The Boy Scouts at the Canadian Border. Goldfrap John Henry

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      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.

      CHAPTER IV

      AN INVASION OF THE CAMP

      “Rob,” remarked Andy, later on, “why would those plotters choose Maine as the field for their dastardly attempts to strike at the Canadian Government? I should think they would have a bigger chance for succeeding in their undertaking, say away up in the Northwest, where the border isn’t watched as closely as along here.”

      “That’s easy to answer,” replied the scout master. “In the first place you must remember that as all these supplies gathered through the Great Northwest granary approach the coast, where they are to be shipped abroad, they concentrate. It’s like the spokes of a wheel, and this eastern stretch of country can be likened to the hub. Get that, Andy?”

      “I certainly do, Rob. This applies, I suppose, to some extent with regard to the soldiers, and the munitions, and all that; they are gathered here and there, and as the many rivulets draw closer to the coast the stream grows larger all the while. Sure, that stands to reason, and I was silly not to think of it myself.”

      “Another thing that counts heavily,” added Rob sagely, “is the fact that out in the Northwest that you mention the transcontinental railroad doesn’t come anywhere as near the border as it does close to the Maine line. So, you see, an expedition crossing over here would have only a short distance to go before they reached the tracks they meant to destroy.”

      “Yes,” said Tubby, who had been listening eagerly, “and perhaps there’s a bridge here that, if blown up, would about paralyze the stream of material that’s flowing steadily down toward the coast day after day. I reckon it’s to stop that tide of munitions and supplies, as much as the soldiers themselves, that these fellows are scheming to do.”

      “There’s another far-off whistle of a train,” said Andy, perking his head up in a listening attitude. “They certainly come along quite frequently, and that goes to tell what a big business is being done by the railroad these days. I understand thousands of horses are being shipped from the ranches up on those big prairies of the Canadian Northwest, for they last only a short time in war, and the supply is beginning to fall short. Already I’ve read how the rival armies are making great powerful tractor engines take the place of animals in dragging heavy guns to the front.”

      “Supposing that air pilot did succeed in getting all the information needed,” Tubby went on to say, “as well as some pretty smart pictures of the ground around the bridge, how soon would those plotters start to work, do you reckon, Rob? Surely not this very night?”

      “Well, hardly, Tubby,” came the reassuring answer, “though we can’t say what need of haste there might be. If the aviator did snap off some pictures, the film would have to be developed, and prints made, which takes time. No, at the earliest I should say to-morrow night would be picked out for the attempt.”

      “Oh, well, the guards are on duty, and are looking out for anything of that kind,” said Andy carelessly. “The visit from that aeroplane will put them on their mettle.”

      “Unless,” Rob ventured thoughtfully, “they considered that the pilot was merely some venturesome American who had taken chances in crossing the boundary air, and found himself over Canada. It might be their shots were only sent to warn him he had better clear out, and to mind his own business.”

      “Whee! In that case they might be caught napping,” said Tubby, with a vein of anxiety in his voice. “Rob, would it be any business of ours to warn the Canadians guarding the trestle or bridge, if we had the chance?”

      “It would be our patriotic duty, if we really knew that mischief was brooding,” the scout master told him sternly. “Stop and think for a minute, and you’ll see it in that way too. First of all, as true scouts, we would have to consider that these men, no matter how much they loved the land of their birth across the sea, are either citizens of the United States, or even if Germans, are enjoying the hospitality of Uncle Sam. To creep across the line so as to strike at their foe would be to abuse that hospitality. Yes, it would be the duty of any honest, patriotic American citizen to give warning, if he absolutely knew that such a scheme was afoot.”

      “Do you mean to carry the news to some town in Maine, from where it could be wired to Washington, so that soldiers might be sent up here to frustrate the evil designs of these schemers?” asked Tubby, who at times delighted in framing his questions in exceedingly weighty language.

      Rob Blake reflectively rubbed his chin as he considered this query.

      “I’m afraid that would consume far too much time, Tubby,” he finally replied. “Before those troops could be rushed here from the nearest army post the mischief, such as it was, would have been carried through. No; if I learned positively that those German sympathizers meant to invade Canada, something the same way as the Fenians did a long time ago, I’d consider it my bounden duty to cross the line myself and try and warn the guards at the bridge.”

      “That’s the ticket, Rob!” cried the delighted Andy, who himself believed in “hitting the nail on the head.” Tubby, a bit slower to grasp possibilities, bent closer, the better to hear what was said.

      Much more was spoken of along these lines, but the reader has already learned what the boys, as young American patriots, were bent on doing should the occasion arise, and hence it is not necessary to repeat all that passed between them.

      Of course they also talked of other things, returning to this fascinating theme from time to time. Often Tubby stared in the direction of the North Star, СКАЧАТЬ