IN THE OLD BARN
If there is one thing more than another which makes life in camp,
whether it be in the army or merely a pleasure excursion in the woods,
most miserable, it is rain. Snow does not seem so bad, but a soaking
rain seems not only to wet one through literally, but also mentally. It
depresses the spirits, though, in itself, a good rain is a blessing.
“I say, Corporal!” called Charles Hatton, one of the recruits out with
the hiking squad. “There’s an old barn not far off. I’ll be washed away
soon. We could go into that shack out of the rain, I should think.”
“I should think so, too,” agreed Jerry. “We’ll do it. I didn’t suppose
the storm would be as bad as this, or we’d have gone into the barn in
the first place. However, it isn’t too late, except that we’re already
wet through.”
“But we can dry out in there, and have a good night’s sleep,” said Bob,
who loved his creature comforts, including sleeping and eating.
Jerry gave the necessary orders. The dog tents were struck, those that
had blown down were recovered and, carrying their packs, the boys made
a rush through the storm for a somewhat dilapidated and seemingly
deserted barn which stood in a field, not far from the spot where camp
had first been made.
“Well, this is something like!” exclaimed Ned, as they entered the
structure. The swinging doors, sagging on their hinges, had not been
locked, but, even if they had been, Jerry felt he would have been
justified in breaking them open, agreeing to pay for the damage done,
as he was authorized to do.
“Well, there’s some hay I’m going to hit, as soon as I get dried out
a bit,” declared Bob, as he flashed his electric light on the mow. It
was not full, but enough hay remained to make a good bed for the tired
soldiers.
They had eaten their supper, and there was nothing to do but to
stretch out and wait for morning, when they would be warmed by hot
coffee which they could make for themselves. They carried a little
solidified-alcohol stove for this purpose.
The boys took off some of their wet garments and spread them out to
dry. Then they laid their blankets on the hay and prepared for a
better night’s rest than would have been possible under the tents,
even if it had not rained.
“This is something like,” said Ned, as Jerry went to see that the doors
were fastened, for, in a measure, he was responsible for the safety of
the property of whoever owned the old barn.
It was a very old one, and there seemed to be no house near it, but
then the boys could not see very well in the storm and the darkness,
and they were in a rolling country, so that the farmhouse might have
been down in one of the many hollows surrounding the barn.
The building leaked in places, and two of the young volunteers had to
move their blankets after they had spread them out, to avoid streams
of water that trickled down on them. But at last all were settled and
ready for the night’s repose.
There was no need of posting a sentry, so each one had his full rest.
Jerry fell asleep with the others. How long he slumbered he did not
know, but he was suddenly awakened by hearing, almost directly under
him, the sound of voices.
Though he awoke, Jerry did not immediately get up to see who it was. He
was not yet fully aroused. At first he thought it might be some of his
own squad, who had found themselves unable to sleep, and who hoped to
pass away the hours of the night in talk.
“But that won’t do,” thought Jerry. “If they want to gas they’ve got
to go somewhere else. We want to sleep.”
However, as he became more thoroughly awake, and listened more intently
to the talk, he realized that it was none of his friends.
The voices were those of men--three of them, evidently, to judge by the
different intonations--and they rose and fell in varying accents, the
murmur now becoming loud and again soft. And the men seemed very much
in earnest.
Jerry and his chums were sleeping in what had been the hay-mow, but the
mow was a double one. That is, there was a platform, built up about ten
feet above the barn floor, and this platform, the floor of which was of
closely-laid poles, served to support the hay, of which there was still
quite a layer there.
Below this was an open space, in which there was some straw. It was a
double mow, in other words, the upper part used for hay and the lower
for straw. In front of the two mows was an open space, forming the main
floor of the barn, on which stood some wagons and farm machinery, and
on the other side of this was another big mow, used evidently for the
storage of only one kind of farm produce, since it was not divided.
Unrolling himself from his blankets, and making as little disturbance
as possible in this operation, Jerry made his way to the edge of the
mow and looked down. It was ten feet to the barn floor, and there was
a ladder at one side, up which the boys had climbed.
Down below him, seated around a lantern, the glow of which was dimmed
by an old coat wrapped about it, Jerry saw three ragged and drenched
men.
“Tramps!” was his instant thought. “They came in here just as we did,
to get out of the rain.”
The rain was still coming down in torrents, as evidenced by the rattle
on the barn roof, and Jerry was about to crawl back and go to sleep
again, reasoning that the tramps had as much right in the barn as had
he and his squad, when something happened to make him change his plans.
One of the men by a quick motion accidentally disturbed the coat
shrouding the lantern, and a bright gleam shot out at one side. This
gleam revealed something that made Jerry start and catch his breath.
“Crooked Nose!” he exclaimed in a whisper, as he stared at one of the
three men gathered about the lantern. “There’s old Crooked Nose! And
this time we ought to catch him, sure!”
For a daring plan had instantly occurred to Jerry. He and his chums
could make prisoners of the three men, including the mysterious one who
had been seen in Cresville the night of the fire. Of course, in a way,
it was taking a risk, not only of bodily harm, but also because the
young soldiers had no right to detain the men, against only one of whom
was there any suspicion, and but slight suspicion at that.
“But we’ve got to get ’em and see what it all means,” decided Jerry. “I
wish I had a little more evidence to go on, though, and I wish I knew
who those other two were.”
“Easy with the light there,” growled the man with the crooked nose, as
he replaced the coat his companion had dislodged. “Do you want to bring
the farmer and his dogs down on us?”
“Nobody’ll be out such a night,” was the answer. “You’re too much
afraid. Freitlach!”
“Shut up!” exclaimed the other. “Didn’t I tell you not to use that
name? Don’t use any names.”
“Aw, don’t be so afraid!” taunted the third man--the one who had his
back toward Jerry. “You’re nervous.”
“And so would you be if you’d done what I have. If they catch me--” and
the man with the crooked nose looked apprehensively over his shoulder
into the dark shadows of the barn.
“That’s it; he’s too much afraid,” said the man with his back toward
Jerry. “He’s always afraid!”
“He’s afraid of too much,” sneered the man who had displaced the coat.
“He’s afraid to give us our share of the swag, and I want mine, too.
I’m tired of waiting. I want to have a settlement and get out. That’s
what I told you when we met to-night, and that’s what I’m going to
have. I’ve starved and begged long enough. Now I want my share!” and
he banged his fist on the loose boards of the barn floor, close to the
lantern, setting it to swaying so that the man with the crooked nose
exclaimed:
“Stop, you idiot! Do you want to set the place on fire?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first place we’ve burned,” declared the
other, but the words died on his lips as the other struck him across
the mouth.
“What does that mean?” demanded the man who had roused the ire of the
one with the crooked nose.
“It means to keep still! Do you want to blow the whole thing?”
“Might as well!” was the sullen answer. “I want my share. I don’t care
what happens after that. I’m going to skip out. I s’pose you’re going
to stay, Smelzer, until----”
“Never mind about me,” growled the man whose face Jerry could not see.
“Pug and I have some plans of our own. They’ve been busted up some, but
I guess we can carry ’em out somehow.”
“Well, I want my share,” went on the other, speaking to the one with
the mis-shapen nose. “I need the coin, and I’m going to have it. I did
my share of the work, and I want my share of the swag. When you got me
in on the scheme, Freit----”
“What’d I tell you about names?” fiercely demanded the crooked-nosed
man.
“Well, when you got me in on the scheme you said the Frenchman had a
pot of money, and a lot of jewelry, too.”
“So he did have!” declared Crooked Nose. “I got part of it. I admitted
that. But the biggest part is there yet. It may be in the ruins of the
fire----”
“Yes, the fire I set to give you a chance to get the coin!” broke in
the other. “Now I’m tired of fooling. Either I get half the money you
got from the old Frenchman, or I’ll go back to Cresville and see what I
can find in the fire ruins! I’m going to get something for the risk I
took. Give me half the money you got from the old man the night of the
fire, or I’ll squeal! That’s my last word!”