The Boy Scouts at the Canadian Border

“I couldnae well be ketched in the auld bear trap set by me cousin Archie if it was half a mile awa’ I ran, ye ken,” Donald asserted naïvely.

“Well, we will be at the camp in a few minutes now,” Rob went on to say, thinking to further encourage the poor chap, whom he knew to be suffering more mentally than he was physically. “Once we make it, we needn’t be detained very long. I’m going to depend a whole lot on you to take us across the boundary by the shortest route possible.”

“Ye can wager your last bawbee that I’m capable o’ doin’ it,” came the reply, in such a tone of positive conviction that if Rob had been entertaining any doubts on that score they were quickly put to rest.

“If you need any extra pilotin’,” spoke up Big Zeb, “count on this chicken to do his best to kerry ye through.”

“Then you mean to keep with us, do you, Zeb?” asked the scout master.

“I sartin do; that is, if ye want me along,” the guide replied. “I’m an American born, and p’raps haven’t had as much friendly feelin’ for the Canucks ’cross the line as I might in times past, but, sir, when I hears how they are volunteerin’ by the tens of thousands an’ goin’ away ’cross the ocean to fight ’ginst the Kaiser, I begins to change my idees consarnin’ that brood. Now I thinks they air all to the good, an’ I takes off my hat to them. Yes, an’ arter hearin’ what meanness this ’ere batch o’ schemers is up to, I’d walk all the way to Labrador to upset their ugly game; that’s me, Zeb Crooks, Maine woods guide.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, Zeb,” said Rob heartily. “If you’d seen the terrible sights we did in Belgium and northern France, you’d feel that there was need for sympathy for those who are risking their lives to crush all military spirit and prevent a world war like this from ever happening again as long as men people the earth. That’s what’s taking these Canadian boys away from their homes, nearly four hundred thousand of them. It isn’t alone that the empire they belong to is in danger, but the whole world is on fire, and the conflagration must be quenched. They believe it can be done only in one way, which is by winning this war. Of course, the Germans and their allies say it’s just the opposite and that they are fighting for their very existence. Well, there’s the camp!”

They could just glimpse delicate lances of light which managed to escape through the cracks or chinks between the logs that had not been fully filled afresh when the hunting party took possession of the bunk-house.

A minute afterward Andy was pounding at the door, but there was little necessity for this summons, because the listening scout within had heard the murmur of their voices and was already fumbling with the bar. So the friendly door was quickly flung wide open, and Donald found himself ushered into a warm and hospitable interior.

He and Tubby stared at each other, and with reason. Donald on his part may have thought that never before had he run across so fat a youth as Tubby Hopkins, who seemed to be fairly bursting his khaki clothes with plumpness. On his part, Tubby was naturally consumed with a burning curiosity concerning this young stranger – who he could be; what had happened to make him have such a perceptible limp; and, above all, why were Rob and Andy seeming to be in such a stupendous hurry?

“Sit right down here, Donald,” said the scout master, indicating a rude bark chair close to the cheery blaze, “and I’ll look up that magical salve. I know where I put it away in my pack. I give you my word you’ll find it just the thing to soothe that bruised leg of yours. Andy, tell Tubby what’s happened, and about our plan of campaign for invading Canada this very night.”

“W-w-what?” gasped the other, his face the picture of both amazement and consternation.

“Oh, that’s nothing, Tubby!” remarked Andy airily. “Now don’t go to suspecting that we’re meaning to do anything that’s wrong. Just the other way, for the boot’s on the other foot, since this is going to be an errand of mercy and meant to keep Uncle Sam from being accused of a grave breach of neutrality by the folks up in Ottawa.”

“For pity’s sake, what do you mean, Andy?” cried poor bewildered Tubby. “Please be good and explain it all in a jiffy. I’ll certainly burst if you don’t, I’m that keyed up now.”

“I believe you will, sure enough, for I can hear the hoops of the tub creaking under the strain right now,” chuckled the other; and then making a fresh start, he went on to say: “This is our jolly chum, Tubby Hopkins, Donald. We call him our Friar Tuck when we play at Robin Hood of the Greenwood Forest, you know. It is his uncle who has been hunting here and making his headquarters in this old logging camp, though just now he’s up at the Tucker Pond trying for the big bull moose. Donald McGuffey, Tubby, a Canadian boy who belongs to the scouts in his town across the line and who’s been visiting a cousin on our side.”

Rob came hurrying up bearing a small zinc box such as salve is often kept in. He was down on his knees without asking questions and assisting the injured lad to roll up his trousers leg to the knee. It seemed that Donald had a wise and careful mother, for he was wearing, in addition to the corduroy trousers, a pair of extra thick drawers.

“You’re lucky, Donald,” Rob told the other, “for these corduroys would serve as a mighty good buffer; and, besides, you’ve had a pad in the other garment. Bad as your leg may be bruised, it would have been a whole lot worse only for these shields.”

By this time he had bared the lower part of Donald’s limb. The boy had his teeth clenched tightly together, as though necessarily there was more or less acute pain connected with this business; but it could not make him even wince, such was his astonishing grit. Andy surveyed him with renewed admiration, for if there was one thing that he liked to see it was this quality in a fellow. Andy himself was in the habit of also setting his teeth grimly when in pain and suppressing all groans.

As for Tubby, he stared as though he half believed he might be asleep and dreaming all this. He saw a dark black-and-blue bruise on the white skin of the boy’s leg, halfway up to the knee. Doubtless there was another just like it on the opposite side. Tubby knew it must hurt like anything. He also wondered greatly what could have given such strange bruises. Then Rob, speaking, excited his curiosity still further.

“You see,” said the scout master, as he started to gently rub some of the soothing salve on the leg of the Canadian boy, “if the springs of that trap had been new and vigorous instead of rusted out and weak, they might have broken the bone here. As it was, they just gripped you and held tight enough to keep you from breaking away, seeing that you couldn’t possibly manage to get around so as to press down one of the springs.”

“Trap!” ejaculated Tubby. “Oh, why don’t you hurry up and explain it all to me, Andy Bowles? Rob, you tell me, won’t you? What sort of a trap was this poor fellow caught in?”

“It was an old bear trap, you see, that his own cousin had set a while ago, thinking to make use of it, as he had seen the tracks of a big black bear over this way,” Andy hastened to say. “Donald was hurrying along through the woods, never thinking about anything of this kind, when all at once he found himself caught. He’s been held fast there for more than an hour, calling out for help as loudly as he could. He was in a desperate hurry to get across the line, because by accident he overheard some rascals scheming to blow up the railway bridge this very night.”

“Great thunder!” was all Tubby could gasp, but the look on his face spoke volumes.

“That’s pretty lively stuff, of course, Tubby,” continued Andy, with the skill of a diplomat, “but the worst is yet to come; for, do you know, Donald’s father is an engineer in the employ of the Canadian railway, and it happens that he pulls the munition train this very night, that these fiends are planning to destroy along with the bridge!”

Tubby was fairly holding his breath as he drank in all these amazing details. His round face began to grow furiously red with a riot of emotions that made his heart beat twice as fast as was its wont. Then, as if he dimly suspected that Andy, given to practical jokes, might be taking advantage of his confiding nature, Tubby turned toward the scout master and implored him to corroborate the story.

“Oh, is it all true, Rob?” he asked tremulously. “Would Andy be so mean as to deceive a trusting comrade in khaki? Please tell me, Rob!”

“Every word is just as he tells you, Tubby,” said the other, still engaged in gently, but more vigorously than before, rubbing the discolored leg of the boy; and, singularly enough, it did not seem to hurt quite as much as at first, from which Donald must be inclined to believe there was considerable virtue in that “magical compound” as a pain remover and a balm in time of trouble.

“And are we going to stand by him, Rob, and try to break up the dastardly game of those criminal plotters?” continued Tubby.

“You give them a pretty hard name,” laughed Rob. “I reckon they’d deny anything of that sort indignantly, saying anything is fair in war time. All the same, we believe they deserve to be called scoundrels. Yes, we mean to stand back of Donald, if that’s what you mean, Tubby. We settled all that on the way here.”

“Going over into Canada, and warn the bridge guards, you mean, Rob?”

“Nothing more or less,” he was informed steadily. “Our only fear is that we may not get there in time to save the bridge.”

“’Course we’re all in this, Rob?” asked Tubby. “You wouldn’t dream of asking me to stay behind, when anything of this sort was being pulled off? I’ve never balked when ordered to obey by a superior officer, but in such a case as this – well, you wouldn’t treat me so mean as that, I just know it, Rob.”

“Make yourself easy on that score,” said Rob, wishing to relieve the strain of suspense under which he knew only too well Tubby was laboring. “We’re all going, all but Wolf here, and we’ll leave him behind to guard the cabin, with plenty of grub to keep him alive for a week. I hope that satisfies you, Tubby.”

“Thank you, Rob; I’m more than glad to hear you say that. I never would have gotten over it if I’d been left in the lurch when this glorious stunt was being pulled off. I promise you that I’ll keep up with the procession. Surely I can walk as fast as poor injured Donald here, who has such a game leg. Yes, I’m satisfied.”

CHAPTER XV

ON DUTY BENT

About this time Rob ceased rubbing in the salve.

“There,” he told Donald, as he helped the other draw down his trouser leg once more, “I’ve done all I can for the present. I’ll take the salve along, and let you have another application later on, if you want me to; or it may be your good mother at home will have something just as fine.”

Tubby had been impressed with the grit of the boy who had shown such a commendable spirit. He understood what Donald meant when he said he was bound to go along, no matter if he had to hobble, or even crawl a part of the way. Tubby thought that if this was a fair sample of the valiant fellows whom “Our Lady of the Snows,” as Canada is often called, had sent across the sea, they would surely “do their bit” for the cause they believed was just.

“Oh, Rob, we forgot one thing!” suddenly exclaimed Tubby.

“What’s that?” demanded Andy.

“Why, my uncle, you know, boys, will be coming back, perhaps before we return, and he won’t know what to make of seeing our things here without a word of explanation.”

“I’ve thought of that,” said the scout leader promptly, nor was Tubby much surprised; it seemed as though Rob never forgot anything. “Sit down and write a few lines in a hurry, Tubby, while the rest of us finish what few preparations are still necessary. For one thing, I’m going to fill the lantern again, because the tank is pretty low and I’ve found a gallon of oil handy.”

“But what shall I tell him?” asked the other, as he dropped upon a seat near the rude table on which were paper and pencil.

“Just say what’s fetched us up here, and that you’re going to leave the paper he’s to sign. Then he can see that it gets back safe, in case anything should happen to keep us from returning here.”

Tubby winced when he heard those words, they seemed so suggestive of some unknown peril threatening them. He kept on asking questions.

“I’d better say something about where we’ve gone, and why, hadn’t I, Rob?”

“Yes, just as little as you can; and now get busy. We’ll be ready to leave here in less than thirty shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

So Tubby started in. He may never have taken the prize for rapidity in penmanship and composition at school, for he was slow in everything he undertook, save eating. Spurred on by necessity which knows no law, he wrote hurriedly, telling in as few words as he could the “gist” of what was required. If any of the teachers in Hampton High could have watched Tubby as he sat there, with his tongue-tip between his teeth and a look of grim determination on his ruddy countenance, and witnessed how his pencil glided rapidly across the paper, they would have certainly believed the world was coming to an end, or at least that wonders never ceased, for Tubby could no longer be called “as slow as molasses in winter” or possessed of the characteristics of the creeping snail.

“There, that’s done!” said the writer finally, with a sigh of relief. “I’ve made a bully good job of it, too, Rob – saying just enough without any superfluous language. I hope Uncle George doesn’t destroy this message. I think it’s a real gem, and as good as anything I ever did. I’d like to preserve it.”

“Well, we’re about ready,” said Rob quickly. “Andy’s got a snack of food to take along, so we may be prepared for emergencies.”

“Oh, I hope now you don’t dream that we’ll get lost and wander all around in a dense Canadian bush for days!” exclaimed the alarmed Tubby.

“Not at all, with two such clever guides along,” Rob told him. “You know preparedness is one of the cardinal virtues of every true scout. I never knew the time when some fellows would refuse to take a bite, especially after some hours of rough tramping.”

They also saw to it that plenty of food was placed where the dog could secure it, for it was utterly out of the question for them to think of letting the animal accompany them. He might, by some inadvertent act, betray them at a time when it would mean unnecessary risk and trouble.

Tubby had placed the valuable paper and his explanatory missive on the table, so arranging them that they would catch the eye of his uncle as soon as the sportsman entered the bunk-house. Wolf had been fastened with a piece of rope, for it was not necessary that he should have the freedom of the place. Tubby was too tender-hearted to neglect a single thing in connection with the dog’s comfort while they were absent. Accordingly, he had placed a bucket full of water within easy reach of the dog.

“Good-bye, old chap!” he told Wolf, and received a friendly bark in return. “We’ll see you later, perhaps in the morning. Make yourself at home, and, above all things, be sure not to gorge too much. It’s a bad thing to make a pig of yourself about eating, Wolf. I’ve known a human to come back for a fourth helping, when he could hardly breathe, and he was thin in the bargain, like you. So farewell, old Wolf, and take things easy while we’re gone.”

At another time Andy might have flared up because of this direct allusion to his particular failing, and declared that he “was not the only pebble on the beach” when it came to “stuffing,” but there was so much of a more thrilling nature to occupy his mind that he let it go by, just as water might run off a duck’s back.

They passed outside, and the door was fastened with the bar. Wolf barked several times, and there was a note of wonder in his dog language, as though he could not at all understand what it meant. Then Tubby heard plain sounds from within that told him his warning had fallen on deaf ears, for Wolf was already starting in to have a glorious feast, after which he would probably lie down contentedly and indulge in a sound sleep; nor would he mind being left alone as long as the food supply held out – he was only a dog, you see, with a dog’s nature.

“Good-bye, old shack!” said Tubby, who seemed to have a streak of sentiment in his make-up, considerably more so than either of his mates. “We’ve certainly enjoyed you as long as we were here, and hope to see you again soon. Ta-ta!”

“Oh, let up on all that talk, Tubby!” complained Andy. “I really believe you love to hear yourself speak. If there’s anything worth while to say, it isn’t so bad. Better save your wind, because you’ll need it unless all the signs fail.”

Tubby, knowing that these were really words of wisdom, managed to “bottle up” as he was directed. Indeed, once they had commenced to thread the mazes of the forest he found that he had all he could do to follow the lead of the lame boy who served as guide to the expedition. All sorts of obstacles lay in the way, and it seemed as though most of these took especial delight in getting under Tubby’s feet. He had to dodge snags, climb over logs, brush through bushes that plucked his campaign hat from his head and scratched his face, slide down into miniature gullies, and then painfully climb up the opposite side; and all these various “ups and downs” kept repeating themselves over and over again.

But Tubby was “dead game.” He had entreated to be allowed to accompany this expedition across the line, and no matter what happened, his chums would never hear a complaint from his lips, not if he died in the endeavor to “keep up with the procession.”

Shame alone would have kept Tubby from showing any sign of weakness. He knew Donald must be suffering agonies from that sorely injured leg of his, for Tubby watched him limp at times when he forgot himself and half drag that limb after him. Well, it would be disgusting, according to Tubby’s notion, for a well and hearty fellow of his build to let a game little Canadian chap, with a bruised leg in the bargain, leave him in the lurch.

So they moved on, Rob had lighted the refilled lantern, believing that while there was no danger of their being discovered it was wise to have it burning, for the illumination, while scant in its way, might prove a time-saver. This allowed them to see what obstacles lay in their path, for which Tubby was very thankful; it undoubtedly saved him many a stumble, and possibly not a few bruises.

Big Zeb followed behind Rob, who was second, and Andy came between the woods guide and Tubby. In this order they were strung out along the zigzag path which, thin as it was through less frequent use in these days since the loggers had gone, could evidently be easily discovered by the sharp vision of the young Canadian scout.

This grouping also allowed Rob to hold occasional communication with Donald or Zeb, as the inclination or the necessity arose. After they had been going for some time Rob thought it well to find out whether Zeb agreed with the course along which the engineer’s son was leading them.

“I don’t suppose, Zeb,” he said softly, “that you chance to know of any shorter way for crossing the International Boundary?”

“No, I don’t know,” admitted the big guide. “He’s goin’ as straight as the flight o’ an arrow for the line. I knows this here path. Many a time have I gone along it, with Mr. Hopkins, who wasn’t mindin’ much which side o’ the line he got his moose on, so long as nobody bothered him. An’ some o’ the border patrols could be fixed to wink at that sort o’ thing; because the moose, ye see, passed from one side to the other right along. Yes, we’re gettin’ tha, younker, as neat as ye please. Donald sure knows what he’s adoin’.”

This was comforting news for Rob. It also pleased the others. When there is much need for accuracy two heads are often better than one, especially when in full accord.

Tubby figuratively “shook hands with himself” when he heard this, for it served to allay his last lingering suspicion that Rob feared they might get lost in the wilderness.

Although the fact has not been thus far mentioned, it can be taken for granted that the party left none of their firearms behind them at the logging camp when they started forth upon this dangerous mission. They did not know positively that any occasion would arise when the possession of these weapons would save them a world of trouble. Since they were about to compete with desperate plotters, who would naturally be armed, every one believed it was good policy to be ready to defend themselves in an emergency. As Rob said, “when you’re in Rome you’ve got to do as the Romans do.”

“How far from the logging camp would you say the border lies, Donald?” asked Rob, after more time had passed.

“Not more than two full miles alang this path,” came the answer.

“Right, to the dot!” commented Zeb.

“But surely we’ve come nearly that far by now,” Tubby up and said from the rear, as he ducked under some bushes that developed a fondness for scratching his face.

“We are nearly there,” asserted the guide, and then Andy hastily exclaimed:

“Listen, boys! that sounds like the rumble of a train right now in the near distance!”

“Oh! horrors!” gasped Tubby. “Can it be that we’re too late, after all?”

CHAPTER XVI

THE STONE CAIRN ON THE BORDER

“Naw, naw, ye’re baith wrang!” hastily exclaimed Donald, as soon as he could “get a word in edgewise.”

“But that certainly was a train we heard,” affirmed Andy stoutly, adding: “There goes a whistle! Don’t you hear it, Donald?”

“Oh, ay, but ye ken it was not my fayther’s hand at the throttle of the engine. That train is the regular passenger goin’ west. It is much too airly for the freight carrying munitions and stores, and bound east.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you say so,” Andy was quick to admit.

“I can breathe easy again,” muttered Tubby, who had received quite a severe shock.

The sound of the train grew louder. They could even tell when it struck out on the trestle that served as an approach for the long and costly bridge. Naturally it thrilled them to remember that the unworthy plot of those who would strike a cowardly blow at the enemy of their native country by abusing the neutrality of the land that gave them friendly shelter – and protected them in the bargain – that this plan was laid to destroy that splendid piece of mechanical engineering, and, perhaps, engulf many human beings in the wreckage.

“Everything seems to be right – so far,” observed Andy, as they once again started to hurry along the dimly seen trail.

“We ought to be in time,” Donald told them over his shoulder, “accordin’ to what I heard them say. It’s hopin’ and prayin’ I am that I can hold out to the end. If the worst does come, why here’s a braw chap who could tak ye to the bridge. A’ ye hae to do is to tell them that Donald, the engineer’s lad, sent ye with the warnin’. They’ll know what to do the nicht. But I’ll manage somehow to get there, by hook or by crook.”

“You certainly will, if being game counts for anything, Donald, old fellow,” Andy assured him. “I never ran across a scout with more grit than you’re showing right now. Why, nearly any boy, with such a badly bruised leg, would be glad to let some one else do the running for him, satisfied to get the glory himself.”

“But do ye not understand, I could nae do anything less, because it is my ain fayther whose life is in danger?” the other said, apparently thinking that he was doing nothing so very wonderful – nothing more than any boy ought to do for the parent he loved.

The train was going away from them now, and by degrees they heard the sound of its passage less distinctly, until presently the rumble became very faint indeed, and then died away completely, though the falling of the night wind may have had considerable to do with this.

Rob, being a scout who always paid attention to even the smallest details, when on duty or off, for it had become second-nature with him, noticed that they were just about exactly opposite the place where, from the deep rumble, it seemed the western trestle and approach must lie. This he also knew was the end of the bridge they were heading for, since to reach the other terminus it would first of all be necessary to cross the river, which they were not prepared to do.