GIRAFFE ON GUARD
While Giraffe was saying this the remnant of the train was indeed
attaining considerable velocity in its backward rush. Thad knew that a
coupling must have broken under the great strain, a no infrequent
occurrence across in America.
Of course by now a pandemonium of loud cries and shrieks had broken
forth. Some of the more excitable passengers aboard the rear vans acted
as though almost ready to hurl themselves out of the open vehicles of
transportation. Indeed, Thad just caught one frightened little boy in
time to prevent him from jumping wildly.
There was a guard’s van at the extreme rear, and the man in this must
have immediately guessed the nature of the accident. Perhaps he had
prepared against such a thing, knowing that it was liable to happen.
At any rate he seemed to have some means for putting on the brakes, for
while they continued to slip rather swiftly down the grade their
progress was not anything like it would have been had the wheels turned
unimpeded.
“It’s all right, and nothing is going to happen to hurt us!” called
Thad, as he held the struggling French lad fast, despite his efforts to
break away.
Although few of those who heard what he said may have exactly understood
what the American scout meant, at least his actions were reassuring, and
they could comprehend the fact that he must be discounting the danger
that menaced them. Then besides they also discovered for themselves that
they were not whirling madly down to destruction, as they had at first
anticipated would be the case.
Reaching the bottom of the slope the action of the brakes became more
pronounced, and presently the fragment of the mixed train came to a stop
at the bend. Already had the man in the motor been informed of the
disaster that had happened. By looking up the boys could see that the
train was backing down toward them.
Everybody breathed easy again. Faces that had turned ghastly white now
burned red with the reaction. Some even laughed hysterically, and of
course boldly disclaimed anything in the nature of fear. It is always so
after the cause of alarm has been effectually dissipated, for people are
pretty much alike all over the civilized world.
Giraffe was rubbing his chin, while a shrewd expression stole gradually
over his lean and suspicious face. Bumpus was puffing with the
excitement, and as red as he could well be. He looked over the edge of
the van at the hard ground, with the air of one who might be figuring on
how it would feel to be tossed out, and flung on that unfriendly soil.
“Only another little incident in our career over here,” remarked Allan,
as though by now they ought to be pretty well accustomed to having
thrilling events turn up every little while.
“Well, now, are you _quite_ sure it was just an accident?” asked
Giraffe, at which remark all the others immediately turned their eyes on
the speaker in surprise.
“What’s bothering you, Giraffe?” spluttered Bumpus, always the slowest
to size up a situation when quickness of thought was an asset. “Course a
coupling broke and let us slip backwards. It often happens around our
part of the country, where the trains have to pull over hills. I’ve seen
a coal train dumped in a hollow because of a defective iron coupling
pin. And we’re the luckiest fellows going, in the bargain, to have
escaped a smash.”
Still Giraffe only wagged that head of his, poised on the longest neck
any boy in Cranford could boast, and looked mysterious. Even the way he
turned his eyes to the right and to the left added to his solemn manner.
“Go on and tell us what ails you, Giraffe, that’s a decent fellow,”
urged Allan Hollister, understanding that unless some one hurried the
other along he would keep everlastingly at this business of looking so
“knowing.”
“Well, then,” began the tall scout, in a low hoarse tone that he tried
to make impressive, “I believe it wasn’t an accident at all, but a
deliberate and dastardly attempt at wrecking the train!”
“Whee! who’d want to bother trying to smash such a collection of old
traps as these carriages and goods vans are, tell me?” wheezed Bumpus.
“You must be dreaming, Giraffe, that’s what.”
“Mebbe I am, Bumpus, mebbe I am,” muttered the other, as he watched the
coming of the front part of the long train, “but all the same I’ve got a
hunch that there’s something crooked about this thing. You ask who’d
want to bother making kindling-wood of these lovely cars? Well, that
German spy I warned you about, for one!”
He looked at them triumphantly as he said this. Allan and Thad exchanged
glances, though it was hard to tell whether they had been duly impressed
or not.
“Now don’t you see, fellows,” the artful Giraffe went on to say,
following up his attack while the “iron was hot,” and Bumpus at least
was thrilled; “even such a makeshift train as this is going to be mighty
useful to the French, for it’ll get a pack of British soldiers to the
fighting line much sooner than if they had to walk all the way across
country. So wouldn’t it pay a real cunning secret agent of the Kaiser to
plot so as to smash things? Why, if he could cause a wreck, and put the
old line out of business for twenty-four hours it would count
something.”
“Why, it does look like that might be so,” admitted Bumpus; “but I can’t
hardly believe any man would put so many innocent lives in danger just
to hold back a few cars and vans.”
“But this is _war_, and we’ve already learned that Germans never
hesitate at anything terrible if only they can serve the Fatherland,”
Giraffe finished triumphantly.
However, neither Thad nor Allan seemed to be convinced. The former even
jumped off and went forward to where some of the men were clustered,
endeavoring to repair the damages so that the reunited train could
proceed once more. When later on he came back again, it was to tell the
others that all was serene, and they were about to proceed, which they
soon found to be the case.
“Did you hear anything said about trickery, Thad?” demanded Giraffe,
after the hill had been successfully negotiated, and they were once more
gliding along at an accelerated pace, perhaps to make up for lost time.
“Not a single word,” the other told him.
“Well, even that doesn’t prove that the thing wasn’t a set-up job,”
complained the stubborn Giraffe. “That rascal could cover his work, and
make it appear as though it had happened by accident. They’re mighty
sly, let me tell you. And I glimpsed him moving about among the people
when repairs were being made. Yes, and he even seemed to be having a
hand in the work, which I take it was only done to throw off suspicion.
But I’m watching him, don’t you forget that. Giraffe’s right on the job.
Sooner or later I calculate to trip that spy up.”
Thad was used to hearing the other talk in that strain, for Giraffe
invariably went in for things with all his heart and soul. That in a
measure accounted for his success in many games in which he took part;
and his vim covered up a multitude of minor shortcomings, according to
Thad’s way of looking at it.
Of course what the suspicious one had said was not entirely without the
bounds of reason. Thad knew that German spies were circulating through
Belgium and Northern France by thousands, and taking all sorts of
desperate chances in order to do something for their native land. Many
of them lived amidst people who had known and respected them for years;
and they even carried on extensive business enterprises; but these were
only masks for the real reason that kept them exiles from home.
There were no signs of war in the country through which they were now
passing, except now and then they glimpsed some man in uniform guarding
a bridge. Women, to be sure, were busily engaged caring for the growing
crops in the fields; but then in times of peace that is a common sight
through most European countries, where they do much of the farm and
garden work, while the men go to town with the produce, carry on the
voting, and “boss things generally, as our American Indians used to do,”
Giraffe had more than once remarked when noticing these things.
In a town they came to, however, there were more stirring sights
awaiting them. A regiment was being embarked on a train bound for the
front, though just why it had been delayed so long of course the boys
never knew. It was a martial spectacle indeed, and one they would often
look back to with a thrill. The men were bidding their wives, children,
or sweethearts goodbye, well knowing that many of them would never look
on those dear faces again.
Those aboard the patched-up train took a deep interest in the going of
the reserves to where duty and honor, perhaps a soldier’s grave, awaited
them. Being detained on account of the other train that was lying across
their track, they could watch all that went on. And when finally it
moved off, amidst loud huzzas, and frantic waving of handkerchiefs
together with a flood of tender farewells, every one joined in the
thrilling shouts, even the four American boys.
Such sights were bound to make a lasting impression on the minds of the
young scouts. In years to come they would surely remember them, and in
imagination once more see the waving hands, the anxious tear-wet faces
of girls and women and children, not to mention the old men; and note
how those aboard the departing troop train thrust their hands far out
from the windows of the carriages so as to get the very last glimpse of
the ones left behind.
But it was over at last. The loaded train bearing brave hearts and
valiant souls devoted to the defense of their beloved country had
vanished, and those who were bound for Calais could now once more
proceed.
“How few of them may ever see their folks again,” said Bumpus, shaking
his head sadly; “for we happen to know how men are mowed down like ripe
grain before those terrible guns of the Germans.”
“Well, it’s always been going on that way,” added Giraffe, who could
survey such things without feeling so “squeamish” as tender-hearted
Bumpus, “since the time this world began. Men and animals keep on
scrapping, and it’ll be the same to the end of time. Men must fight, and
women must weep. But if the women get the vote mebbe they’ll want to do
some of the scrapping themselves.”
They understood that by now they were getting well along on their
journey, and also if everything went smoothly, in another half-hour or
so the slow-moving mixed train could be expected to pull into the
seaport whither it was bound.
“Then a whole lot depends on whether we can get transportation to
Paris,” Bumpus was telling them, as they discussed this matter.
“Don’t cross a bridge till you come to the same,” warned Giraffe, always
confident. “We’ll find a way to get there, make your mind easy, Bumpus.
We always do, you know, and that isn’t bragging, either, only telling
bald facts.”
Just then the train slackened its speed as though signalled to pull up
at the next station, where there was another big crowd awaiting it,
perhaps some of whom meant to go on to Calais so as to get across the
Channel.
“We’ll stop here for ten minutes, I heard a guard say,” observed Thad;
“so if any of you feel like stretching your legs, now’s the time to do
it.”
Only Allan took advantage of the opportunity, besides the scout leader.
Giraffe and Bumpus continued to sit there and watch all that was going
on, at the same time keeping track of such luggage as they possessed.
Giraffe amused himself in trying to mentally figure out what each queer
person he chanced to pick out of the jostling throng might be when at
home. It was a favorite game with the tall scout, for he had the habit
of observation highly developed, as many scouts do, since it grows upon
one.
In the midst of his occupation Giraffe received a sudden, violent shock.
It really affected him so that he seized Bumpus by the arm and gave that
worthy a duplicate thrill.
“Well, wouldn’t that jar you now, Bumpus?” was what Giraffe burst out
with. “If you please, there’s our chums talking to beat the band with a
_man_; and what do you think, it’s that crafty German spy. Now what does
that mean, I’d like to know?”