  “Don’t drop that lamp if you value your life!” called out Captain Barclay, as he immediately covered the startled man with a weapon. “That’s him, Captain—it’s Luther Gregory!” shrilled Blake, forgetting that as the captain lived in Oakvale he must also have known the other in times gone by. Luther Gregory it was for a fact, and Hugh, upon discovering this, felt a wave of relief rushing over him. He believed they were going to meet with success in their undertaking, and that all would come out well. “What’s all this mean?” exclaimed the man who held the lamp. Hugh immediately started to relieve him of the light, for he was afraid that a sudden desperate move toward escape might be inaugurated by the plotter dropping the lamp, and causing either an explosion, or darkness to cover the scene. “Only that you are under arrest, Gregory, charged with unlawfully taking an enlisted man out of camp against his will.” With that the captain summoned one of the guards and placed him at the side of the prisoner. When Luther Gregory saw this he laughed and shrugged his shoulders after the fashion of a reckless man who, having played for high stakes, sees his castles in the air falling in ruins, and cares little what becomes of him. “Oh! the game is up, is it?” he called out. “Well, you won’t hear a squeal from me. I haven’t done anything so terrible that the Government, or the State, either, can hold me for it. Coaxing an enlisted man to desert might seem a crime, but inviting him to visit you, and spend the evening is another. You can’t prove a thing against me, try as hard as you please.” “We’ll see about that later on,” said the officer, grimly. “Meanwhile we’ll take a look through this house, and make the acquaintance of your confederate in crime. Come with me, boys; fetch him in also, Private Fielder, and keep a tight hold on his arm. Remember you are at liberty to shoot if he tries to break away.” “I’m not so great a fool as to take such chances, Captain,” the other told him. When from the hall they stepped into the adjoining room Blake gave utterance to a low cry of mingled concern and joy, for the very first thing his eyes discovered was a figure lying on a cot. He flew across the apartment and bent down. “It’s Felix, boys, sure it is my cousin!” he called out. “Don’t you know me, Felix? Oh! Hugh, what ails him, do you think? See how he stares at me, just as if he didn’t recognize me one bit. Is he sick, Hugh; or have those men done something to make him act so queerly?” The scout master knew. “I think they’ve given him some sort of drug, Blake,” he went on to say, laying a hand on Blake’s shoulder, for he realized that the boy was terribly wrought up. “He’s already recovering, and will be himself soon.” “Is that the truth, Gregory?” demanded the captain, harshly frowning upon the prisoner, who, however, was too clever to commit himself so early in the game. “Why, the fact is,” he remarked, airily, with a light laugh, “Cousin Felix commenced to act strangely soon after coming here to visit me. I thought he was going to have a fit, and coaxed him to lie down there as you see. He is getting better, though, and will be himself before very long. But his mind is apt to be clouded, more or less; and I shouldn’t be much surprised if he even got it into his silly head to think I had something to do with his leaving the camp, and coming here to visit.” Captain Barclay understood what the sly schemer was aiming to do. He smiled in a satirical way, and then remarked: “You’ll not be able to hoodwink the eyes of a judge and jury when you’re placed on trial for this nasty business, Gregory. You’ve played a high hand, but this time you’re going to get your reward, and see the inside of a State’s prison. But let’s take a look around, and see what’s become of your accomplice; for since I noticed his little car drawn under a shed back of the house, I take it he must still be somewhere around.” At that Hugh and Bud began to take fresh interest in the case, though Blake apparently had eyes only for his cousin, over whom he was bending, trying to hold the attention of Felix by continual talking. The scout instinct was strong in the makeup of the two lads, and no sooner had the captain suggested a hunt to find the missing tool of the arch schemer than they began to use their eyes in searching out every possible place where a small man might conceal himself in an emergency. They had good reason to feel anything but kindly disposed toward that man of the flivver. Not only did he curtly decline to assist them when they had engine trouble, but had afterwards done everything in his power to hold them up on the way to camp. The memory of the country constable who believed them to be thieves running away with a car they had taken, as well as what happened at the burning bridge, were things not calculated to make them feel very friendly toward the unscrupulous man who had been responsible for these various happenings. Hugh noticed almost immediately that while there was no blaze in the big open fireplace, there did seem to be an unusual amount of soot on the hearth. This must have given him his cue, for he stepped forward, bent down, and tried to see up the wide-throated chimney. “See anything up there, Hugh?” asked Bud, close at his elbow. “Look at my face and tell me if you see little patches of black on it?” demanded the scout master, turning his head to his comrade for examination. “Just what there are, Hugh!” exclaimed the other, joyfully, “which announces the fact that somebody is up there in that chimney. How’ll you get Mr. Coon to come down?” “Captain, please lend me your revolver,” said Hugh, in a loud voice, purposely intended to pass up the chimney flue. “It’s got six cartridges in the chambers hasn’t it, Captain? Well, they ought to be enough to fetch him down, dead or alive.” Instantly there came a half-muffled groan, and then following an appeal: “Hold on please, don’t shoot! I’m coming down just as fast as I can. Oh! I’m nearly choked to death with the soot up here. Wait for me, please!” More black stuff came down in a shower. Hugh stepped back, and with a grin on his face, Bud followed suit. They heard considerable scratching and puffing from inside the chimney, after which there came a thud. “Oh! what is it?” gasped Bud as he stared at a dusky object that huddled there on the open hearth amidst the piles of soot. “It’s me,” piped up a half strangled voice. “Jones is my name, Pliny Jones, and, as usual, playing in tough luck. I’ll turn State’s evidence, gentlemen, if you can promise me immunity. But what I want most of all just now is a plain drink of water, because I’m choking horribly. Please accommodate a poor wretch, one of you boys.” Bud could not resist the appeal, though he was quivering with half suppressed laughter, for it was decidedly comical to see what a sight the small owner of the flivver had made of himself by crowding into the recesses of the chimney—a negro could not have been any blacker, Bud felt sure. By slow degrees Felix seemed to be coming out of his stupor. He had already managed to recognize Blake Merton, though it was hard for him to realize just where he was, and what had happened to him. In fact, his mind was always in somewhat of a haze concerning the events of the last few hours. He later on remembered being spoken to by the small man in the car, who had found a way to enter the camp. The other had whispered to him that he was the bearer of an important message from his Uncle Reuben; and as Felix just then was mourning the recent unfortunate break with his guardian, he gave a ready ear to a request to join the other at a certain spot outside the limits of the camp, knowing he could get permission to go there. He also remembered being told to lean forward, and take a look at some paper held by the other, and that a sudden vertigo seized him as a handkerchief was clapped over his face. After that it was all vague, although he believed he had been stowed away in the small car, and driven a short distance, and only now to awaken from a dream to find Blake there. Some strange things taking place puzzled him greatly. It was difficult to believe that such a kidnaping could actually have taken place, and yet the evidence of it lay before them. The captain had the two prisoners taken away, to be confined in the guard house until morning, when he expected to put their case in the hands of the commanding general, who, being a lawyer himself, would know what to do with them, so that they might be made to suffer for their miserable work. Felix, having recovered in part, was taken in the small car to camp, the scouts following after with Johnston the aviator, from whom Bud picked up many hints as they strode along. Later on that same night Hugh, Blake and Bud gathered in a tent with the genial captain, who was, of course, deeply interested in their affairs, and anxious to see the outcome. Felix was also present, having by that time fully recovered from his recent adventure, though still pale. Here the story was gone over again, in order that the two listeners might get a full comprehension of the facts. They seemed to be deeply interested as the recital progressed, now one of the trio taking it upon himself to do the explaining, and then another, until in the end everything had been made clear. “And now,” said Hugh, in conclusion, when they had come down to the place where the capture of the schemers was effected at the roadside house, “here’s the letter they found in your tent, Felix, addressed to Uncle Reuben, and which you evidently meant to mail in the morning. Blake was crazy to open it, and see how you felt toward your guardian, but I held him back,—although we would have had to do it in case we failed to find you by noon tomorrow. You can do as you please about showing us what you wrote.” Felix never hesitated a moment, but, tearing an end from the envelope, handed the enclosure to the scout master. “Read it out loud, please, Hugh,” he said simply, yet with a gleam of pride and satisfaction in his voice and manner. Hugh hastened to do as he was told. The letter proved to be long, and need not be given here, but it was certainly just what might have been expected from a quick tempered lad like Felix, who often said things hastily, and then bitterly repented of them afterwards. Hugh knew that Uncle Reuben would treasure that manly apology as a most precious document. “It’s all right, Felix; couldn’t be better!” cried Blake, seizing the young guardsman’s hand and wringing it enthusiastically. “You’re going to give me that letter, sealed in another envelope and addressed to Uncle Reuben. Then first thing in the morning I’ll get him on the ’phone and tell him all about it, so his mind will be easy in case anything prevents us from getting back home by tomorrow night.” So it was all arranged. The captain joined in congratulating Felix over the successful outcome of his escapade. “I hope this will be a lesson to you, my boy, all your life,” he told him, seriously, as became a commanding officer, “and that you’ll learn to bridle your tongue. Lots of trouble is caused in this world by people saying things they’re sure to regret afterwards. But let me tell you, Felix, you owe all your present condition of liberty and happiness to these bright and bustling scout friends of yours. Once more Oakvale has reason to be proud of her boys; and I mean that the story of this trip to the mobilization camp isn’t kept like a light hidden under a bushel. Others ought to hear about such praiseworthy work, in order that they may emulate the example set by Hugh and his two chums.” The good captain would not hear of the scouts leaving the camp that night. They could occupy a spare tent that he was only too happy to offer them. The arrangement made with the commanding general would answer for this; and, besides, in the morning he wanted them to meet the “head boss” of the camp, who must hear the story of their late adventures, for it happened that he had boys of his own who belonged to a troop, and the general was deeply interested in all that concerned scout activities. So we may leave Hugh and Bud and Blake there, to get what sleep they could amidst such strange surroundings. In thus saying goodbye to the boys of the Oakvale Troop, however, it is with the assurance that such active fellows cannot rest long without engaging in further ventures which will demand our attention, and necessitate another volume to tell the story of their successes. THE END. |
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