THE BOY SCOUTS
AT THE CANADIAN BORDER
By LIEUT. HOWARD PAYSON
Author of
“The Boy Scouts of the Eagle Patrol,” “The Boy Scouts on the Range,”
“The Boy Scouts’ Mountain Camp,” “The Boy Scouts for Uncle Sam,” “The
Boy Scouts at the Panama Canal,” “The Boy Scouts and the Army Airship,”
“The Boy Scouts with the Allies in France,” “The Boy Scouts on Belgian
Battlefields,” “The Boy Scouts Under Fire in Mexico,” “The Boy Scouts
at the Panama-Pacific Exposition,” “The Boy Scouts’ Campaign for
Preparedness,” “The Boy Scouts Under Sealed Orders,” “The Boy Scouts’
Badge of Courage,” etc.
A. L. BURT COMPANY
Publishers New York
Printed in U. S. A.
Copyright, 1918, by
Hurst & Co., Inc.
Printed in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A Glimpse over into Canada 5
II. Rumblings of Coming Trouble 19
III. By Aeroplane Across the Border 30
IV. An Invasion of the Camp 42
V. Comforting Tubby 54
VI. The Logging Camp 66
VII. An Unwelcome Intruder 78
VIII. Tubby Has an Adventure 91
IX. The Man Outside 104
X. Neatly Done 114
XI. Zeb Makes Good 129
XII. A Scout’s First Duty 142
XIII. A Thrilling Discovery 154
XIV. Rob Makes Up His Mind 166
XV. On Duty Bent 178
XVI. The Stone Cairn on the Border 190
XVII. Lynx Law 202
XVIII. The Trail to the Trestle 214
XIX. The Hunt for the Wire 226
XX. The Munition Train’s Approach 238
XXI. Cutting the Battery Connections 250
XXII. Like Old Times for the Scouts 260
XXIII. In Swift Pursuit 272
XXIV. Those Who Sat by the Fire 284
XXV. Bad Luck, and Good 296
XXVI. Everybody Satisfied 308
The Boy Scouts at the Canadian Border
CHAPTER I
A GLIMPSE OVER INTO CANADA
“Suppose we hold up here, and rest a bit, fellows!”
“We’ll have to accommodate you, Tubby. It really pains me to hear you
puffing and blowing so hard.”
“Now, that’s just six words for me and half a dozen for yourself, Andy
Bowles. Haven’t I seen you look longingly at every log we passed, as if
you wished Rob would give the order to sit down and recuperate? Honest
to goodness, I do own up that I’m a trifle winded. This pack seems to
keep on getting heavier and heavier.”
“You only imagine it does, Tubby, that’s all. If a fellow is shaped like
a wash-tub, what else could you expect of him when it comes to toting a
load of duffle and grub over a Maine carry?”
“And when another angular chap I know is said to resemble a
broom-handle, so far as symmetry and plumpness goes, you’ve got to
expect that his greatest feats are accomplished when grub is served.
That’s a time, Andy Bowles, bugler of the Hampton Troop of Boy Scouts,
when you make competition throw up its hands in despair and retire from
the field; your capacity in that line is without a peer.”
“That’s right, Tubby, take a swig of water from your battered old
canteen after such a spread-eagle speech. I’m sure your throat must be
parched, and as dry as a bone.”
“Here, fellows, suppose you let up badgering each other; and after we
drop down on this log in the little open glade, what’s to hinder us from
figuring out our next move in the search for Tubby’s Uncle George?”
The energetic speaker was Rob Blake. Those fortunate boys who have read
any or all of the preceding volumes in this Series, do not need to be
introduced to so prominent a character of the stories; but, of course,
there will be many who are making the acquaintance of these wearers of
khaki for the first time, and in justice to them it is only fair that we
offer a few explanations while the trio stretch themselves upon that
friendly pine log.
They all belonged to the famous Eagle Patrol of the Hampton Troop of Boy
Scouts, Hampton being a Long Island town on the south shore. In times
gone by many were the interesting happenings that came the way of some
of the fellows belonging to that patrol. To even enumerate them here
would take too long a time, and hence he who is desirous of knowing more
about Rob Blake and his chums is referred to earlier volumes, where
thrilling and uplifting scenes are depicted in a most entertaining
fashion.
Some of these boys had visited the Panama Canal; had even gone abroad
and been in a position to witness stirring action in the great war
theater of Europe; spent delightful days wandering about the grounds of
the wonderful Panama-Pacific Exposition out in California; chased over
the torrid deserts of Mexico, when the revolutionist, Pancho Villa, was
pursuing his earlier meteor-like career on bloody battlefields; and
later still they had been connected with the amazing wave of
preparedness that swept over our country from shore to shore.[1]
What brought the three lads far up toward the international border at
this season of the fall can be easily explained. As the reader has
already learned by reason of the words which Rob Blake uttered when
suggesting that they rest from their labors, it had something to do with
a relative of fat Tubby Hopkins.
“Uncle George” was a well-to-do gentleman, and a great sportsman. Every
autumn he would slip away from business cares and spend a month with a
couple of faithful woods guides hunting in the solitudes. Sometimes he
went into the “bush” far up in the Canadian wilds after bull moose; or
it might be seeking caribou in Labrador. This season it was not so
pleasant to be within the boundaries of Canada, owing to the distracted
conditions prevailing there, with young fellows enlisting for service
abroad, and hundreds of men of German parentage and sympathies held in
concentration camps; so Uncle George had wisely chosen to confine his
hunting to the most inaccessible region in Maine.
Now it chanced that there had been some sort of epidemic in many Long
Island communities that summer, and at certain points it held out so
long in the fall that the school authorities became alarmed. At Hampton,
sessions had been taken up only to be hurriedly discontinued, nor was
school to be resumed for a period of at least two weeks.
That gave many of the boys a chance to lay plans for delightful outings.
As a rule, the fall was a closed season to them, Saturday being their
only off-day; and usually they had to put in most of that weekly holiday
practicing for their football games to be played later.
Just at the time this occurred, Tubby Hopkins came to Rob and announced
that an opportunity had arisen whereby he and two companions could take
a flying trip up into Maine at no cost to themselves, as his father was
ready to put up every dollar of the expense.
It seemed that a very important document should be signed by Uncle
George within two weeks, or he and Mr. Hopkins stood to lose a large
amount of money. Since the devoted sportsman did not plan to be seen in
the realm of civilization under a whole month, and could not be reached
by wire or letter, it became absolutely necessary that some messenger
find his camp, and bring back the document signed.
Tubby asked Rob to engineer the expedition, for he had the utmost faith
in the ability of the acting scout master of the troop. As several other
fellows had already made arrangements for the new vacation, it happened
that Andy Bowles was invited to make the third of the party.
Now, while Tubby and Andy often “scrapped” so far as a verbal exchange
of pleasantries was concerned, they really were exceedingly fond of each
other; and so the little party promised to get along very nicely
together.
They had made the journey by railroad, leaving the cars at a certain
small station, and, taking their packs on their backs, starting out on
the strength of the rather uncertain schedule of his expected movements,
which Uncle George had left behind at his city house when heading toward
the Maine wilderness.
If they did not find him at a certain logging camp, at least they were
likely to pick up a clue there as to where he had gone, and thus could
follow after him. Rob had intended finding a competent guide, but it
chanced that there was an unusually heavy demand for experienced
woodsmen that season, and they met with several disappointments, until
finally the others had urged Rob to make the plunge himself unattended.
They knew that he could be depended on to lead them safely, for Rob had
considerable experience in woodcraft, and, besides this, carried a
reliable chart of the region they were traversing.
Accordingly they had set forth valiantly, and at the time we meet them
had been tramping for two days. According to Rob’s figuring, they must
be getting close to the logging camp where, possibly, they would find
Uncle George; at the same time he also knew that they were near the
International Boundary.
“If you take a look over that way, due north, fellows,” Rob was telling
the other boys, as they sat there on the log, and pointing as he spoke,
“you can see for several miles. Notice that big clump of hemlocks on the
rise yonder, along the near horizon? Well, unless I miss my guess,
that’s Canada!”
“But I don’t see the line, Rob,” observed Tubby vaguely.
At this remark Andy Bowles burst forth in a laugh.
“Why, listen to the innocent, will you, Rob! Honest, now, I believe
Tubby thinks the International Boundary is a real line drawn across the
Divide from the Atlantic to the Pacific, to mark the division of Uncle
Sam’s property from the Dominion of Canada and the Great Northwest
Territory!”
“Oh, shucks! Of course I was only joking,” stammered the confused Tubby.
“So that’s Canada, is it, Rob? Almost any old place across the line we’d
likely find that conditions resembled Belgium and Northern France
somewhat, with young men drilling at every crossroads, artillery
companies rushing to stations to be sent across the sea, cavalry horses
being herded, cattle slaughtered for meat to keep the army supplied,
wheat trains heading toward some Atlantic port to be shipped abroad to
feed those millions of fighters. Whee! It’s hard to believe that
peaceful country over there can be _Canada_!”
“Oh, that’s only the border, Tubby, you see,” explained Rob, always
ready to accommodate. “Farther back I’ve no doubt all those things are
daily taking place, for you know Canada has already sent over three
hundred thousand soldiers across the sea to fight for the Cause of
Civilization. You and I have been at the front, Tubby, and we know the
spirit that animates most of those men among the Allies; also how they
expect to stick to their job, now they’ve begun, until it’s finished.”
“You mean, do you, Rob,” interrupted the listening Andy, who had not had
the same good fortune as the others to see some of the fighting across
in Belgium and Northern France, “that even while the Dominion is being
shaken from east to west, right here along the border it’s just as it
always was?”
“Well, hardly that,” continued the other hastily. “You know there have
been all sorts of stories in the papers about plots hatched and
engineered in the States by those whose sympathies are with Germany, and
who feel furious because of the never-ending trains loaded with
munitions, soldiers, food, aeroplane parts, motor trucks, and such
things that an army in the field would require—these all heading across
Canada, and aiming for the ports where steamers are waiting to carry
cargoes to Great Britain. It would make these German sympathizers joyous
if only _something_ might happen to cut off this endless chain of
supplies for the Allies.”
“Yes,” added Tubby eagerly. “I’ve read where the folks down in
Washington are dreadfully alarmed lest one of these terrible schemes may
succeed. You recall how the President enjoined everybody in the States
to be strictly neutral, and not to lift a hand toward doing anything
that might be reckoned an unfriendly or unneighborly act by the aroused
people of Canada? So now the Government on both sides is keeping an
extra guard along the border, in order to nip any such black scheme in
the bud.”
“I’ve been told that’s the case,” Rob assured them. The talk went on
along the same lines until finally the scout master, jumping up,
announced:
“Well, we’ve rested long enough, I guess! We’d better put our best foot
forward if we hope to get anywhere near that logging camp close to the
border. So pick up your packs, fellows, and we’ll be off!”
“Oh, listen to that, would you!” cried Tubby excitedly. “It sounded just
like the far-away whistle of a railroad locomotive.”
“A good guess, Tubby,” chuckled Andy, “because that’s just what it was.
I half expected you’d ask Rob if it could be the scream of one of those
Canadian lynx we’ve heard tell about are to be found up here.”
They were conversing while walking, and once again the whistle sounded.
Even Tubby could tell now that it came from the northwest. There was
also a faint rumbling sound that indicated the passage of a heavy train
over a trestle, miles away.
“Yes, the Great Canadian Railway runs close to the boundary along here
somewhere,” Rob said, “and I suppose we’ll often hear distant whistles,
for the traffic at present must be unusually heavy. That’s likely a long
train filled with grain, and all sorts of valuable supplies that are
being sent from the rich Saskatchewan and Alberta country, as an
offering from the Canadian Northwest granary. It means another nail in
the coffin of the Germans, when it reaches the land across the sea. All
day long, and night, too, at intervals, those trains are running,
carrying millions and millions of dollars’ worth of supplies.”
“Huh!” chuckled Tubby, “if a German only chanced to live around here,
he’d have to stuff cotton in his ears to shut out the sound; because
each rumble of trains would mean to him more trouble for his friends
across the sea.”
They pushed on for some time. Rob evidently had his plan of campaign
well figured out, for he now turned sharply to the left and headed
almost due west. Apparently he fancied he was as near the International
Boundary as there might be any need of going; and that the lone logging
camp must lie farther along the new course.
The startling idea had occurred to Tubby that, all unbeknown to
themselves, they might inadvertently stray across the line, and be
arrested as invaders, by some of those alert Canadian guards mentioned
by Rob. The thought disturbed him considerably, and he was about to
speak of it, despite the jeers with which he felt sure Andy would greet
the idea, when something else suddenly came to pass that completely put
it out of his head.
There was a crashing sound heard close by, a swishing of the
undergrowth, and then a bounding object flashed into view, which took on
the shape of a two-year-old buck, leaping frantically over logs and
bushes, as though possessed. Upon his neck and shoulders the boys
glimpsed a strange, mysterious gray hunch!