CHAPTER IX.

THE HELPING HAND.

“Seems to me we ought to be getting pretty near the place,” commented

Alec, as they jogged along at a fair clip, even Billy showing himself

persistent as a runner, though he could hardly be placed in the same

class as some of the other fellows.

“We are,” Hugh told him, shortly. “I expect to see signs of that

settlement at any minute now.”

“Terribly quiet, I think,” remarked Bud Morgan.

“It always is just before a storm breaks,” chirped Billy, between

breaths.

“In this case it’s the deadly lull _after_ the storm has done its

worst,” suggested Ralph Kenyon. “Lots of times I’ve known ’em to curve

around and come back again over the same old ground.”

“Yes,” added Arthur, “and they say the second time is apt to be a whole

lot worse than the first. If those foreigners get mad after what’s

happened, goodness knows how the thing will end.”

“Well, I’d keep that white flag in plain sight right along, if I was

you, Hugh,” advised Alec.

“That’s what I am doing, Alec,” the scout master replied.

Before leaving camp, Hugh had secured a piece of white muslin and tied

this to a stick three or four feet long. His idea was that a flag of

truce, being understood by people of every nation, is as a rule

respected. If the strikers seemed disposed to be ugly toward the scouts

and threatened an attack, perhaps the waving of this flag might hold

them in check.

All Hugh wanted was a fair chance to explain the motive that was

bringing himself and comrades into the fighting zone. Surely after the

men and women learned that they only came with the intention of caring

for those poor unfortunates who may have been shot down by the guards at

the works, they could not continue to bear the boys any animosity.

He knew that the sight of their uniforms was apt to be the worst feature

of the case, for this would prejudice the ignorant foreigners against

them. The situation was fraught with considerable risk, and Hugh

realized that it would require all the diplomacy he could display in

order that they might avoid a rupture with the sullen men and the

furious women among the foreigners.

“Listen! wasn’t that someone talking in an outlandish jabber?” asked

Bud, all of a sudden, holding up his hand.

“Yes, we must be getting close to their settlement,” announced Hugh, as

his jaw became more firmly set, and his eyes took on a determined

expression.

“I think we’ll open it up as soon as we pass around that clump of trees

on the side of the road, Hugh,” Ralph Kenyon was heard to remark.

“The road takes a sharp bend there,” said Hugh, “and I’ve no doubt we’ll

find the camp not far away. It may be we can see the cement works at the

same time, for there isn’t more than a quarter of a mile between them, I

understand.”

They kept on running, and in less than two minutes more turned the bend

in the road. As they did so Bud Morgan called out:

“There are the shacks now, fellows!”

“Gee! what a tumble-down place!” exclaimed Billy.

“And look at ’em rushing around, would you?” added Ralph Kenyon. “I’d

say they’re right excited as it is, and when they glimpse us coming it’s

going to be worse still.”

“There, they’ve done it already!” cried Arthur; “see that man rushing

around and shouting like he was crazy! I’ve heard screech-owls make a

row like that, but never a human being. What will we do, Hugh?”

“Steady, fellows!” cautioned the scout leader. “We must make them

understand that we come in peace and not in war. Slow down to a walk,

and let me go on ahead with this white flag!”

Hugh was waving the makeshift flag of truce furiously over his head as

he continued to walk toward the camp of the strikers. A near-panic had

broken out there when the ignorant foreigners suddenly discovered what

they thought must be the advance guard of the soldiers charging their

village. Men, women and children were rushing to and fro in the wildest

manner imaginable, many of them shrieking at the top of their voices, so

that it seemed as though Bedlam had broken loose.

“Hold up!” called Hugh, suddenly, “we’d be foolish to go any closer

while all that row is keeping on. Let’s take a stand here and keep on

waving this rag. Sooner or later someone who’s got a more level head

than the rest must understand that all we want is to talk with one of

the lot. We’ve got to avoid a mix-up; and that’s what might happen if we

allowed some of those half-crazed women to get their hands on us. They’d

tear the clothes from our backs, and beat us black and blue.”

No one offered the least objection to Hugh’s plan. Indeed, if the truth

must be told they secretly heaved sighs of relief upon hearing that the

leader did not contemplate advancing directly into that maelstrom of

shouting humanity. It was only a short time before that they had been

reading in history what terrors the Amazons of Paris had shown

themselves to be during the Revolution; and consequently they felt a

certain amount of respect for excited women’s prowess as fighters.

All at once there was a shot, and the scouts plainly heard the “ping” of

a bullet singing over their heads, and not so very far away, either.

“Hugh, they’re starting to shoot at us!” gasped Billy.

It was really the first time in their lives these boys had experienced

the strange chilly feeling of being under fire. To their credit it must

be said that not a single one of them flinched, even though they may

have turned a bit pale, and no one could blame them for that.

“Steady!” said Hugh, continuing to move his flag back and forth. “Hold

up both hands, every fellow, to show them we have no guns, and have come

to them unarmed.”

It was a bright thought. Actions must take the place of words at such a

time as this, and ignorant though these foreigners might be from the

standpoint of an American boy, surely they ought to comprehend such a

plain fact as this.

Hugh was staking everything on it. He felt that there must be some sort

of leader among these strikers who would be above the average in

intelligence. All the while he stood there in front of the others, and

in waving his emblem of peace, Hugh was endeavoring to pick out this man

from among those who were rushing around wildly, gesticulating, shaking

their fists in the direction of the scouts, and shrieking in their

native language.

“I see him!” Hugh suddenly exclaimed. “There he comes out to the front

now, that big man with the red handkerchief knotted around his neck, and

the brass earrings. That must be the padrone, the man who is the big

boss. Yes, see him trying to choke off some of the shouters. If only he

can do that it’s going to be all right.”

“I hope he squelches that fool who fired at us, so he doesn’t try it

again,” Billy was heard to say; but it might be noticed that although

his words indicated uneasiness of mind, Billy was far from showing

himself to be a coward, for unwilling to have Hugh shield his person,

Billy had stepped out in order to be in plain sight and share the danger

with his chief.

That was Billy’s way, and one of the reasons why his chums loved him as

they did; generous to a fault, he was always willing to share everything

with his comrades, even to court peril.

They watched the actions of the padrone with keen interest. It was

apparent that he understood the object of that white banner better than

any of the rest; or else he may have discovered that the six figures in

uniform were not men but boys, and therefore hardly to be feared.

“He’s coming this way, Hugh!” announced sharp-eyed Ralph Kenyon.

“Yes, and if he holds up part way, I’ll step out and meet him, which

would be only fair,” Hugh told them.

“See what he’s got in his hand, will you?” said Billy.

“It’s a pretty tough specimen of a white flag,” jeered Alec; “but

anything goes I guess with them. He means all right, don’t you think,

Hugh?”

“No doubt about it at all,” came the ready answer. “Now, if you see me

start out toward him in case he stops, please stay where you are,

everybody.”

“We’re on, Hugh,” Billy assured him; “but I only hope he can understand

enough English to grab what you say to him, that’s all.”

The leader of the striking laborers continued to advance straight toward

the little group of khaki-clad scouts. Hugh kept his truce flag waving

constantly, as if he meant to impress upon the suspicious minds of these

people that they had nothing to fear from himself and companions.

Just as Hugh had anticipated, the man suddenly came to a halt about

fifty feet off. Undoubtedly he had reached the limit of his valor, and

believed one of the strangers in uniform should come out to meet him.

Yes, he was even then making violent beckoning gestures with his hand,

and holding up one finger, which doubtless meant that he wanted but a

single member of the group to meet him.

Accordingly, Hugh immediately started off to join him, with his flag

over his shoulder. Quickly he advanced, and was soon up to the man, whom

he found to be a fellow with a strong face, and undoubtedly well fitted

for his position as a leader among his people.

“Can you speak English?” was the first thing Hugh asked, and to his

surprise as well as pleasure the man nodded his head as he replied

briskly:

“Sure. Anglish I spick ver’ well.”

“That’s good,” the other hastened to say, and looking as friendly as he

could. “Do you know what the Boy Scouts are? We do not belong to the

soldiers, but we wear this uniform so we can be known from other boys.

We were in camp over there,” and he pointed back along the road as he

said this, “when we heard the shooting. We feared some of your people

must have been hurt, and that you mightn’t have a doctor here to help

them. So we have come to do what we’re able, to stop the bleeding, to

bind up the wounds, and make them as comfortable as we can.”

The big man with the dark face had listened intently. His face lighted

up with intelligence, and Hugh realized that the other must have grasped

the idea he was trying to convey after a fashion.

“Oh, you doctor, you know how keep men alive after they be shot? Why,

you only boy. I never know boy can be doctor over here. How is that so,

tell me?”

When the padrone said this he looked suspiciously at Hugh, as though it

may have begun to filter through his brain that after all this might be

some shrewd trick on the part of the enemy to gain access to their camp.

A concerted rush on the part of civil and military authorities would

mean the capture of the ring-leaders of the strike that was turning out

to be so riotous an affair.

Hugh’s answer was prompt and to the point. With admirable discretion he

had thought to carry along with him his medicine kit, and this he now

opened so that the padrone could see its entire contents. That ought to

be enough to convince him as to the pacific intentions of the six lads

who had come running all of two miles just to lend a helping hand to

those in distress.

It did, for when Hugh looked up again he saw that the suspicious frown

had left the dark face of the other, and was succeeded by an eager

expression.

“You learn how so be doctor in this what you call Boy Scout biz?” the

man asked huskily; “it is ver’ good thing you come here. I think one,

two men die if that bleed not be stop soon. Nobody can do nothing, and

it soon be too late.”

“Then will you let us try the best we know how; can we come into your

camp, and will you tell your people we are friends?” asked Hugh,

quickly.

When he saw the padrone nod his head violently several times in the

affirmative, Hugh turned and beckoned to his chums; who, reading the

signal aright, hastened to join him.

The Boy Scouts of the Field Hospital · 第 9 / 14 章