The Boy Scouts at the Canadian Border

The night was now upon them. Little did any of those three boys suspect what thrilling events were destined to take place in their lives and how their patriotism would be tested before another daybreak came. They sat around as usual, and made merry. Tubby played with the dog, for Wolf had not offered to run away again. It was concluded that he must have given up all hope of ever finding his former home; or else felt quite contented to remain with his new masters, who fed him so abundantly.

It was getting well along toward nine o’clock, and some of them had even commenced to show signs of being drowsy, for it must be remembered that they had not been allowed to enjoy a full night’s sleep on the preceding night.

Andy said he would step outside and see what the signs promised in the heaven for the next day. He pretended to be quite a weather prophet. He had hardly closed the door behind him, it seemed to Tubby, than they heard him coming hastily back again. He seemed excited, too, a fact that caused Tubby to struggle to his feet, though the others were already ahead of him.

“I wish you would all come out here and listen,” said Andy. “I may be mistaken, and, perhaps, after all, it’s only some freak of the breeze whining through a hole in the cabin wall; but, honest to goodness, it struck me that it was some one calling in the distance, and calling for help, too.”

CHAPTER XII

A SCOUT’S FIRST DUTY

“My stars! what’s going to happen next, I wonder!” Tubby said half to himself, as they all made a rush for the outside, Andy leading the way, as became the first discoverer.

“Now, keep real quiet and listen!” cautioned Andy, after they had reached the open air.

Their hearts beat doubly fast, and knocked tumultuously against their prison walls. The boys fairly held their breath, such was their eagerness to hear, and learn whether Andy could have been mistaken.

A whole anxious minute crept past. To Tubby it seemed an eternity, for he was trying to do without breathing at all, a rather rash experiment for any one, and especially for a stout fellow of his build. Something came floating on the gentle night wind.

“There, didn’t you all hear it?” cried Andy exultantly.

“We certainly did,” said Rob instantly.

“Sounded a little like one of those winnowing whoop owls to me,” ventured Tubby, but he was immediately squelched by the first discoverer.

“Owl nothing! Whoever heard an owl call out ‘Help! Oh! Help!’?”

“I felt pretty sure it was that,” replied the scout master. Turning to the experienced Maine woodsman he added: “How about that, Zeb, owl or a human cry for assistance?”

“I guess as how it wa’n’t anything that carried feathers as called, sir,” Zeb quickly answered. His backing Andy up made Tubby display further signs of uncommon excitement.

“Somebody is in serious trouble, boys,” burst from Tubby’s lips almost impulsively. “We’ve got to start out and help him, no matter who he is, or what’s happened to him. That’s scout logic, I take it – save me first, and scold me afterwards, as the boy said when he was drowning and a man on the bank began – ”

“The rest will keep, Tubby,” said Rob. “You’ll have to stay here, and keep the fire going for us. Three ought to be enough for the job. Get the guns, Andy and Zeb. I’ll take that lantern belonging to Mr. Hopkins. We may need some light in the woods. Be quick about it, everybody. There, he’s calling again. Perhaps I’d better answer him.”

Rob sent out a loud hallo that could easily have been heard half a mile away at any time. Without waiting to find out whether the unknown made any reply, he shot into the bunkhouse and started to apply a match to the ready lantern which had been discovered during the day hanging from a peg behind some extra garments.

Tubby did not look very happy. True, he would be saved from quite a tramp, and that counted for something. He was not at all tired, and would, had he been given the chance, much prefer accompanying his mates. Still, Tubby was a good scout, and had long ago learned the value of unquestioning obedience to authority. Rob was above him in rank as the leader of the Eagle Patrol, as well as acting scout master of the Hampton Troop, and what he said in such a decisive manner must go.

So Tubby determined that he would build the fire, and have everything warm and comfortable against the return of his chums. He could shut and bar the door; yet, and – Rob evidently did not mean to take his gun along with him (thinking two would be quite enough), so there would be that to depend on, if any danger threatened.

It took the trio but a part of a minute to get ready, so eager were they to be on the move. They hurried out of the door. Tubby watched them depart, standing in the open doorway. How weird the lantern did look bobbing along at the side of Rob. Tubby wondered what sort of discovery they would make. If some one was in trouble, could it be his uncle who, on attempting to return to the logging camp alone, had fallen and broken a limb? Or, on the other hand, had some woodsman cut himself severely with his ax, and weak from loss of blood, fallen on the road to the camp, able only to weakly call for help?

No matter what it turned out the very thought of some one being in need of help thrilled honest Tubby, who would have “walked his legs off,” as he often declared, to render assistance. Further the bobbing lantern went. The murmur of his chums’ voices, too, died away in the distance. Suddenly he could no longer glimpse the light, and all was dark and mysterious beyond. Then only did Tubby deign to go in and close the door after him, being careful to make use of the handy bar that nested in the sockets on either side.

He built up a roaring fire, because somehow, the cheery crackle of the devouring flames felt like company to him. They had an abundant supply of good firewood, some of which Tubby had himself gathered from around the former lumber camp.

Tubby picked up Rob’s gun and sat looking into the fire, doubtless seeing all sorts of queer pictures there, as boys sometimes will. Evidently his thoughts were on other things, for after a while he approached the exit, unfastened the bar, and opening the door a little stood there listening, oh! so eagerly.

That was a real owl crooning to his mate now in the big hemlock over the way, although at first Tubby thought it might be the same sound they had heard before. He wondered whether they had been “fooled,” and if it would turn out to be a fool’s errand that took his chums and Big Zeb forth on that mercy trip.

Tubby had to chuckle, proudly remembering that it had been himself who had suggested “owl,” though Andy instantly made fun of him for so doing. The joke would be on Andy then, should it eventually turn out that way.

Hearing no further sound from those who had gone away, nor a repetition of the supposed cry for help, Tubby reluctantly closed the door, put the bar in place, and taking his seat again before the fire, resumed his vigil.

Meanwhile the three were making their way through the woods. The darkness was not intense, and possibly they could have gotten along quite well without the lantern. Nevertheless, none of them was sorry for having it; more than one stumble was spared them on account of it.

They had noted well the quarter from which the faint cries had come, and were now heading in that direction. All was still around them, save for the rustle of scurrying little feet in the dried pine needles, as perhaps a fox on the prowl for his supper slipped out of the way; or possibly it may have been a mink, for there was some sort of stream close by, which emptied into the river down which the logs had been sent when the big spring drive was on.

“We’re heading right, don’t you think, Zeb?” asked Rob presently, being desirous of confirming his own opinion, and knowing that the experienced guide and woodsman could be depended on to be accurate.

“Straight as a die, younker,” the man told him, and then added: “I’m a heap s’prised to see how you boys kerry on. ’Tain’t every lad from the towns that could pick out a sound like you done, and then direct that way. I guess thar must be a heap o’ sense in this here scout business, an’ I gotter take off my hat to it, that’s a fack.”

Words like that give a scout a warm feeling in the region of his heart. Appreciation is always welcome when genuine; to be complimented by an expert like Big Zeb, the man who had served Uncle George for ten years as guide and handy man in camp, was thrice pleasant. Still, both Rob and Andy were used to hearing people say nice things, and it never brought on a case of “swelled head” with such sensible fellows.

A short time later on Rob spoke again.

“I tried to take into consideration the fact that the wind wasn’t altogether favorable, and also that the chap called as if he might be hoarse from weakness or excitement. So I figured that he couldn’t be more than a quarter of a mile off at the time. How did you make out, Andy?”

“Oh! I thought he was further than that, say two-thirds of a mile as the crow flies; but I didn’t count on his being exhausted, as you say, Rob.”

“If you asked me, younkers,” said Zeb, “I’d fix it atween the two o’ you. I should say we’d a’ready gone nearly a quarter o’ a mile from camp. But we ain’t heard nary a sign o’ him yet. S’pose we let out a call, and tried fur a raise?”

“A good idea, Zeb,” admitted the scout master. Raising his voice he called out: “Hello! there, where are you?”

Almost immediately they heard a half-stifled cry that seemed to be full of partly suppressed joy.

“This way, over here to your left, man! Oh! please hurry up. I’m in a sair bad fix, and there’s an awfu’ need o’ haste!”

The words thrilled them once more. Now they were sure that it was no imaginary summons that had lured them from the warm fire; someone was there in the depths of the pine woods, unable to help himself, strange as that might seem.

“Rob, that sounded more like a boy’s voice than a man’s heavy tones,” suggested Andy.

“Just what I was thinking,” said the observing scout master. “Do you know there seemed a little odd twist in his way of speaking that made me think of Scotch Jock back in Hampton. Whoever this chap turns out to be, mark my words, he’s got Scotch blood in his veins.”

“There he calls out again, you notice,” exclaimed Andy presently, “and we’re heading right, it seems. I reckon he sees the light of our lantern, though we can’t yet get the first glimpse of him.”

“But we will very soon now,” Rob assured him. “The last hail was close by.”

They were consumed with both curiosity and eagerness to be of assistance. Neither of them could more than guess at what they were going to see; and it may be admitted that not even wise Zeb came anyway near to hitting the mark.

He may have figured that some one had fallen and injured his leg or ankle; or another sort of accident – a tree falling on him; being cut through by a misstroke of a keen-edged ax; or having his gun go off, when drawing it muzzle forward through some dense brush – as greenhorns often do at peril of their lives; but if they guessed for an hour they would not have dreamed of the remarkable sight that met their gaze.

“There, I think I can just manage to see him, Rob – over by that clump of birches that have sprung up where a mother tree was cut down years ago. Lift your lantern a bit and look.”

Rob hastened to comply, and immediately remarked:

“Yes, I do see something dark on the ground. It moves. See, that must be his arm waving to us! We’ll be with you, my friend, in a jiffy now. It’s all right. We’ll soon have you in camp, safe and sound, whatever has happened to you!”

Rob was saying this out of the kindness of his heart. He realized that undoubtedly the other must have been in both physical and mental distress, or he would never have cried out as he had.

A minute later and they had drawn near enough for the strange truth to break upon them; and certainly it made both Andy and Rob stare as though they could hardly believe their eyes.

CHAPTER XIII

A THRILLING DISCOVERY

The light of Rob’s lantern showed them a boy of about their own age. He was half on his knees, and seemed to be caught in some way so that he could not get away.

“Why, he’s got his leg in a trap, don’t you see, Rob?” gasped Andy, filled with horror at the very idea, for it seemed to portend the most serious consequences.

“It does look like an old rusty bear trap!” Rob admitted as they hurried on; Zeb instantly corroborated what he said by exclaiming:

“Jest what she are, an’ no mistake. Jingo! I sartin sure hopes as how the boy ain’t bad hurted. I’ve seen men that was lamed fur life arter being ketched by the jaws o’ a bar trap. But this un seems old like, and mebbe the springs are weak.”

All the same the unlucky victim of the trap had apparently not been able to free himself.

“I’m right glad ye’ve come!” called out the boy, showing a wonderful amount of nerve. “I shouted till I could hardly call above a whisper, and I was nearly crazy with fear that I’d have to stay here till mornin’, when I heard you answer.

“Hurry, please, and get this old thing off me. Ye see I couldn’t reach the second spring nohow, try as hard as I might. It hurt something fierce whenever I twisted around that way.”

They were all bending down now. The first thing Rob noticed with a great feeling of relief, when he brought his lantern close to the prisoner of the rusty old bear trap, was that there were no signs of blood. This gave him fresh hope that the misfortune might not turn out to be quite so serious as he had at first anticipated; and also it proved that Zeb, a trapper of long experience himself, had hit the nail on the head when he said that the trap looked as if it might be old, and the springs weak in their action.

Apparently it had enough power to snap shut and hold fairly firm. Could the boy have borne heavily on both springs, he might have succeeded in effecting his release in the beginning.

Zeb immediately put his weight on the obstreperous spring. Andy pried back the unwilling jaws; whereupon Rob was able to take out the boy’s leg from the trap.

The boy rubbed his hand tenderly up and down his leg at the point where it had been seized. He gritted his teeth, and winced a little, but quickly exclaimed as if in deepest gratitude:

“Hurts some, but the bone wasn’t broken, and I’m unco’ lucky. What’s a black and blue bruise anyway? I can stand it, ye ken.”

With Rob’s help he managed to get on his feet, after which he immediately began to limp around, muttering to himself as he went, as though controlled by a mixture of emotions – thankfulness that it was no worse, gratitude because of the coming of these rescuers, and chagrin at having been caught in such a ridiculous situation.

Zeb meanwhile was examining the trap with the eye of an expert.

“Jest about worn out,” he was saying, “an’ she never’d hev held a bar in the wide world. Now, I wonder who put that no-good thing thar – no trapper as knowed his business, I’d say. Looks more like a kid’s work than anything else.”

“Yes, it was a boy,” explained the late victim, “and the funny part of it all is that I should have happened on to the trap my cousin Archie told me he’d kept set for a month, over near the old logging camp.”

“Archie was the lad’s name, was it?” demanded Zeb quickly. “I remember that Cameron, the guide I used to pull with, and who came up this way last summer to settle, had a lad by that name.”

“Well, Archie Cameron is my full cousin,” explained the stranger. “I’m Donald McGuffey, ye ken, and I live over the line in a Canadian village. I’d been visitin’ my relatives, and was on my way back home when this happened. Now I’m lame, and perhaps I can never get there in time to save them.”

“What’s that?” asked Rob suspiciously. “Are your folks in any danger? Did you get word that they were sick? Tell us what you mean, Donald, and if we can be of any further assistance to you we stand ready to do all we can, for we’re scouts, you know, and it’s our duty to hold out a helping hand every time.”

“Oh! but that’s fine of you!” cried the Canadian boy, shaking with emotion, which, of course, none of the others could as yet begin to understand. “Why, I’m a scout, too, though now I haven’t got my uniform on. But, oh! I wonder if you would dare take it upon yourselves as comrades to stand by me through this terrible thing?”

“Terrible thing, what, Donald?” almost shouted the aroused Andy. “Speak up and let’s know what it’s all about. Why should we hesitate about helping you out? Who’s going to hurt us for sticking to a comrade that’s in distress?”

“Those awful men – they would be furious if they knew any one meant to interfere. Yes, they would even do muckle mair than tie ye up. I believe, in my bones, they are that wrapped up in their diabolical scheme they’d murder anyone who tried to break it up!”

“Speak plainer, Donald,” snapped Rob. “We are wasting precious time while you throw out hints in that way. Tell us everything!”

The Canadian boy stopped limping around. He seemed to straighten up his figure, and they could now see that he was a tall and spare lad, as wiry as they make them over in the country beyond the border.

“It’s just this, ye ken,” he said earnestly. “They mean to blow up the bridge this verra nicht, in time to trap the regular munition freight that goes over at two in the mornin’!”

Rob and Andy exchanged horrified looks. Their worst fears were confirmed. Only for their having seen the evolutions of that spying aeroplane that crossed the line and hovered above the railroad embankment near where the trestle leading to the bridge lay, they might have been at a loss to comprehend what these startling words meant. But that much was very plain to them; in fact, as we have seen, Rob at least had been confident that the terrible plot had only been delayed, and not given up.

How had this Canadian boy learned of the truth? Plainly there was more for him to explain, though Rob could now understand the fearful mental suffering he must have endured, as well as the physical pain, on finding himself detained in that astounding fashion, when he was undoubtedly hastening as fast as he could go to carry his news to those guarding the threatened railroad.

“Come, tell us as quick as you can how you learned this, Donald,” said Rob. “Two days ago we saw an aeroplane cross over, and we guessed then that perhaps the pilot was spying out the land, for there has been some talk of plotters here in the States in sympathy with Germany, who were trying to blow up munition plants in Canada, or doing something just as dreadful.”

“Aweel, they’ve settled on destroying the long bridge across which so many loaded trains pass every twenty-four hours,” said the other hurriedly, and with bated breath, owing to his increasing excitement. “I happened to overhear them talking while on my way to the river, after saying good-bye to my cousin, who was sick abed. I knew they were up to something, for I saw that they had a small German flag, which each one of them kissed as they sat around the fire. So I crept close up and listened, oh! with my heart nearly in my mouth. I soon learned that they were sure enough enemies of my country, and that they meant to strike a blow against the Allies before another morning, that for weeks and weeks would paralyze all traffic flowin’ to the sea by this railway line.”

“It was a brave act in your crawling up and listening,” said the admiring Andy, as he laid a hand on the arm of the Canadian lad. “And make up your mind we’re going to stand by you through thick and thin, Donald. Scouts should help each other, and that, you know, means just what it says.”

“Go on and tell us the rest, please!” urged Rob.

“Why, after I had learned what they were scheming to do,” continued the other promptly, greatly pleased at hearing those generous words spoken by impetuous Andy, “I knew I must get alang, if I wanted to be ahead o’ the gillies. Ye ken I remembered hearing my cousin say he believed a Yankee sportsman and his guides would be over at the old logging camp; and sae I changed me course a bit, meanin’ to drap in and see if they would nae helpit me carry the news across the line. Then, bad luck to it all, I had to deliberately step into the auld bear trap my cousin Archie had tawld me that he put out here a wheen o’ time back.”

“It was doubly unfortunate,” said Rob, his voice full of sympathy.

“It made me verra mad, I assure ye,” confessed Donald frankly. “Try as I would I could nae get me leg free, nor could I yet reach the spring to bear down on the same. I stood the pain the best I was able whenever I reached out, but it was a’ no gude. And only for the luck o’ ye hearing my shouts there I must ha’ remained till the day came, and then it would ha’ been far too late. But now I hae telled ye a’ I must be on me way again, no matter how I hae to limp it.”

“Hold on, Donald, not so fast,” said Rob. “We are going with you!”

“Across the border, do you mean, Rob?” exclaimed Andy gleefully, for being of an adventurous spirit, nothing could have pleased him more than this.

“There seems to be no other way to foil those desperate conspirators. The Canadian authorities are none too friendly to us right now on account of numerous things that have happened and which they lay to German sympathizers crossing over secretly from our side. Yes, we must try to help our fellow scout do his duty to his country, which he loves just as much as we do our own native land.”

“Oh, it makes my heart fairly jump to hear ye say that! It’s braw lads ye air, baith o’ ye, and I’ll never forget it, never! My leg hurts, but I think it will get better after I use it a while. No matter how it pains me, I shall go on and on, even if I have to crawl and drag it after me, for I must carry the news to the guards. I would gie ten years o’ life if only there was a way to flash it across the border to them richt now.”

“First we must go back to the cabin,” said Rob.

“Is it necessary, then?” asked Donald anxiously, as though fairly wild to be on his way.

“Yes, because there are several reasons,” he was told. “We have a chum there who would never forgive us if we started on such a glorious expedition and left him behind. Then again, I have some salve that, rubbed on your leg, would do a lot of good and relieve the pain considerably. So let’s start.”

Donald may have had a good Scotch will of his own, but as he too was a scout, he had also learned to yield to those in authority. He seemed to guess intuitively that Rob must be a leader, perhaps from his positive way of saying things and possibly from Andy’s deferring to his opinion.

They were soon hurrying along, Donald suppressing any groan as he continued to limp more or less.

“I hae not tauld ye all,” he was saying. “I learned from what I heard them say while I hid in the bushes that they expected to set a mine under the trestle and connect it with a battery by a long wire. Then from a distance they could destroy the bridge just when the heavy freight train was passing over. Ye can understand what I suffered when I tell ye that my fayther is an engineer in the employ of that same railway and that he pulls the munition freight this verra nicht!”

CHAPTER XIV

ROB MAKES UP HIS MIND

“Whew, but that’s doubly tough, I should say!” ejaculated Andy, when he heard this astounding declaration on the part of the boy whose cause they were about to champion.

Rob, too, was deeply concerned.

“Then it’s easy to understand why you were so wild to get there in time to stop this horrible act,” he told Donald. “It might be bad enough for the wretches to do something to cripple the railway services, so as to stop the flow of munitions; but it means a whole lot more to it when it’s your own father whose life is placed in danger.”

“Yes, and a fayther like mine, in the bargain,” said Donald, so proudly that it was plain to be seen that the engineer was not without honor and love in his own family.

“If you hadn’t thought that you possibly could get help here at the old logging camp,” said Rob, “and cut across this way to see if the hunting party was still there, I suppose you’d have taken a different route?”

“Oh, ay,” promptly answered the other.

“In that case you wouldn’t have found yourself caught in that trap?” asked the leader of the Eagle Patrol, as the quartette hastened toward camp.