  When the captain turned and left them again, the three scouts exchanged uneasy glances. Blake suffered more than either of his chums, for his heart had been wrapped up in his task. It meant much to him whether he failed or won out in his self-imposed mission to the camp. “Hugh, do you know I expected something like this would happen,” was the way he expressed himself. “Somehow, even when we had beaten that scheming rascal at his game several times, I seemed to have a feeling that in the end he might be too smart for us.” “Apparently, then,” remarked Bud Morgan, “you’ve already made up your mind that this queer disappearance of your cousin Felix can be laid at the door of the same man we had so much trouble with on the road, the chap in the flivver?” “Doesn’t it stand to reason it must be that way?” demanded Blake. “Why should Felix clear out of camp here otherwise? These fellows of Battery K are in for the war, and wouldn’t desert for all the money going. Felix is as loyal as they make ’em; he’d sooner cut his hand off than be thought a coward or a quitter. So there’s only one way of explaining his vanishing; which is through this man.” “How about it, Hugh?” and Bud turned toward the patrol leader, as had become a chronic habit with most of the members of the troop whenever anything arose to bother or mystify them. “All I can say as yet,” replied the other, steadily, “is that it begins to look a whole lot that way. We had better wait a bit before deciding. The captain may pick up some information that will give us a pointer. Men don’t disappear from a mobilization camp, as easy as all this, without leaving some traces behind them.” Blake shook his head dismally. Apparently he was losing heart, for so many things had arisen to balk his ambition that the strain was telling on him. “Well, all I can say is I wish this business was all over,” he observed, plaintively, “and we were on our way back home with that precious letter to Uncle Reuben. I tell you I’ll feel like shouting if we do win!” “Victory is always sweeter when you’ve had to fight hard to get it,” Bud declared, with boyish philosophy. “Don’t we all remember that when we’ve been up against a tough proposition, and had to take the bit between our teeth before we could land? Never lose faith in what you’re doing, Blake. For one thing, you’ve got a couple of comrades along that mean to stand back of you through thick and thin. That ought to be some comfort to you.” “It is, Bud, it certainly gives me a heap of satisfaction, the way both of you stick to me. I’m going to take a brace up! We’ll get there yet, we’ve just got to, and that’s all there is about it.” Brave words, those, and possibly Blake Merton meant them, but, nevertheless, there were times when that anxious look would creep over his face again, as fresh difficulties kept piling up before them, and the desired end seemed as far away as ever. They continued to stand there and talk for some little time, all the while eagerly awaiting the return of the friendly captain, whom all of them knew very well, since he was a prominent business man in Oakvale. “There he comes!” asserted Bud, suddenly. Blake lost color, and his hand trembled when he accidentally touched the sleeve of Hugh’s khaki coat—perhaps, after all, it was through some design that this contact came about, for a positive realization that the scout master was standing by him must have given Blake renewed confidence, of which he was evidently in great need just then. Captain Lawrence Barclay came hastily toward them. Hugh, discovering the look of annoyance still on his face, guessed that he bore bad news. “Brace up, Blake, and show that you can stand whatever may be coming,” he managed to say in a low tone to his companion. Then the commander of Battery K arrived. He was a bluff sort of a man, not much given to beating around the bush when he had anything to say; nor could he smooth over disagreeable news as some men might. “I’m sorry to report that young Gregory seems to have disappeared from camp altogether,” he immediately remarked. “It is a most extraordinary occurrence. In fact, several officers with whom I’ve spoken say they would never have believed a man could vanish from the midst of a thousand or two of his fellows, with sentries posted, and camp rules in force. But I’ve sent out in every direction to find Gregory, but without any success so far.” Both Blake and Bud left things pretty much to Hugh, knowing his ability to handle such a case. Like a wise scout, the patrol leader immediately began to ask questions, with the design of getting facts that might give them a clue to the solution of the camp mystery. “Captain,” he started in to say, “would you mind telling us when Felix Gregory was last seen about here?” “Several men seemed to agree on that point,” replied the accommodating officer, “and I am inclined to say that it was just about half an hour back. At the time he was talking with a civilian who had managed in some way to gain permission to enter the camp in his car. From what I have learned, I believe Felix appeared to be considerably excited while he held this conversation with the stranger.” “Hugh, just as we suspected, it must have been that man!” gasped Blake. Bud Morgan nodded his head, and pinched the other to keep him quiet. “Did any of them describe the man and his car, Captain?” continued Hugh. “You remember what we told you about the party who gave us so much trouble on the road? He was a small fellow, with a dark face, and snappy eyes, and his car was one of that cheap class called a flivver. Does that agree with what any of the men said, sir?” “It seems to cover the case exactly, Hugh,” the officer hastened to admit; “and, taken in conjunction with your remarkable story, makes the matter seem more mysterious than ever. Apparently, then, that man who tried to prevent you from getting to camp, finding that all his schemes had failed, turned another tack, and now aims to keep Felix from seeing you. How he has been able to get him out of the camp beats me; it would seem to be an impossible task.” Hugh was on his mettle now; his fighting blood aroused. The gleam in his eyes told that, as he shut his teeth together with a snap, and went on to say: “There will be some way of tracking them, and we’ll find it out by hook or by crook, Captain Barclay. If that man succeeds in keeping Felix hidden away for the next twenty-four hours our goose is cooked, because then it’s going to be too late for any reconciliation between him and his guardian. But there will be hours before that happens, and every minute of that time the three of us here will be working like beavers to find out the truth. We never give up until the last gasp; that’s a slogan of the scouts, you know, sir.” “A mighty fine rule for any one to go by, I must say,” remarked the officer, looking admiringly at the speaker’s flushed and determined face. “I’ve heard lots of good things said about you Oakvale scouts, and now I can understand why you’ve always met with such splendid success. I want to say, Hugh, that you can count on me to render any assistance in my power. What can I do for you now?” Hugh was equal to the occasion. Although he had had little time in which to map out his course, owing to the sudden surprise by which they had been confronted, he knew that one thing would be needed. “If you could manage it, Captain Barclay, so that we three might go about camp without being held up, and put to a whole lot of inconvenience, it would help us a heap.” “That can be arranged, I think, Hugh,” said the other, after a brief period of reflection. “I’ll try and get the general to write out three passes, such as they may be, and word them so that you’ll be likely to have no trouble moving about. It is something unusual, of course, to allow civilians to remain in camp at a time like this, especially over night; but I think I can manage it all right.” Leaving the three lads again, the captain entered his tent to start operations looking to securing the passes. There was more or less sending of messages, possibly between Battery K and Headquarters, while Hugh and his companions tried to possess their souls in patience. Finally, after a long delay, Captain Barclay again made his appearance, and in his hand he bore several folded papers. “I’ve had more trouble than I expected, boys,” he told them pleasantly; “but I believe everything is smoothed over now, and you will find little trouble in moving about. Only a few newspaper correspondents have so far been given the same privileges; but when the general learned what fine things you scouts had to your credit in and around Oakvale, he obliged me with his signature. Which shows again how a good reputation pays every one a high rate of interest.” Each of the boys received one of the “passes” that would allow them to wander at will through the mobilization camp for the next twenty-four hours, the privilege expiring with the setting of the following day’s sun; for after that time Hugh and his comrades would have no longer any desire to remain there, since their mission before then must be either a success or a failure. “You didn’t tell us what others thought of the disappearance of Felix Gregory, Captain?” Hugh remarked, as though anxious to learn this fact, since it might have a bearing on the solution of the mystery. “Well, I interviewed one man in particular who was rather chummy with Felix,” replied the officer. “His name is Andrew Burtis, and you all know him well. He told me he felt sure there was something on the mind of Felix, for he brooded over something, and acted strangely for a fellow of his happy disposition. In fact, it was Andrew who suggested that possibly the young chap had gone out of his mind over some trouble, and while in this condition had managed to leave the camp, for some purpose or other.” “But we know what it was troubling Felix, sir, as we have told you,” burst out Blake Merton, eagerly. “I guess he was worrying about that quarrel with his uncle, because they had thought a good deal of each other. But it would never cause Felix to go out of his mind, Captain, you can believe me. No, that man was responsible for his going away; and Hugh here will get on the track, some way or other, I’m certain.” “Well, you have my best wishes, boys,” said the officer. “I must leave you now, as I have duties to look after; but if I can do anything to assist you later on, be sure and look me up.” He shook hands most cordially with each one of them in turn, and there could be no question about his sincerity when he made that assertion. Left to themselves, the scouts faced a situation calculated to try their mettle to the utmost. Poor Blake in particular looked woe-begone as he turned a beseeching eye on Hugh, fully conscious that the last lingering hope of finding his missing cousin rested with the scout leader’s dogged pertinacity. Belonging to the Wolf Patrol meant a good deal to Hugh Hardin; for in a case of this kind he knew that it would be necessary to emulate the example of the wolf that follows the track of a deer over hill and through valley, hour after hour, day and night, until by sheer persistence he has run the tired quarry to earth, and so secures the meal he sought. So Hugh would never give up so long as a shred of hope remained. He was determined to start out and seek for a clue capable of leading him to success. Yet, after all, it happened that accident had considerable to do with the final outcome of the big game upon which the three scouts had embarked. |
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