THE TRAIN-WRECKERS
About three-quarters of an hour later--a seemingly surprised (but not
altogether so) German was held up by a masked highwayman. He gave up
such papers as he had--money was not taken--a very queer highwayman who
would not take money. One thing he had managed to throw into the river
below, but he was made to understand that another attempt to throw
anything else into the river would mean instant action on the part of
the hold-up man. He was told that so plainly that he could not fail to
understand.
“I shall let you go,” the masked man said.
“It is an outrage,” said the German, but his voice did not sound very
convincing. “I shall report it at once to the police.”
“You can do so, but the next time we catch you it may be your last
time. We may be ready for you then.”
The German went off. The masked man removed his mask and proved to be
Captain Wilson. He tried to recover the paper thrown into the river,
but was unsuccessful.
It was but one of the rumblings of the storm to come. One month later
Austria was to march on Servia, the storm would be breaking.
From this western point another proof went forward to a certain
departmental official. Proof that all was not quiet even if the surface
showed an apparent smoothness.
That evening at dinner Captain Wilson asked Ted to come to the dean’s
room.
When he entered, the captain and the dean were in close conversation.
“We feel, Theodore, that you should know that the man you reported was
a German spy drawing plans of the bridges and railroad terminals. We
found some valuable maps on him. We hope we have not been too late to
intercept others he may have drawn, although it is almost too much to
hope for that. I know that Mr. Dean will be specially pleased because
of your valuable help.
“You will be adding to the debt we owe you if you do not speak of it to
anyone. We do not report such things, for there are ever so many who
would consider us alarmists. We are doing what we can, but it must be
done in the dark.”
The German spy made no complaint at the police office. One of a
wonderful nation, he took it calmly, boarded a train to the United
States and, probably, just as painstakingly, began the work over again
in a few days.
Captain Wilson, a few days later, announced that a special drill
of the Infantry and Cavalry Divisions of the Academy would be held
on the Saturday following. It was to precede an inspection of the
Scouts--tests and promotions were to be made.
There were to be some officers and other gentlemen present. He knew, he
said, that the students of Wayland would come up to their usually high
standard.
Many of the boys’ fathers and guardians were to be at the
drill-inspection. Syd’s father, Colonel Graham, John Dean (with whom
Mrs. Dean was coming to see Ted) and about six others were due on one
train which ran from Derby, a junction station just below Wayland.
Captain Wilson decided that the Cavalry Squad should meet this train at
Derby, so at eight o’clock, Saturday morning, they started.
The road runs along the railroad track almost the entire way. When they
reached about three-quarters of the distance, Captain Wilson ordered a
halt and the boys rested. Some of them went walking a little way, for
the captain had allowed them fifteen minutes’ time. He did not want to
get to Derby too early.
As Ted walked down the track he saw some men working on the road.
He passed them by and at a turn sat down on a tree trunk to tie his
shoelace. As he got up and went on, the impression stayed with him that
the tree trunk he had sat on had but just been hewn. What a big tree it
had been!
When the men saw him returning a few minutes later they stopped short
in their work. They watched him as he passed on. Without appearing to
do so, the boy was also watching and observing. He did not let them
see that his suspicions were aroused. When the road turned again, he
hastened his steps. The boys were just mounting, but he asked Captain
Wilson if he could speak to him for a minute.
Very briefly he explained. He thought it looked like an attempt at
train-wrecking.
“It’s quite possible,” said Captain Wilson. “They probably know just
who is coming and figure on maiming or killing a number of important
people.”
Calling the sergeant to him, he directed that half the squad go forward
to meet the train, the other half he ordered to remain. The boys knew
something was wrong. Ted was one of those who remained.
Captain Wilson took the sergeant aside and in a low voice explained
and directed him to get a number of armed men at Derby, as they would
perhaps be of help.
The sergeant saluted and started off with his men. Then the captain
turned to Ted and one other boy:
“Go down one mile. Should you hear a bugle call, the train can pass.
If there is no call you must stop that train. The people on the train
will be on the watch for a signal, for Sergeant Gilhooley will have
warned them to be on the lookout. It is important, boys, that the enemy
is not aware of your presence. We shall also take care that these men
do not see us.” The two boys saluted and were off.
The boys who were left very quietly remained in position. After a
little while the captain turned to them and said:
“Those of the boys who would like to go back may do so. There is
possible danger here and none of us are armed.”
But not one of the boys, of course, would go. The captain stationed
them in the woods, where they were at instant call.
Taking Syd with him, the captain crawled forward and watched the men
dragging the tremendous trunk to place across the track. It took them
almost a half hour to complete the task. They did not leave, but hid
in the adjoining woods. They were going to make sure of their job--any
newcomer would be kept away at all costs.
Captain Wilson saw no chance to clear the track. He hoped the boys
who had gone ahead would be able to stop the train. It ought not be
difficult, he thought, since the people on the train would be warned.
But the best laid plans go wrong very often. The train did not stop
at Derby, but passed through. It was late and so had been “specialed
direct.” The engineer saw boys on horseback tearing down the road and
waving frantically, but decided it was a salute and returned it by a
great whistling from the engine. It was going at full speed when Ted
and his partner waved a red sweater, a danger signal that could not be
ignored. It seemed to the excited boys as if the engineer would never
see it. Then the train began to slow down, and an excited crowd of men
jumped off. Amongst them was John Dean.
After the boys explained the men from the train proceeded cautiously
to the danger point, guns ready. The anxious captain saw them coming
and used his bugle to call the Scouts to him. There was a rush of
train-wreckers from the woods. Shots were fired. Two of them fell in
their tracks. The rest escaped.
Ted was congratulated. Captain Wilson turned to John Dean and said,
with a pat on Ted’s shoulder:
[Illustration: HE WAVED THE RED SWEATER]
“You know, hereafter we shall call him ‘Our Boy Scout, Lucky’. But, do
you know, sir,” as Ted walked off embarrassed, “he uses his head. I am
going to tell you one other case in point.” And he told John Dean of
the spy.
The train came up, so did the frantic squad, with Sergeant Gilhooley at
its head.
Mrs. Dean came out of the train, ran toward Ted and kissed him. Ted did
not mind; he was very proud of that.
The train pulled into Wayland an hour late.
The newspapers called it an attempt of train-wreckers. One of the men
who had been shot was dead and the other mortally wounded. He would not
talk and was taken to the hospital.
Two days later he died.