AN ECHO FROM THE PAST
The boys, following up this rasping voice, stared to see the figure that
broke out of the scrub close to the barrier, and approached them. No
wonder they almost felt their breath taken away, for had this been a
scene from some ridiculous motion picture play, the representative of
the majesty of the law as met with in a country marshal or constable,
could not have seemed more ridiculous.
The man was old, and spare of figure. He was dressed in gray garments,
and wore a large soft hat built after the Western sombrero model. It had
a gilt cord around the crown, and was tilted up rakishly on one side.
Even to the glistening nickel star, that decorated his left breast, was
this representative of law and order, gotten up to shame one of those
stage sheriffs at whose antics youngsters in the cheap “movies” scream
with laughter.
“Don’t laugh, fellows, on your lives!” whispered Hugh, instantly, afraid
lest rash Bud, for instance, should break out into a loud roar that
would seriously offend the officer, and mean further trouble for them.
He raised his hands, as did the other two boys, though Blake was
complaining after his customary fashion.
“But, say, we couldn’t have broken any speed law, Mister, because you
saw yourself we were just fairly _crawling_ along?” he protested,
weakly.
The officer was holding a tremendous horse pistol of an ancient vintage;
it had an ominous look, and doubtless could give a fair account of
itself if fired, for they made good weapons in old-time days.
“I never said as how yuh was pinched for speedin’, did I?” he went on to
observe, with a grim smile hovering about his stern mouth, while his
beady eyes continued to rove from one boyish face to another. “Huh! I
guess now it’s somethin’ a heap worse nor _that_ you’re wanted for.
Where did yuh git this car?”
“Why, it belongs back in Oakvale,” stammered Bud, hardly knowing what it
meant when the man with the nickel star shot this question directly at
him as the pilot of the expedition, or at least the one who was handling
the wheel.
“K’rect. That corresponds with the information I had given tuh me,”
continued their strange captor, nodding his head until his goatee made
him resemble a pugnacious billy-goat.
Hugh instantly began to see a faint glimpse of light. Something about
the words which the constable had just uttered gave him a suspicion as
to the possible truth. He began to take a deeper interest in the
hold-up, which could turn out to be of an altogether different character
from what they had up to that moment believed.
“My friend,” he started to say, giving the constable one of his frank
smiles, “after all, don’t you think you may have made a mistake in
holding us up as you have? Honest, now, do we look like fellows who
would steal a car; and even if we ever had such a scheme afoot, wouldn’t
we be apt to pick out a machine worth taking, rather than a rattle-trap
like this ramshackle thing?”
The constable somehow seemed a bit impressed. There might have been that
in the manly bearing of the boy who was speaking, as well as something
in his voice that touched a responsive chord in his old heart. He
stroked his straggly chin whiskers with his unemployed hand, and
continued to ogle the three lads so eagerly leaning toward him from the
car.
“Uh! waal, it does seem like yuh’d be a passel o’ fools tuh grab a
rattle-trap car as this un when yuh might a had your pick. But then he
says tuh me there was a reason why yuh did it.”
“Oh! then some one put you wise to our coming along this road, did
they?” Bud flashed out. “Guess we can hit on the skunk, all right,
Mister. He was a little ornery reptile, wasn’t he, with a grin on his
black face all the time? Tell me, doesn’t that cover his description all
right, sir?”
“My name is Eben Wheezer, and I am the reg’lar authorized constable of
Halletsburg,” the other went on to explain. “I’m free to confess that I
was give a pointer concernin’ yuh boys. Mebbe it’s jest a lark you’re
playin’, but, all the same, when a car has been taken without the
owner’s knowledge or permission, the eye of the law looks on it as a
_bony fide_ theft. It becomes the duty of a constable to pinch the
offenders.”
“Listen, Mr. Wheezer, please,” urged Hugh. “Delay of even an hour would
mean a serious thing to us just now. We are on our way to the
mobilization camp, and it is of extreme importance that we get there
some time this evening. That man you talked with seems to be an enemy of
ours. He is connected with a scamp back in Oakvale who would be glad if
we failed to get to the camp, because it might mean money in his pocket.
He has already done his best to knock us out, even filling the roadway
with glass from broken bottles, so as to cut our weak tires, and keep us
from getting on.”
“Which happened, too, as you can see if you glimpse that tire we’re
carrying, and which is slashed something terrible,” interjected Bud,
impulsively.
The country constable was interested, seeing which Hugh returned to the
attack on the principle that when you have the enemy started a vigorous
offensive should be carried out to get him on the run.
“Besides, Mr. Wheezer,” Hugh went on to say, confidingly, “we are, as
you see, scouts. Our uniforms will tell you that, our badges too; and,
if you want, I can show you a number of clippings from the papers that
tell of certain things of merit the Oakvale scouts have done in the
past.”
“By gum! what’s that shiny medal you’re wearin’, son, stand fur?”
suddenly demanded the constable, fixing his glittering eyes on Hugh’s
left breast. “She looks a heap like the real stuff to me, an’ gold, at
that!”
Hugh at once took it off and passed it over. If ever he felt proud on
account of the possession of such a fine medal, that time was then and
there, because he believed it was going to save himself and chums a good
deal of trouble and time.
The constable put on a pair of glasses with huge horn rims, and peered
at the inscription, turning the neat little medal over in his hands.
When he looked again at the owner there was a marked interest in his
thin and pinched face.
“Tell me, air yuh this same Hugh Hardin it speaks of here?” he demanded,
hoarsely, taking a step nearer the halted car.
“That happens to be my name, sir,” replied Hugh.
“Did yuh git this here medal fur savin’ lives when that flood was
rampagin’ through the town of Lawrence?” continued the officer, his
voice now showing signs of hoarseness that might have come from excess
emotion.
“Why, yes. Several of my chums and I were visiting there when that dam
up the valley broke, and the bridge over the river was carried away. We
had a pretty lively time of it during the few days we were detained
there, on account of no trains running. We managed to hold out a helping
hand to some of the poor people caught in the flood. You know, sir,
that’s what scouts live for, to assist others not so well off as
themselves.”
Eben Wheezer heard the boy through. Then he did a number of queer
things, first of all ramming that ancient pistol out of sight in one of
his pockets, and then actually holding out a thin and trembling hand to
Hugh.
“Say, son, I want tuh shake hands with yuh, that’s what I do!” he
startled them by saying, enthusiastically. “This hold-up is all off, yuh
understand. I was an old fool tuh take that rascal’s seegar, and b’lieve
half he says tuh me ’bout some boys comin’ along the road here as how he
reckoned had stole a car, and that there was likely tuh be a reward
offered fur their apprehension, which I might jest as well rake in as
the next un. But I kin see it all now, an’ I’m right glad tuh meet up
with Hugh Hardin.”
“What do you know about me, Mr. Wheezer?” asked the patrol leader,
flushing at the same time with pleasure as he felt the cordial grip of
that lean hand.
“Oh! only this, son,” laughed the old constable, pumping the boy’s hand
as though he might be the milkman making up a deficiency in his cans,
“it happens that I had an ole wife a visitin’ over there in Lawrence at
the time that dam broke. Yes, and, what’s more, she told me it was a boy
named Hugh Hardin that kim along with some other scouts in a rowboat and
saved her from a house that was a-floatin’ off in the flood. Huh! think
I’d ever forgit _that_ name when it belonged to the lad who kept me from
bein’ a forlorn widower? This here is a joyous occasion for me, I tell
yuh.”
Bud gave a whoop, and danced around like a crazy thing.
“Talk to me about bread cast upon the waters returning before many
days,” he was crying excitedly. “Did anybody ever hear the equal of
this! See, Hugh, how your good deeds repay you heaps of times over. We
thought we had run across another enemy, and he turns out to be a bully
sort of a friend. Won’t you shake hands with me, Mr. Wheezer, even if I
wasn’t lucky enough to be in that bunch that did such good work at
Lawrence—the honor of that exploit goes to Hugh, here, Billy Worth and
Monkey Stallings. But, then, we’re all chums, you know, sir, and in the
same boat.”
The delighted constable was only too glad to oblige Bud, and so warm was
his grip that possibly the other felt a tinge of regret at insisting
upon being given a hand-shake. Blake Merton felt that it would not do
for him to be left out in the cold, so he had to grimace and bear it
when Eben got to working his lean fingers.
Indeed, all of the boys felt they had good reason for feeling thankful.
What had threatened to prove a disaster and promised to overwhelm their
plans was now working in their favor. The wearing of his badge, given by
Scout Headquarters to those members of the organization who have saved
human life at great peril to themselves, had turned out to be a most
wonderful blessing to them. Instead of being held up, perhaps thrust
into a miserable country lock-up until the next day, with their plans
ruined, they were now free to proceed along their way.
Hugh did not want to lose any more time than could be avoided, so
instead of entering into a long conversation with the constable, he
hastened to say:
“If we were not in such a great hurry, Mr. Wheezer, it would give me
great pleasure to stop over with you, and visit your home, to meet your
wife. I reckon I would know her again if I saw her. I’d be glad to tell
you the story of what happened over in Lawrence when the flood swept
down the valley. But we have a big stake in trying to make that camp by
tonight. One of my chums here has a cousin in the battery who stands to
lose a fortune if we are kept back; and the man who hired that rascal
you met hopes to win it. So you’ll excuse us if we say good-bye now, and
thank you for being so kind.”
The constable had already removed the log from the road, and now he
unfastened his stout rope from the tree to which he had attached it.
“No apologies needed, son,” he hastened to say, cheerily. “Yuh knows
your business best, and if yuh chase after it in the same way yuh won
your spurs over tuh Lawrence, I reckons now yuh’ll upset all the
kalculations o’ thet schemer. Good-bye an’ good luck tuh yuh, boys!”
He waved his official hand to them as they shot forward, and the last
Blake saw of the odd, though good-hearted country constable, he was
standing there in the road looking after the retreating car, and still
waving his sombrero, while that bright nickel star on his manly breast
gleamed in the rays of the westering sun.
“Congratulations, Hugh!” cried Blake, bubbling over with delight over
their recent narrow escape. “They say chickens come home to roost, and
that good deeds will pay a fellow back a thousand fold. Well, I want to
tell you there never was such a positive illustration of their truth as
this.”
“The best of it is,” laughed Hugh, happily, “that no matter how much our
enemy plots against us, something comes along to upset all his
calculations. He thought we were stuck there all afternoon, with an
engine out of joint, but Bud here fooled him. Then there was that broken
bottle game, which did hold us up a bit; but in spite of a slit tire we
got started again. Last, but far from least, he fixed up this clever
trick of telling the old constable three boys had stolen a car, and were
coming along the road a ways back; also hinting that there might be a
good reward offered for capturing the rascals and holding them
over-night in the town cooler. But again our luck held good, and we
slipped through.”
“I’m satisfied now,” asserted Blake Merton, “that nothing is going to
keep us from getting there some time tonight. I’ll hunt up Felix right
away, talk to him like a Dutch uncle, get him to write that letter, and
then the first thing in the morning we can start back home again.”
“If anything goes wrong with the car, we’ll find some other way of
returning, make up your mind to that, Blake,” Hugh assured him.
It was in this happy frame of mind that the three scouts passed through
the little town of Hallettsburg, and continued onward. As they went they
could frequently discover plain signs that to their practiced eyes
assured them the battery had traversed the same road they were now on.
Perhaps a boy untrained in the art of using his eyes, and seeing small
things that told a story, would never have been able to accomplish this
thing; but Hugh, Bud and Blake had served their time at studying
woodcraft, as practiced by the Indians from the days of Daniel Boone,
and they knew dozens of things that would, when noticed and examined,
tell an interesting story.
The sun was getting pretty low in the west, and evening was coming on.
It was about the last quarter of the moon, which had been full on the
fifteenth of the month, so that no help from this source could be
expected until toward midnight, when the silvery remnant would be seen
rising in the East. That was one reason why the boys were anxious to be
getting on as fast as they dared chance it, because, once night settled
in, their progress would be blocked.
“The sun’s going down, Hugh,” announced Blake, with a touch of dismay in
his voice.
“That’s all very true,” replied the scout master, “but we’ll have half
an hour of light yet, perhaps more, and I think we ought to make the
camp in that time!”