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TWO DARING YOUNG PATRIOTS
Or, Outwitting the Huns
BY W. P. SHERVILL
Author of "Edgar the Ready"
_Illustrated by Arch. Webb_
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
LONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY
[Illustration: LIKE A WHIRLWIND THEY FLUNG THEMSELVES UPON THE HATED
FOE]
Contents
I. Trouble in the Crew
II. The Races
III. Max Durend at Home
IV. The Cataclysm
V. The Fall of Liege
VI. A New Standpoint
VII. A Few Words with M. Schenk
VIII. Treachery!
IX. The Opening of the Struggle
X. Getting Ready for Bigger Things
XI. The Attack on the Power-house
XII. The Attack on the Munition-shops and its Sequel
XIII. The German Counter-stroke
XIV. Schenk at Work Again
XV. The Dash
XVI. In the Ardennes
XVII. Cutting the Line
XVIII. Reprisals
XIX. A Further Blow
XX. Across the Frontier
XXI. The Great Coup
Illustrations
Like a whirlwind they flung themselves upon the hated foe
Both lads began to hurl the great stones upon the German soldiery
A cloth was clapped over the soldier's nose and mouth
"It's all right; we're friends"
The two watchers gave a loud full-throated British cheer
TWO DARING YOUNG PATRIOTS
Or, Outwitting the Huns
CHAPTER I
Trouble in the Crew
"Here come Benson's!"
The speaker leaned over the edge of the tow-path and watched an
eight-oared boat swing swiftly round a bend in the river a hundred yards
away and come racing up to the landing-stage.
"Eee--sy all--l!" came in a sing-song from the coxswain, perched, for
better sight, half upon the rear canvas, and eight oars instantly
feathered the water as their boat slanted swiftly in towards the shore.
"Hold her, Seven."
With almost provoking sloth, after the smartly executed movements
already described, Number Seven dug his oar deeply into the water,
making up somewhat for his tardiness by the fierceness of the movement.
The nose of the boat turned outwards almost with a jerk, and the craft
slid in close to and parallel with the landing-stage.
"Seven's got the sulks again, Jones," commented the watcher on shore, a
middle schoolboy named Walters, as he eyed the proceedings critically.
"His time's bad. It's just as well they get to work to-morrow."
"Yes," assented his companion. "But, you know, it beats me why they
didn't put Montgomery at stroke instead of seven. He's a far better oar
than Durend--the best in the school--and it would have upset nobody."
"His style may be better," admitted Walters a little reluctantly, "but
he hasn't got that tremendous shove off the stretcher that makes the
other so useful a man to follow. Besides, he has too much temper to be
able to nurse and humour the lame ducks and bring them on as Durend has
done."
"Maybe--his temper certainly doesn't look sweet at the moment," replied
Jones, gazing with a grim sort of amusement at Montgomery as the latter
released his oar from the rowlock and stepped out of the boat, his
handsome clean-cut face sadly marred by an undeniably ugly scowl.
"Durend's work isn't showy, but I hear that Benson thinks a lot of it,"
Walters went on. "It's a pity Monty takes it so badly, for the crew has
come along immensely and with ordinary luck ought to make a cert of it."
"Riggers!" the stroke of the crew sang out, and the crew leaned out from
the landing-stage and grasped the boat. "Lift!" and the boat was lifted
clear of the water and up the slope to the boat-house hard by.
From bow to stern the faces of the crew were smiling and cheerful,
albeit streaming with perspiration, as they passed through the admiring
knot of their school-fellows assembled to watch them in. All, that is,
save Seven, aforesaid, and Stroke, who looked downcast, and whose lips
were set firmly as though he found his task no very pleasant one, but
had nevertheless made up his mind to see it through.
In the dressing-room Montgomery vented his ill-humour somewhat
pettishly, flinging his scarf and sweater anyhow into his locker and his
dirty rowing boots violently after them. "I don't care a fig whether we
win or lose," he growled. "I'm sick of being hectored by a coach who
never was an oar, and a stroke who knows about as much about rowing as
my grandmother."
"Shut up, Monty!" replied another member of the crew good-naturedly.
"Another week and it will be all over, and we shall be at the Head of
the River for the first time--what?"
The thought of Benson's first victory in its history seemed, if
anything, to incense Montgomery still more, for he glared angrily at
Durend's set face and went on: "It's always _my_ time or _my_ swing
that's wrong, too, when everyone used to say that I was the best oar in
the school. Bah! it's to cover up his own faults that he's always
blaming me. For two pins I'd resign, Durend; and I will, too, if you're
not a deal more careful."
"You needn't," replied Durend shortly, but with a significance that was
not lost upon those present.
"What d'ye mean?" demanded Montgomery.
"You're no longer in the crew."
"What! _You_ turn me out? I'll take that from Benson, and from no one
else, my boy!"
"Mr. Benson has left it to me, and I say you're no longer in the crew,"
replied Durend coldly, and with no hint of triumph in his voice. He
knew, in fact, that his action was probably the death-knell of all the
hopes of his crew.
Montgomery's face blazed with passion, and he sprang violently upon
Durend and struck fiercely at him. The two boys nearest grasped him and
dragged him back, though not before he had left his mark in an
angry-looking blotch upon the left cheek of his former chief. Through it
all Durend said no word. He merely defended himself, looking, indeed, as
though only half his mind were present, his interest in the matter being
far out-weighed by concern for the threatened destruction of his beloved
crew, the object of his deepest thoughts and hopes for a period of six
crowded weeks.
The incident closed, for, Montgomery's first anger over, he saw the
foolishness of making so much of losing a seat he had all along affected
to despise. The crew dispersed, and soon the affair was the talk of the
whole school. Benson's--the favourites--crippled by the loss of their
Seven on the very eve of the race! Stroke and Seven at blows! Stroke
licked, and no doubt spoiled for the race! The news, soon distorted out
of all recognition, provided Hawkesley with matter for gossip such as it
had not enjoyed for many a long day.