BY AEROPLANE ACROSS THE BORDER
When the leader of the Eagle Patrol made this astounding assertion both
of his friends betrayed additional interest. Indeed, it was a question
whether Andy or Tubby, by the rapt expression on their faces, showed the
greater excitement.
Tubby had one great advantage over his comrade. He had been abroad with
Rob and Merritt Crawford, and had watched aeroplane pilots, both of the
Allies and the Germans, shooting like meteors across the skies, bent on
their work of learning what was going on back of the enemy’s lines so as
to give points to those who handled the monster guns far in the rear,
allowing them to drop their shells exactly where most wanted.
“Well, to think of the nerve of that fellow!” exclaimed the indignant
Andy. “He snaps his fingers at the proclamation of the President about
all true Americans standing for strict neutrality. Why, he’s meaning to
give those Canucks the best chance ever to protest and claim damages
from our Government. Isn’t that a fact, Rob?”
“Just what it is, Andy,” replied the scout master, watching the course
of the small object so far up in the air that it resembled a giant bird.
“If they blow up a bridge, and wreck a train loaded with millions of
dollars’ worth of stuff, and it’s proved that the scoundrels passed over
from _our_ side of the border, Uncle Sam will have to pay the whole
bill?” questioned Tubby, now becoming aroused in turn.
“No doubt of it, if the proof is forthcoming,” Rob assured him serenely,
since he knew enough of treaties and international law for that.
“Then anything that’s done against Canada from our side is really a blow
aimed at our own country?” questioned Andy, beginning to show signs of
anger. “Why, if it stands that way, then those conspirators are just as
bad as if they were trying to knock a big hole in the U. S. Treasury,
from which untold oodles of money could drop out. They’re breaking the
neutrality laws smack. I’d like to let ’em know just what I think of
such sneaks. There ought to be some way to detect and punish such
backhanded knockers.”
“Oh, there are plenty of ways!” asserted Rob. “The law is stern enough,
if you only can catch them in the act. There’s the rub. They take all
sorts of precautions to hide their identity. Who could recognize that
chap up a mile or so from the earth? How does any one know that he’s
meaning to drop lower presently, so as to take a lot of pictures of the
railroad where it passes over a bridge or trestle?”
“Is _that_ the way it’s done?” ejaculated the deeply interested Andy,
who was more or less ignorant of how air pilots make themselves so
useful in war times.
“Watch him!” snapped Rob, and all eyes were again focussed on the far
distant object moving across the heavens, and passing some fleecy
fragment of a floating white cloud.
“As sure as anything he’s dropping on a regular toboggan slant!” cried
Andy, thrilled by the sight.
“Huh!” remarked the wise Tubby, with the pride of superior knowledge,
“that’s what they call volplaning. Sometimes an aviator will shoot down
for a mile like a streak of lightning, and just when you think he must
be smashed against the ground he’ll suddenly stop, just like a
descending eagle does, and sail away as nice as you please on a lower
level.”
“Which is exactly what that spy is doing right now!” exclaimed Andy. “I
guess he is down far enough for him to see all he wants to, and also
snap off some pictures. But, Rob, if there are Canadian troops guarding
the bridge across there why wouldn’t they give him a volley to let him
know he hadn’t any business on that side of the International Line?”
“I expect that’s what they will do any minute now,” Rob assured him. “We
may not hear the sound of the guns over here; miles lie between; but we
ought to be able to tell by the actions of the aviator. If the lead
commences to sing about his ears, he’s likely to mount again; he’ll be
afraid of having his gasolene tank pierced by one of them, or be struck
himself.”
“When we were on the other side, Rob,” interjected Tubby, “you know we
always said petrol instead of gasolene; but they both mean the same
thing. There, look, will you; he’s started up again, as sure as
anything, making spirals, as they generally do when ascending in a big
hurry.”
As Tubby declared, the man in the aeroplane had suddenly changed his
location and was now ascending as fast as he could. Something had
undoubtedly caused him to do this. Rob said he wished he had thought to
fetch a pair of binoculars along with him, for then they might see
spurts of smoke on the ground, and possibly even discover the bridge
itself.
“But then who would ever dream we’d want glasses for such a purpose?”
Tubby observed. “Goodness knows we’re lugging enough load as it is. He
is turning around now, Rob, and heading this way again. Do you think he
accomplished his purpose, and is now bent on getting out of range of
those bullets?”
“Very likely,” the other replied, “though his danger was more imaginary
than real. To strike a moving aeroplane at that height with an ordinary
military rifle would be next door to an accident. Haven’t we seen air
pilots take all sorts of daring chances, with shrapnel bursting all
around them?”
The three scouts watched until the mysterious machine had vanished
toward the south. They could hear the sound of the motor as it passed
high overhead, though at a considerably lower level than when going the
other way.
Once more then they started off, though Tubby had great difficulty in
“getting a move on him,” as he called it; for that load on his back
seemed to make him feel like Sinbad the Sailor when the Old Man of the
Sea refused to dismount from his shoulders, after being assisted along
the way, demanding that he be carried still farther.
The afternoon was now beginning to wane very fast. Already the westering
sun had sunk far down in the heavens, and was heading for the horizon.
While their conversation had been mostly upon the entrancing topic of
that strict neutrality which had been enjoined on all citizens of the
United States while the World War was in progress across the sea, at the
same time Tubby’s thoughts would frequently stray to his own present
troubles.
“It doesn’t look much like we would run across that old logging camp
to-day, where Uncle George was going to make his first stay, does it,
Rob?” he was heard to ask for possibly the sixth time.
And as he had patiently done on every other occasion the scout leader
answered him pleasantly.
“I’m sorry to say there’s little chance of that happening, Tubby, much
as all of us would like it. According to my rough chart, we must be
getting in the neighborhood of that camp, though, and, if lucky, we
might even run across your uncle to-morrow. Certainly, if we hear any
shooting near by we’ll give a shout, and try to find out who’s who.
That’s the best I can say, Tubby.”
“Thank you, Rob, very much,” said the fat boy sweetly. “I know well
enough that if it depended on you we’d arrive in camp inside of half an
hour. Then, having accomplished my mission up here, we could all give
ourselves up to a delightful ten days of knocking around, and doing some
hunting with his guides. That means we’ll soon have to call a halt
ourselves and camp?”
Rob had to laugh at the vein of pleading he could detect in Tubby’s
voice when he made that apparently innocent remark.
“I’m looking around for a good site, Tubby,” he announced, and at that
the moon face of the stout member of the patrol fairly beamed with
pleasure.
It was not more than ten minutes afterward when Rob stopped short.
“Here’s where we spend the night, fellows,” he told them.
“A bully good place,” assented Andy, casting a look of appreciation
around at the trees, with several openings that allowed them to see the
sky, and gave a promise of all the fresh air they would want.
“Yes, and I hear a brook gurgling along near by!” declared Tubby;—“the
main reason why you picked out this place, Rob. The water left in my
canteen is getting pretty stale, so I’ll be mighty glad to get a decent
cool drink of sweet water.”
He hastily slipped out of the broad bands of his pack, and scurried over
in the direction whence that pleasing drip of water was heard. The
others saw him stop and then lie flat on his paunch, for with Tubby it
was not so easy to get his mouth down to a low level, owing to his
peculiar formation; usually his heels had to be higher than his head,
just as you would tilt a barrel up to make the rim come in contact with
the ground, all owing to that curve of the staves.
As they carried no tent, for that was utterly out of the question, it
would be necessary for the trio of scouts to make some apology for a
shelter calculated to keep the dew or the frost from chilling their
bodies, as they slept in the open.
But, indeed, this was only a delight to these lads, accustomed as all of
them were to roughing it. Many a time in the past had they constructed a
brush shanty that, in an emergency, might even shed rain to some extent,
and would surely afford them shelter from the chilly night air.
All of them got busy immediately, fetching branches and every manner of
material that would be needed in the task. While Rob himself took over
the job of building the shack, he had Andy cutting wood for a fire, and
Tubby dragging further supplies of fuel toward the spot, so that
altogether it made quite an animated picture, with everybody working
like beavers.
Before the evening was fully upon them, things began to take on quite a
homelike appearance. The shanty was completed, being rudely built, with
a decided slant toward the back, and an open front. Some sportsmen’s
tents are made on the same pattern, the idea being to have the fire so
placed as to cause the sloping roof to reflect the heat that comes in
through the open front.
Then came the always delightful job of cooking supper. No boy was ever
known to object to lending a hand when this task is broached. Tubby,
being something of a chef by this time, due to a grim determination to
excel in one branch, even if he could never equal Rob in woodcraft
knowledge, or other fellows in their several fads, had taken it upon
himself to carry out the arrangements.
His depression had fled. The other boys were so full of optimism that it
seemed to fill the air, even as that tempting smell of coffee, with
fried onions, potatoes and bacon as accessories did. A more despondent
chap than Tubby must have yielded to the general feeling of
satisfaction.
Witness them, therefore, a little later on, spread out close to the
fire, each with his legs crossed under him tailor-fashion, and bent on
stowing away the heaping pannikin of hot food that had been served out
as his share of the supper; while the big tin cups were brimming full of
fragrant coffee that, as Andy said, “went straight to the spot every
time.”
The first edge of their ferocious appetites appeased, the boys did not
hurry, but took their time in eating. It was that delightful hour of the
early evening in the pine woods when all Nature seems to be hushed, and
the heart of the camper rejoices in his surroundings, which he joyously
compares with the unhappy lot of those mortals who are compelled to
remain amidst the skyscrapers of the city, chained to their desks, while
the camper owns the whole world.