THE PARTING
None of the motor boys had a very clear idea, during the mêlée or
afterward, of what went on. Jerry said some one hit him several times,
and he hit back. This much was certain because one of his hands was so
bruised that he had to have it bandaged.
Ned declared he knocked one man down, a man who spoke with a very
pronounced German accent, until Ned rather spoiled the accent by
contriving to have his fist collide with the mouth of the person who
was muttering something about “_Der Tag_.”
“His _day_ came right then and there,” explained Ned afterward. “Only
it was good night for his.”
As for Bob, he declared that, in the dark, he was struck on all sides
at once.
In the dark no one could tell whom he was hitting. The fight kept up,
the din growing greater until it was deafening, until a cry for order,
led by several men in concert, came. These men were the soldiers.
Some one managed to light a solitary gas jet in a corner of the hall,
and by the gleam the swaying, struggling mass could be observed.
Fortunately the women and girls had gotten out, or they might have been
hurt. As it was, they stood outside and screamed, probably because of
fear for their men relatives inside. Then some one switched on all the
lights, and with that the fight stopped.
There were a few bloody noses, and some eyes that, in the process of
time, would turn black, blue and other hues, there were torn collars
and garments, while a number of chairs were overturned.
But when Ned, Bob and Jerry looked toward the stage it was deserted.
The chairs that had been filled with honorary vice-chairmen, were
empty. Mr. Pfeiffer was absent. So was Mr. Schaeffer. In fact, of all
the German-Americans who had undertaken to conduct the meeting not one
was in sight. They had sneaked off in the confusion and the darkness.
The meeting was most effectively broken up.
“Well, things came off as we expected,” remarked Jerry, tying his
handkerchief around his injured hand.
“But not in just the way we had counted on,” said Ned.
This was true, for the boys had planned that one of them should call
for three cheers for the flag, and demand that the band play the
national anthem.
It was expected that this would be objected to by those in charge of
the meeting, and then there would be a good chance to denounce those
responsible, and an opportunity for breaking up the gathering. This
had been Colonel Wentworth’s plan, but events had shaped themselves
differently. The putting out of the lights had not been planned by the
motor boys.
With the withdrawal of the leading pro-Germans, their sympathizers in
the audience soon went out, leaving the place well filled with loyal
citizens. Colonel Wentworth, seeing a chance to make a speech, at once
took charge of matters, and organized a patriotic meeting then and
there. This was turning the tables on the pro-Germans with a vengeance.
Ned, Bob and Jerry remained for a while, and then, as Jerry’s hand was
getting painful, the motor boys left and went to a near-by drug store.
As might be expected, the breaking up of the pro-German meeting created
a stir in the town. On all sides, save among those who might, because
of their nationality, be expected to differ, there were heard words of
commendation. And when Ned, Bob and Jerry called on Lieutenant Riker,
to get some final instructions about their enlistment, the soldier
grinned broadly as he asked:
“Any more meetings of the ‘Friends of Liberty’ scheduled for your town?”
“Not just at present,” laughed Jerry.
There was some talk, on the part of those who had called the meeting,
of proceeding against those who had broken it up. Mr. Pfeiffer, the
lawyer, was loudest in this talk.
But he did nothing, and his talk finally ceased with conspicuous
abruptness, probably, as Jerry remarked, on the advice of more prudent
friends. At the same time there was a noticeable cessation in the
activities of the pro-Germans.
“But I don’t suppose you’ll dare go to call on Helena now,” said Ned to
Bob one day.
“No,” was the somewhat disconsolate answer. “I don’t believe it would
be just the thing.”
“Especially if Mr. Schaeffer were at home,” observed Jerry.
The breaking up of the meeting had one good effect. Though a stickler
for strict justice might condemn the method used, there followed,
nevertheless, a stimulation to recruiting. When it became known that
Ned, Bob and Jerry had enlisted and expected soon to be sent to the
nearest training station, there was a wave of patriotism in Cresville,
and many mothers and fathers were in despair on account of very young
boys who wanted to join the colors.
It required no little tact to get such off the notion, but to the
credit of the home-folk be it said that in no case, where a boy was
physically fit, and of the proper age, did he have to hold back because
of the objection of parents.
Those were stirring days, and events moved swiftly. Once the motor boys
had made up their minds that it was the right thing to enlist, they
were eager to be off to the training camp.
Lieutenant Riker told them they would probably be sent to a cantonment
in one of the Southern states, which shall be called Camp Dixton, for a
period of training.
“How long will that last?” asked Ned. “When can we go to France and do
some real fighting?”
“You’ll go as soon as you are fit,” answered the experienced soldier.
“It would be a mistake to send you abroad now. You would do more harm
than good--I mean raw troops in the aggregate. You must be trained, and
taught how to take care of yourselves. Why, even the period of training
in how to meet gas attacks alone will take some time. Don’t be in too
much of a hurry. Learn the business of war and fighting first, and then
you’ll be able to deal the Boche so much harder blows.”
This was good advice, and the boys, in their calmer moments,
appreciated it; but it was hard to be inactive. At last the day came
when they were to part from their parents and friends in Cresville.
They did not need to take much with them, for they would be fitted out
in camp.
Up to this time nothing more had been heard concerning the gold watch
and the diamond brooch lost in the fire, nor had anything more been
learned of the French engraver’s money or of the mysterious Crooked
Nose.
“It’s good-bye to our motor boat and auto and aeroplane for a while,”
said Ned, with a sigh, as the boys made their way to the station,
having parted with their parents at home.
“Yes, but what we know about running them may come in handy later,”
remarked Jerry.
On their way to the station they met other boy friends who had also
enlisted, and as they reached the depot they saw a crowd there to give
them a send-off.
“And look who’s here to kiss little Bob good-bye!” exclaimed Ned.
“Who is it?” asked Chunky.
“Miss Helena Schaeffer,” was the answer. “Oh, Bob! Oh, boy! Go to it!”