A Fight for the Right

"I want to warn you fellows," said Herb, stepping between the would-be combatants, "that this sort of thing is not what our officers would approve of. You have no reason to scrap, except a mutual dislike. Better agree to disagree. Shake hands and call it off."

"Shake? Not with that thing!" cried Gaul, and Roy vigorously shook his head. There was positive joy in the lad's face and voice.

"The only use I'll make o' me hands now is quite different," he laughed.

"Oh, well, then; go at it," said Herb, and in a low voice to Roy: "Get his wind first; then smash him."

The battle was short, sharp, and at first terrific on the part of Gaul. His style of fighting consisted in rapid rushes, swings and slams, if he could clinch, in the hope to conquer at once.

Roy, as quick on his feet as a cat, had no difficulty in avoiding his heavier opponent until the latter was partly winded; then suddenly Gaul got two awful whacks on the solar plexus that further deprived him of needed oxygen so that he staggered. In that instant's failure to come back Gaul got one big wallop, a right-handed, body-plunging swing fair on the side of his jaw and he was not even aware that the sidewalk flew up and all but embraced him.

Herb, Billy Phillips and the other fellow picked Gaul up and tried to stand him on his feet, Billy jocosely counting ten quite slowly. Gaul presently opened his eyes and used his legs, then sat down on the bank bordering the open lots. Roy was far aside, using his handkerchief to bind up his skinned knuckles. Then Herb spoke:

"We're not going to report you fellows; we're not squealers. But you know this boozing isn't a square deal; Billy, you know that, after what has been said to us. The stuff's no good. What real fun can you see in getting half soused and having everyone else wise to it? You ought to have more sense."

"Doggone it, Herb, I have, and I'm going to give it the go-by! Owe it to you fellows, too. Never again for me! I don't know about Gaul, but I don't think Williams here——"

He turned, but the said Williams was walking rapidly away and they took that for a pretty good sign, or at least shame for his act. Billy added:

"He's a good chap and you've got his goat. Bet he cuts the booze, too. How about you, Gaul?"

The fellow was himself now, but sore mentally and physically, and he made no reply. Phillips told him to come on, but he sat still, mumbling and thus they left him, Herb tossing the whisky bottle so that it smashed to pieces at Gaul's feet.

The next morning, after drill and practice, Herbert was much surprised and not a little bothered in mind to receive word from Corporal Grant of his squad that the captain wished to see Private Whitcomb. The boy surmised the reason and he did not wish to bear tales.

His worry was added to when Captain Leighton, saluting gravely, bade him follow and led the way across the street to headquarters. In a moment they stood before the commander's desk, and the general looked up with his customary cold stare, which suddenly changed to surprise.

"This man boozing——?" he began.

"No, no, sir! Quite the reverse. He broke it up. Private Phillips, and Williams, of Company D, are the ones who confessed that they went to town and got some liquor."

"Yes. Speak-easy. We have notified the authorities and they will arrest the parties; if not, we shall send a squad and raid all doubtful places. But——"

"This man Whitcomb, General——"

"Yes, I remember him."

"Well, he took their bottle away and smashed it and talked Phillips and Williams into good behavior. I get it also from Phillips that Private Flynn was in some kind of a fight over it, Flynn also being against booze, but I can't learn the name of the other fellow; possibly they don't know him."

"Know him, Whitcomb?" General Harding asked.

"Yes-es, I—do." Herb hesitated. "But I'd rather not name him, sir. Flynn licked him awfully and I have a notion he was pretty well punished and——"

"We ought to be the best judges of that. But no doubt you are right." The general arose and reached out his hand to Herbert. "You did a good thing, my boy, and deserve the gratitude of the camp. It was no small thing to do. If you were not so young I would recommend you to your colonel for a non-com appointment, but as it is I have my eye on you in another capacity. Expert with a gun, are you not?"

"Oh, I don't know, sir. I——, but please remember Flynn also."

"We are going after you fellows later and I'll remember you both. Thanks for your stand in this booze business."

But Herbert was not greatly elated over this incident; he considered that he had only done a simple duty, without playing at heroism, and it was merely carrying out his convictions to the letter. He regretted that Roy had not shared with him in being personally honored by the commander's approval, but Roy declared he had taken no part, except in fisticuffs.

However, another circumstance, a few days later, put a feather in the cap of each boy. It was a very different matter, indeed, in which they figured.

"Patriotism, to be worth while," their captain had said in one of his talks to the company in barracks, "must be of practical value and not consist in the mere waving of flags and cheering. The true patriot is willing at all times to do something for his country, to defend her against detractors, to fight her battles.

"There is among our alien inhabitants throughout the land a treachery that is in league with our foes and this is making itself felt in so many ways, is trying to influence so many people who have to do with our war preparations that it is difficult to say where, when, and how it may crop out. It has even dared, snake-like, to rear its ugly and venomous head in or near our military camps, and all the watching in the world does not seem to keep it down nor stamp it out entirely. I only mention this to caution you against it whenever encountered, just as you should be cautioned against rattlesnakes in the mountains or sharks when swimming in tropic waters."

There came to the town, occupying hotels, cottages, empty school buildings, halls and specially erected shacks, a Woman's Social Betterment League from somewhere, fraternizing with an organization of the kind in the town and directing its very laudable efforts toward making life more enjoyable for the soldiers.

There were those who said it was made up largely of faddists, well-to-do women and their followers who were looking for something new and amusing, but this was not entirely the truth. Others said that the camps had too much of the "betterment business," but the Woman's League workers did not preach; they exerted only an insistent, healthy influence.

Most of the inhabitants of Camp Wheeler, even largely the officers, fell for this sort of treatment when on leave; and among them, in time, were Herb Whitcomb and Roy Flynn.

The League gave several dinners and most properly conducted dances, the invitations being nicely managed so as to include everyone in turn. One Saturday afternoon the two Brighton boys were booked for a tennis tournament against several couples picked from other companies.

Herb never did find out how they were chosen to represent their company, nor would Roy admit that it had been his doings. The latter could play a fine game himself, but he very justly lauded his chum.

Herb's service was superb, his returns were nearly all well placed smashes, his net play was a revelation to most of the onlookers. Company H took the first prize easily and a young and blushing girl, standing by the general, tendered it to Herb and Roy, the latter looking right at her with a wide but most respectful grin. Herb did not know even what she looked like; he knew she was a girl only by the toe of her boot and all he heard was the final comment of the general.

"Fine work, my boy! I used to be pretty good at tennis myself. Had the honor of playing with Colonel Roosevelt once when he was in the White House. Remember, lad, I have my eye on you. If you can shoot half as good as you can get a ball over the net——"

"Much better, sir; much better!" struck in Roy, and the commander smiled and waved his hand, the crowd cheered and an orchestra struck up some popular selections.

Following this Herb and Roy found themselves invited to a private affair on a Sunday afternoon, along with four other rookies. On the Saturday preceding the event the six were ordered to report to regimental headquarters.

They filed in, saluting Colonel Walling, who looked them over closely, then began asking questions as to their families, bringing up, school life and teachings and present ideas, though not one of them knew what it was all about. It proved to be a rather solemn occasion until the questions came to Roy Flynn. That lad needed no prompting, having caught the drift from the previous questions.

"If me name is Flynn, sir, I'm neither Dutch, French nor Italian, and though me folks is Hibernian and so emerald green that a shamrock looks like a blue daisy alongside, don't believe nothin' else but what I'm so high-pressure American that the sky above has nothin' on me for true blue. I want most of all in this world to get to the happy hunting-ground in the next, but close second to that is the wish to see the Germans get it in the windpipe, proper and right. Do ye get me, sir?"

Colonel Walling had to laugh; being part and proudly Irish himself, he must have appreciated the lad's manner and remarks. Then he asked some questions of one other man, a young corporal in Company A, and running his eye over the bunch was about to indicate to Lieutenant Spaulding to take this man aside when in came Brigadier-General Harding.

There was a moment's conference between the two officers. The commander's cold eyes scanned the crowd, but warmed a little when he caught sight of Whitcomb. Then, after a short consultation, Captain Leighton was called forward. Herb also was asked to advance and he heard the colonel say:

"Give them a broad hint; make them understand the possible situation. They must only keep their eyes open and keep mum."

The general added quickly.

"Better confine this to Whitcomb only; he'll know how far to include Flynn. We can trust them both, I think, but depend most wisely on Whitcomb. Eh, my boy?"

"Why, I hope so, whatever it is," Herb replied, turning very red.

They were all dismissed, Herbert being asked to accompany Captain Leighton. In a quiet corner of the barracks, which was his office, he gave the boy these brief orders:

"We suspect there is something wrong at Mrs. Thompson's, where you are invited to dinner. She was, we find, before her marriage, a Miss Heinig and we believe she was not born in this country. You might guess where, though we do not actually know. However, we want you to keep your ears open and use your wits and we trust you; the general, you may have observed, picked you out from the others for this duty. Flynn is going along; you may put him partly wise, if you like, but we think not altogether at first. Just give him some hints to stand in with you when called on, if you need him at all. Now, there may be some sharp brain work necessary, also the necessity of fully keeping your head under trying conditions. Are you at all fond of the girls?"

"No," replied Herb. "Don't know anything about them. They're nice enough, I dare say; fine, in fact, to be sure, but you see I've always been an out-of-doors kid and something of a student and I'm only a boy yet. I respect girls, of course, because my mother was one once and I like to remember her as quite angelic. I think she must be an angel now. She's dead."

The captain leaned over and put his hand on the boy's shoulder and for a moment the two were not superior officer and private; they were man to man in genuine sympathy.

"My own case, too, my boy. I know just how you feel." He paused. "But to come back to the matter in hand. We can believe, with good reason, that most women are fine. There are some, however, that are treacherous, scheming, dishonest; outward show and charming manners do not always hide this fully. You will be up against something of this to-morrow, perhaps. Now, if anything transpires that is not all right in your estimation and you can fully handle it yourself, simply call your companions together—they merely have orders to act as a squad if called on and to take orders from you. But if you are at all doubtful about taking action just call me up; I believe the cottage has a 'phone."

"But what will there be——?" began Herb. The captain shook his head.

"We think it best not to tell you all; it may cause you to act hastily and you may find out nothing. Only just be on the lookout, with your ears mostly."