CAUGHT AT LAST
Outside Danny’s garden gate, an important-looking group of people were
standing. In fact, they looked so important and so interesting that
most of the inhabitants of the village had turned out to stare at them.
Two Sixes of Cubs had been posted as a cordon to keep the staring crowd
from touching the three grey motor cars or otherwise annoying the group.
This consisted of Captain Miles and a young officer, a sergeant and
ten hefty privates, a police inspector and three constables, a private
detective, Dick and Danny.
“Here he comes!” said Dick. The Scout who had been sent up to the Hall
was returning, accompanied by the pompous butler, bearing the great
iron key that unlocked the gate of the Abbey ruins. It would have
been rather ignominious for an officer of the British army to have
to crawl through cabbages and gooseberry bushes and a small hole in a
privet hedge--or so thought the Scouts--though Captain Miles was quite
prepared to do so.
“But it would be difficult bringing the prisoners out that way,” said
Danny. The constables grinned at the small boy’s assurance. And the
private detective (the _real_ one) looked green with envy.
“Lead the way, young Cub,” said Captain Miles, as the gate swung open
with a screech of rusty hinges.
For the second time that day, Danny walked across the grassy space
of the Abbot’s garden. And his heart was light and his ambitious
soul satisfied, for behind him walked an officer, and men with fixed
bayonets. Two privates relieved the Scouts who still crouched in the
darkness within the ruin of the Abbot’s House. They blinked like owls
as they climbed out into the sunlight again.
“We will deal with the tower first,” said Captain Miles.
Danny led the way to the tower door.
To their disappointment, the officer ordered Danny and the Scouts to
retire to a safe distance. But from there they watched, their hearts
beating with excitement.
Two of the privates, after several efforts, succeeded in bursting open
the little door. Then, with his revolver in his hand and followed
by the sergeant and three privates, Captain Miles entered. Several
breathless minutes passed. And then they reappeared, but not alone.
Sheepish, sullen, and securely handcuffed, three Germans stepped out
between their burly guards.
“Come on!” called Captain Miles to the Scouts, a grin of satisfaction
on his cheery face.
Danny and the Scouts obeyed with alacrity.
“Well, we’ve caught Fritz and his pals, all right,” said Captain Miles,
“thanks to ‘Danny the Detective.’”
The three Germans stared at Danny with an expression of such loathing
that it made cold shivers run down his back.
Two sentries were posted with fixed bayonets each side of the tower
door, for the fourth spy was to be caught before the tower was
investigated.
The party moved over to the Abbot’s House. Captain Miles, the sergeant,
and four privates climbed through the ruined window, and disappeared
into the darkness. The group outside stood listening breathlessly. They
heard the iron door creak as it swung back on its rusty hinges. Then
silence.
But suddenly a yell rent the air, followed by a great explosion. Then
silence again. The young officer, accompanied by the privates and
constables, climbed through the window and dashed across the dark house
into the passage. Feverishly the Scouts waited without. The minutes
seemed to drag by like hours. What had happened? Then a sound fell on
their ears. Heavy, shuffling steps were crossing the rough floor of
the house.
“Here, give us a hand,” said a voice within. The Scouts were ready.
One by one the members of the first party were passed through the
window. They were badly wounded. Several were unconscious. Laying them
on the grass, the Scouts turned to Dick for instructions. Each received
his orders promptly and clearly. One sped off for a doctor, another to
telephone for an ambulance, another to fetch such articles as could be
borrowed to render first aid to the wounded men.
Quickly and skilfully tourniquets were applied to arrest the flow of
blood that already dyed the grass red. Everyone was pale and horrified.
“What happened?” was the whisper that passed from one to the other.
“The--chap--threw a bomb--and--made off,” said the only man fit to
speak.
The young officer had returned.
“Captain Miles has had a narrow shave,” he said, “but he’s all right.
He’s gone on with some more men. Now, let’s see to these poor chaps.”
But he found they were all being seen to very well, and he learnt for
the first time what the Scout motto means. Through years of peace the
Scouts had been preparing themselves. With keenness and energy they
had been learning, practising much that seemed to outsiders of but
little use. “Be Prepared,” was the motto their Chief had given them.
And “Stick to it,” was the one they had added. The war has proved who,
after all, was in the right.
The Kangaroos had been told to guard the mill pond. They had not been
told why it was necessary to keep a sharp watch upon it, beyond that
it was being used by the enemy. But, being Scouts, they had obeyed the
order and kept a vigilant lookout, though it seemed quiet and peaceful
enough.
The two whose turn it was to watch were lying well ambushed, their
eyes upon the water, when to their immense surprise a head suddenly
rose above the surface.
Its hair was plastered down with slime and duck-weed. Its eyes looked
about in a terrified manner. Seeing no one, the owner of the head swam
to the side of the pond, and quickly, cautiously, clambered on to the
bank.
Then the two Scouts dashed forward. In a minute they had him down, his
arms pinned to his sides.
A long “Coo-ee!” brought up the other Kangaroos at the double, and
“Fritz” found himself a helpless prisoner.
Leaving the rest to keep watch on the pond, the Leader of the Kangaroos
marched off his prisoner between two hefty guards.