THE TRAIL TO THE TRESTLE
“It’s certainly queer where that trail can be,” Rob himself was saying.
On hearing this Tubby’s heart took on an additional flutter, for he
seemed to think things must be pretty serious when experienced Rob, who
seldom allowed himself to show the least sign of discouragement, should
speak in this strain.
“We hae already come twicet as far as I thought wud be necessary,”
admitted Donald, “and naething yet o’ the pesky thing.”
“I’m dead sure we haven’t passed over it,” added the scout master.
“While one pair of eyes might have failed two could hardly have been
deceived. There’s only one explanation that I can think of.”
“Oh! what’s that, Rob?” hastily asked Tubby, making a great effort to
keep that miserable tremor from affecting his voice, though he felt that
he just _had_ to say something.
“The trail must have taken a sudden bend just about that big hemlock,”
Rob explained. “You’ve been over it so many times, Donald, I should
think you might remember whether it does.”
“It’s verra curious,” spoke up Donald reflectively, “but I gie ye my
word I was thinkin’ the same thing this minute. I am beginning to
believe that it does the thing, ye ken. If that be so, then a’ we hae to
do is to keep on goin’ till we fetch up once mair on the trail.”
“Well, let’s make an agreement,” said Rob. “We’ll keep along for five
minutes, and if nothing shows up it would be better for us to abandon
all hope of running across the path. Then we will have to shape our
course as best we may, with both you and Zeb here to figure things out.
There’s no doubt about our hitting the railway embankment somehow.”
“It is unco’ kind o’ ye to say that, Rab!” declared the Canadian lad,
who blessed the lucky chance that had raised up such devoted and loyal
friends as these cousins from over the border, when he was more in need
of help than ever before in all his young life.
“Why not call on Zeb here to give his opinion, Rob?” mentioned Andy,
having a sudden bright thought. It occurred to him that a veteran
woodsman’s advice ought to be particularly valuable under such
conditions as now confronted them.
“How foolish o’ us not to hae thought o’ that before,” said Donald
contritely.
“Better late than never,” muttered Andy.
Rob, turning upon the big guide, hastened to say: “Zeb, you understand
how it is, and why we haven’t bothered mentioning this before. Donald
was supposed to know more about this region than any one else; but now
he is up a stump, and perhaps you could help us out. So please tell us,
if you know about this part of the country, and particularly this trail
we’ve been following.”
“Wall, I sartin do have reason for rememberin’ that same big hemlock the
cat was squattin’ in,” he said. Apparently the rough Maine woods guide
was not cherishing any resentment because he had not been considered in
the matter.
“It was under that tree Mr. Hopkins he shot the best moose bull he ever
got. That was three winters ago. We was follerin’ this path, when he
broke cover and went down all in a heap at the fust shot. Say, but Mr.
Hopkins he was some proud o’ that shot, fur it took right behind the
shoulder, and tumbled the big bull over inside o’ twenty yards.”
“Try and remember, Zeb, about the trail; forget all those other things.
Did it make a twist and a turn somewhere about that hemlock?” asked Rob.
“It sartinly did, sir,” the guide assured him. “I remember it because we
had occasion to look fur water, an’ hearin’ a stream nigh by I went on
to scout for it. Yes, the path made a quick bend at the hemlock. It took
up the old direction arter a bit.”
“That settles it,” remarked Rob, fully satisfied. “We go on further, and
I expect we’ll soon run across our trail.”
“Good enough,” grunted Andy. “Nothing like corroborative evidence.
Donald _thought_ he was right, and now we _know_ he was, as sure as
shooting.”
“That’ll do, Andy,” cautioned Rob, who feared they were all doing more
talking than discretion allowed. Who could say what hostile ears might
not be within hearing distance, hidden by that semi-darkness surrounding
them on every side?
They started on. Hardly had two minutes passed, fraught with untold
anxiety to at least one of the party, Tubby, when Donald was heard to
give a low exclamation. This time there was a note of joy and not dismay
permeating the cry.
“Have you struck it, Donald?” whispered Andy, close behind the others.
“Faith, an’ I hae done that, laddie,” bubbled the Scotch-Canadian boy,
so filled with delight that he could hardly refrain from shaking hands
with each of his companions.
Rob saw that it was even so, for his quick and practiced eye told him
the trail lay before them, as seen in the glow of the hand torch.
“We’ll have to douse the glim from now on,” he announced. “Much as I’d
prefer to keep up its use, for we could go faster, it might be seen by
someone, and bring us more trouble than we’d care to face.”
He shut off the light. It looked doubly gloomy to Tubby, once they had
to depend wholly on the dim glow of the stars above, for bright as these
heavenly bodies may appear, they afford but a poor substitute for a
torch, backed by a little electric battery with its illumination
focussed at one point.
“I hope we don’t lose it again,” ventured Tubby, who had sighed with
relief at the luck that came their way. He had come very near saying, “I
hope we don’t get lost again,” but caught himself in the nick of time.
“There is verra little danger o’ that, I assure ye,” Donald told him, as
once more he started bravely forth.
Thus far Donald had managed to keep going, though Rob could not help
noticing that the effort was beginning to tell upon him seriously. That
limp of his cropped up more frequently than at first; indeed, if the boy
took his mind off the subject for a brief space of time he was sure to
fall into stumbling along. Rob hoped he would be able to hold out to the
end. At the same time he had made up his mind he and Andy, and Zeb,
perhaps, would finish the mission of warning the guards, even though it
became necessary to leave Donald behind, with Tubby to keep him company.
He had never undertaken a task that appealed more to him than this stand
for neutrality. There was something strangely fascinating about it,
something uplifting, that appealed to Rob strongly. He felt that he was
doing his full duty as a patriotic citizen of the great United States,
in thus attempting to foil the miserable and pernicious schemes of those
plotters who, if only they could accomplish their plan for injuring the
Allies, did not care how much they embroiled Uncle Sam with his northern
neighbor and the world at war.
“I saw something then that looked a whole lot like the flash of a
match,” suddenly muttered the quick-seeing Andy.
“It was a match,” admitted Rob. “I saw it, too. From the fact that it
seemed to be higher up than we are I take it the man who struck it must
have been a guard on the railway embankment, in which case it is only a
short distance from us now.”
“But why would he want to strike a match, please?” asked Tubby, pushing
his head close up to the others in his burning desire to learn facts and
theories.
“Oh, perhaps just to light his pipe,” returned Rob, whispering, of
course. “Fact is that must have been just what he was doing. I saw the
light flare up several times, and that would mean so many puffs. These
Canadians, like the British, are great hands for a pipe, you know.”
“Let us be awa’ then,” urged Donald feverishly. “Tell me, please, Rab,
is it yet near the hour o’ eleven?”
He could hardly have exhibited more eagerness had he heard the far
distant rumble that would announce the coming of his father’s train. Ere
this the poor boy was in a real fever, brought on by his emotions, as
well as the nature of his recent severe exposure and physical suffering.
Rob understood all this and could sympathize with Donald. At the same
time he also knew they were now about to approach the real danger that
overhung the adventure. Undoubtedly those desperate men must be near by
at work, intent on carrying out their monstrous scheme that would entail
so much loss of property and life. So, in trying to communicate with the
guards of the trestle and the adjacent bridge, they would have to run
the gantlet of discovery at the hands of the dynamiters.
“Plenty of time yet, Donald,” Rob said in the ear of the eager one.
“Many a fine plan has been spoiled by too great haste. We’ll carry it
through to a successful finish. This won’t be the first time the scouts
of the Eagle Patrol have been put on their mettle. Donald, they have
always won out. Wait and see.”
“Rob,” ventured Andy, in his most muffled tones, “I just _know_ you’ve
got a bully good plan up your sleeve right now. Tell us what it is,
won’t you?”
“Get your heads close together, then,” cautioned the scout master.
When they had done this he went on:
“Donald, you ought to know all about this trestle here, since you’ve
been around it many a time. Am I right?”
“I thought I had tawld ye I did before, Rab.”
“All right. Then try to decide, if you can, just where these men would
be most apt to lay their mine. You can figure that out, can’t you,
Donald?”
The other stopped to think it over carefully, for he was beginning to
grasp the tremendous idea that had taken hold upon the intrepid scout
master.
“Ay, there is one place above a’ ithers they wud select. I gie ye my
word on it, Rab. The mair I think o’ it the stronger that appeals to me.
An’ if the mine were exploded underneath the trestle it wud do jist as
much damage as though the bridge itsel’ were toppled down. An’ the
train,—my soul, what an awfu’ fall there would be!”
Small wonder if the boy shivered as he said this. It must be remembered
his one thought lay in the fact that the engineer whose hand would be on
the throttle of that ill-fated locomotive was his own dearly beloved
father.
“All right, then, Donald, we want you to lead us as straight to that
particular spot as you can in this darkness. When we strike the trestle
we will all start to getting down on our hands and knees, and feeling
for something in the way of a trailing copper insulated wire.”
Andy gave a little snort of delight as he grasped the idea.
“Fine, Rob!” he whispered. “You mean to cut the connections, don’t you?
When they press down the button of their old battery, expecting to fire
the hidden mine, why, nothing will follow! It’s a sure enough bully
scheme.”
Tubby felt like hugging himself, or Rob, or some one, he hardly cared
who, for just as always happened, Rob was proving himself to be master
of circumstances. Oh! he had seen Rob carry out so many schemes built on
this order that Tubby knew success was bound to come to them again.
“Come awa’ then,” urged Donald, and Rob only added:
“No whispering after this, unless you put your lips directly up to my
ear.”
So they crept cautiously forward, and inside of three minutes Tubby
began to see the trestle work looming up between himself and the sky.
They had apparently reached the crisis in their fateful affair.