HALLO'S LAST CARD
"I'm going to give you drafts on New York, Dick," Mr. Denniston had
said. "In ordinary times, that wouldn't be the best way--I'd simply
arrange for transfer of your money by mail or cable. But now, in war
times, with the mails badly held up and most of the cables cut, that is
more difficult. There might be months of delay in getting the money if
we trusted to ordinary arrangements."
"I see, sir," said Dick, though he did not understand the details of
international banking any too well.
"You've had such a hard time getting this, and you've done so splendidly
that I'd hate to think there was any chance of some slip making trouble
for you now," the consul went on. "But with these drafts you'll be all
right. Take good care of them--but I needn't tell you that, I suppose."
"Hardly!" said Dick, with a laugh. "But no one else could cash them,
even if I lost them, I suppose?"
"Not if payment were stopped. The only danger would be if you lost them
in such a way that whoever got them forged your signature and then kept
you from being able to warn the people in New York not to pay them. But
of course there'd be a long delay and it's just possible that you might
lose heavily. So guard them carefully--just as if they were actual
money. I'll give you a money belt to put them in--"
"I have one myself, thanks," said Dick.
"General Dushan has arranged for your trip, I understand," said the
consul. "How do you go?"
"Through Nisha to the Greek border--no, to the Bulgarian line, I
believe," said Dick. "They decided that that was safer than the direct
route to Athens. I sail from Salonica. Stepan Dushan says there are
raiding bands of Albanians south of Uskub and getting near to Monastir,
and that that section isn't safe, anyhow--that it hasn't settled down
properly since the last wars."
"It's true enough," said Mr. Denniston, with a faint frown. "That whole
region is unsettled. You see, Servia took a good deal of territory
Bulgaria claimed and there are a good many Bulgarians living in it. I
hope that Servia will see its way, if it gets what it wants from Bosnia
and Herzegovina, to give that section back to Bulgaria. That's the only
way we can have a real and lasting peace here in the Balkans--and Heaven
knows we need it, after three great wars in as many years!"
All arrangements were made finally. After the great victory that had
driven the Austrians from her soil, Servia was like a man panting for
breath. The whole country was resting, gathering its strength after that
tremendous effort. But there was a good deal of activity, nevertheless.
The ruin the invaders had wrought was being repaired. Railroads had to
be rebuilt; ammunition and stores brought up. For the Austrians, badly
beaten though they had been, were likely to come again.
So it had seemed best for Dick and his chum, with the escort of hardy
Servian cavalrymen General Dushan provided, to ride to the border.
"It'll take us longer, of course," said Stepan, "but not so much. The
railroad is torn to pieces, and even where trains are running, the
military service has the right of way."
"I'd just as soon ride, anyhow," said Dick. "It gives one a much better
chance to see the country."
So it was arranged, and they started from Belgrade before the sun was up
on a morning of mist and heavy clouds. Later the sun swept the mist and
clouds away, and they rode through a devastated, horrible country. The
ravages of war were visible on all sides.
"Ah, well!" said Stepan, with a sigh, as he looked out at the ruin of
what had been a smiling, happy land, "the ones who are coming after us
will live in peace! Those who have been driven from their homes and
have died have suffered for them. Servia will be able to live after this
war without feeling that Austria may move at any minute to crush her.
And that is worth some suffering!"
"Everything's so quiet here I don't see why we need an escort at all,
Stepan," said Dick. "We haven't seen anyone who'd harm a fly--if it was
a Servian fly."
"That's true so far," said Stepan, but a grim look came into his eyes.
"We shall come, though, to a country where we may meet more trouble. I
hope we shall not need the escort--but one can never tell. And I haven't
wanted to alarm you, Dick, but this Hallo has a reputation for not
giving things up easily. You have a great sum of what he may think is
his money, though he stole it from your family. He will not let you get
home with that if he finds a way to stop you."
"But how can he do that while he is a prisoner in Belgrade?" laughed
Dick.
"He is a prisoner--yes," said Stepan, somberly. "But there are many who
have worked for him who are not prisoners. Oh, I may be wrong, and I
shouldn't worry you without reason, Dick! But I don't want you to feel
too secure; I don't want you to think that all the danger is over. It
won't be until we are safely in Salonica."
They had to bid farewell to their escort at last. The troopers went with
them to a lonely spot, marked only by a border monument and two small
houses--quarters of the Servian and Bulgarian frontier guards. Here
there was peace but not friendship. The memories of the bitter summer of
1913, when the allies who had been fighting the Turks, side by side,
turned against one another in one of the bloodiest and sharpest wars in
history, were all too fresh. The Bulgarians scowled at the sight of the
Servian uniforms; they subjected the two scouts to a close scrutiny when
they crossed the line, but their papers were in order and they were
allowed to proceed.
Now, however, there seemed to be something sinister in the very air.
Scowling faces met them wherever they came upon peasants or soldiers,
and soldiers seemed almost unduly numerous. Then after a few hours of
riding, they saw no more soldiers. In their places, however, they
encountered bands of men in the national Bulgarian costume, rough,
hard-faced men with modern rifles, who seemed to be riding aimlessly.
Stepan ground his teeth at the sight of them.
"They're not soldiers, oh, no!" he said. "You see they're not in
uniform. But do you notice how they sit their horses, and how they ride
in files? Undisciplined men never did that! Those bands are the ones
that cross over, raiding our borderlands. But what can we do? We have
enough without fighting Bulgaria, too, so we have to accept apologies
the Sofia government makes. If possible we want Bulgaria on our side.
But--! The treacherous dogs!"
"Don't get so excited, Stepan," advised Dick. "I believe you hate them
more than you do the Austrians!"
"I'll be glad when we cross over into Greece," grumbled Stephan. "The
Greeks are our allies and our friends. The only reason they have not
come to our aid is that they must watch Bulgaria. That helps us, of
course--Bulgaria dares not move while Greece is ready."
It was late in the afternoon when they first noticed that they were no
longer traveling alone. Two Bulgarian merchants--so Stepan said, judging
from their appearance--passed them, riding wiry little horses; a little
later they overtook them, and after that the two Bulgarians stayed about
a hundred yards behind them, no matter how often they altered their
pace.
"I don't like their looks," said Stepan. "I wish we didn't have to sleep
to-night on Bulgarian soil. Their inns--Dick, why should we sleep in an
inn? Let us buy provisions and spend the night out of doors! It will be
cold, but we have faced worse hardships than that together!"
"I'm game!" laughed Dick. "Any inn we find on this road is sure to be
dirty, anyhow. It'll be a last adventure to think of, after all the
rest!"
So it was agreed. In the first village they reached they stopped and
bought provisions. After dark they hobbled their horses and built a
lean-to shelter and a big camp-fire. The two Bulgarians passed them as
they began; soon one rode back.
"I thought so!" said Stepan. "They're watching us, Dick."
Dick looked at him curiously. There was a strange light in Stepan's
eyes. It was as if he could see things that are hidden from ordinary
sight. And before he could answer Stepan sprang to his feet.
"Come!" he said. "Tear your shirt up into strips--I'm going to muffle
the feet of the horses."
He went to work with a will, and Dick followed his example, smiling to
himself. He knew Stepan too well to argue with him in such a mood. But
that there was serious danger he could not believe for a moment.
"Come!" said Stepan again, when they had finished. He took his horse and
led it into the field. They were in wooded country but the trees were
not thick, and they could pick a way through them.
Dick looked back at the blazing fire regretfully.
"Are you going on--now?" he asked.
"For your sake," said Stepan, curtly. And Dick said no more.
"A mile away there is another road. We have maps of all this region, of
course, and I studied them," said Stepan. "If we can reach a place I
have just thought of we may be safe."
They came undisturbed to the parallel road. Then they mounted.
"The horses are pretty tired," suggested Dick.
"I'm sorry for them, but I can't help that," said Stepan. "Come
on--ride!"
From the start he set a hot pace. Before long Dick felt his horse was
growing more and more tired and finally he protested.
"Slow up, then, if you like!" said Stepan, fiercely. "Don't you know by
this time that I don't speak of danger unless it is real? Perhaps you
want to be caught by these people! But they know me--and I know what
they would do to me! I don't intend to have them catch me, I can tell
you!"
"Then why did you come with me?" asked Dick, angrily. He had never seen
his friend in such a mood before. Stepan's tone made him so angry that
he was almost able to forget how much he owed him.
Stepan didn't answer. But just then, as they still rode on, forcing
their pace, they came to a turn in the road. A lone figure, mounted on a
big horse, was standing guard. At sight of them he leaned forward, then
cried out sharply, "Halt!"
For answer Stepan spurred his horse on; Dick's followed. A shot rang
out; then another, and another, but no bullets came near them.
"He's signalling. Now will you believe I was right?" asked Stepan
bitterly.
The thunder of hoofs sounded on the road behind them. They sped on, but
suddenly Dick's horse lurched and almost threw him over its head, Dick
pulled him up; the poor brute was limping.
"He can't go on!" said Dick. "Stepan--"
"Then you'll have to shift for yourself!" shouted Stepan, brutally.
"I've done all I can for you!"
And, leaving Dick dumbfounded, he spurred on and was soon visible only
as a cloud of dust! Dick could scarcely believe his eyes and ears. That
Stepan, his trusted friend, who had shared every imaginable peril with
him, could desert him so now! But he had not long to think. The pursuers
whose horses they had heard were on him in a minute more. Without a
struggle, since the odds were overwhelming--ten or twelve men assailed
him--he let himself be dragged from his horse and bound.
One man came to him and searched him. When he found the belt he gave a
cry of triumph. The next moment he was examining the drafts.
"Another one was with you?" he said, in excellent English and with a
marked American accent. Dick started. This looked like Hallo's work,
certainly. "Where is he?"
"He's gone--to save himself," said Dick, bitterly.
"Ah, well--you are the one we want," said his captor, who was plainly
the leader of the band. "Now, my young friend, endorse these drafts, in
blank, at once!"
"I will not!" said Dick, hotly. "And you can tell Hallo so, too!"
"You will not?" said the other, smoothly. "Then I will tell you what
will happen. I give you an hour--because I have lived in New York, and
done well there. I like you Americans. If you have not signed then, I
shall sign for you."
"That will be forgery--and I shall stop payment!"
"So? Suppose, when I leave you here, I leave you under the earth? There
are many graves in the Balkans in these days--new graves! One more or
less will matter little. Do you think it will ever give up its
secret--the one that shall hold you?"
Something in the man's cool tone made Dick shiver. It carried
conviction--it made him believe that this was no idle threat. And yet he
felt that he could not yield. Oh, if only Stepan had not left him! He
was glad, now that his anger had cooled, that his chum was not involved
in this new trouble. And yet--he would have felt better had Stepan been
beside him, to share this peril, as he had shared so many others.
"It is eleven o'clock now," said the brigand. "If at midnight you have
not signed--!"
"That's enough," said Dick. "I'll think it over."
"Light a fire--it is chilly," directed the chief of Dick's captors. "I
am a kindly man. I would not want this hour to prove a chilly one for
you."
Strange and weird indeed Dick found the scene. There were eleven men, he
found, when he could count them. All wore the Bulgarian national
costume; all looked like soldiers, but he thought all were not
Bulgarians. There were Turks and Albanians among them. And then,
suddenly, one man pitched forward, very quietly, and lay still. The
others started toward him; two or three of them fell. They fell as Dick
had seen men fall when they were struck by bullets, though he had heard
no sound of a shot, but only a faint noise, like the cough of an animal.
Then wild panic spread among his captors. They blazed away in all
directions with their guns; for the moment they forgot him. And then
silent, fierce figures were suddenly among them, cutting, stabbing--and
Stepan's cry rang out.
"Dick! Dick! Are you safe?" he shouted.
It was all over in a moment. Stepan, the tears streaming down his
cheeks, released Dick.
"I lamed your horse--I had to pretend to desert you so that they would
believe you and let me go!" he cried. "I knew our horses were too tired
for us to escape unless we could delay them. A few miles from here is a
little colony of Serbs. We, you see, have to do something to get
warning of the border raids. They have guns with silencers--I knew I
could get help. Now we must ride for the Greek line, but we can make it
now!"
On through the night they rode, leaving the dead and wounded behind,
while those who had been captured unhurt were tied and gagged. And
before daylight they came to a Greek frontier post. Greek soldiers
greeted them; there was a captain who had served with Stepan's father
against Bulgaria.
"The road to Salonica is safe and open now!" he told them.
And so it proved. Dick had recovered his papers and a week later, his
adventures over, he sailed from Athens, and waved to Stepan, standing on
the deck, until he could no longer see him. He was homeward bound.
Hallo had played his last card--and lost.
The End.
MARY A. BYRNE'S BOOKS
THE FAIRY CHASER
"Telling of two boys who go into the vegetable and
flower-raising business instead of humdrum commercial pursuits.
The characters and situations are realistic."--_PHILADELPHIA
TELEGRAPH_
LITTLE DAME TROT
One of the most pleasing of juveniles, made pathetic by the
strength with which the author pictures the central figure, a
little girl made miserable by her mother's strict adherence to
a pet "method" of training.
THE LITTLE WOMAN IN THE SPOUT
"This pleasing story may have been developed from real life,
from real children, so true a picture does it portray of
girlish life and sports."--_GRAND RAPIDS HERALD_
ROY AND ROSYROCKS
A glowing Christmas tale, fresh and natural in situations, that
will interest both boys and girls.
It tells how two poor children anticipate the joys of the
holiday, and how heartily they enter into doing their part to
make the day merry for themselves and others.
PEGGY-ALONE
The chronicles of the Happy-Go-Luckys, a crowd of girls who did
not depend upon riches for good times. This club was very
stretchible as to membership, so they elected Peggy-Alone from
pity of her loneliness. Freed from governess, nurse and
solicitous mother, she has the jolliest summer of her life.
THE BRADEN BOOKS
FAR PAST THE FRONTIER
_By_ JAMES A. BRADEN
The sub-title "Two Boy Pioneers" indicates the nature of this
story--that it has to do with the days when the Ohio Valley and
the Northwest country were sparsely settled. Such a topic is an
unfailing fund of interest to boys, especially when involving a
couple of stalwart young men who leave the East to make their
fortunes and to incur untold dangers.
"Strong, vigorous, healthy, manly."--_Seattle Times._
CONNECTICUT BOYS IN THE WESTERN RESERVE
_By_ JAMES A. BRADEN
The author once more sends his heroes toward the setting sun.
"In all the glowing enthusiasm of youth, the youngsters seek
their fortunes in the great, fertile wilderness of northern
Ohio, and eventually achieve fair success, though their
progress is hindered and sometimes halted by adventures
innumerable. It is a lively, wholesome tale, never dull, and
absorbing in interest for boys who love the fabled life of the
frontier."--_Chicago Tribune._
THE TRAIL of THE SENECA
_By_ JAMES A. BRADEN
In which we follow the romantic careers of John Jerome and
Return Kingdom a little farther.
These two self-reliant boys are living peaceably in their cabin
on the Cuyahoga when an Indian warrior is found dead in the
woods nearby. The Seneca accuses John of witchcraft. This means
death at the stake if he is captured. They decide that the
Seneca's charge is made to shield himself, and set out to prove
it. Mad Anthony, then on the Ohio, comes to their aid, but all
their efforts prove futile and the lone cabin is found in ashes
on their return.
CAPTIVES THREE
_By_ JAMES A. BRADEN
A tale of frontier life, and how three children--two boys and a
girl--attempt to reach the settlements in a canoe, but are
captured by the Indians. A common enough occurrence in the days
of our great-grandfathers has been woven into a thrilling
story.
FICTION FOR GIRLS
BETTY, The SCRIBE
_By_ LILIAN TURNER
_Drawings by_ KATHARINE HAYWARD GREENLAND
Betty is a brilliant, talented, impulsive seventeen-year-old
girl, who is suddenly required to fill her mother's place at
the head of a household, with a literary, impractical father to
manage.
Betty writes, too, and every time she mounts her Pegasus
disaster follows for home duties are neglected. Learning of one
of these lapses, her elder sister comes home. Betty storms and
refuses to share the honors until she remembers that this means
long hours free to devote to her beloved pen. She finally moves
to the city to begin her career in earnest, and then--well,
then comes the story.
"Miss Turner is Miss Alcott's true successor. The same healthy,
spirited tone is visible which boys and girls recognized in
LITTLE MEN and LITTLE WOMEN."--_The Bookman_
Elizabeth Hobart at Exeter Hall
_By_ JEAN K. BAIRD
_Illustrated by_ R. G. VOSBURGH
A spirited Story of every-day boarding-school life that girls
like to read. Full of good times and girlish fun.
Elizabeth enters the school and loses no time in becoming one
of the leading spirits. She entertains at a midnight spread,
which is recklessly conducted under the very nose of the
preceptress, who is "scalped" in order to be harmless, for
every one knows she would never venture out minus her front
hair; she champions an ostracized student; and leads in a
daring plan to put to rout the Seniors' program for class day.
BOOKS FOR BOYS
WINFIELD SERIES:
LARRY BARLOW'S AMBITION
A YOUNG INVENTOR'S PLUCK
These two books of adventure for boys, by the popular author of
the ROVER BOYS' SERIES, have attained an enviable reputation,
and are read by thousands and thousands of boys everywhere.
CASTLEMON SERIES:
A STRUGGLE FOR A FORTUNE
WINGED ARROW'S MEDICINE
THE FIRST CAPTURE
HARRY CASTLEMON ranks among the best of the writers of juvenile
fiction. His various books are in constant and large demand by
the boys who have learned to look for his name as author as a
guaranty of a good story.
BONEHILL SERIES:
THE BOY LAND BOOMER
THREE YOUNG RANCHMEN
Stories of western life that are full of adventure, which read
as if they happened day before yesterday.
RATHBORNE SERIES:
DOWN THE AMAZON
ADRIFT ON A JUNK
YOUNG VOYAGERS OF THE NILE
YOUNG CASTAWAYS
For boys who have had their fill of adventures on land, the
RATHBORNE books are ever welcome. They make one feel the salt
breeze, and hear the shouts of the sailor boys.
OTIS SERIES:
TEDDY
TELEGRAPH TOM
MESSENGER No. 48
DOWN THE SLOPE
JAMES OTIS writes for wide-awake American boys, and his
audience read his tales with keen appreciation.
End of Project Gutenberg's Under Fire For Servia, by Colonel James Fiske