to lose a fortune if we are kept back; and the man who hired that rascal you met hopes to win it. So you’ll excuse us if we say good-bye now, and thank you for being so kind.”

The constable had already removed the log from the road, and now he unfastened his stout rope from the tree to which he had attached it.

“No apologies needed, son,” he hastened to say, cheerily. “Yuh knows your business best, and if yuh chase after it in the same way yuh won your spurs over tuh Lawrence, I reckons now yuh’ll upset all the kalculations o’ thet schemer. Good-bye an’ good luck tuh yuh, boys!”

He waved his official hand to them as they shot forward, and the last Blake saw of the odd, though good-hearted country constable, he was standing there in the road looking after the retreating car, and still waving his sombrero, while that bright nickel star on his manly breast gleamed in the rays of the westering sun.

“Congratulations, Hugh!” cried Blake, bubbling over with delight over their recent narrow escape. “They say chickens come home to roost, and that good deeds will pay a fellow back a thousand fold. Well, I want to tell you there never was such a positive illustration of their truth as this.”

“The best of it is,” laughed Hugh, happily, “that no matter how much our enemy plots against us, something comes along to upset all his calculations. He thought we were stuck there all afternoon, with an engine out of joint, but Bud here fooled him. Then there was that broken bottle game, which did hold us up a bit; but in spite of a slit tire we got started again. Last, but far from least, he fixed up this clever trick of telling the old constable three boys had stolen a car, and were coming along the road a ways back; also hinting that there might be a good reward offered for capturing the rascals and holding them over-night in the town cooler. But again our luck held good, and we slipped through.”

“I’m satisfied now,” asserted Blake Merton, “that nothing is going to keep us from getting there some time tonight. I’ll hunt up Felix right away, talk to him like a Dutch uncle, get him to write that letter, and then the first thing in the morning we can start back home again.”

“If anything goes wrong with the car, we’ll find some other way of returning, make up your mind to that, Blake,” Hugh assured him.

It was in this happy frame of mind that the three scouts passed through the little town of Hallettsburg, and continued onward. As they went they could frequently discover plain signs that to their practiced eyes assured them the battery had traversed the same road they were now on. Perhaps a boy untrained in the art of using his eyes, and seeing small things that told a story, would never have been able to accomplish this thing; but Hugh, Bud and Blake had served their time at studying woodcraft, as practiced by the Indians from the days of Daniel Boone, and they knew dozens of things that would, when noticed and examined, tell an interesting story.

The sun was getting pretty low in the west, and evening was coming on. It was about the last quarter of the moon, which had been full on the fifteenth of the month, so that no help from this source could be expected until toward midnight, when the silvery remnant would be seen rising in the East. That was one reason why the boys were anxious to be getting on as fast as they dared chance it, because, once night settled in, their progress would be blocked.

“The sun’s going down, Hugh,” announced Blake, with a touch of dismay in his voice.

“That’s all very true,” replied the scout master, “but we’ll have half an hour of light yet, perhaps more, and I think we ought to make the camp in that time!”

CHAPTER VI
THE BURNING BRIDGE

“Hugh!” called out Blake Merton a short time later, “did you see that light flash up ahead of us there?”

“Just what I did,” came the immediate reply.

“Do you think it could be one of the camp fires of the boys, a sort of vidette post, you might say?” further questioned Blake, eagerly.

“There it goes again, as sure as you live!” ejaculated Bud Morgan at the wheel, “and, say, it’s a fire, all right—growing stronger all the while. I wonder what it can mean for us?”

“We’ll soon find out,” remarked Hugh, confidently. “We’re advancing, and will come to a clear stretch in a minute or so, where the trees happen to be sparse, and we can see ahead.”

“Perhaps, after all, it’s only some cabin alongside the road, with the people doing their cooking outdoors,” observed Bud. “I saw that done heaps of times when my folks took me down to Florida that winter I was sick.”

Their curiosity grew by leaps and bounds as they proceeded along the road. The closer they drew to the scene of the illumination, the more puzzled all of the boys found themselves.

Then suddenly it broke upon them. They must have turned a bend in the road, for just as though a wave of a magician’s wand had caused the picture to appear before their eyes, they saw it all.

“Oh! look at that, will you?” shrilled Blake, aghast at the vision. “It’s a bridge afire!”

“It sure is!” echoed Bud, staring as though he could hardly believe his eyes.

“See how the flames are creeping along the wooden sides!” continued the Merton boy, hysterically. “Why, they look like red snakes, that’s what they do. Hugh, what can we do to get across that river if the bridge goes down?”

“I can’t tell you just yet, Blake!” snapped the other. “Let her out some more, Bud. Never mind the risk to the old plug of an engine; we’ve got to get there so as to fight that fire, or we’ll be dished. I know what stream that is, and it’s a deep one, too, far too deep for us to ever hope to ford it with this car. Faster, Bud, faster, I tell you!”

Bud Morgan never accepted anything that bordered on a dare. He had held in thus far principally because he knew Hugh would not be apt to countenance speed when it necessitated additional risk. Now he “let out another notch,” as he himself would have expressed it.

The old car shambled along with dizzying celerity, making all manner of ridiculous sounds, as though protesting against such haste. Still nothing happened to indicate another breakdown; and at least they were advancing toward the burning bridge with accelerated speed.

All the while Hugh was wondering what could have caused the fire. It was very strange, he concluded, that a country bridge should take a notion to start up in a blaze like this, and just when it became a most important link in their drive to the concentration camp.

So they arrived on the scene. Bud was evidently for trying to run the gantlet with a mad rush, but Hugh called upon him to draw up short, which he did, stopping the car close to the near end of the wooden structure.

“We might have made it, Hugh!” urged Bud, reproachfully, as though he regretted the cautious policy of the scout master.

“But there would always be a chance that our gas tank would explode!” cried Hugh; “look how the flames are driven straight across the bridge by the wind. Then the fire is along both sides, so we’d have to run a regular gantlet. No, Bud, old fellow, we couldn’t afford to take the chances. Out with you all, and let’s see if we can’t save the old bridge yet.”

“Go to it, boys!” shouted Bud, instantly on the move, for he was a lad of action, and never happier than when doing things.

“Work on the windward side first!” ordered Hugh, with the sagacity that leadership in an energetic scout organization is apt to bestow upon any wideawake youth. “Here, snatch up these old lap-robes, and souse them in the water. If you beat at the flames just as we did when the woods on fire that time, you’ll find they can be mastered. Everybody get busy!”

“Whoop! watch my smoke, will you!” cried Bud, starting off with a rush.

There chanced to be some old lap-robes in the car that Bud had managed to secure, not of any great value, to be sure, so far as things of beauty went, but bound to be of great value in an emergency like the present. Each of the three scouts managed to secure possession of one of these, and it required but a brief time to submerge the same in the swift flowing and deep stream.

With this soaking cloth in hand the energetic boys started to fight the fire, slapping at the running flames as they curled along the side of the bridge in long spirals that resembled creeping snakes.

When three lively fellows get started at a task of this sort it is wonderful what remarkable progress they can attain. With each stout blow it seemed as though the fire that was threatening to demolish the entire wooden structure received a serious setback. The boys fought their way completely across the bridge, which was not of any great length.

“Good enough for us!” cried the panting Bud. “We’ve licked that line of skirmishers; do we tackle the other side now, Hugh?”

“One good turn deserves another, so go for it!” advised the leader, setting a pace himself that kept the others hustling to continue in the same class.

Success is always encouraging, and, having found that they could get the better of those creeping flames, the three boys fought all the harder, determined to crush the fire completely.

“A little more elbow grease, boys, and victory is going to perch on our banner!” Bud was crying, while he slapped that scorched laprobe again and again on the railing of the bridge, even mopping up the floor with it when occasion demanded.

The boys were past masters at this sort of thing. They had served their time at it on another occasion, when the woods, catching fire not many miles from Oakvale, they had been called upon to help save certain isolated farmhouses and crops that were threatened with destruction.[2]

Breathing heavily, the three lads finally had the satisfaction of seeing the last zigzag line of fire succumb to the vigor of their attack. Still, Hugh would not be wholly satisfied.

“Let’s go down and wet these rags again,” he told his chums, “and hunt out every crack where the least bit of fire hides, so that after we go on it isn’t going to spring up again.”

“Might as well make a clean job of it while we’re about it,” agreed Bud, as he followed Hugh down to the edge of the river, there to immerse their “fighting togs” again in the water.

As they walked along, carefully scanning both sides of the bridge for any evidences of hidden peril, Bud once more broke out, voicing some suspicion that he had evidently been harboring in his brain.

“Hugh, don’t you think it’s mighty funny how this old bridge could get afire? Suppose a threshing machine traction engine could have passed over here lately; but, then, it’s too early in the season for anything like that to be going around. If a man on a wagon threw a burning match aside after lighting his pipe, would it start things to burning? Somehow I just can’t believe this is an accident at all.”

“Oh! do you really mean you suspect it was done on purpose, perhaps to keep us from crossing this deep river, and making us miss connections with the camp?” asked Blake, apparently thrilled with the thought.

“I’m certain of it,” asserted Hugh, positively. “I’ll tell you why. Just bend your heads closer here, and take a whiff where this rail has been only a little charred; what does it smell like?”

“Why, Hugh, it makes me think of home, when the girl is starting our oil stove going!”

“That’s a fact,” added Bud, gritting his teeth ferociously, “and somebody’s gone and saturated both sides of this bridge with kerosene, so as to give the fire a good send-off. Oh! the low-down wretch, what wouldn’t I give to have a chance to choke him.”

“Try it again over here, and you get the same odor,” Hugh observed, impressively; “yes, and right there you can see where some of the stuff spilled, for the spot looks greasy. He must have had a can of kerosene along with him in his car for just such a purpose as this.”

Each boy in turn dropped on his hands and knees, the better to take a “sniff” at the discolored spot on the floor boards of the bridge that had such a “close call.” As they once more regained their feet they nodded their heads, unanimous in their opinion as to the origin of that greasy mark.

“Which shows that our good luck still haunts our footsteps,” Blake said, trying to smile happily, though there was a deep-seated look of apprehension to be detected in his eyes.

Truth to tell, all of them were more or less impressed with the malignity shown by this party whom they believed to be in the pay of Luther Gregory. He was evidently bent upon earning the sum promised him in case he, by hook or crook, prevented the boys from reaching the mobilization camp until it was too late to secure that apology from the quick-tempered Felix.

“Well, do we cross over now, and move along our way?” asked Blake, unable to conceal the anxiety he naturally felt because of these numerous delays.

“Nothing to hinder that I can see,” replied Hugh.

“I’ll drive the old car across, presently, while you two wait for me at the other side,” Bud said, as he climbed aboard. “Take a good look as you go, and tell me if any of the flooring is burned through.”

As they crossed over, Hugh and Blake kept a good lookout, and reported all safe; so presently Bud, having coaxed the engine to start again after some effort, joined his mates on the further side of the stream.

“I certainly do hope,” ventured Blake Merton, with a sigh, as he proceeded to settle down in his old seat again, “that we’ve run up against the last obstacle. It’s certain that chap can’t think up much more evil to turn against us.”

“What’s coming now?” cried Bud. “I can hear shouts, and, Hugh, there seems to be men running around that clump of undergrowth alongside the road.”

“I bet you there’s a village along there, and that the people have just discovered the smoke of the fire here,” advanced Blake. “They know about the bridge, and are coming to save it. They would have been just too late if not for us.”

“They ought to give us a vote of thanks, then, for our services,” said Bud.

“Listen to ’em shouting, will you?” continued Blake. “Why, it sounds to me like they were real mad at something. Hugh, don’t it strike you that way, too? Look at some of the fellows in the lead shaking their fists at us, just as if we’d gone and done something mean. Gee whiz! I hope now they don’t get the notion into their silly heads that we started this bridge to burning.”

Quite a crowd was coming wildly toward them, consisting of men and boys, though there were also a few energetic women. Some of them carried clubs, and waved these in a suggestive fashion.

“Sit tight,” warned Hugh, sternly; “it means that we’re up against it again. Above all things, don’t do or say anything to start a fight!”

CHAPTER VII
THE ACCUSATION

If one of the three scouts entertained doubts as to the hostility of the mob that came running along the country road, these were quickly dispelled. In another minute the car was surrounded by an angry crowd. A dozen voices shrilled at them, and sticks were shaken in their faces.

“Stand back, everybody!” shouted a burly man, who seemed to be invested with more or less authority. “I’m the sheriff of this county, it happens, and I don’t allow any interference with my business. Three of my posse being present, I call on them to stand by me. The rest of you hold your peace. I’ll do what talking is necessary.”

Hugh was glad to know this. He could deal with, a single individual, where it was utterly impossible in the case of an excitable mob. So Hugh hastened to speak up, addressing his remarks to the man of authority.

“Will you kindly tell us what all the row is about?” he asked, pleasantly. “We are heading for the camp where the State militia is mobilizing, and, discovering this bridge afire, worked with all our might to put out the flames. If you look at those dirty cloths lying there, you’ll find that they were once lap-robes. We soaked them in the water, and slapped the flames out as we were trained to do in fighting a forest fire.”

A few of the villagers may have been impressed with the words spoken by Hugh, as well as his manly bearing; but they were vastly in the minority. Most of those present were so worked up by anger that they seemed blind to the facts.

“Don’t believe him, Sheriff,” urged one man, venomously; “he’s only lying. All boys’ll lie whenever they get a chanct. I know these here scouts, how they like to strut around like heroes. And, Sheriff, you c’n depend on it they set fire to our bridge just a purpose to make believe they did a big thing whipping the flames out.”

“That’s what he told us they’d like enough say,” called out another man, whose small face and vinegary looks told of a mind that was below the mediocre. “He says he saw ’em running around like they was pourin’ something on the sides of the bridge from a bottle. Say, I kin smell coal oil, by Jimminy crickets; if I can’t now.”

“Lock the young rascals up, Sheriff!”

“Larn ’em a lesson they’ll never forget. ’Cordin’ to my mind, there’s a heap too much talk nowadays ’bout boys doin’ great stunts. It’s jest upsot a lot o’ ’em, so they’re lookin’ around all the time for ways to make people think they’re jest like little David when he knocked over that Goliath chap long ago.”

So several other men had their say. Hugh listened to it all, and waited for an opportunity to get a chance to explain. He knew that he must depend on the sheriff, and so he kept him in mind when he finally started in to speak.

“Please listen to me, Mr. Sheriff,” he began to say, impressively. “We belong in the town of Oakvale, where you’ll find, if you telephone the Chief of Police, that our reputation is gilt-edged. We are on our way to the big camp over beyond the hills yonder, where Battery K, from Oakvale, is located. We have very important business with one of the members, who is a cousin of this boy here. It will cost him his inheritance if we are unable to talk with him by tomorrow. There is a man whose interest it is to keep us from doing this. He has tried through an agent of his in a number of ways to hold us back; and, if you wish, I would take pleasure in telling you all about these things. Sir, we have good reason to believe that this setting fire to your bridge was a part of his scheme to detain us.”

“What’s that, boy?” asked the sheriff, hastily. “Can you tell us what this man you’re speaking of looks like?”

“A man passed us while we were fixing our engine on the road hours ago,” Hugh readily explained, “and when we asked him to lend us a hand he said he was in too big a hurry to stop. He seemed to be grinning all the while, as though tickled at finding us in such a bad mess. We believe that man is the agent sent out to hold us back from arriving at the camp until it is too late to do any good.”

“Was he a little man, with a sharp face, and eyes that glittered like a snake’s?” called out one of the more friendly disposed men.

“Yes, and he was in a flivver, a small machine with the top down,” explained Bud, taking part in the affair now. “He wore a suit that looked as near green as you could find, and had on a leather cap with goggles pushed up above the peak.”