“A PRISONER”
“What’s he doing here?”
“Where’s he going?”
“Did he see us?”
These were the questions asked in turn by Ned, Bob, and Jerry, as they
slipped along in the darkness, following the man with the crooked nose,
whom they had so unexpectedly seen.
“Maybe he came to laugh at us for the way the tables were turned on us,
the time we tried to catch him in the farmer’s barn,” suggested Jerry.
“He’s come a long distance out of his way for a little thing like
that,” commented Ned. “I’m inclined to think he came here to meet some
one. After Bob spoke I saw the fellow look at his watch as though
impatient because of an appointment not kept.”
“Well, where’s he going now?” asked Bob, repeating his question.
“I guess it’s up to us to find out,” replied Jerry.
“Maybe he’s trying to lead us into an ambush,” suggested Bob.
“Cut out the dime-novel stuff,” advised Jerry, with a low laugh. “I’ve
got a better explanation than that, and the real one.”
“What is it?” asked Ned.
“It’s our black faces,” returned the tall chum. “If that crooked-nosed
man--Jim Waydell the farmer called him, though it may not be his right
name--if he saw us at all, which he probably did, he takes us for
negroes. That’s why he isn’t worried. He thinks we’re camp roustabouts,
and that we don’t know anything about him.”
“I believe you’re right!” exclaimed Ned, after a moment’s thought. “We
do look like a trio of colored chaps, and that’s why he isn’t getting
worried and taking it on the run. Say, it’s a lucky thing we are this
way.”
“Maybe,” assented Jerry. “Now mind your talk. Do the negro dialect as
well as you can, fellows, and we may find out something about this
mysterious Crooked Nose. If we can bring about his arrest for robbing
the Frenchman, or for setting the fire, which Mr. Cardon seemed to
think he did, it will be a good thing for us and Cresville. So pretend
we are colored men with a few hours off.”
The boys walked as near as they thought safe to the solitary suspect,
who was trudging down the road alone. When they spoke aloud the motor
boys simulated the broad negro tones, talking and laughing as they
had often heard the camp teamsters and servants do, for the place was
overrun with good-natured, if rather shiftless, colored men.
As for “Mr. Crooked Nose,” as the boys sometimes called him, he seemed
to pay little attention to those who were following him. Either he took
them for genuine colored men, and, as such, persons who could have no
interest in his movements, or he was indifferent to the fact that they
might be some of the minstrel players.
What the man’s object was in coming to camp, when the farm on which he
was supposed to work was several miles away, could only be guessed at.
But the boys hoped to find it out.
They were approaching the camp confines, and were debating whether they
could risk going beyond them, when the crooked-nosed man turned into a
field, and made his way toward a deserted barn. This was one that had
been on a farm when the land had been taken by the government for Camp
Dixton.
“Maybe he’s going to sleep there,” suggested Bob. “Or perhaps he is
going to meet some one there.”
“Keep quiet,” advised Jerry. “We’ll walk on down the road, as if we
didn’t care what he did. Then we’ll circle back and sneak up to the
barn. Maybe we can find out something about him. Strike up a song, so
he’ll think we’re what we pretend to be.”
They began humming the chorus of one of the songs they had sung in the
minstrel show, and so passed on down the road. There was a moon, and
the movements of the crooked-nosed man could easily be observed. He
struck off across the vacant lots toward the barn, not even looking
back at the singing boys, who did, indeed, have the appearance of
negroes.
Proceeding far enough beyond a turn of the road to be hidden from
sight, Ned, Bob, and Jerry waited a few minutes, and then turned back.
This time they did not sing, and they talked only in whispers.
Cautiously they approached the barn, looking for any sign of a light
or any movement that would indicate the presence of the mysterious man
or of a person who had come there to meet him, or with whom he had
expected to keep a rendezvous.
“‘All quiet along the Potomac,’” quoted Bob, in a low voice.
“Well, have it quiet here, too,” whispered Jerry. “We may discover
something, and we may not. But there’s no use in giving ourselves away.
He may get angry if he finds we’re not what we seem to be, and knows
that we’ve been following him. Go easy now!”
The young soldiers finally stood in the shadow of the barn and listened
intently. At first they heard nothing but the rattle and flap of some
loose pieces of wood.
“He’s gone!” murmured Ned.
“Listen!” advised Jerry.
Even as he spoke they all heard the low murmur of voices. And the
voices were those of men.
“We’ve got to get nearer, where we can hear better,” whispered Jerry to
his chums. “It’s around this way.”
He led the way to the side of the barn that was in the deepest shadow,
and presently they came to a stop below a small window. The glass had
been broken out of it, and through the aperture came the tones of the
voices more distinctly. One said:
“When did he say he was coming?”
“He promised to be here to-night,” was the answer.
Of course the boys, not having heard the crooked-nosed man’s voice, did
not know which was his, nor which was his companion’s.
“To-night; eh?” came in sharp tones. “Well, he didn’t come, and you
tell him I want to see him, and see him bad. I’m tired of hanging
around here without any money, and I’m working like a dog on that farm.”
“That’s Crooked Nose,” whispered Bob.
“Yes,” agreed Jerry.
“Well, I’ll tell him,” said the other voice. “I don’t know what’s got
into him lately. But he and Pug have some game on and----”
The voice died out into an indistinguishable murmur.
“Did you hear that?” demanded Ned, and his voice was so sharp that
Jerry clapped a hand over his friend’s lips.
“Quiet!” he cautioned.
They listened, but the voices were no longer heard. Instead came the
sound of feet tramping on bare boards.
“They’re going away,” murmured Bob.
“Let’s stay here and see what happens,” suggested Ned. “I’d like to
know who that other man is. Maybe there’s spy work going on in our
camp!”
It was within the bounds of possibility.
Waiting in the shadows, the motor boys heard the footsteps die away.
Then the murmur of voices sounded again. They came nearer, and
indicated that those who were talking were outside the barn.
“Well, I’ll tell him you want to see him,” said the man who was with
the crooked-nosed fellow.
“You’d better! He can have all the games he wants with Pug, but he’s
got to make a settlement with me. I took all the risk, and he got all
the money. I want my share!”
“I’ll tell him!”
“And now about this storehouse business,” went on the other. “Can you
get into it?”
“I have an extra key. And Kratzler----”
“No names!” warned the other quickly. “You can’t tell who may be
sneaking about. Nix on the names!”
Then the voices died away again, and the boys, listening, could hear
nothing more.
“There’s something wrong going on here!” decided Ned. “Did you hear
Pug’s name mentioned twice?”
“Yes,” assented Jerry. “But it may not be the one we know.”
“I believe it is,” went on Ned. “We’ve got to find out more about this.
There they go!”
He pointed to two figures, dimly seen. They were moving rapidly away
across the field.
“Come on!” exclaimed Ned, in a tense whisper.
Just then in the distance, two shots rang out.
“That’s the signal!” cried Jerry. “They’re ending the sketch ‘The
Sentry’s Last Challenge.’ We go on right after that in the final
chorus. We’ve got about five minutes to make it. Come on! Hike!”
“But what about these fellows?” asked Bob.
“We’ll have to let them go,” decided Ned. “We can’t afford to spoil
the minstrel show for the sake of something that may not amount to
anything.”
“Not even to catch Crooked Nose?” asked Bob, in disappointed tones.
“We’ll take up his case later,” said Jerry. “Just now we’re minstrels.
Come on.”
There was nothing else to do, and though the boys wanted to remain and,
if possible, solve the mystery, they felt that they owed it to Captain
Trainer to make the minstrel show a success. They had important parts,
and the shots they had heard fired were blank cartridges, discharged
during the enactment of a little skit, played by some members of their
company.
The two men had disappeared in the shadows, and it was a question
whether the boys could have spied on them to any further advantage that
night. So they hurried back, arriving just in time to take part in the
last chorus.
After the show, which was voted a big success, the boys debated among
themselves whether they should report what they had seen and heard and
mention Pug Kennedy’s name. Also they talked of the time when they had
seen Pug have a midnight meeting with some one.
“There was more in that than appeared on the surface,” declared Ned.
“Yes, I agree with you,” said Jerry. “And there’s something in this
affair to-night, too. But we don’t know enough to cause more than
suspicions, and there’s a chance that things would go against us.”
“Then what are we to do?” asked Bob.
“Keep quiet, I say, until we have more definite information,” was the
tall lad’s answer. “We can make another attempt to find out more about
this crooked-nosed man.”
“That’s what I say,” decided Ned. “Let’s wait a bit.”
So they said nothing about having followed the man to the barn, being
able to get close to him because he took them for negroes, and they
bided their time.
The minstrel show made a welcome break in the monotony of camp life,
and it acted like a good tonic. The boys were the more ready to take up
the routine of work, and there was plenty of it.
As they progressed in their soldier life Ned, Bob and Jerry found it
more interesting. The need of the various drills began to be better
understood. They liked the work on the rifle ranges, the machine gun
exercises and the trench work. They went on several other hikes, and at
times were given charge of some new squads of drafted men who came to
camp.
It was about two weeks after the minstrel show that Jerry, Bob and Ned
were all out on guard together when they heard the man on the post next
to Jerry’s calling:
“Corporal of the guard!”
“What’s the matter?” asked Jerry, as he sent the call down the line.
“I’ve got a prisoner!” was the answer. “I caught him trying to get in
through the lines! I guess he’s a German spy!”
“Maybe it’s the crooked-nosed man!” exclaimed Bob.
“Or the one who was with him in the barn,” added Ned.
“Or the one they spoke of as going into some game with Pug,” said
Jerry. “Come on! We’d better go help Kelly.” Kelly was the name of the
sentry who had called.
The three boys went off on a run in the darkness, going to the aid of
their comrade. Little did they dream of the surprise in store for them.