TRACED
Don’s face was a study as he suddenly left off berating his companion
and listened quite breathlessly to the rising inflections of the
bearded man making answer to his hatchet-faced companion. The boy was
hearing something interesting; that Clem knew, and he waited with
some impatience to find out what it might be. After awhile the two
men in front began to exchange words much too rapidly for Don to get
a clear idea what they were driving at. Presently one of them turned
suddenly and gave the lad a searching, suspicious glance; then with
another word in a low tone the two stopped talking. Don maintained
his position of leaning forward, his face at the back of the seat
ahead for a few minutes, at the same time unmercifully badgering
Clem until the men both turned to see what it was all about and to
put them at ease Don laughed and made a motion with his head toward
his companion, as much as to say he would welcome an audience. This
must have reassured the men a little, though the hatchet-faced fellow
turned quickly and fired a German sentence at the boy. Don was not to
be caught by such a trick; he looked blank and shook his head.
“You’ll have to say that in United States, mister,” he laughed. The
German turned away, and the two began talking again in so low a tone
that the words were inaudible, especially as at that moment the
train started to glide over newly ballasted tracks and the rumble
was increased. So the two left their seat and walked back in the car
where they got their heads together.
“Sounds like funny stuff,” Don said hurriedly. “They’re up to
something queer. ‘Whiskers’ said there’d be enough to blow things to
pieces; that’s all I made out. They seemed to mean some building, but
I couldn’t quite catch what.”
“Great snakes! They’re a couple of dynamiters!” Clem declared.
“Don’t know, but it looks like it. I have a hunch they’re going to
destroy something or other.”
“Where?”
“I couldn’t make out. Don’t think they said where. That was
understood.”
“When?”
“Couldn’t tell that, either.”
“What else did you get?”
“Not much; nothing. But that’s about enough; isn’t it?”
“Well, maybe. You know we ought to follow ’em, and see where they get
off, and put somebody on to them. It’s a duty. Likely they’ll change
cars at Upgrove for the city.”
“Well, even at that we could get back before very late,” Don said.
“We don’t both have to go. One’s enough. We can draw for it can’t we?”
“Sure. But we’ve got to hurry. Lofton’s next; about six minutes.
Here, let’s toss up. What’s yours?”
“Heads. Hold on! The ginks are fixing to get off at Lofton, as sure
as you’re----”
The sentence was not finished. The full-bearded German got up to
reach for a bundle in the rack above, and the other man lifted a big
satchel from the floor. The men got into the aisle and started for
the forward end. Not until they were out on the platform and the
train almost at a standstill did the boys slip back and into their
overcoats, grab their suit cases and make for the rear end, being
careful to drop off on the side away from the station platform and
then to dodge quickly around a freight car that stood on the siding,
peeping beneath it toward the glimmering lights, for now it had begun
to grow dark. It chanced that only these four male passengers and one
woman got off at Lofton and there was no one waiting for the train,
except the station master; therefore, it became an easy matter to
note the movements of the two men.
“They’re going out along the track, in a hurry too,” Clem said.
“Going to cross--yes, there they go,” was Don’s observation.
“Out the Galaville road. Come on; let’s see where--”
“I’m going to chuck this suit case in the station.”
“Here, too. Danny Morgan’s got to wait for the up train.”
“Turn up your collar and pull down your lid, Clem, so’s to show no
white.”
“And get a move on, Don; those fellows are in a big hurry.”
A mutual object quickly brought these lads to a friendly, even
familiar understanding, proved by the use of their first names and
their quick agreement in action. Both noticed it, but they were
either too proud or too much engrossed to refer to it openly. Ahead
of them lay an apparently necessary purpose and they followed it
with the quick determination that belongs to the well balanced,
bright-minded school boy. It could be said of old Brighton that
it put self-reliant energy and pep into its pupils; no youngsters
anywhere could be prouder of the zeal to do and the encouragement
therefor, which spoke volumes for the accomplishments of that student
body, and in athletics, as well as for the many graduates who had
attained high standing in various fields of endeavor. In nothing
was this better shown than by the lads who entered the war and won
distinction.
It was no light task to follow those hurrying, distant figures on a
darkening winter night, along what soon became a winding, lonely,
tree or thicket-lined by-way. The town ended at the station and only
one house faced the Galaville road beyond for more than half a mile.
The dim figures could barely be seen far ahead and not wishing to be
observed, the boys kept as near as possible to the edge of the road,
along a fence or an overhanging clay bank on one side. They soon
gained on the men; then, fearing discovery, they fell back. But even
at this they knew that presently they must be seen; it was natural
that these men should look behind them and when crossing a knoll the
lads could not avoid showing against the sky. Then the road began to
descend, and the pursued stopped and stood a moment.
“Keep right on slowly,” Don’s quicker wits advised. “They’ll smell
a mouse if we stop, too. Come on; they won’t know we don’t live out
this way.”
Again the men, possibly somewhat reassured and yet not wanting to be
overtaken, hurried on and were soon out of sight around a bend.
“Wonder if they’ll sneak into the bushes to see who we are,” Clem
queried.
“No; they’ll only hurry more so as to turn off at a road or path,”
Don argued and he proved to be right. From the bend the two figures
could barely be discerned. To hurry after them would excite
suspicion, but now fair chance come to the boys’ aid. Just beyond,
and evidently unknown to the German-speaking pair, a path led across
a meadow that short cut another sharp bend in the road and this
enabled Clem and Don to gain so much on the men that before the
latter had reached the farm house beyond, the lads were close behind
them, between a double line of willow trees and thus unseen.
But here the adventure was to end for the time. The boys,
instinctively aware that the men believed they were beyond
observation, now were eager to see which road of a fork beyond would
be followed and they were not greatly surprised when the travelers
turned in at the gate of the farm house and knocked at the door. A
light appeared at the entrance, a large figure loomed in the doorway,
a few words were exchanged in voluble German; then the door closed.
“They’re friends of Shultz, by jimminy!” Clem exploded.
“They are, you bet! That big fat slob of a saloon keeper was in the
door,” Don added.
“Let’s go home. We can look into this further, but later,” Clem
advised and the boys almost reluctantly retraced their steps.