BY LAND AND SEA
The sudden movement of the stranger rather startled the boys and piqued
their curiosity. They looked at him and at each other inquiringly.
The man thrust his hand in the breast pocket of his coat and felt for
something. That he had found it was evident from the look of profound
relief that came into his face.
“Think you had lost your pocketbook in your tumble?” asked Phil with a
smile.
“It wasn’t money I was thinking of,” was the reply. “Something that one
of you said reminded me of some valuable papers that I had stowed away
and that I wouldn’t lose for a good deal. But they’re just where I put
them.
“My introduction to you young fellows was rather sudden,” he went on,
with a grin that displayed two rows of strong even teeth, “and this is
about the first chance I’ve had to tell you what my name is and where I
hail from. My name’s Jack Benton, and I am, or was up to about three
weeks ago, a member of the United States Marine Corps.”
The boys acknowledged the introduction and gave him their names in
return.
“So you’re a Marine,” remarked Phil with great interest. “That’s a
branch of the service that has always appealed to me more than any
other. There’s lots of adventure and you go everywhere and see
everything.”
“That’s putting it pretty strong,” laughed Benton, “but you’re not so
far out of the way at that. I’ve been in the service for about eight
years, and there’s scarcely a port of the world that I haven’t been in
at some time or other. I’ve seen all sorts of people and been mixed up
in all kinds of adventures. There’s plenty of hard work, but take it
from me there’s very little monotony in the life of a marine. The
soldiers’ work is on the land. The sailors’ is on the sea. But the
marines do their work on both land and sea.”
“The Marine Corps did great work in the war.” said Tom admiringly.
“They weren’t so bad,” replied Benton modestly. “People say they did
pretty good work at Chateau-Thierry, and they weren’t exactly absent
when Belleau Wood was swept clear of the enemy. But then all our
American boys did well in every branch of the service. Since the war
things haven’t been quite so lively with the marines, though we haven’t
had much chance to get rusty down in San Domingo. That’s where I’ve been
for the last two years, and it was there that my term of service expired
about three weeks ago. It’s only about a week since I landed in New
York.”
“You seem so fond of the service that after a little vacation I suppose
you’ll re-enlist,” observed Dick.
Benton hesitated, and almost unconsciously his hand again rested on his
breast pocket.
“I may and I may not,” he said slowly and with a touch of embarrassment.
“The service, as I said, is full of adventure, and adventure is the
breath of life to me. But just at present I’m planning an adventure on
my own hook, the biggest one of my life—so big in fact that if I told
you about it you might think I was crazy. I—I—”
And while with the keenest interest they stand listening for the
expected disclosure, it may be well for the benefit of those who have
not read the preceding volumes of this series to tell more fully who the
boys were and what had been their adventures up to the time this story
opens.
Phil Strong was the son of the leading physician in Castleton, a
thriving manufacturing town in the Middle West. Phil had been born and
brought up there, and was a general favorite, especially with the young
fellows of his own age. He was now in his nineteenth year, stalwart, six
feet tall and as straight as an arrow, He was of fair complexion,
brown-haired, and had merry blue eyes that could gleam with laughter or
grow hard and cold as steel at anything or anyone that aroused his
indignation. He was a leader in athletic sports and a tower of strength
on his baseball nine and football eleven. He was straightforward,
fearless and truthful, a steadfast friend and a formidable enemy.
Dick Weston, his closest friend, was the son of the cashier of the
Castleton bank. He was of about the same age as Phil, and from their
earliest boyhood they had been the closest of chums. Dick was impulsive
and oftener needed the brake than the spur. He had less initiative than
Phil, but could always be depended on to back his friend to the limit.
In any crisis requiring quick thinking, Phil acted like lightning, but
Dick was usually a pretty close second.
Tom Hadley hailed from Chicago, which he believed to be the only town on
earth—a conviction he was always ready to assert and maintain. He was
of a different type physically from the others, being rotund and stocky,
while they were tall and athletic. He was full of jokes and fun, and
nobody could be long depressed when Tom was one of the party.
Another friend of all three was Steve Elwood, who at the time happened
to be in New York, his native city. He felt about this very much as Tom
did about Chicago, and arguments flew thick and fast when they got
together. Steve was freckle-faced and red-headed, and had the
hair-trigger temper that often goes with that combination. Like
Kipling’s Fuzzy-Wuzzy, he was full of “’ot sand and ginger,” and it was
advisable to give him a clear track when once he got started. With it
all, he was frank and generous, and devotedly attached to the three
friends, with whom he had shared many perils.
A special link that drew the boys still closer together was their common
interest in radio. That wonderful new science found no more fervent
devotees than they. Almost all their spare moments were spent in
increasing their knowledge of its countless marvels, and they had become
expert in both receiving and sending. So absorbed did they become that
they had gained the name of the “Radio Boys,” and soon it became a
matter of course for Castleton folk to refer to them in that way when
they were mentioned together. They saw the possibilities of the science,
and worked at it not merely as a pastime, but because they had about
decided to make it their lifelong profession.
The boys were red-blooded, all-alive young Americans and full of love
for adventure. How that zest led them into many perils; how by a curious
combination of circumstances they found themselves embarked on the
hazardous work of the Secret Service; how their work led them into the
Everglades of Florida, where they encountered danger from beasts and
reptiles and still more deadly criminals; how often they came within a
hair’s breadth of death and yet finally came out triumphant—these
things are told in the first volume of this series, entitled: “The Radio
Boys in the Secret Service; or Running Down the Counterfeiters.”
Shortly after their return, the bank at Castleton was the victim of a
daring holdup. Fifty thousand dollars were stolen and Dick’s father, the
cashier, was wounded. It was learned that “Muggs” Murray, the leader of
the gang, had been seen in Texas. About the same time the Radio Boys,
who were expert aviators, had an invitation to enter the flying service
in connection with the Texas Rangers, who were patrolling the troubled
Mexican border. The opportunity for more adventure, combined with the
chance that they might get on the trail of the robber leader, proved too
strong an allurement to be resisted, and they were soon in the thick of
the fighting with guerillas along the Rio Grande. How narrowly they
escaped death on the land and in the air; their thrilling rescue of
prisoners held by the enemy; how Phil himself was taken captive and held
for ransom and the part that radio played in his escape; how “Muggs”
Murray was tracked and brought to justice can be seen in the second
volume of this series, entitled: “The Radio Boys in the Flying Service;
or, Held for Ransom by Mexican Bandits.”
They had only been home a few weeks from this last experience when in
this singular manner they had been brought in contact with Benton, this
other soldier of fortune, who had declared that adventure was the breath
of life to him. To all of them had come the impression that this was
more than a chance meeting, and that in some way yet to be defined their
future was to be bound up with his. It was this feeling that made them
await with such intentness the words that he had seemed on the point of
speaking.
For a full minute Benton seemed to be debating with himself. Then
caution seemed to gain the upper hand, and he looked at them with a
whimsical smile that was half apologetic.
“I guess the thing will keep,” he remarked, “and anyway I’m too groggy
just now to tell you clearly just what I have in my mind. But I sure do
want to see more of you fellows, if you’ll let me.”
“Sure thing,” replied Phil heartily, and the others echoed him. “Just
now I think the best thing you can do is to get to town, have a doctor
look you over and then settle down for a good night’s rest. Then
tomorrow perhaps we can get together again. That is, if your business
doesn’t make it necessary to get away from Castleton in a hurry.”
“Not at all,” answered Benton, as he got a little unsteadily to his
feet. “In fact, I think Castleton will be the end of my present trip,
though I didn’t think so when I started out this morning.”
The remark was rather cryptic, but the boys forbore any further
questioning and busied themselves with harnessing up the horse, which
seemed by this time to be in a thoroughly subdued frame of mind.
There was not room for all in the buggy and it was arranged that Phil
should drive with Benton to the town, while Dick and Tom should follow
on foot.
On their way in, Phil stopped at the first doctor’s office they came
across and luckily found the physician in. He gave Benton a thorough
examination and found that, outside of bruises and a general shaking up,
there was nothing serious the matter with him. A day or two of rest was
his only prescription.
Phil invited Benton to put up at his home as a guest, and assured him of
a welcome. The latter, however, declined with thanks, feeling a little
shy about his “bunged-up condition,” as he expressed it, but promised to
come up to Phil’s house the following night. At his request, Phil drove
him to a good hotel. Then he left the horse and buggy in the care of the
hostler and turned toward home.
On his way there he fell in with Dick and Tom coming in with the string
of fish that, in the pressure of more important things, Phil had almost
forgotten.
Phil swung into step with them, and they plunged at once into a
discussion of the exciting events of the afternoon.
“Queer, wasn’t it,” said Dick, as he paused for a moment in front of
Phil’s home before separating from his comrades, “how his hand flew to
his breast at something Tom said?”
“It was odd,” agreed Tom. “I remember that I spoke of the horse as an
old pirate. Nothing particular in that. But at the word ‘pirate’ Benton
jumped as though he were shot.”