LEAVING FOR THE FRONT.
"What's this? What's this?" stammered Tubby, as the schooner of rich
milk fell with a crash to the pavement when the soldiers began
struggling with the woman vender, who was also the owner of the dog
team.
Of course a crowd collected immediately, as it always will in a city
when there is the first sign of something doing. Antwerp was fairly
seething with half suppressed excitement at that time, and anything of
this kind was like putting a match to the powder magazine.
"Well, I declare but she's a husky old woman, that's right!" Tubby was
heard to say after his astonishment had in a measure abated, and he
could catch his breath. "Why, it takes the whole four soldiers to subdue
her. Shame! to hit a poor old woman like that; but my stars, don't she
kick and try to land a blow on some of their noses."
"Whew! what do you think!" exclaimed Rob just then, for he had been
listening to some of the chattering on the part of the excited crowd
near by. "It isn't an old woman, after all, but a man. That explains how
he comes to fight as he does, and why the Belgians keep on treating him
so roughly."
"A man, and dressed up like a woman!" cried Tubby. "Well, if that isn't
a queer stunt, I want to know. Is he trying to escape military duty, do
you think, Rob? I remember they have conscription here in Belgium just
like in Germany, Russia and France. Every young fellow has to serve the
colors just so long."
But Rob shook his head. By now the soldiers had apparently conquered the
spirit of the man in woman's garments. His white Belgian cap had been
torn off in the struggle, showing that his hair was short underneath. He
was also bleeding from having come in contact with some hard object, but
he now stood there as straight as any grenadier, and looked his captors
contemptuously in the face.
"They say he's a German spy!" Rob told his two chums. Tubby again held
his breath, and stared as hard as he could at the prisoner.
The crowd became fairly wild to get at the captive, and made all manner
of violent threats as they surged around the little group. The milk can
was upset, and the dogs liberated by some friendly hand ran wildly away,
as though knowing that their temporary master had gotten himself in a
serious scrape.
The four determined Belgian soldiers guarding their prisoner against the
fury of the mob began to work a way along the pavement, meaning, no
doubt, to land their prize in the lock-up, where he would be safe until
the firing squad was called on to complete the tragedy.
Presently their signals brought another detachment of the guard to the
spot, a way was speedily cleared through the dense masses of people, and
that was the last the three scouts saw of the spy. They could guess his
fate, but at the same time felt positive that he must have met it as a
man.
Somehow, the experience gave them a queer feeling. Here they had been
rubbing up against some of the tragic happenings of the war, and after
being in Antwerp only a few hours. No wonder they all felt convinced
that the signs pointed to their having some lively times ahead.
"And say, I didn't get my drink of milk, either, did I?" lamented Tubby,
after things settled back into the old rut again, with that never-ending
procession of citizens, refugees, soldiers, and even a sprinkling of
venturesome foreign tourists passing by in both directions.
"Oh! that doesn't cut much figure in the matter," Merritt told him,
"because if you step off this main street into one of the side _gassens_
you'll run across plenty of other milk-venders, who will not turn out to
be something else."
"I see one right now," announced the persistent Tubby, who did not like
to give up anything on which he had set his heart. "And look at the name
of the same, will you: _The Street of the Steen_. Now what does that
stand for, Rob? Is it the same as the German word _stein_?"
"Oh! no, you're away off there, Tubby," he was immediately told by the
patrol leader, who had studied his guide book to some advantage. "This
Steen used ages ago to be a terrible prison, where in the days of the
Spanish Inquisition they tortured people in all sorts of ways. Just now
it's a great museum; and if only we had time, which we don't expect, I'd
like nothing better than to explore it."
"You see," Merritt told them, "if only you would let me go on by myself,
and try to find Steven Meredith, you might stay around here and have a
fairly decent time, unless the Germans do really start to try and
capture Antwerp, after all."
"That'll do for you, Merritt," Rob informed him severely, "you forget
that incident is closed."
"Yes," added Tubby, trying to frown, but as usual making a sorry mess of
it, for the lines of his chubby face refused to take on such an air,
seeing that they were only adapted for smiling, "don't let us hear
another wheeze from you, Merritt. But please come with me, and let's
see if all the old milk-venders of Antwerp are German spies. I hope the
milk isn't poisoned."
"That isn't fair talk, Tubby, because you know the Germans would be away
and above doing anything like that. They have their faults, but nobody
calls them cowards. In fact, they seem to be too brave for their own
good, because we hear how they are shot down like ripe grain, pushing
along in masses straight into the jaws of death, and singing as they
go."
This time they were allowed to quaff their mugs of cool, fresh milk
without any unpleasant incident to interrupt the ceremony. Tubby did eye
the woman who owned the outfit rather suspiciously, and must have
aroused her curiosity by the way he turned his head several times after
they had walked off.
For another hour the three American scouts tramped back and forth,
seeing all they possibly could in so short a time. The quaint Flemish
houses, with their many gables, and their red-tiled roofs, interested
them greatly. In some of the streets the buildings even seemed to lean
toward one another, and Tubby declared two men could almost shake hands
by stretching from the upper windows.
"Now we ought to see the burgomaster," said Rob, as the afternoon waned.
"You know you are carrying a letter to him, Merritt, from your
grandfather, who happens to be acquainted with him. And we count on
getting a guide through his influence who will take us along the roads
between here and Brussels."
"Even if a guide is not to be found, because nearly all the men are
enlisted in the army," Merritt replied, "we've made up our minds not to
hold back. Fellows who have had as much experience in running the
gauntlet as the scouts of the Eagle Patrol can point to, needn't worry
about how they're going to get along."
"Leave that to us," said Tubby, rather pompously; "and we'll land on our
feet all right, just as a cat does if you drop it out of the
second-story window."
After considerable difficulty, the boys were admitted to an audience
with the mayor or burgomaster of Antwerp in his official chambers.
Fortunately, he spoke English, so they expected to meet with little
difficulty in acquainting him with the nature of their mission to
Belgium at a time when nearly all other Americans were only too well
pleased to get away from the land of strife and warfare.
The burgomaster looked surprised and even anxious when he heard that
they desired an official paper from him, requesting all Belgians to
assist them in their search for one Steven Meredith, who was believed to
be located in a town not many miles to the west of the capital.
"I would do much for my old friend, Monsieur Charles Crawford, for whom
I have long entertained a sincere affection," he told Merritt, after he
had read the letter presented to him, and questioned the boys at length,
"but it is a most serious undertaking you have in view. I question the
wisdom of my encouraging such a dangerous trip."
Rob, seeing that the good burgomaster appeared to be hesitating, and as
Tubby expressed it, "on the fence," started in to talk. Rob had a very
persuasive way about him, as his chums knew from past experiences. They
guessed how it would all turn out as soon as they saw how impressed the
Belgian city official seemed to be with the arguments the boy brought
forward.
Of course, in the end, the burgomaster yielded, and wrote them out the
passport they wanted so badly. This document would possibly permit them
to go even beyond the lines where the Belgian army was intrenched,
waiting to deal a blow at the enemy in case the Germans turned
threateningly toward Antwerp.
"I do this much against my will," he told them, as he was shaking each
one by the hand upon their leaving. "But my old friend has written me so
much that is clever about the faculty you boys have shown in taking care
of yourselves, that I am in hopes you may get through safely. But I
shall be sad indeed if anything overtakes you through my giving way to
sentiment. I wish I could influence you to remain here in safety, and
send out some messenger in your stead to bring this man to Antwerp."
"We have made up our minds to accompany our friend, the grandson of the
Charles Crawford you knew, sir," Rob told him, "and all we can promise
is that we mean to be very careful. If the man you will send around to
us as a guide does his duty faithfully, we hope to get along fairly
well. And believe us, sir, we feel that you have advised and assisted us
even more generously than Mr. Crawford expected of you. We thank you a
thousand times. Good-bye."
That night passed without anything unusual happening to disturb the
three boys. Their hotel chanced to be situated in a quiet part of the
seething city, so that they were not at all annoyed by patriotic
outbursts. And boys as a rule have a happy faculty of losing their
troubles in sleep.
With the coming of that next morning all of them were early astir. After
breakfast they went in search of mounts, having secured some hints from
the proprietor of the hotel.
Horses were certainly at a high premium just then in Flanders. Nearly
every animal of any worth at all had been taken by the Belgian field
forces for army use. If a few were by accident hidden, and escaped this
search, they were apt to be discovered by the advancing Germans.
"It would be of no use, anyway, getting hold of respectable nags," Rob
explained, when he saw even Tubby gape at sight of the poor looking
animals they had offered to them at exorbitant prices, "because we'd
never have the least chance to get anywhere on their backs. No matter
how many passes we had from burgomasters, or even King Albert himself,
somebody would be sure to take them away from us."
"I suppose half a loaf _is_ better than no bread at all," complained
Merritt with vivid recollections of the fine mounts he and his chums had
sported on several occasions, notably when on the cattle ranch, and
following Mexican war trails.
"But _such_ a loaf!" sighed Tubby, as he ran his hand over the bony back
of the nearest quadruped, and wondered whether so weak looking a horse
could long survive under his rather heavy weight.
"They may turn out a heap better than they look," Rob told them.
"Sometimes it's the bony horses that can hold the pace in a grueling
journey. But, after all, it's a case of Hobson's choice with us; either
these nags, or walk."
"Whew! better close the bargain then, Merritt; that is, if you think you
can afford the price," Tubby hastened to say, for as may be easily
understood, he was not very much in love with protracted walks, not
having been built for a sprinter.
So Merritt bought four horses, and paid cash down for them, receiving a
regular bill of sale from the dealer, to show they were his property.
With them went old saddles and bridles, good enough for the purpose of
the three scouts, but not of a type calculated to incite anyone to steal
the same.
All that remained to be looked after now was that promised guide. If the
good burgomaster of Antwerp kept his promise, they expected to find a
native waiting at the hotel when they got back after their foray into
the limited horse market.
And sure enough they found a swarthy Belgian there who said he had been
engaged by the mayor to serve them. Merritt quickly made terms, for the
guide, besides being able to converse in French and Flemish, could
speak some English, and readily comprehended all that was said in that
tongue; especially when the subject of a money contract came under
consideration.
"There's nothing to detain us any longer, boys," remarked Merritt. "We
have made up a little pack apiece which we'd like to take along. We
travel light on this trip, you know; all but Tubby, and that's something
he always gets left on. The balance of our duffle the proprietor of the
hotel has promised to keep safely until we show up to claim it again."
"Small loss if we never see any of it again," Rob admitted. "At the same
time we hope to come back this way after we've run that person down, and
either recover the paper your grandfather wants, or learn that it's lost
for good."
"That is," corrected Tubby, "we expect to see Antwerp again if the
Germans don't gobble us up."
"I'd like to see them try it," remarked Merritt, with a significant look
at the ample proportions of the fat chum. "They'd have their work cut
out, as sure as you live, Tubby."
"Now, don't get personal again, Merritt," cautioned the other, holding
up a warning forefinger, "but as there are heaps and heaps of queer
things I'd like to poke into around this town, I certainly hope to visit
it again."
Half an hour afterward, mounted on scrubby looking horses, which would
have excited the derision of any respectable cowboy in the West, Rob and
his two chums, accompanied by Anthony Wallenhout, the Belgian guide,
passed out of the city, heading toward the east.
Before they had gone a sixth of a mile they found themselves stopped by
a patrol of soldiers, led by a young lieutenant, who, it happened, could
speak English.
"It is no use, messieurs," he told them, with a pleasant smile, but a
determined shake of the head, "you must face the other way and go back.
The enemy is in force in many places between Brussels and Antwerp, and
severe fighting is going on wherever our brave army has thrown up
entrenchments. Antwerp is the only safe place for any who speak English,
these days."