The Wolf Patrol: A Tale of Baden-Powell's Boy Scouts

'I've heerd o' that, too,' said the leader of the Ravens; 'an' some o' the h'eth folk, they live in cottages all by theirselves.'

'Yes; and suppose such a man went to a place where there was no one at home but a woman, or a woman and children?' said Dick.

'Who knows wot 'e might do?' And Chippy shook his head. 'We're bound to lend a hand, then – Law 3, ye know.'

'Right you are, Chippy,' said Dick. 'Law 3. Come on!' And the two boy scouts, game as a pair of terriers, crept swiftly up to the clump of bushes from which the mysterious stranger had emerged.

From the bushes the track was easy to follow for some distance. There were no footmarks, but the ferns were brushed aside and some were broken, and these signs showed which way the man had gone. When the ferns were left behind, there was still a fair trail, for the heavy boots of the stranger had broken the grass, or scraped a little earth loose here and there along the slope of the ridge which led up to Woody Knap.

Suddenly the boys lost the trail. It disappeared on a strip of turf, and they slipped back at once to the last spot of which they could be sure – a soft patch of earth where hobnail marks were fresh and clear.

'Now we've got to separate and try to pick up the line,' said Dick softly. 'I'll work right, and you left; and we'll meet at that big thorn-bush right in front, if we've found nothing. If one of us hits on the track, he must call to the other.'

'Wait a bit,' said Chippy. 'Wot call? Our own calls 'ud sound odd, an' might give 'im the tip as somebody was arter 'im.'

'You're right,' said Dick; 'the wolf howl, at any rate, is no good here.'

'Let's 'ave a call for ourselves this time,' suggested Chippy. 'One as you might 'ear at any minute, an' never notice. How about the pewey?'

'First-rate!' said Dick. 'The pewey. There are plenty of them on the heath!'

Bardon boys always called the 'peewit' the 'pewey,' and every one of them could imitate its well-known call. Nothing more simple and natural could have been adopted as a signal.

Dick was working most carefully round his half of the circle, when the cry of the peewit rang out from the other side. Away shot Dick, quickly and quietly, and, as he ran, the call was repeated, and this guided him straight to the spot where Chippy was kneeling beside the mouth of a rabbit burrow. The rabbits had been at work making the burrow larger, and a trail of newly thrown out earth stretched three or four feet from the hole.

'Have you got the track?' breathed Dick eagerly.

'I've got summat,' replied Chippy; 'it looks pretty rum, too!'

Dick dropped beside his companion, and saw that a foot had been set fair and square in the trail of earth. But there was no sign of a nail to be seen; the track of the foot was smooth and flat, and outlined all the way from heel to toe.

'That's not a boot-mark,' said Dick.

'No, it ain't,' murmured Chippy. 'If you ask me, I should say it wor' stockin' feet.'

'But what should he pull his boots off for?' said Dick, knitting his brows. 'This is an awfully strange affair, Chippy.'

'Ain't it?' said the latter, his eyes glittering with all the excitement of the chase, and the pleasure of having found this queer mark. 'As far as I can mek' out, he wanted to step as soft as he could tread.'

'But why – why, in the middle of the heath, here?' went on Dick.

'I dunno yet,' said Chippy; 'let's get on a bit, an' see if we pick up summat else.'

Dick blew out a long breath. 'It's going to be jolly hard,' he murmured, 'to track a fellow in his stockings. We've got to keep our eyes open.'

Chippy nodded, and they went on slowly and warily. As it happened, Dick scored the next move in the game. Thirty yards from the rabbit burrow a heath track crossed the trail they were following. The weather had been very dry lately, until about twelve o'clock of the present day, when a heavy shower had fallen – a shower from which the scouts had sheltered in a hovel where the heath-folk store their turves.

This shower had wetted the dust of the track, and Dick at once saw clear, heavy footmarks, as if a man had quite lately walked along the path and gone on.

'Here's a perfectly fresh track,' said Dick; 'and this chap in his stockings has crossed it at this patch of grass where he has left no sign on the path.'

'Seems to me,' remarked Chippy, 'as 'im wot we're arter heerd this one a-comin',' and Chippy pointed to the firm new tracks; 'an' then he off wi' his boots to dodge along on the quiet.'

'I don't see anything else for it,' said Dick; 'and that would make it plainer than ever that he's up to no good.'

'Look theer!' snapped Chippy swiftly, and pointed.

Dick whirled round in time to see a man's head and shoulders appear over the bushes at a far bend of the way, and then vanish as the walker turned the corner. But both boys had recognised him. It was the sergeant with whom they had spoken.

Dick gave a long, low whistle. 'He was dodging the sergeant, Chippy!'

'It's a convict!' said Chippy. 'Can't be nuthin' else!'

For a moment the boys discussed the plan of running after the sergeant and laying the matter before him, but they gave it up, for several reasons. He was a good way ahead, and out of sight. He might turn right or left across the open heath, and in that case they would have to hunt his track while their quarry was going farther and farther away. They decided to stick to their man, and turned to his spoor.

'Here's his road,' said Dick, pointing along a grassy glade. 'He's gone on, and he must have gone this way. It's all bramble and gorse everywhere else, and a man isn't going through that in his stockings.'

Chippy nodded in agreement, and the two scouts ran at full apeed along the narrow ribbon of grass between the prickly, spiny bushes.

'He'll soon put his boots on again,' said Dick,' and then we'll get this line a lot easier.'

But the fugitive had not stayed to do so for a long way, as was plain from the flat, smooth marks which the boys found twice in soft places. Then the trail went again, and they pulled up and began to beat round in search of it. It was Dick this time who uttered the cry of the peewit, and Chippy ran up to find his brother scout holding a fragment of something in his fingers.

'Picked it up just here,' said Dick. 'What do you reckon it is. Chippy?'

'Bit of an old cork sock,' replied the Raven.

'Just so,' said Dick, 'and it's quite dry, so it was dropped here since the rain.'

'One to you,' said Chippy; 'that come out of 'is boot – jerked out as 'e was runnin'. We're on the line.'

He made a few steps forward, then gave a low cry. 'Here's the place where he put 'is boots on,' called Chippy eagerly. 'Here's all sorts o' marks.' And then Chippy gave another low cry, this time full of such astonishment and wonder that Dick looked at him quickly.

To Dick's surprise, Chippy seemed fixed to the spot, his finger pointing, his eyes staring, his mouth gaping open, as if he could not believe what he saw. 'I know the tracks,' gasped Chippy. 'I know 'im! I can tell yer who it is!'

CHAPTER XIII

ALBERT, WHO WASN'T ALBERT

'You know who it is?' cried Dick. 'Well, who?'

'It's Albert,' said Chippy. 'It ain't no convict at all. It's Albert.'

'Who's Albert?' asked Dick.

Chippy told the story of his grandmother's lodger, and pointed to the heel-mark before them. It was the first time since they hit the trail that the heel-mark had been clearly shown. 'Screws in the heel-tip,' said Chippy. 'That settles it. It's Albert.'

'But wait a bit, Chippy, wait a bit,' said Dick. 'You're making jolly sure all at once over this one point. Fifty fellows might have screws in their heels.'

'Not they,' returned Chippy. 'I know more about them sorts o' boots than wot you do. It's a scout's job to twig everythin', an' I twigged the screws in his boots. I knowed they worn't common, an' a day or two arter I asked a snob' (a local term for a cobbler) 'about it. I done one or two odd jobs for 'im to get 'im to talk, and then I sez to 'im, "D'yer ever screw tips on heels?" "No," he sez, "never. We screw tips on the toes sometimes, for there ain't much depth o' leather theer. But on heels there's plenty of leather to drive nails into, an' that's a lot quicker."'

'By Jingo, Chippy!' murmured Dick; 'we shall have to get you the Wolf badge.'

'Not me,' grunted Chippy; 'yer must do a lot more than that to get the "Wolf" name, I should fancy. But wot about this work? Wot about Albert?'

He turned to business again, knitting his brows and staring hard at the track their man had left.

'The thing gets queerer still, if it is the man Albert,' said Dick. 'Why should he be here, all this distance from Locking?'

'Six mile good,' put in the Raven.

'Yes,' went on Dick, 'full six miles, and then taking off his boots and stealing about like a thief or an escaped convict, as we thought.'

'Foller 'im up,' said Chippy shortly.

'Right,' said Dick, 'we'll see this out;' and the scouts began once more to work along the trail.

For more than half a mile they followed quite easily. There were many bare patches among the grass, and the heavy shower which had fallen at midday proved a good friend to them, the damp soil giving many excellent impressions of the heavy steps of the man whom they pursued.

The boys had now gained a very lonely part of the heath, for the fugitive appeared to be making for the most secluded corner of the vast expanse. They had been steadily working away from the part where the patrols had been searching, and the distance between them and the rendezvous at the railway-station increased with every stride.

Chippy was leading, and Dick was guarding the rear. The former looked out the track, the latter watched before and behind and on either side: by sharing the duties thus they covered the whole field of a scout's work – the finding of the trail and the guarding against surprise.

Looking out in this fashion, Dick saw a crow come sailing on outspread wings, down, down from a great height. The crow was skimming straight towards a small solitary pine sixty or seventy yards before them, as if aiming to settle among the topmost branches; but just as it was about to alight, it gave a startled, gobbling quaw-quaw-quaw, flapped its wings swiftly, and shot away at a sharp angle, and continued its flight across the heath.

Dick reached out his patrol flag and touched Chippy. The latter paused, and the two scouts put their heads together while Dick whispered what he had seen. 'There's someone about,' concluded Dick. 'The bird was going to settle, but it was scared and flew away.'

'S'pose I 'ave a look?' suggested Chippy.

'All right,' said Dick. 'I'll stay here. One can work more quietly than two.'

Chippy went, and within ten minutes was back, his face shining with excitement and triumph.

'Albert,' he whispered – 'it's Albert aw' right. Come on!' He crept away on hands and knees, and Dick followed. Piloted by Chippy, the latter crawled along until he found himself behind a small bank about a yard high.

'Yer can see 'im over this bank,' breathed Chippy into his ear.

Laying his hat aside, Dick raised his head inch by inch until his eyes were above the bank. Now he could see between stems of dried fern without being seen himself. He was looking into a deep green hollow, bounded upon one side by an almost perpendicular wall of earth – a place from which most likely sand had been dug a long time ago. At the foot of the steep wall sat a man – the man whom they had been following. He had a pencil in his hand, and a pocket-book on his knee, and he was busily writing on a sheet of the pocket-book.

All this seemed innocent enough, but at the next moment the boys looking on were filled with wonder. Albert suddenly laid down pencil and pocket-book, bent forward, unlaced his left boot, and took it off. Then he drew something from his pocket, and went to work on the heel of his boot. The boys were not near enough to see what tool he was using, but his movements were those of one who draws out screws, and they clearly saw the heel of the boot come loose and fall into his hand.

Chippy gave his companion a nudge, and they looked at each other in astonishment. Then they watched Albert closely, and saw him fold into small compass the piece of paper upon which he had been writing, place it inside the heel, and screw the latter up again.

An idea shot into Dick's mind. If he had never been a boy scout, that idea would not have occurred to him; but in his enthusiasm he had bought Baden-Powell's 'Aids to Scouting,' and read it over and over again. One chapter in that little book now sprang to his memory, and he touched Chippy, and beckoned to the latter to draw back completely out of sight.

They slipped eight or ten yards away, and put their heads close together and held a whispered conversation.

Dick's eyes shone brightly, and he took Chippy by the arm. 'Chippy,' he said, 'I believe that's a spy!'

Chippy's sharp face wore a puzzled look. 'A spy!' he repeated. 'Wot's he a-spyin' on in the he'th?'

'The fort, Chippy – the fort!' breathed Dick eagerly – 'the Horseshoe, the new fort!'

'Ah!' said the Raven, and began to see what his companion meant.

'I've read all about it in a book of B. – P.'s,' went on Dick. 'Foreigners will do anything to learn about a new fort. They send spies to find out all they can. He's taking notes of all he discovers, and hiding the papers in the heel of his boot.'

Chippy gave an eager nod. His keen face lighted up at this new and wonderful turn of events. A spy! a foreign spy! He felt at once that here was greater game than any escaped convict.

'That's why he dodged the sergeant,' breathed Chippy.

'Yes; it's plainer and plainer every instant,' said Dick.

Chippy nodded. 'Wot do we do?' he asked.

'We must stop him, somehow,' replied Dick. 'He might do the greatest harm to our country. It's a scout's work to collar such people. B. – P. himself has caught four foreign spies at different times in England.'

Chippy jerked his head towards the bank, and began to crawl back. Dick understood that he was going to see what the man was at now, and followed.

Albert still sat under the steep bank, pencil in hand, and a fresh sheet of paper on his knee. Chippy nudged Dick, and made signs to him to duck down, as Bardon boys say.

'I'm off to get a bit closer and see wot he's a-doin',' breathed Chippy. 'Stop 'ere an' "pewey" if he shifts.'

Dick nodded, and Chippy slid away as quietly as a snake.

Six or seven minutes passed before Dick saw his companion again. Then he caught sight of the Raven's head as Chippy appeared round the trunk of the pine which grew on the steep bank of the pit.

Little by little Chippy crept on, until his head was thrust over the brink, and he was looking straight down on the concealed man, the latter now drawing lines on his sheet of paper. His head was bent low over his work, and Chippy craned out farther and farther to glance over his shoulder. The man sat up and began to fold this paper as before, then reached out his hand for the boot which lay beside him, and deftly unscrewed the heel once more. As soon as the paper was stowed away and the heel refastened, he took the boot in hand to put it on his foot.

Suddenly he looked up. Either he had caught Chippy's shadow, or he had felt that he was watched. He looked up, and saw the boy hanging over the brink.

Chippy's main purchase was on a root of gorse which cropped up at the edge of the pit. He aimed to swing himself back with all his might, depending on his grasp of the root. The root snapped short off close to the ground, and Chippy went tumbling and sprawling head-long into the pit, landing at the man's feet.

CHAPTER XIV

CHIPPY AND THE SPY

The latter sprang up with a savage cry that was not English. 'Ach Himmel!' cried he, and again, 'Ach Himmel!'

At that moment of immense surprise, his native tongue sprang to his lips before any other, and he leapt upon Chippy, and seized him with hands that trembled.

The leader of the Ravens was not hurt, and his coolness was splendid.

'Hello, Albert!' he said; 'it's all right. There's no need to 'elp me up.'

'Help you up!' hissed the stranger. 'What are you doing here? What do you mean by watching me?'

His Cockney accent, too, was wiped out as if by magic. Probably he had forgotten for the instant that he had used it in Locking. At any rate, he did not use it now. But his English was perfect, in word and tone – the English of a well-educated man.

'Why,' said Chippy calmly, as if to tumble on a man's head was the most natural thing in the world, 'me an' a lot more are out to-day for a run over the he'th. One cuts ahead, an' the rest of us foller 'im. We've lost the one we foller, an' he's got to be found, so I'm looking everywheer. Wot made yer pull yer boot off? Got a stone in it?'

Chippy did this superbly. He boldly mentioned the fact that the boot was off, and he suggested a probable explanation, and he did it all with just the right amount of careless curiosity. But he was dealing with no common man. The tall, powerful foreigner was still holding him by one hand with a grip of steel, and the fierce blue eyes blazed again with suspicion and distrust. The man spoke, and his tone was low and cool, for he had mastered himself, but there was a hard note in it.

'How long had you been there?' he asked quietly.

'Just seein' who it was, then tumbled,' said Chippy.

The Raven knew – how he could not say – but he knew that he was in great danger. There was a dreadful change in this man. The chattering Cockney who had called himself Albert had gone, and a grim, stern, savage man stood in his place, a man whose fierce glittering eyes seemed to be striving to pierce Chippy's very soul and read his thoughts.

Chippy was indeed in danger. For Dick was right: this man was a spy sent by his Government to gather for them all particulars of the new fort which was being built at the mouth of the river. So far the spy had been very successful, and to carry off his notes and to secure his own safety he was quite ready to kill this boy if need should arise, and hide his body in this solitary place.

Consider for a moment the position in which the spy stood. What is the punishment threatened to the spy who is caught at such a task? Death! What will the Government he serves do to help him? Nothing at all, nothing. It may be a Government quite friendly to the land where the spy is seized. It will disavow him, and leave him to his fate. Yet that Government was quite willing to profit by his labours; nay, sent him there to gain that information. Yes, because Governments act upon the idea that the friend of to-day may be the foe of to-morrow, so they use such instruments freely. But if an instrument should break in the hand, it is cast aside, and not a second thought is given to it.

The spy knew all this; he was no raw hand in this dangerous profession, and he was now weighing in his mind whether it would be safe to let this boy go. Had he seen too much? He tried to find out how much Chippy had seen.

'What was I doing when you saw me first?' he asked lightly, and smiled. But the smile was of the lips only, a mere mockery of a smile. The eyes, the very heart of a smile, remained fiercely bright, and cold, and questioning.

'Fiddlin' wi' yer boot,' said Chippy calmly; 'gettin' the stone out, I s'pose.'

'Look here,' said the spy in quiet tones, 'have you seen me for the last five minutes? Yes or no.'

He paused for a reply, but none came. Chippy was shaken. Yes or no. That position admitted of no manoeuvring.

'What's this?' said the spy softly, and fingered with his left hand Chippy's badge; his right hand was clutched with a grip of iron on Chippy's shoulder.

'Scout's badge,' muttered Chippy.

'Ah, is it really?' murmured the spy. 'Yes, I've looked into that movement. Well, on your word as a scout, yes or no.'

Chippy looked up. He forced a laugh.

'Why – look 'ere, Albert,' he began, and then twisted like an eel, and tried to dive under the spy's arm. He had smiled and spoken, hoping to throw the man off his guard, but this man was not easily deceived, and his grip remained unshaken.

He gave a low, savage laugh. 'Thank you; that is all the answer I want,' he said, and slipped his left hand into a hidden pocket under his coat.

There is an instinct which teaches every living creature that the moment has come when it must fight for its life. Chippy felt it strongly, and he hurled himself upon the spy, kicking, biting, tearing at him like a little tiger, but all in vain; in that powerful grip he was utterly helpless. Yet no, that gallant struggle was not all in vain, for it held the spy's whole attention as he mastered his victim, and it prevented him from seeing a second boyish figure racing into the hollow down the slope by which the spy had entered.

Chippy, clever Chippy, saw his staunch brother scout dashing into the combat, and began to yell at the highest pitch of his voice, not calling to Dick, but just making a noise, any noise, to cover the sound of those swift feet, and give Dick the advantage of a surprise as he darted up behind the spy.

Dick made full use of the opportunity. He had watched every movement of the two in the hollow, and had leapt from his cover as soon as he saw Chippy begin to struggle. His patrol flag was fastened on a stout ashen staff, hard as iron, an old alpenstock cut down. He swung it up as he ran, and he was within a yard of striking distance, when he saw the spy's hand reappear with something in it glittering like the blade of a dagger.

With a last bound Dick was within reach, and he brought the heavy staff down with all his strength, fetching the spy a ringing crack on the head. Half-stunned, the man staggered round to face the new assailant, and Chippy saw his chance. He tore himself free, made a swift dive to the ground, and was off. Dick joined him, and the two boys scoured away at full speed, leaving the spy all abroad for the moment from the effects of that shrewd stroke.

CHAPTER XV

FLIGHT

The scouts made straight for the bank over which they had been peeping, leapt it, and dashed on, Chippy picking up his patrol flag as he ran. He had left it with Dick to have his hands free. Dick was last over the bank, and he glanced back as he cleared it. 'Run, Chippy, run,' he called. 'He's coming! He's coming!'

The spy had pulled himself together, and was in hot pursuit. He was bounding up the slope, and Dick saw that he came terribly fast. 'He's a confounded long-legged beggar,' thought Dick. 'We shall have to fight for it yet. It's lucky we've got a good stick apiece.'

Beyond the bank was a long grassy ride sloping easily downwards, and here the boys ran their fastest, and behind them the spy raced at great speed, gaining, gaining steadily. They went half a mile, and then Dick gasped: 'He's close on us, Chippy. Let's turn on him!'

'Not a bit of it,' grunted Chippy. 'Peg it! peg it! See wot's in front?'

'Only some burnt furze,' said Dick.

'Only!' snorted Chippy. 'See wot's under my arm?'

Dick looked, and, precious as wind was, he let out a yell of delight. In the excitement of the flight he had not observed it; tucked under Chippy's arm was the spy's boot. The Raven had whipped it up, and carried it on at the moment of escape.

Dick at once saw what Chippy meant. Hitherto they had been running over clear open grass, and the spy, even with one boot off and one boot on, had made tremendous headway, but the burnt furze was close at hand, and here they would show him another dance altogether.

They were approaching a broad belt of land which had been swept by a heath-fire. The furze-bushes had been very thick on the ground, and had been burned away to the very foot of the stems. Now those close-standing stems pushed short spikes above the soil like the teeth of a huge harrow pointing upwards, each tooth blackened, hardened, and pointed by fire.

The spy was not ten yards behind the boys when the latter burst into the flame-swept belt of heath. Their boots kicked up clouds of black ashes as they bounded forward, and their pursuer followed at once. Twice he put his unprotected foot down in safety, missing by sheer luck the thickly planted spikes, but the third time he set the very middle of his sole on a short stout fang standing bolt upright, and pointed by fire as if with a knife.