A CLOSE SHAVE
Probably Dick did not realize that he was really showing a high order of
courage in going while Harry remained behind, caught in that cruel trap
and practically in the hands of enemies who were most unlikely to treat
him well. In fact, as he made his way toward the wall, Dick was
reproaching himself bitterly.
"I ought to stay!" he kept on saying to himself over and over again. "I
ought not to leave him so! He made me go so that I would be safe!"
There had been no time to argue, or Harry might have been able to make
him understand that it was at least as dangerous to go as to
stay--perhaps even more dangerous. Dick did not think that there was at
least a chance that every trap was wired, so that springing it would
sound an alarm in some central spot. If that were so, as Harry had fully
understood, escape for Dick would be most difficult and probably he too
would be captured.
"I'm such a coward!" Dick almost sobbed to himself, for he was
frightened, though, it must be said, less on his account than at the
thought of Harry. Yet he did not stop. He went on resolutely, alone, as
he got used to the idea that he must depend on himself, without Harry to
help him in any emergency that arose, his courage returned. He stopped,
just as he knew Harry would have done, several feet short of the wall.
His watch told him that he had time enough to make a dash, had several
minutes to spare, in fact. But he made sure.
And it was well that he did. For some alarm had been given. He heard
footsteps of running men, and in a moment two men, neither of them the
one they knew as the sentry, came running along the wall. They carried
pocket flashlights, and were examining the ground carefully. Dick sensed
at once what they meant to do, and shrank into the shelter of a great
rhododendron bush. He was small for his age, and exceptionally lissome
and he felt that the leaves would conceal him for a few moments at
least. He was taking a risk of finding a trap in the bush, but it was
the lesser of the two evils just then. And luck favored him. He
encountered no trap.
Then one of the men with flashlights gave a cry that sounded to Dick
just like the note of a dog that has picked up a lost scent. The lights
were playing on the ground just where they had crossed the wall.
"Footsteps, Hans!" said the man. "Turned from the wall, too! They have
gone in, but have not come out."
"How many?" asked the other man, coming up quickly.
"Two, I think--no more," said the discoverer. "Now we shall follow
them."
Dick held his breath. If they could follow the footsteps--and there was
no reason in the world to hope that they could not!--they would be
bound to pass within a foot or two of his hiding-place. And, as he
realized, they would, when they were past him, find the marks of his
feet returning. They would know then that he was between them and the
wall. He realized what that would mean. Bravely he nerved himself to
take the one desperate chance that remained to him. They were far too
strong for him to have a chance to meet them on even terms, all he could
hope for was an opportunity to make use of his light weight and his
superior speed. He knew that he could move two feet, at least, to their
one. And so he waited, crouching, until they went by. The light flashed
by the bush, for some reason, it did not strike it directly. That gave
him a respite. Fortunately they were looking for footprints, not for
their makers.
The moment they were by, Dick took the chance of making a noise, and
pushed through the bush, to reach the other side. And, just as the cry
of the man who first had seen the footprints sounded again, he got
through. At once, throwing off all attempt at silence, he started
running, crouched low. He was only a dozen feet from the wall he leaped
for a projection a few feet up. By a combination of good luck and skill
he reached it with his hands.
A moment later he had swarmed over the wall and dropped to the other
side just as a shot rang out behind. The bullet struck the wall, chipped
fragments of stone flew all over him. But he was not hurt, and he ran as
he had, never known he could run, keeping to the side of the road, where
he was in a heavy shadow.
As soon as he could, he burst through a hedge on the side of the road
opposite the wall, and ran on, sheltered by the hedge until, to his
delight, he plunged headfirst into a stream of water. The fall knocked
him out for a moment, but the cold water revived him and he did not mind
the scraped knee and the hurt knuckles he owed to the sharp stones in
the bed of the little brook. He changed his course at once, following
the brook, since in that no telltale footprints would be left.
Behind him he heard the sound of pursuit for a little while, but he
judged that the brook would save him. He could not be pursued very far.
Even in this sleepy countryside he would find it easy to get help, and
the Germans, as he was now sure they were, would have to give up the
chase. All that had been essential had been for him to get a few hundred
feet from the park, after that he was safe.
But, if he was safe, he was hopelessly lost. At least he would have
been, had he been an ordinary boy, without the scout training. He was in
unknown country and he had been chased away from all the landmarks he
had. It was of the utmost importance that he should reach as soon as
possible, and, especially, without passing too near Bray Park, the spot
where the motorcycles and the papers and codes had been cached. And,
when he finally came to a full stop, satisfied that he no longer had
anything to fear from pursuit, he was completely in the dark as to where
he was.
However, his training asserted itself. Although Harry had been in
charge, Dick had not failed to notice everything about the place where
they made their cache that would help to identify it. That was instinct
with him by this time, after two years as a scout; it was second nature.
And, though it had been light, he had pictured pretty accurately what
the place would look like at night. He remembered for instance, that
certain stars would be sure to fill the sky in a particular relation to
the cache. And now he looked up and worked out his own position. To do
that he had to reconstruct, with the utmost care, his movements since he
had left the cache to the moment when he and Harry had entered Bray
Park.
But the chase had confused him, naturally. He had doubled on his track
more than once, trying to throw his pursuers off. But by remembering
accurately the position of Bray Park in its relation to the cache, and
by concentrating as earnestly as he could to remember as much as
possible of the course of his flight, he arrived presently at a decision
of how he must proceed to retrieve the motorcycles and the papers.
As soon as he had done so he hurried on, feverishly, taking a course
that, while longer than necessary, was essential since he dared not go
near Bray Park. He realized thoroughly how much depended on his
promptness. It was essential that Colonel Throckmorton should learn of
the wireless station, which was undoubtedly powerful enough to send its
waves far out to sea, even if not to the German coast itself.
And there was Harry. The only chance of rescue for him lay in what Dick
might do. That thought urged him on even more than the necessity of
imparting what they had learned.
So, scouting as he went, least he encounter some prowling party from
Bray Park silently looking for him, he went on hastily. He was almost as
anxious to avoid the village as the spy headquarters, for he knew that
in such places strangers might be regarded with suspicion even in times
of peace. And, while the war fever had not seemed to be in evidence that
afternoon, he knew that it might have broken out virulently in the
interval. He had heard the stories of spy baiting in other parts of the
country; how, in some localities, scores of absolutely innocent tourists
had been arrested and searched. So he felt he must avoid his friends as
well as his enemies until he had means of proving his identity.
Delaying as he was by his roundabout course, it took him nearly an hour
to come to scenes that were familiar. But then he knew that he had found
himself, with the aid of the stars. Familiar places that he had marked
when they made the cache appeared, and soon he reached it. But it was
empty; motorcycles and papers--all were gone!