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BOB COOK AND THE GERMAN SPY
BY PAUL G. TOMLINSON
Author of "To the Land of the Caribou," "The Trail of Black Hawk," etc.
PREFACE
Every one knows that Germany is famous for her spy system. Scarcely a
land on earth but is, or was, honeycombed with the secret agents of the
German Government. Ever since this country began to send war munitions to
the Allies an organized band of men has plotted and schemed against the
peace and welfare of the United States. When America itself declared war
their efforts naturally were redoubled. Our Secret Service has been
wonderfully efficient, but it has not been humanly possible to apprehend
every spy and plotter at once. It is a big task to unravel all the
secrets of this great German organization.
We are at war with Germany now and it is the duty of every American to
help his government in every way he can. This book is the story of how
two boys, too young to enlist, did "their bit" right in their own home
town. It is not an exaggerated tale, but presents in story form what has
actually happened all around us. Due allowance is made for the fact that
the most of our citizens of German birth and descent are good Americans.
No one whose motto is, "America First," need fear offense from anything
contained in the story of "Bob Cook and The German Spy." Two boys loved
their country and did their duty by it. May we all do as well.
PAUL G TOMLINSON.
Elizabeth, N. J.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I WAR IS DECLARED
II THE SECRET SERVICE AT WORK
III BOB HAS A FIGHT
IV HEINRICH AND PERCY
V ON THE BRIDGE
VI HUGH HAS AN IDEA
VII IN THE NIGHT
VIII A STRANGE OCCURRENCE
IX ANOTHER SURPRISE
X BOB IS MYSTIFIED
XI THE DESERTED HOUSE
XII TRAPPED
XIII MISTAKEN IDENTITY
XIV AN EXPEDITION
XV FIRE
XVI MORE COMPLICATIONS
XVII A MESSAGE
XVIII KARL HOFFMANN
XIX A DISCUSSION
XX ANOTHER SUSPECT
XXI ON THE STREET
XXII BOB ACTS QUICKLY
XXIII UNDER THE LIGHT
XXIV AT THE FACTORY
XXV A STRUGGLE IN THE DARK
XXVI AN EXPEDITION IS PLANNED
XXVII A RAID AND A SURPRISE
XXVIII CONCLUSION
BOB COOK AND THE GERMAN SPY
CHAPTER I
WAR IS DECLARED
"Well," said Mr. Cook, "I see that the United States has declared war on
Germany. I am glad of it, too."
"Why, Robert!" exclaimed Mrs. Cook. "How can you say such a thing? Just
think of all the fine young American boys who may be killed."
"I realize all that," said her husband. "At the same time I agree with
President Wilson that the German Government has gone mad, and as a
civilized nation it is our duty to defend civilization. The only way left
for us is to go in and give Germany a good beating."
"And I shall enlist and get a commission," cried Harold, their eldest
boy. "I am twenty-three years old. I have been at Plattsburg two summers,
and I have done a lot of studying; I know I can pass the examinations."
"What will you be if you do pass?" inquired his father. "A lieutenant?"
"Well," said Harold, "a second-lieutenant."
"I wish I could enlist," sighed Bob.
"Huh!" snorted his older brother. "You can't enlist. What military
training have you had? And besides, you're only seventeen; they wouldn't
take you."
The Cook family were seated at the dinner table, mother, father, and
three children, the two boys referred to above and a young daughter,
Louise, just thirteen years of age. Congress had that day declared war on
Germany, and naturally that was the one thing in every one's mind. Crowds
in front of the newspaper offices had greeted the news from Washington
with wild enthusiasm, patriotic parades had been organized, and from
almost every house and office streamed the Stars and Stripes.
Bob Cook had been among the crowds, and his young mind and heart were
fired with patriotism and enthusiasm. A company of soldiers from the
Thirty-ninth Infantry called out the week before had caused him to
cheer and hurl his cap high in the air, while all the time he envied
the men in khaki.
"I hate to think of you enlisting, Harold," said Mrs. Cook sadly.
"Why?" demanded Harold earnestly. "Don't you think it is my duty to
offer my services to my country! I'm free; no one is dependent upon me."
"I know," agreed his mother, "but somehow I don't like to have my boy go
over to France and be killed. Let some one else go."
"Suppose every one said that," exclaimed Harold. "We shouldn't have much
of an army and our country wouldn't be very well defended, would it?"
"Let him go," said Mr. Cook quietly to his wife. "I don't want him killed
any more than you do, but there are some things worse than that. Suppose
he was afraid to go; you'd be ashamed of your son then I know."
"How do you know I'm going to get killed anyway?" demanded Harold. "Every
one that goes to war doesn't get killed. At any rate it's sort of
gruesome to sit up and hear your family talk as if you were just as good
as dead already."
"True enough," laughed Mr. Cook. "When does your examination come?"
"Next Monday."
"Will you wear a uniform?" asked Louise.
"Why, certainly," said Harold, swelling out his chest at the thought.
"I wish I could enlist," sighed Bob.
"You're too young, I told you," said Harold scornfully.
"I'll bet I could fight as well as you could," said Bob stoutly.
"Besides, I'm big for my age and maybe if I told them I was older than I
really am they might take me."
"Don't do that, Bob," said his father earnestly. "Don't lie about it."
"They'd find you out anyway," exclaimed Harold. "You can't fool these
recruiting officers."
"I'd like to get to France and see the trenches, and see the soldiers,
and the guns, and the fighting," Bob insisted.
"Do you realize that Harold may never get to France even if he does
enlist and get a commission?" remarked Mr. Cook.
"Why not?"
"First of all on account of Mexico."
"Do you think the Mexicans will make trouble?" inquired Harold.
"I shouldn't be at all surprised," said Mr. Cook. "If they think we have
our hands full with Germany those bandits may stir up a fuss and then
troops would have to be sent down there."
"And Harold might be one of them," laughed Bob. "That would be a joke,
wouldn't it?"
"I don't see why," cried Harold warmly. "If troops were needed in Mexico
and I was one of those sent, I'd be serving my country just the same."
"Of course you would," his father agreed. "It might be though that you
wouldn't even get out of High Ridge."
"You think they'd keep us right here?" demanded Harold, his face falling.
"Possibly," said Mr. Cook. "It might be that you'd have your hands
full too."
"Do you think the Germans could land an army and invade this country?"
exclaimed Mrs. Cook in alarm.
"Not for a minute do I think that," said Mr. Cook.
"Then what do you mean?"
"Aren't there lots of Germans in the country already?"
"Do you think they'd make trouble?"
"Most of them would be peaceable enough, but some of them would only be
too glad to blow up some factories, or railroads, or things like that."
"They've been doing that for the last two years," said Harold, "but I
don't see what there is in High Ridge."
"There's my company," said Mr. Cook. He was president of the High Ridge
Steel Company.
"But you don't make war supplies," exclaimed Mrs. Cook. "Why should they
want to blow up your plant?"
"Up until now we haven't manufactured war supplies," Mr. Cook corrected.
"This afternoon, however, we took a contract from the Government to make
high explosive shells. And, what is more, we are going to do it at cost
price so we shan't make a cent out of it."
"I think that's fine," said Bob enthusiastically. "Perhaps you'll have to
stay home and guard father's factory, Harold."
"Do you think there'll be any danger to it?" Harold asked his father.
"I don't know," replied Mr. Cook. "There are a lot of rabid Germans in
High Ridge and you can't be sure just what they will do."
The telephone rang at that moment and Bob excused himself to go into the
next room and answer it. Dinner was now over and the rest of his family
shortly followed. As they entered the sitting-room where the telephone
was located, Bob was in the act of hanging up the receiver.
"Who was it, Bob?" asked his mother.
"I don't know; it sounded like a German's voice. At any rate he had the
wrong number. He said, 'Iss dis Mr. Vernberg?'"
"Oh, Wernberg," exclaimed Mr. Cook. "He's the man who moved into that
house down on the corner about two years ago. Karl Wernberg is his full
name and he's one of the worst of the Germans; he used to be an officer
in the German army, I understand."
"What do you mean 'he's one of the worst of the Germans'?" asked Harold.
"Why, the way he talks against the United States and for Germany. He's
made all his money here, too."
"What's his business?"
"Some kind of chemicals, I believe."
"Perhaps he's making bombs," laughed Harold, and the rest of the family
joined in the laugh. That is, all but Bob, who took the suggestion
seriously, and his heart thumped a beat faster at the thought.
In fact, as he went to bed that night his mind was filled with thoughts
of spies, and plotters, and the hundred and one other things connected
with the war that he and his family had discussed that evening. He went
to the closet and took out the .22 caliber rifle that he owned; it was
in good condition and Bob assured himself that he had plenty of
cartridges, though he knew so small a gun would be of but little use in
time of trouble.
As he undressed he thought over the events of the day. Never had he
experienced such excitement. War had been declared, and many of the young
men, not much older than he, had enlisted. He, too, wanted to go in the
worst way, but he knew that his father and brother were right when they
said he would not be accepted.
"Why not?" muttered Bob to himself. "I'm big enough and strong enough
too; I could stand it as well as most of those fellows, even if they are
older. Besides I weigh a hundred and fifty-three and I'm five feet nine
inches tall. Perhaps they won't take me because I've got light hair and
blue eyes," he murmured bitterly. "They think I look like a German."
Stripped to the skin he stood in front of the mirror and looked at
himself. Certainly he was big and strong. He had always lived a clean,
outdoor life, he had been active in athletics and right now was captain
of the high school baseball team. The muscles played and rippled under
his white skin, as he moved his lithe young body to and fro.
A few breathing exercises before he jumped into bed, and then he was
under the covers. And all night long he dreamed of chasing big fat
Germans up and down the streets, over fences, and across fields, and even
up the steep sides of houses. Usually just as he had caught up with them
he awoke. Most of all he dreamed he was pursuing Karl Wernberg, who was a
middle-aged German and not hard to overtake. But Bob did not catch him
because he always woke up too soon.