THE DISAPPEARANCE OF FELIX
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.