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+Project Gutenberg's Tom Slade on a Transport, by Percy Keese Fitzhugh
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Tom Slade on a Transport
+
+Author: Percy Keese Fitzhugh
+
+Illustrator: Thomas Clarity
+
+Release Date: November 30, 2007 [EBook #23663]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: TOM HOBBLED ALONG, HOLDING THE RAIL.
+Frontispiece--(Page 131)]
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+TOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT
+
+By Percy K. Fitzhugh
+
+Author of TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT, TOM SLADE AT TEMPLE CAMP,
+TOM SLADE ON THE RIVER, TOM SLADE WITH THE COLORS
+
+Illustrated by Thomas Clarity
+
+Published With the Approval of the Boy Scouts of America
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS :: NEW YORK
+Made in the United States of America
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Copyright, 1918, by GROSSET & DUNLAP
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+CONTENTS
+
+    CHAPTER                                                         PAGE
+
+         I. Tom Meets One Friend and Is Reminded of Another            1
+        II. He Does a Good Turn and Makes a Discovery                  9
+       III. He Scents Danger and Receives a Letter                    19
+        IV. He Gets a Job and Meets "Frenchy"                         29
+         V. He Makes a Discovery and Receives a Shock                 39
+        VI. He Hears About Alsace and Receives a Present              46
+       VII. He Becomes Very Proud, and Also Very Much Frightened      55
+      VIII. He Hears Some News and Is Confidential with Frenchy       61
+        IX. He Sees a Strange Light and Goes on Tiptoe                68
+         X. He Goes Below and Gropes in the Dark                      77
+        XI. He Makes a Discovery and Is Greatly Agitated              83
+       XII. He Is Frightened and Very Thoughtful                      86
+      XIII. He Ponders and Decides Between Two Near Relations         92
+       XIV. He is Arrested and Put in the Guardhouse                  97
+        XV. He Does Most of the Talking and Takes All the Blame      103
+       XVI. He Sees a Little and Hears Much                          107
+      XVII. He Awaits the Worst and Receives a Surprise              115
+     XVIII. He Talks With Mr. Conne and Sees the Boys
+            Start for the Front                                      121
+       XIX. He Is Cast Away and Is in Great Peril                    129
+        XX. He Is Taken Aboard the "Tin Fish" and Questioned         135
+       XXI. He Is Made a Prisoner and Makes a New Friend             144
+      XXII. He Learns Where He Is Going and Finds a Ray of Hope      151
+     XXIII. He Makes a High Resolve and Loses a Favorite Word        154
+      XXIV. He Goes to the Civilian Camp and Doesn't Like It         161
+       XXV. He Visits the Old Pump and Receives a Shock              169
+      XXVI. He Has an Idea Which Suggests Another                    176
+     XXVII. He Plans a Desperate Game and Does a Good Job            185
+    XXVIII. He Disappears--for the Time Being                        192
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+TOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+TOM MEETS ONE FRIEND AND IS REMINDED OF ANOTHER
+
+
+As Tom Slade went through Terrace Avenue on his way to the Temple Camp
+office, where he was employed, he paused beside a truck backed up
+against the curb in front of a certain vacant store. Upon it was a big
+table and wrestling with the table was Pete Connigan, the truckman--the
+very same Pete Connigan at whom Tom used to throw rocks and whom he had
+called a "mick." It reminded him of old times to see Pete.
+
+The vacant store, too, aroused dubious memories, for there he had stolen
+many an apple in the days when Adolf Schmitt had his "cash grocery" on
+the premises, and used to stand in the doorway with his white apron on,
+shaking his fist as Tom scurried down the street and calling, "I'll
+_strafe_ you, you young loafer!"
+
+Tom had wondered what _strafing_ was, until long afterward he heard
+that poor Belgium was being _strafed_; and then he knew.
+
+"Wal, ef 'tain't Tommy Slade!" said Pete, with a cordial grin of
+surprise. "I ain't seen ye in two year! Ye've growed ter be a big,
+strappin' lad, ain't ye?"
+
+"Hello, Pete," said Tom, shaking the Irishman's brawny hand. "Glad to
+see you. I've been away working on a ship for quite a while. That's one
+reason you haven't seen me."
+
+"Be gorry, the town's gittin' big, an' that's another reason. The last
+time I seen ye, ye wuz wid that Sweet Cap'ral lad, an' I knocked yer two
+sassy heads tergither for yez. Remember that?"
+
+"Yes," laughed Tom, "and then I started running down the street and
+hollered, 'Throw a brick, you Irish mick!'?"
+
+"Ye did," vociferated Pete, "an' wid me afther ye."
+
+"You didn't catch me, though," laughed Tom.
+
+"Wal, I got ye now," said Pete, grabbing him good-naturedly by the
+collar. And they sat down on the back of the truck to talk for a few
+moments.
+
+"I'm glad I came this way," said Tom. "I usually go down Main Street,
+but I've been away from Bridgeboro so long, I thought I'd kinder stroll
+through this way to see how the town looked. I'm not in any particular
+hurry," he added. "I don't have to get to work till nine. I was going to
+walk around through Terrace Court."
+
+"Ben away on a ship, hev ye?" questioned Pete, and Tom told him the
+whole story of how he had given up the career of a hoodlum to join the
+Scouts, of the founding of Temple Camp by Mr. John Temple, of the
+summers spent there, of how he had later gotten a job on a steamer
+carrying supplies to the allies; how he had helped to apprehend a spy,
+how the ship had been torpedoed, how he had been rescued after two days
+spent in an open boat, of his roundabout journey back to Bridgeboro, and
+the taking up again of his prosaic duties in the local office of Temple
+Camp.
+
+The truckman, his case-spike hanging from his neck, listened with
+generous interest to Tom's simple, unboastful account of all that had
+happened to him.
+
+"There were two people on that ship I got to be special friends with,"
+he concluded. "One was a Secret Service man named Conne; he promised to
+help me get a job in some kind of war service till I'm old enough to
+enlist next spring. The other was a feller about my own age named
+Archer. He was a steward's boy. I guess they both got drowned, likely.
+Most all the boats got upset while they were launching them. I hope that
+German spy got drowned."
+
+"Wuz he a German citizen?" Pete asked.
+
+"Sure, he was! You don't suppose an American citizen would be a spy for
+Germany, do you?"
+
+"Be gorry, thar's a lot uv German Amiricans, 'n' I wouldn' trust 'em,"
+said Pete.
+
+"Well, there's some Irish people here that hate England, so they're
+against the United States too," said Tom.
+
+"Ye call me a thraiter, do ye!" roared Pete.
+
+"I didn't call you anything," Tom said, laughing and dodging the
+Irishman's uplifted hand; "but I say a person is American or else he
+isn't. It don't make any difference where he was born. If he's an
+American citizen and he helps Germany, then he's worse than a spy--he's
+a traitor and he ought to get shot."
+
+"Be gorry, you said sumthin'!"
+
+"He's worse than anything else in the world," said Tom. "He's worse
+than--than a murderer!"
+
+Pete slapped him on the shoulder. "Bully fer you!" said he. "Fwhativer
+became uv yer fayther, lad?" he questioned after a moment.
+
+"He died," said Tom simply. "It was after we got put out of Barrel Alley
+and after I got to be a scout. Mr. Ellsworth said maybe it was
+better--sort of----"
+
+Pete nodded.
+
+"An' yer bruther?"
+
+"Oh, he went away long before that--even before my mother died. He went
+to work on a ranch out West somewhere--Arizona, I think."
+
+"'N' ye niver heard anny more uv him?"
+
+"No--I wrote him a letter when my mother died, but I never got any
+answer. Maybe I sent it to the wrong place. Did you ever hear of a place
+called O'Brien's Junction out there?"
+
+"It's a good name, I'll say that," said Pete.
+
+"Everybody used to say he'd make money some day. Maybe he's rich now,
+hey?"
+
+"I remimber all uv yez when yez used fer ter worrk fer Schmitt, here,"
+said Pete.
+
+"It reminded me of that when I came along."
+
+"Yer fayther, he used fer ter drive th' wagon fer 'im. Big Bill 'n'
+Little Bill, we used fer ter call him 'n' yer bruther. Yer fayther wuzn'
+fond uv worrk, I guess."
+
+"He used to get cramps," said Tom simply.
+
+"He used fer ter lick yez, I'm thinkin'."
+
+"Maybe we deserved to get licked," said Tom. "Anyway _I_ did."
+
+"Yer right, ye did," agreed Pete.
+
+"My brother was better than I was. It made me mad when I saw him get
+licked. I could feel it way down in my fingers, kind of--the madness.
+That's why he went to live at Schmitt's after my father got so he
+couldn't work much. They always had lots to eat at Schmitt's. I didn't
+ever work there myself," he added with his customary blunt honesty,
+"because I was a hoodlum."
+
+"Wal, I see ye've growed up ter be a foine lad, jist the same," said
+Pete consolingly, "'n' mebbe the lad as kin feel the tingles ter see's
+bruther git licked unfair is as good as that same bruther, whativer!"
+
+Tom said nothing, but gazed up at the windows of the apartment above the
+store where the Schmitts had lived. How he had once envied Bill his
+place in that home of good cheer and abundance! He remembered the
+sauerkraut and the sausages which Bill had told him of, and he had not
+believed Bill's extravagant declaration that "at Schmitt's you could
+have all you want to eat." To poor Tom, living with his wretched father
+in the two-room tenement in Barrel Alley, with nothing to eat at all,
+these accounts of the Schmitt household had seemed like a tale from the
+Arabian Nights. Once his father had sent him there to get fifty cents
+from thrifty and industrious Bill, and Tom remembered the shiny oilcloth
+on the kitchen floor, the snowy white fluted paper on the shelves, the
+stiff, spotless apron on the buxom form of Mrs. Schmitt, whom Mr.
+Schmitt had called "Mooder."
+
+Tom Slade, of Barrel Alley, had revenged himself on Bill and all the
+rest of this by stealing apples from the front of the store and calling,
+"Dirty Dutchman"--a singularly inappropriate epithet--at Mr. Schmitt.
+But he realized now that Mr. Schmitt had been a kind and hospitable man,
+a much better husband and father than poor Bill Slade, senior, had ever
+been, and an extremely good friend to lucky Bill, junior, who had lived
+so near to Heaven, in that immaculate home, as to have all the
+sauerkraut and sausage and potato salad and rye bread and Swiss cheese
+and coffee cake that he could possibly manage--and more besides.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+HE DOES A GOOD TURN AND MAKES A DISCOVERY
+
+
+"What became of the Schmitts?" Tom asked.
+
+"It's aisy ter see ye've ben away from here," said Pete.
+
+"I've only been back five days," Tom explained.
+
+"Wal, if ye'd been here two weeks ago, ye'd know more'n ye know now
+about it. Ye're a jack ashore, that's what ye are. Ye've got ter be
+spruced up on the news. Did ye know the school house burned down?"
+
+"Yes, I knew that."
+
+"Wal--about this Schmitt, here; thar wuz two detectives come out from
+Noo Yorrk--from the Fideral phad'ye call it. They wuz making inquiries
+about Schmitt. Fer th' wan thing he wuz an aly-_an_, 'n' they hed some
+raysons to think he wuz mixed up in plots. They wuz mighty close-mouthed
+about it, so I heerd, 'n' they asked more'n they told. Nivir within half
+a mile uv Schmitt did they go, but by gorry, he gits wind uv it 'n'
+th' nixt mornin' not so much as a sign uv him wuz thar left.
+
+"Cleared out, loike that," said Pete, clapping his hands and spreading
+his arms by way of illustrating how Adolf Schmitt had vanished in air.
+
+"Thar wuz th' grocery full uv stuff and all, 'n' the furnitoor upstairs,
+but Adolf 'n' the old wooman 'n' th' kids 'n' sich duds ez they cud cram
+inter their bags wuz gone--bury drawers lift wide open, ez if they'd
+went in a ghreat hurry."
+
+Tom had listened in great surprise. "What--do--you--know--about--that?"
+he gasped when Pete at last paused.
+
+"It's iviry blessed worrd that I know. I'm thinkin' he wint ter Germany,
+mebbe."
+
+"How could he get there?" Tom asked.
+
+"Wouldn't thim Dutch skippers in Noo Yorrk Harrbor help him out?" Pete
+shouted. "Gerrmany, Holland--'tis all th' same. Thar's ways uv gittin'
+thar, you kin thrust the Germans. They're comin' and goin' back all the
+toime."
+
+"What do you suppose they suspected him of?" Tom asked, his astonishment
+still possessing him.
+
+"Nivir a worrd wud they say, but ye kin bet yer Uncle Sammy's not spyin'
+around afther people fer nuthin'. They searched the store aftherworrds,
+but nary a thing cud they find."
+
+So that was the explanation of the now vacant store which had been so
+much a part of the life of Tom Slade and his poor, shiftless family.
+That was the end, so far as Bridgeboro was concerned, of the jovial,
+good-hearted grocer, and Fritzie and little Emmy and "Mooder" in her
+stiff, spotless white apron. It seemed almost unbelievable.
+
+"A Hun is a Hun," said Pete, "'n' that's all thar is to't."
+
+"What did they do with all the stuff?" Tom asked.
+
+Pete shrugged his shoulders. "Mister Temple, he owns th' buildin' an' he
+hed it cleared out, 'n' now he leaves them Red Cross ladies use it fer
+ter make bandages 'n' phwat all, 'n' collect money fer their campaign.
+He's a ghrand man, Mister Temple. Would ye gimme a lift wid this here
+table, now, while ye're here, Tommy?"
+
+As they carried the table across the sidewalk, a group of ladies came
+down the block and whom should Tom see among them but Mrs. Temple and
+her daughter Mary. As he looked at Mary (whom he used to tease and call
+"stuck up") he realized that he was not the only person in Bridgeboro
+who had been growing up, for she was quite a young lady, and very
+pretty besides.
+
+"Why, Thomas, how _do_ you do!" said Mrs. Temple. "I heard you were
+back----"
+
+"And you never came to see us," interrupted Mary.
+
+"I only got back Tuesday," said Tom, a little flustered.
+
+He told them briefly of his trip and when the little chat was over Pete
+Connigan had disappeared.
+
+"I wonder if you wouldn't be willing to move one or two things for us?"
+Mrs. Temple asked. "Have you time? I meant to ask the truckman, but----"
+
+"He may be too old to be a scout any more, but he's not too old to do a
+good turn," teased Mary.
+
+They entered the store where the marks of the departed store fixtures
+were visible along the walls and Schmitt's old counter stood against one
+side. Piles of Red Cross literature now lay upon it. Upon a rough
+makeshift table were boxes full of yarn (destined to keep many a long
+needle busy) and the place was full of the signs of its temporary
+occupancy.
+
+"If I hadn't joined the Red Cross already, I'd join now," said Tom,
+apologetically, displaying his button. "A girl in our office got me to
+join."
+
+"Wasn't she mean," said Mary. "I'm going to make you work anyhow, just
+out of spite."
+
+Other women now arrived, armed with no end of what Tom called "first aid
+stuff," and with bundles of long knitting needles, silent weapons for
+the great drive.
+
+Tom was glad enough to retreat before this advancing host and carry
+several large boxes into the cellar. Then he hauled the old grocery
+counter around so that the women working at it could be seen from the
+street. The table, too, he pulled this way and that, to suit the
+changing fancy of the ladies in authority.
+
+"There, I guess that's about right," said Mrs. Temple, eying it
+critically; "now, there's just one thing more--if you've time. There's a
+thing down in the cellar with little compartments, sort of----"
+
+"I know," said Tom; "the old spice cabinet."
+
+"I wonder if we could bring it up together," said Mrs. Temple.
+
+"I'll get it," Tom said.
+
+"You couldn't do it alone," said Mary. "I'll help."
+
+"I can do it better without anybody getting in the way," said Tom with
+characteristic bluntness, and Mary and her mother were completely
+squelched.
+
+"Gracious, now he has grown," said Mrs. Temple, as Tom disappeared
+downstairs.
+
+"His eyes used to be gray; they've changed," said Mary.
+
+As if that had anything to do with moving tables and spice cabinets!
+
+The spice cabinet stood against the brick chimney and was covered with
+thick dust. Behind it was a disused stove-pipe hole stuffed with rags,
+which Tom pulled out to brush the dust off the cabinet before lifting
+it.
+
+He had pushed it hardly two feet in the direction of the stairs when his
+coat caught on a nail and he struck a match to see if it had torn. The
+damage was slight, and, with his customary attention to details, he saw
+that the nail was one of several which had fastened a narrow strip of
+molding around the cabinet. About two feet of this molding had been torn
+away, leaving the nails protruding from the cabinet and Tom noticed not
+only that the unvarnished strip which the molding had covered was clean
+and white, but that the exposed parts of the nails were still shiny.
+
+"Huh," he thought, "whoever pulled that off must have been in a great
+hurry not to hammer the nails in or even pull them out."
+
+As he twisted the nails out, one by one, it occurred to him to wonder
+why the heavy, clinging coat of damp dust which covered the rest of the
+cabinet was absent from this white unsoiled strip and shiny nails. The
+cabinet, he thought, must have been in the cellar for some time, whereas
+the molding must have been wrenched from it very recently, for it does
+not take long for a nail to become rusty in a damp cellar.
+
+He struck another match and looked about near the chimney, intending, if
+the strip of molding were there, to take it upstairs and nail it on
+where it belonged, for one of the good things which the scout life had
+taught Tom was that broken furniture and crooked nails sticking out
+spell carelessness and slovenliness.
+
+But the strip was not to be found. A less observant boy would not have
+given two thoughts to the matter, but in his hasty thinking Tom reached
+this conclusion, that some one had very lately pulled this strip of
+molding off of the cabinet and had used it for a purpose, since it was
+nowhere to be seen.
+
+With Pete's tale fresh in his mind, he struck match after match and
+peered about the cellar. Against the opposite wall he noticed a stick
+with curved tongs on one end of it, manipulated by a thin metal bar
+running to the other end. It was one of those handy implements used to
+lift cans down from high shelves. It stood among other articles, a rake,
+an old broom, but the deft little mechanical hand on the end of it was
+bright and shiny, so this, too, had not been long in the damp cellar.
+
+For a moment Tom paused and thought. It never occurred to him that
+momentous consequences might hang upon his thinking. He was simply
+curious and rather puzzled.
+
+He picked up the can lifter and stood looking at it. Then with a sudden
+thought he went back to the chimney, struck a match and, thrusting his
+head into the sooty hole, looked up. Four or five feet above, well out
+of arm's reach, something thin ran across from one side to the other of
+the spacious chimney. The can lifter was too long to be gotten wholly
+into the chimney, but Tom poked the end of it through the hole and
+upward until its angle brought it against the chimney wall.
+
+It was right there that the crosspiece was wedged. In other words, it
+had been pushed as high, a little on this side, a little on that, as
+this handy implement would reach, and perhaps kept from falling in the
+process by the gripping tongs.
+
+Not another inch could Tom reach with this stick. By hammering upward
+against the end of it, however, he was able to jam it up a trifle,
+thanks to its capacity for bending. Thus he dislodged the crosspiece and
+as it tumbled down he saw that it was the strip of molding from the
+cabinet.
+
+But along with it there fell something else which interested him far
+more. This was a packet which had evidently been held against the side
+of the chimney by the stick. There were six bulging envelopes held
+together by a rubber band. The dampness of the chimney had not affected
+the live rubber and it still bore its powdery white freshness.
+
+"I wonder if they looked there," Tom thought. "Maybe they just reached
+around--kind of. I should think they'd have noticed those shiny nails,
+though."
+
+He put the packet safely in his pocket and, hauling the cabinet up on
+his back staggered up the stairs with it.
+
+"What in the world took you so long?" said Mary Temple. "Oh, look at
+your face!"
+
+"I can't look at it," said matter-of-fact Tom.
+
+"It's too funny! You've got soot all over it. Come over here and I'll
+wash it off."
+
+It was a curious thing about Tom Slade and a matter of much amusement to
+his friends, that however brave or noble or heroic his acts might be, he
+was pretty sure to get his necktie halfway around his neck and a dirty
+face into the bargain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+HE SCENTS DANGER AND RECEIVES A LETTER
+
+
+Tom was greatly excited by his discovery. As he hurried to the office he
+opened the envelopes and what he found was not of a nature to modify his
+excitement. Here was German propaganda work with a vengeance. He felt
+that he had plunged into the very heart of the Teuton spy system.
+Evidently the recipient of these documents had considered them too
+precious to destroy and too dangerous to carry.
+
+"He might still think of a way to get them, maybe," thought Tom.
+
+There was a paper containing a list of all the American cantonments and
+opposite each camp several names of individuals. Tom thought these might
+be spies in Uncle Sam's uniform. There was some correspondence about
+smuggling dental rubber out of the United States to make gas masks in
+Germany. There were requests for money. There was one letter giving
+information, in considerable detail, about aeroplane manufacture.
+
+Another letter in the same handwriting interested Tom particularly,
+because of his interest in gas engines--the result of his many tussles
+with the obstreperous motor of the troop's cabin launch, _Good Turn_.
+Skimming hastily over some matter about the receipt of money through
+some intermediary, his interest was riveted by the following:
+
+     "... I told you about having plans of high pressure motor. That's
+     for battle planes at high altitudes. I've got the drawings of the
+     other now--the low pressure one I told you about at S----'s. That's
+     for seaplanes, submarine spotting, and all that. Develops 400 H.P.
+     They're not putting those in the planes that are going over now,
+     but all planes going over next year will have them. B---- told me
+     what you said about me going across, but that's the only reason I
+     suggested it--because the information won't be of any particular
+     use to them after they bring down a plane. They'll see the whole
+     thing before their eyes then. But suit yourself. There's a lot of
+     new wrinkles on this motor. I'll tell you that, but there's no use
+     telling you about it when you don't know a gas engine from a
+     meat-chopper.
+
+     "Sure, I could tend to the other matter too--it's the same idea as
+     a periscope. That's a cinch. I knew a chap worked on the
+     _Christopher Colon_. She used to run to Central America. Maybe I
+     could swing it that way. Anyway, I'll see you.
+
+     "If you have to leave in a hurry, leave money and any directions at
+     S----'s.
+
+     "I'm going to be laid off here, anyway, on account of my eardrums.
+
+     "Hope B---- will give you this all right. Guess that's all now."
+
+Tom read this twice and out of its scrappiness and incompleteness he
+gathered this much! that somebody who was about to be dismissed from an
+aeroplane factory for the very usual reason that he could not stand the
+terrific noise, had succeeded in either making or procuring plans of
+Uncle Sam's new aeroplane engine, the Liberty Motor.
+
+He understood the letter to mean that it was very important that these
+drawings reach Germany before the motors were in service, since then it
+would be too late for the Germans to avail themselves of "Yankee
+ingenuity," and also since they would in all probability succeed in
+capturing one of the planes.
+
+He gathered further that the sender of the letter was prepared to go
+himself with these plans, working his way on an American ship, and to do
+something else (doubtless of a diabolical character) on the way. The
+phrase "same idea as a periscope" puzzled him. It appeared, also, that
+the sender of the letter, whoever he was and wherever he was (for no
+place or date or signature was indicated and the envelopes were not the
+original ones) had not sent his communications direct to this alien
+grocer, but to someone else who had delivered them to Schmitt.
+
+"It isn't anything for me to be mixed up in, anyway," Tom thought. He
+was almost afraid to carry papers of such sinister purport with him and
+he quickened his steps in order that he might turn them over to Mr.
+Burton, the manager of Temple Camp office.
+
+But when he reached the office he did not carry out this intention, for
+there was waiting for him a letter which upset all his plans and made
+him forget for the time being these sinister papers. It took him back
+with a rush to his experiences on shipboard and he read it with a smile
+on his lips.
+
+     "Dear Tommy--I don't know whether this letter will ever reach you,
+     for, for all I know, you're in Davy Jones's locker. Even my memo of
+     your address got pretty well soaked in the ocean and all I'm dead
+     sure of is that you live in North America somewhere near a bridge."
+
+Tom turned the sheet to look at the signature but he knew already that
+the letter was from his erstwhile friend, Mr. Carleton Conne.
+
+     "You'll remember that I promised to get you a job working for Uncle
+     Sam. That job is yours if you're alive to take it. It'll bring you
+     so near the war, if that's what you want, that you couldn't stick a
+     piece of tissue paper between.
+
+     "If you get this all right and are still keen to work in transport
+     service, there won't be any difficulty on account of the experience
+     you've had.
+
+     "Drop in to see me Saturday afternoon, room 509, Federal Building,
+     New York, if you're interested.
+
+     "Best wishes to you.
+                                                    "Carleton Conne."
+
+So Mr. Conne was alive and had not forgotten him. Tom wished that the
+letter had told something about the detective's rescue and the fate of
+the spy, but he realized that Secret Service agents could hardly be
+expected to dwell on their adventures to "ship's boy" acquaintances, and
+was it not enough that Mr. Conne remembered him at all, and his wish to
+serve on an army transport?
+
+He took the letter into the private office to show it to Mr. Burton,
+resolved now that he would say nothing about his discovery in Schmitt's
+cellar, for surely Mr. Conne would be the proper one to give the papers
+to.
+
+"You remember," he began, "that I said if I ever heard from Mr. Conne
+and he offered me a job, I'd like to go. And you said it would be all
+right."
+
+Mr. Burton nodded. "And the expected--or the unexpected--has happened,"
+he added, smiling, as he handed Mr. Conne's letter back to Tom.
+
+"It'll be all right, won't it?" Tom asked.
+
+"I suppose it will have to be, Tom," Mr. Burton said pleasantly. "That
+was our understanding, wasn't it?"
+
+"Yes, sir--but I'm sorry--kind of."
+
+"I'm sorry, kind of, too; but I suppose there's no help for it. Some
+boys," he added, as he toyed with a paperweight, "seem to be born to
+work in offices, and some to wander over the face of the earth. I would
+be the last to discourage you from entering war service in whatever form
+it might be. But I'm afraid you'd go anyway, Tom, war or no war. The
+world isn't big enough for some people. They're born that way. I'm
+afraid you're one of them. It's surprising how unimportant money is in
+traveling if one has the wanderlust. It'll be all right," he concluded
+with a pleasant but kind of rueful smile. He understood Tom Slade
+thoroughly.
+
+"That's another thing I was thinking about, too," said Tom. "Pretty soon
+I'll be eighteen and then I want to enlist. If I enlist in this country
+I'll have to spend a whole lot of time in camp, and maybe in the end I
+wouldn't get sent to the firing line at all. There's lots of 'em won't
+even get across. If they find you've got good handwriting or maybe some
+little thing like that, they'll keep you here driving an army wagon or
+something. If I go on a transport I can give it up at either port. It's
+mostly going over that the fellers are kept busy anyway; coming back
+they don't need them. I found that out before. They'll give you a
+release there if you want to join the army. So if I keep going back and
+forth till my birthday, then maybe I could hike it through France and
+join Pershing's army. I'd rather be trained over there, 'cause then I'm
+nearer the front. You don't think that's sort of cheating the
+government, do you?" he added.
+
+Mr. Burton laughed. "I don't think the government will object to that
+sort of cheating," he said.
+
+"I read about a feller that joined in France, so I know you can do it.
+You see, it cuts out a lot of red tape, and I'd kind of like hiking it
+alone--ever since I was a scout I've felt that way."
+
+"Once a scout, always a scout," smiled Mr. Burton, using a phrase of
+which he was very fond and which Tom had learned from him; "and it
+wouldn't be Tom Slade if he didn't go about things in a way of his own,
+eh, Tom? Well, good luck to you."
+
+Tom went out and in his exuberance he showed Mr. Conne's letter to
+Margaret Ellison, who also worked in Temple Camp office.
+
+"It's splendid," she said, "and as soon as you _know_ you're going I'm
+going to hang a service flag in the window."
+
+"You can't hang out a service flag for a feller that's working on a
+transport," Tom said. "He isn't in regular military service. When I'm
+enlisted I'll let you know."
+
+"You must be sure to write."
+
+Tom promised and was delighted. So great was his elation, indeed, that
+on his way home to his room that evening he went through Terrace Avenue
+again, to see how the Red Cross women were getting on in their new
+quarters.
+
+Mary Temple received him in a regular nurse's costume, which made Tom
+almost wish that he were lying wounded on some battle-field. She was
+delighted at his good news, and, "Oh, we had such a funny man here just
+after you left," she said. "Mother thinks he must have been insane. He
+said he came to read the gas-meter, so I took him down into the cellar
+and the gas-meter had been taken away. Wouldn't you think the gas
+company would have known that? Then he said he would stay in the cellar
+and inspect the pipes."
+
+"Did you let him?" Tom asked.
+
+"I certainly did _not_! With all our stuff down there? When he saw I
+intended to stay down as long as he did, he went right up. Do you think
+he wanted to steal some of our membership buttons?"
+
+Tom shrugged his shoulders thoughtfully. He was glad the next day was
+Saturday.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+HE GETS A JOB AND MEETS "FRENCHY"
+
+
+Tom found Mr. Conne poring over a scrapbook filled with cards containing
+finger-prints. His unlighted cigar was cocked up in the corner of his
+mouth like a flag-pole from a window, just the same as when Tom had seen
+him last. It almost seemed as if it must be the very same cigar. He
+greeted Tom cordially.
+
+"So they didn't manage to sink my old chum, Sherlock Nobody Holmes, eh?
+Tommy, my boy, how are you?"
+
+"Did the spy get rescued?" Tom asked, as the long hand-shake ended.
+
+"Nope. Went down. But we nabbed a couple of his accomplices through his
+papers."
+
+"I got a new mystery," said Tom in his customary blunt manner. "I was
+going to give these papers to my boss, but when I got your letter I
+decided I'd give 'em to you."
+
+He told the detective all about Adolf Schmitt and of how he had
+discovered the papers in the chimney.
+
+"You say the place had already been searched?" Mr. Conne asked.
+
+"Yes, but I s'pose maybe they were in a hurry and had other things to
+think about, maybe. A man came there again just the other day, too, and
+said he wanted to read the gas-meter. But he looked all 'round the
+cellar."
+
+"Hmm," Mr. Conne said dryly. "Tom, if you don't look out you'll make a
+detective one of these days. I see you've got the same old wide-awake
+pair of eyes as ever."
+
+"I learned about deducing when I was in the scouts," said Tom. "They
+always made fun of me for it--the fellers did. Once I deduced an
+aeroplane landed in a big field because the grass was kind of dragged,
+but afterwards I found the fellers had made tracks there with an old
+baby carriage just to fool me. Sometimes one thing kind of tells you
+another, sort of."
+
+"Well, whenever you see something that you think tells you anything,
+Tommy, you just follow it up and never mind about folks laughing. I
+shouldn't wonder if you've made a haul here."
+
+"There was one of 'em that interested me specially," ventured Tom; "the
+one about motors."
+
+Mr. Conne glanced over the papers again. "Hmm," said he, "I dare say
+that's the least important of the lot--sort of crack-brained."
+
+Tom felt squelched.
+
+"Well, anyway, they'll all be taken care of," Mr. Conne said
+conclusively, as he stuffed the papers in his pocket.
+
+Tom could have wished that he might share in the further developments
+connected with those interesting papers. But, however important Mr.
+Conne considered them, he put the matter temporarily aside in the
+interest of Tom's proposed job.
+
+"I just happened to think of you," he said, as he took his hat and coat,
+"when I was talking with the steward of the _Montauk_. He was saying
+they were short-handed. Come along, now, and we'll go and see about it."
+
+Mr. Conne's mind seemed full of other things as he hurried along the
+street with Tom after him. On the ferryboat, as they crossed to Hoboken,
+he was more sociable.
+
+"Don't think any more about those letters now," he said. "The proper
+authorities will look after them."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And whatever they set you to doing, put your mind on your work first
+of all. Keep your eyes and ears open--there's no law against that--but
+do your work. It's only in dime novels that youngsters like you are
+generals and captains and famous detectives."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Tom.
+
+"What I mean is, don't get any crazy notions in your head. You may land
+in the Secret Service yet. But meanwhile keep your feet on the earth--or
+the ship. Get me?"
+
+Tom was sensible enough to know that this was good advice.
+
+"Your finding these letters was clever. If there are any spies in the
+camps they'll be rounded up double quick. As for spy work at sea, I'll
+tell you this, though you mustn't mention it, there are government
+sleuths on all the ships--most of them working as hands."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Tom.
+
+"I'm going across on a fast ship to-morrow myself," continued Mr. Conne,
+greatly to Tom's surprise. "I'll be in Liverpool and London and probably
+in France before you get there. There's a bare possibility of you seeing
+me over there."
+
+"I hope I do," said Tom.
+
+The transport _Montauk_ was one of the many privately owned steamers
+taken over into government service, and Tom soon learned that outside
+the steward's department nearly all the positions on board were filled
+by naval men. Mr. Conne presented him to the steward, saying that Tom
+had made a trip on a munition carrier, and disappeared in a great hurry.
+
+Tom could not help feeling that he was one of the least important things
+among Mr. Conne's multitudinous interests, and it must be confessed that
+he felt just a little chagrined at finding himself disposed of with so
+little ceremony.
+
+But, if he had only known it, this good friend who stood so high in that
+most fascinating department of all Uncle Sam's departmental family, had
+borne him in mind more than he had encouraged Tom to think, and he had
+previously spoken words of praise to the steward, which now had their
+effect in Tom's allotment to his humble duties.
+
+He was, in a word, given the best position to be had among the
+unskilled, non-naval force and became presently the envy of every
+youngster on board. This was the exalted post of captain's mess boy, a
+place of honor and preferment which gave him free entrance to that holy
+of holies, "the bridge," where young naval officers marched back and
+forth, and where the captain dined in solitary state, save for Tom's own
+presence.
+
+Now and then, in the course of that eventful trip, Tom looked enviously
+at the young wireless operators, and more particularly at the marine
+signalers, who moved their arms with such jerky and mechanical precision
+and sometimes, perhaps, he thought wistfully of certain fortunate young
+heroes of fiction who made bounding leaps to the top of the ladder of
+fame.
+
+But he did his work cheerfully and well and became a favorite on board,
+for his duties gave him the freedom of all the decks. He was the
+captain's mess boy and could go anywhere.
+
+Indeed, with one person he became a favorite even before the vessel
+started.
+
+It was well on toward dusk of the third day and he was beginning to
+think they would never sail, when suddenly he heard a tramp, tramp, on
+the pier and up the gangplank, and before he realized it the soldiers
+swarmed over the deck, their tin plates and cups jangling at their
+sides. They must have come through the adjoining ferry house and across
+a low roof without touching the street at all, for they appeared as if
+by magic and no one seemed to know how they had got there.
+
+Their arrival was accompanied by much banter and horseplay among
+themselves, interspersed with questions to the ship's people, few of
+which could be answered.
+
+"Hey, pal, where are we going?"
+
+"Where do we go from here, kiddo?"
+
+"Say, what's the next stop for this jitney?"
+
+    "We don't know where we're going,
+    but we're on our way,"
+
+someone piped up.
+
+"We're going to Berlin," one shouted.
+
+The fact that no one gave them any information did not appear to
+discourage them.
+
+"When do we eat?" one wanted to know.
+
+Tom saw no reason why he should not answer that, so he said to those
+crowded nearest to him, "In about half an hour."
+
+"G-o-o-d-ni-ight!"
+
+"When are we going to start? Who's running this camp anyway?"
+
+"Go and tell the engineer we're here and he can start off."
+
+"Fares, please. Ding ding!"
+
+"Gimme me a transfer to Berlin."
+
+And so it went. They sprawled about on the hatches, perched upon the
+rail, leaned in groups against the vent pipes; they covered the ship
+like a great brown blanket. They wrestled with each other, knocked each
+other about, shouted gibberish intended for French, talked about _Kaiser
+Bill_, and mixed things up generally.
+
+At last they were ordered into line and marched slowly through the
+galley where their plates and cups were filled and a butcher was kept
+busy demolishing large portions of a cow. They sprawled about anywhere
+they pleased, eating.
+
+To Tom it was like a scout picnic on a mammoth scale. Here and there was
+noticeable a glum, bewildered face, but for the most part the soldiers
+(drafted or otherwise) seemed bent on having the time of their lives. It
+could not be said that they were without patriotism, but their one
+thought now seemed to be to make merry. Tom's customary stolidness
+disappeared in the face of this great mirthful drive and he sat on the
+edge of the hatch, his white jacket conspicuous by contrast, and smiled
+broadly.
+
+He wondered whether any other country in the world could produce such a
+slangy, jollying, devil-may-care host as these vociferous American
+soldiers. How he longed to be one of them!
+
+A slim young soldier elbowed his way through the throng and, supper in
+hand, seated himself on the hatch beside Tom. He had the smallest
+possible mustache, with pointed ends, and his demeanor was gentlemanly
+and friendly. Even his way of stirring his coffee seemed different from
+the rough and tumble fashion of the others.
+
+"These are _stirring_ times, hey, Frenchy?" a soldier said.
+
+"Yess--zat is verry good--_stirring times_," the young fellow answered,
+in appreciation of the joke. Then, turning to Tom, he said, "Zis is ze
+Bartholdi statue, yess? I am from ze West."
+
+"That's the Statue of Liberty," said Tom. "You'll see it better when we
+pass it."
+
+"Ah, yess! zis is ze first; I haf' nevaire seen. I zank you."
+
+"Do you know why the Statue of Liberty looks so sad, Frenchy?" a soldier
+asked. "Because she's facing Brooklyn."
+
+"Do you know why she's got her arm up?" another called.
+
+Frenchy was puzzled.
+
+"She represents the American woman hanging onto a strap in the subway."
+
+"Don't let them jolly you, Frenchy," another said.
+
+Frenchy, a little bewildered, laughed good-humoredly as the bantering
+throng plied him with absurdities.
+
+"Are you French?" Tom asked, as some new victim diverted the attention
+of the boys.
+
+"Ah, no! I am Americ'."
+
+"But you were born in France?"
+
+"Yess--zey call it Zhermany, but it is France! I take ze coat from you.
+Still it is yours. Am I right? I am born in Alsace. Zat is France!"
+
+"Doncher believe him, kiddo!" said a soldier. "He was born in Germany.
+Look on the map."
+
+"He's a German spy, Whitey; look out for him."
+
+"Alsace--ziss is France!" said Frenchy fervently.
+
+"_Ziss_ is the United States," shouted a soldier derisively.
+
+"_Ziss_ is Hoboken!" chimed in another.
+
+"Vive la Hoboken!" shrieked a third.
+
+Tom thought he had never laughed so much in all his life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+HE MAKES A DISCOVERY AND RECEIVES A SHOCK
+
+
+Soon after dusk the soldiers were ordered to throw away their "smokes"
+and either go below or lie flat upon the decks. Officers patrolled the
+rail while others strolled among the boys and reminded the unruly and
+forgetful not to raise themselves, and soon the big ship, with its
+crowding khaki-clad cargo, was moving down the stream--on its way to
+"can the Kaiser." Then even the patrol was discontinued.
+
+A crowded ferryboat paused in its passage to give the great gray
+transport the right of way, and the throng of commuters upon its deck
+saw nothing as they looked up but one or two white-jacketed figures
+moving about.
+
+Tom thought the ship was off, but after fifteen or twenty minutes the
+throb of the engines ceased and he heard the clank, clank of the anchor
+winches. A little distant from the ship tiny green, red and white lights
+appeared and disappeared and were answered by other colored lights from
+high up in the rigging of the _Montauk_. Other lights appeared in other
+directions and were answered by still others, changing rapidly. Tom
+thought that he could distinguish a dark outline below certain of these
+lights. The whole business seemed weird and mysterious.
+
+In the morning he looked from the rail at a sight which astonished and
+thrilled him. No sign of land was there to be seen. Steaming abreast of
+the _Montauk_ and perhaps a couple of hundred yards from her, was a
+great ship with soldiers crowding at her rail waving caps and shouting,
+their voices singularly crisp and clear across the waters. Beyond her
+and still abreast was another great ship, the surging army upon her
+decks reduced to a brown mass in the distance. And far off on either
+side of this flotilla of three, and before it and behind it, was a
+sprightly little destroyer, moving this way and that, like a dog jumping
+about his master.
+
+Upon the nearest vessel a naval signaler was semaphoring to the
+_Montauk_--his movements jerky, clean-cut, perfect. Enviously Tom
+watched him, thinking of his own semaphore work at Temple Camp. He read
+the message easily; it was something about how many knots the ship
+could make in a steady run of six hundred miles. The _Montauk_ answered
+that she could make twenty-eight knots and keep it up for nineteen
+hours. The other signaler seemed to be relaying this to the transport
+beyond, which in turn signaled the destroyer on that side. Then there
+was signaling between the _Montauk_ and her own neighbor destroyer about
+sailing formation in the danger zone.
+
+It was almost like A B C to Tom, but he remembered Mr. Conne's good
+advice and resolved not to concern himself with matters outside his own
+little sphere of duty. But a few days later he made a discovery which
+turned his thoughts again to Adolf Schmitt's cellar and to spies.
+
+He had piled the captain's breakfast dishes, made his weather memoranda
+from the barometer for posting in the main saloon, and was dusting the
+captain's table, when he chanced to notice the framed picture of a ship
+on the cabin wall. He had seen it before, but now he noticed the tiny
+name, scarcely decipherable, upon its bow, _Christopher Colon_.
+
+So that was the ship on which somebody or other known to the fugitive,
+Adolf Schmitt, had thought of sailing in order to carry certain
+information to Germany. As Tom gazed curiously at this picture he
+thought of a certain phrase in that strange letter, _"Sure, I could tend
+to the other matter too--it's the same idea as a periscope."_
+
+Yet Mr. Conne's sensible advice would probably have prevailed and Tom
+would have put these sinister things out of his thoughts, but meeting
+one of the steward's boys upon the deck shortly afterward he said,
+"There's a picture of a ship, the _Christopher Colon_----"
+
+"That's this ship," interrupted the steward's boy. "They don't say much
+about those things. It's hard to find out anything. Nobody except these
+navy guys know about how many ships are taken over for transports. But I
+saw a couple of spoons in the dining saloon with that name on them. And
+sometimes you can make it out under the fresh paint on the life
+preservers and things. Uncle Sam's some foxy old guy."
+
+Tom was so surprised that he stood stark still and stared as the boy
+hurried along about his duties. Upon the _Montauk's_ nearest neighbor
+the naval signalman was semaphoring, and he watched abstractedly. It was
+something about camouflage maneuvering in the zone. Tom took a certain
+pride in being able to read it. Far off, beyond the other great ships,
+a sprightly little destroyer cut a zigzag course, as if practicing. The
+sky was clear and blue. As Tom watched, a young fellow in a sailor's
+suit hurried by, working his way among the throng of soldiers.
+Presently, Frenchy strolled past talking volubly to another soldier, and
+waving his cigarette gracefully in accompaniment. A naval quartermaster
+leaned against the rail, chatting with a red-faced man with
+spectacles--the chief engineer, Tom thought.
+
+Who were Secret Service men and who were not? thought Tom. Who was a spy
+and who was not? Perhaps some one who brushed past him carried in his
+pockets (or more likely in the soles of his shoes) the designs of the
+Liberty Motor. Perhaps some one had the same thought about _him_. What a
+dreadful thing to be suspected of! A spy!
+
+That puzzling phrase came into his mind again: _Sure, I could tend to
+the other matter too--it's the same idea as a periscope._ What did that
+mean? So the _Montauk_ was the _Christopher Colon_....
+
+He was roused out of his abstraction by the fervid, jerky voice of
+Frenchy, talking about Alsace. Alsace was a part of Germany, whatever
+Frenchy might say.... Again Tom bethought him of Mr. Conne's very wise
+advice, and he went to the main saloon and posted the weather
+prediction.
+
+That same day something happened which shocked him and gave him an
+unpleasant feeling of loneliness. Mr. Wessel, the steward, died suddenly
+of heart failure. He was Tom's immediate superior and in a way his
+friend. He, and he alone, had received Tom's recommendation from Mr.
+Conne, and knew something of him. He had given Tom that enviable place
+as captain's boy, and throughout these few days had treated him with a
+kind of pleasant familiarity.
+
+He stood by as the army chaplain read the simple burial service, while
+four soldiers held the rough, weighted casket upon the rail; and he saw
+it go down with a splash and disappear in the mysterious, fathomless
+ocean. It affected him more than the loss of a life by torpedoing or
+drowning could have done and left him solemn and thoughtful and with a
+deep sense of loss.
+
+Just before dark they semaphored over from the _Dorrilton_ that they
+could spare the second steward for duty on the _Montauk_. Tom mentioned
+this to one of the deck stewards, and to his surprise and
+consternation, an officer came to him a little later and asked him how
+he knew it.
+
+"I can read semaphoring," said Tom. "I used to be in the Boy Scouts."
+
+The officer looked at him sharply and said, "Well, you'd better learn to
+keep your mouth shut. This is no place for amateurs and Boy Scouts to
+practice their games."
+
+"Y-yes, sir," said Tom, greatly frightened.
+
+The next morning, when the sea was quieter, they rowed his new boss over
+in a small boat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+HE HEARS ABOUT ALSACE AND RECEIVES A PRESENT
+
+
+That was a good lesson for Tom and a practical demonstration of the
+wisdom of Mr. Conne's advice. Not that he had exactly gone outside his
+duties to indulge his appetite for adventure, but he had had a good
+scare which reminded him what a suspicious and particular old gentleman
+Uncle Sam is in wartime.
+
+The officer, who had thus frightened him and, in Tom's opinion, cast a
+slur upon the Scouts, made matters worse by scrutinizing him (or so he
+fancied) whenever they met upon the deck. But that was all there was to
+it, and the captain's mess boy did his allotted tasks each day, and
+stood for no end of jollying from the soldiers, who called him "Whitey"
+and "Eats," because he carried the captain's tray back and forth.
+
+This banter he shared with Frenchy, who took it as good-humoredly as Tom
+himself, when he understood it, and when he didn't Tom explained it to
+him.
+
+"Ziss--how you call--_can_ ze Kaiser?" he would inquire politely.
+
+"That means putting him in a tin can," said Tom.
+
+"Ze tin can? Ze--how you call--wipe ze floor wiz him?"
+
+"They both mean the same thing," said Tom. "They mean beating him--good
+and thorough--kind of."
+
+Frenchy did not seem to understand but he would wave his hands and say
+with great vehemence, "Ah, ze Kaiser, he must be defeat! Ze wretch!"
+
+Frenchy's name was Armande Lateur. He was an American by adoption and
+though he had spent much time among the people of his own nationality in
+Canada, he was strong for Uncle Sam with a pleasant, lingering fondness
+for the region of the "blue Alsatian mountains," whence he had come.
+
+It was from Frenchy that Tom learned much which (if he had only known
+it) was to serve him well in the perilous days to come.
+
+The day before they entered the danger zone the two, secure for a
+little while from the mirthful artillery fire of the soldiers, had a
+little chat which Tom was destined long to remember.
+
+They were sitting at dusk in the doorway of the unoccupied guardhouse
+which ordinarily was the second cabin smoking-room.
+
+"Alsace-Lorraine is part of Germany," said Tom, his heavy manner of
+talking contrasting strangely with Frenchy's excitability. "So you were
+a German citizen before you got to be an American; and your people over
+there must be German citizens."
+
+"Zey are Zherman _slaves_--yess! Citizens--no! See! When still I am a
+leetle boy, I must learn ze Zherman. I must go to ze Zherman school. My
+pappa have to pay fine when hees cheeldren speak ze French. My little
+seester when she sing ze Marsellaise--she must go t'ree days to ze
+Zherman zhail!"
+
+"You mean to prison?" Tom asked. "Just for singing the Marsellaise! Why,
+the hand-organs play that where I live!"
+
+"Ah, yess--Americ'! In Alsace, even before ze war--you sing ze
+Marsellaise, t'ree days you go to ze zhail. You haf' a book printed in
+ze French--feefty marks you must pay!" He waived his cigarette, as if
+it might have been a deadly sword, and hurled it over the rail.
+
+"After Germany took Alsace-Lorraine away from France," said Tom,
+unmoved, "and began treating the French people that way, I should think
+lots of 'em would have moved to France."
+
+"Many--yess; but some, no. My pappa had a veenyard. Many years ziss
+veenyard is owned by my people--my anceestors. Even ze village is name
+for my family--Lateur. You know ze Franco-Prussian War--when Zhermany
+take Alsace-Lorraine--yess?"
+
+"Yes," said Tom.
+
+"My pappa fight for France. Hees arm he lose. When it is over and Alsace
+is lost, he haf' lost more than hees arm. Hees spirit! Where can he go?
+Away from ze veenyard? Here he hass lived--always."
+
+"I understand," said Tom.
+
+"Yess," said Frenchy with great satisfaction. "Zat is how eet is--you
+will understand. My pappa cannot go. Zis is hees _home_. So he
+stay--stay under ze Zhermans. Ah! For everything, _everything_, we must
+pay ze tax. Five hundred soldiers, zey keep, _always_--in zis little
+village--and only seven hundred people. Ziss is ze way. Ugh! Even ze
+name zey change--Dundgart! Ugh!"
+
+"I don't like it as well as Lethure," said matter-of-fact Tom.
+
+Frenchy laughed at Tom's pronunciation. "Zis is how you say--Le-teur.
+See? I will teach you ze French."
+
+"How did you happen to come to America?" Tom asked.
+
+"Ah! I will tell you," Frenchy said, as a grim, dangerous look gathered
+in his eyes. "You are--how many years, my frien'!"
+
+"I'm seventeen," said Tom.
+
+"One cannot tell wiz ze Americans," Frenchy explained. "Zey grow so
+queeck--so beeg. In Europe, zey haf' nevaire seen anyzing like zis--zis
+army," he added, indicating with a sweeping wave of his hand the groups
+of lolling, joking soldiers.
+
+"They make fun of you a lot, don't they?"
+
+"Ah, zat I do not mind."
+
+"Maybe that's why they all like you."
+
+"I will tell you," said Frenchy, reverting to Tom's previous question.
+"I am zhust ze same age as you--sefenteen--when zey throw my seester in
+ze zhail because she sing ze Marsellaise. Zat I cannot stand! You
+see?--When ze soldiers--fat Zhermans, ugh! When zey come for her, I
+strike zis fat one--here--so."
+
+"I'm glad you did," said Tom.
+
+"Hees eye I cut open, _so_. Wiz my fist--zhust boy's fist, but so
+sharp."
+
+"I don't blame you," said Tom.
+
+"So zen I must flee. Even to be rude to ze Zherman soldier--zis is
+crime. So I come to Americ'. Zey are looking for me, but I go by night,
+I sleep in ze haystack--zis I show. (He exhibited a little iron button
+with nothing whatever upon it.) You see? Zis is--what you
+call--talisman. Yess?
+
+"So I come to Epinal across ze border, through ze pass in ze mountains.
+I am free! I go to my uncle in Canada who is agent to our wines. Zen I
+come to Chicago, where I haf' other uncle--also agent. Now I go to
+France wiz ze Americans to take Alsace back. What should I care if they
+laugh at me? We go to take Alsace back! Alsace!--Listen--I will tell
+you!
+
+    "Vive la France!
+    A bas la Prusse!
+    D'Schwowe mien
+    Zuem Elsass 'nuess!
+
+See if you can say zis," he smiled.
+
+Tom shook his head.
+
+"I will tell you--see.
+
+    "Long live France!
+    Down with Prussia!
+    The Boches must
+    Get out of Alsace!"
+
+"It must make you feel good after all that to go back now and make them
+give up Alsace," said Tom, his stolid nature moved by the young fellow's
+enthusiasm. "I'd like it if I'd been with you when you escaped and ran
+away like that. I like long hikes and adventures and things, anyway. It
+must be a long time since you saw your people."
+
+"Saw! Even I haf' not _heard_ for t'ree year. Eight years ago I fled
+away. Even before America is in ze war I haf' no letters. Ze Zhermans
+tear zem up! Ah, no matter. When it is all over and ze boundary line is
+back at ze Rhine again--zen I will see zem. My pappa, my moother, my
+seester Florette----"
+
+His eyes glistened and he paused.
+
+"I go wiz Uncle Sam! My seester will sing ze Marsellaise!"
+
+"Yes," said Tom. "She can sing it all she wants."
+
+"If zey are not yet killed," Frenchy added, looking intently out upon
+the ocean.
+
+"I kind of feel that they're not," said Tom simply. "Sometimes I have
+feelings like that and they usually come out true."
+
+Frenchy looked suddenly at him, then embraced him. "See, I will give you
+ziss," he said, handing Tom the little iron button. "I haf' two--see? I
+will tell you about zis," he added, drawing close and holding it so that
+Tom could see. "It is made from ze cannon in my pappa's regiment. Zis is
+when Alsace and Lorraine were lost--you see? Zey swear zey would win or
+die together--and so zey all die--except seventy. So zese men, zey swear
+zey will stand by each other, forever--zese seventy. You see? Even in
+poor Alsace--and in Lorraine. So zese, ze haf' make from a piece of ze
+cannon. You see? If once you can get across ze Zherman lines into
+Alsace, zis will find you friends and shelter. Ah, but you must be
+careful. You see? You must watch for zis button and when you see--zen
+you can show zis. You will know ze person who wears ze button is
+French--man, woman, peasant, child. Ze Zhermans do not know. Zey are
+fine spies, fine sneaks! But zis zey do not know. You see?"
+
+It was as much to please the generous Frenchy as for any other reason
+(though, to be sure, he was glad to have it) that Tom took the little
+button and put it in his pocket.
+
+"Ze iron cross--you know zat?"
+
+"I've heard about it," said Tom.
+
+"Zat means murder, savagery, death! Zis little button means friendship,
+help. Ze Zhermans do not know. You take this for--what you call--lucky
+piece?"
+
+"I'll always keep it," said Tom, little dreaming what it would mean to
+him.
+
+An authoritative voice was heard and they saw the soldiers throwing away
+their cigars and cigarettes and emptying their pipes against the rail.
+At the same time the electric light in the converted guard house was
+extinguished and an officer came along calling something into each of
+the staterooms along the promenade tier. They were entering the danger
+zone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+HE BECOMES VERY PROUD, AND ALSO VERY MUCH FRIGHTENED
+
+
+Tom's talk with Frenchy left him feeling very proud that he was American
+born. He had that advantage over the Frenchman, he thought, even though
+Frenchy had escaped through a pass in the Alsatian mountains and made
+such an adventurous flight.
+
+When Frenchy had spoken of the American soldiers Tom felt especially
+proud. He was glad that all his people so far as he knew anything about
+them, were good out-and-out Yankees. Even his poor worthless father had
+been a great patriot, and played the _Star-Spangled Banner_ on his old
+accordion when he ought to have been at work.
+
+Then there was poor old one-armed Uncle Job Slade who used to get drunk,
+but he had told Tom about "them confounded rebels and traitors" of
+Lincoln's time, and when he had died in the Soldiers' Home they had
+buried him with the Stars and Stripes draped over his coffin.
+
+He was sorry now that he had not mentioned these things when gruff,
+well-meaning Pete Connigan had spoken disparagingly of the Slades.
+
+He was glad he was not an adopted American like Frenchy, but that all
+his family had been Americans as far back as he knew. He was proud to
+"belong" to a country that other people wanted to "join"--that _he_ had
+never had to join. And as he stood at the rail when his duties were
+finished that same night and gazed off across the black, rough ocean, he
+made up his mind that after this when he heard slurs cast upon his
+father and his uncle, instead of feeling ashamed he would defend them,
+and tell of the good things which he knew about them.
+
+He stood there at the rail, quite alone, thinking. The night was very
+dark and the sea was rough. Not a light was to be seen upon the ship.
+
+It occurred to him that it might be better for him not to stand there
+with his white steward's jacket on. He recalled how, up at Temple Camp,
+one could see the white tents very clearly all the way across the lake.
+
+There was no rule about it, apparently, but sometimes, when people
+forgot to make a good rule, Tom made it for them. So now he went down to
+his little stateroom (the captain's mess boy had a tiny stateroom to
+himself) and put on a dark coat.
+
+The second cabin dining saloon and dining room, which were below decks
+and had no outside ports, were crowded with soldiers, playing cards and
+checkers, and they did not fail to "josh" Whitey as he passed through.
+Frenchy was there and he waved pleasantly to Tom.
+
+"Going to get out and walk, Whitey?" a soldier called. "I see you've got
+your street clothes on."
+
+"I thought maybe the white would be too easy to see," Tom answered.
+
+"Wise guy!" someone commented.
+
+Reaching the main deck he edged his way along between the narrow
+passageway and the washroom to a secluded spot astern. He liked this
+place because it was so lonesome and unfrequented and because he could
+hear the whir and splash of the great propellers directly beneath him as
+each big roller lifted the after part of the vessel out of the water.
+Here he could think about Bridgeboro and Temple Camp, and Roy Blakeley
+and the other scouts, and of how proud he was that he was an American
+through and through, and of what he was going to say to people after
+this when they called his father a "no good" and Uncle Job a "rummy." He
+was glad he had thought about that, for back in Bridgeboro people were
+always saying something.
+
+Suddenly a stern, authoritative voice spoke just behind him. "What are
+you doing here?"
+
+In the heavy darkness Tom could just make out that the figure was in
+khaki and he thought it was the uniform of an officer.
+
+"I ain't doing anything," he said.
+
+"What did you come here for?" the voice demanded sternly.
+
+"I--I don' know," stammered Tom, thoroughly frightened.
+
+Quickly, deftly, the man slapped his clothing in the vicinity of his
+pockets.
+
+"Who are you?" he demanded.
+
+"I'm captain's mess boy."
+
+Laying his hand on Tom's shoulder, he marched him into the saloon and to
+the head of the companionway where the dim light from the passageway
+below enabled him to get a better sight of the boy. Tom was all of a
+tremor as the officer scrutinized him.
+
+"You're the fellow that read the semaphore message, aren't you?" the
+officer demanded.
+
+"Y-yes, sir, but I didn't notice them any more since I found out I
+shouldn't." Then he mustered courage to add, "I only went back there
+because it was dark and lonely, kind of. I was thinking about where I
+live and things----"
+
+The officer scrutinized him curiously for a moment and apparently was
+satisfied, for he only added, speaking rather harshly, "You'd better be
+careful where you go at night and keep away from the ropes." With this
+he wheeled about and strode away.
+
+For a minute or two Tom stood rooted to the spot where he stood, his
+heart pounding in his breast. He would not have been afraid of a whole
+regiment of Germans and he would probably have retained his stolid
+demeanor if the vessel had been sinking, but this little encounter
+frightened him. He wished that he had had the presence of mind to tell
+the officer why he had doffed his white jacket, and he wished that he
+had had the courage to mention how his Uncle Job had fought at
+Gettysburg and been buried with the flag over his coffin. Those things
+might have impressed the officer.
+
+As he lay in his berth that night, his feeling of fright passed away
+and he was overcome with a feeling of humiliation. That _he_, Tom Slade,
+who had been a scout of the scouts, who had worked for the Colors, whose
+whole family history had been one of loyalty and patriotism, should be
+even---- No, of course, he had not been actually _suspected_ of anything,
+and he knew that the government had to be very watchful and careful,
+but---- Well, he felt ashamed and humiliated, that's all.
+
+He made up his mind that if he should see that officer again, and he did
+not look too forbidding, he would mention how his mother had taught him
+to sing _America_, how his father had played the _Star-Spangled Banner_
+on his old accordion and how Uncle Job had died in the Soldiers' Home.
+Those were about the only good things he could remember about his father
+and Uncle Job, but weren't they enough?
+
+And since the government was so very particular, Tom got up and hung his
+coat across the porthole, though no clink of light could possibly have
+escaped, for his little stateroom was as dark as pitch and even when he
+opened his door there was only the dim light from the inner passage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+HE HEARS SOME NEWS AND IS CONFIDENTIAL WITH FRENCHY
+
+
+The next morning there was a rumor. Somebody told somebody who told
+somebody else who told a deck steward who told Tom that a couple of men
+had gone very stealthily along the dimly lighted passageway outside the
+forward staterooms below, looking for a lighted stateroom.
+
+"There was never so much as a glint," the deck steward volunteered.
+
+Instantly Tom thought of his experience of the previous night and there
+arose in his mind also certain passages from one of the letters he had
+turned over to Mr. Conne.
+
+Acting on his benefactor's very sensible advice, he had not allowed his
+mind to dwell upon those mysterious things which were altogether outside
+his humble sphere. But now he could not help recalling that this ship
+had been the _Christopher Colon_ on which somebody or other had thought
+he might be able to sail. Well, in any event, the ship's people had
+those things in hand, and after his disturbing experience of the night
+before, he would not dare speak to one of his superiors about what was
+in his mind. But he was greatly interested in this whispered news.
+
+"The electric lights are turned off in the staterooms, anyway," he said.
+
+"Yes, but that bunch is always smoking--them engineers," said the deck
+steward, "and a chap would naturally stick his head out of the port so
+as not to get the room full of smoke. All he'd have to do is drop his
+smoke in the ocean if anyone happened along. It's been done more'n
+once."
+
+"Then you don't think it was spies they suspected or--anything like
+that?"
+
+The deck steward, who was an old hand, hunched his shoulders. "Maybe,
+and maybe not. You can't drum it into some men that a cigarette is like
+a searchlight on the ocean."
+
+"Yet the destroyers signal at night--even here in the zone," Tom said.
+
+"Not much--only when it's necessary. And the transports don't answer.
+It's just a little brown kind of light, too. They say the tin fish[1]
+can't make it out at all."
+
+"Is that where the engineers sleep--down there?" Tom asked.
+
+"The chief and the first assistants up on deck; third and fourth and
+head fireman are down there, and two electricians. The carpenter's
+there, too."
+
+"Well, they didn't find anything, anyway," said Tom. "Is that all they
+did?"
+
+"Did? They opened every room on their way back and searched every nook
+and corner. Not so much as a pipe or a cigarette or a cigar could they
+find--nor a whiff of smoke neither. Besides, the port windows were
+locked shut and the steward had the keys! They're takin' no chances in
+the zone, you can bet."
+
+"I was thinking, if it was a spy or anyone like that, he might have had
+a flashlight," said Tom, "and thrown it out if he heard anyone coming."
+
+"With the glass locked shut?"
+
+"No, that spoils it," said Tom.
+
+"They searched every bloomin' one of 'em," said the deck steward.
+"Charlie was two hours making up the berths again after the way they
+threw things around. But nothing doing. They found a mess plate with a
+little black spot on it and he said they thought it might have been
+from a match-end being laid there, but I heard they told the captain
+there was nothing wrong down there."
+
+"What made them think there was?" asked Tom.
+
+The deck steward shrugged his shoulders. "You can search _me_. But
+they're mighty particular, huh?"
+
+He went about his duties, leaving Tom to ponder on this interesting
+news, and though admittedly nothing had come of that stealthy raid which
+had exposed neither rule breakers nor spies, still Tom thought about it
+all day, more or less, and he was glad that Uncle Sam was so watchful
+and thorough. It made him realize, all the more, how absurd and
+preposterous it would be for him, the captain's mess boy, to concern
+himself or ask questions or say anything about serious matters which
+were none of his business.
+
+All day long they ran a zigzag course, taking a long cut to France, as
+Pete Connigan would have said, the general tension relieved by the
+emergency drills, manning the boats and so forth.
+
+In the afternoon hours of respite from his duties he met Frenchy, whose
+patience had been a little tried by some of Uncle Sam's crack jolliers,
+and they sat down on the top step of a companionway and talked.
+
+"Zis I cannot bear!" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "To be called ze
+Hun! Ugh!"
+
+"They're only kidding you," said Tom; "fooling with you."
+
+"I do not like it--no!"
+
+"But if you hadn't become an American before the war," said Tom, "you
+couldn't have enlisted on our side because you really were a German--a
+German citizen--weren't you?"
+
+"Subject, yess! Citizen, no! All will be changed. Alsace will be France
+again! We go to win her back! Yess?"
+
+"Yes," said Tom. "I only meant you belonged to Germany because you
+couldn't help it."
+
+"You are a lucky boy," Frenchy said earnestly. "Zare is no--what you
+say?--Mix-up; Zhermany, France, America--no. You are all _American_!"
+
+"I got to remember that," said Tom simply. "I know some rich fellers
+home where I live. They let me join their scout troop, so I got to know
+'em. One feller's name is Van Arlen. His father was born in Holland.
+They got two automobiles and a lot of servants and things. But anyway my
+father was born in the United States--that's one thing."
+
+"Ah," said Frenchy, enthusiastically, "zat is ever'ting! You are fine
+boy."
+
+His expression was so generous, so pleasant, that Tom could not help
+saying, "I like France, too."
+
+"Listen, I will tell you," said Frenchy, laughing. "It is ze old saying,
+'Ever' man hass two countries; hees own and France!' You see?"
+
+In the warmth of Frenchy's generous admiration Tom opened up and said
+more than he had meant to say--more than he ever had said to anyone.
+
+"So I got to be proud of it, anyway," he said, in his honest, blunt
+fashion. "Maybe you won't understand, but one thing makes me like to go
+away from Bridgeboro, kind of, is the way people say things about my
+folks. They don't do it on purpose--mostly. But anyway, all the fathers
+of the fellows I know, they call them Mr. Blakeley and Mr. Harris, and
+like that. But they always called my father Bill Slade. I didn't ever
+hear anybody call him Mister. But anyway, he was born in the United
+States--that's one sure thing. And so was my grandfather and my
+grandmother, too. Once my father licked me because I forgot to hang out
+the flag on Decoration Day. That shows he was patriotic, doesn't it? The
+other day I was going to tell you about my uncle but I forgot to. He was
+in the Civil War--he got his arm shot off. So I got a lot to be proud
+about, anyway. Just because my father didn't get a job most--most of the
+time----"
+
+"Ah!" vociferated Frenchy, clapping him on the shoulder. "You are
+ze--how you say--_one_ fine boy!"
+
+Tom remained stolid, under this enthusiastic approval. He was thinking
+how glad and proud he was that his father had licked him for forgetting
+to hang out the flag. It had not been a licking exactly, but a beating
+and kicking, but this part of it he did not remember. He was very proud
+of his father for it. It was something to boast about. It showed that
+the Slades----
+
+"Yess, you are a fine boy!" said Frenchy again, clapping him on the
+shoulder with such vehemence as to interrupt his train of thought. "Zey
+must be fine people--all ze way back--to haf' such a boy. You see?"
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+[1] Submarines.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+HE SEES A STRANGE LIGHT AND GOES ON TIPTOE
+
+
+Of course, it would have been expecting too much to suppose that the
+boys in khaki would overlook Tom Slade any more than Frenchy would
+escape them, and "Whitey" was the bull's-eye for a good deal of target
+practice in the way of jollying. It got circulated about that Whitey had
+a bug--a patriotic bug, particularly in regard to his family, and it was
+whispered in his hearing as he came and went that his grandfather was
+none other than the original Yankee Doodle.
+
+Of course, Tom's soberness increased this good-natured propensity of the
+soldiers.
+
+"Hey, Whitey," they would call as he passed with the captain's tray, "I
+hear you were born on the Fourth of July. How about that?"
+
+Or
+
+"Hey, Whitey, I hear your great grandfather was the fellow that put the
+bunk in Bunker Hill!"
+
+But Tom did not mind; joking or no joking, they knew where he stood with
+Uncle Sam and that was enough for him.
+
+Sometimes they would vary their tune and pleasantly chide him with
+being a secret agent of the Kaiser, "Baron von Slade," and so on and so
+on. He only smiled in that stolid way of his and went about his duties.
+In his heart he was proud. Sometimes they would assume to be serious and
+ply him with questions, and he would fall into their trap and proudly
+tell about poor old Uncle Job and of how his father had licked him, by
+way of proving the stanch Americanism of the Slades.
+
+In their hearts they all liked him; he seemed so "easy" and bluntly
+honest, and his patriotism was so obvious and so sincere.
+
+"You're all right, Whitey," they would say.
+
+Then, suddenly, that thing happened which shocked and startled them with
+all the force of a torpedo from a U-boat, and left them gasping.
+
+It happened that same night, and little did Tom Slade dream, as he went
+along the deck in the darkening twilight, carrying the captain's empty
+supper dishes down to the galley, of the dreadful thing which he would
+face before that last night in the danger zone was over.
+
+He washed his hands, combed his hair, put on his dark coat, and went up
+on deck for an hour or two which he could call his own. In the
+companionway he passed his friend, the deck steward, talking with a
+couple of soldiers, and as he squeezed past them he paused a moment to
+listen.
+
+It was evidently another slice of the same gossip with which he had
+regaled Tom earlier in the day and he was imparting it with a great air
+of confidence to the interested soldiers.
+
+"Don't say I told you, but they had two of them in the quartermaster's
+room, buzzing them. It's more'n rule breaking, _I_ think."
+
+"German agents, you mean?"
+
+The deck steward shrugged his shoulders in that mysterious way, as if he
+could not take the responsibility of answering that question.
+
+"But they haven't got anything on 'em," he added. "The glass ports were
+locked--they couldn't have thrown anything out. So there you are. The
+captain thinks it was phosphorus and maybe he's right. It's a kind of a
+light you sometimes see in the ocean."
+
+"Huh," said one of the soldiers.
+
+"It's fooled others before. So I guess there won't be any more about it.
+Keep your mouths shut."
+
+Tom passed them and went out upon the deck. He did not venture near the
+forbidden spot astern, but leaned against the rail amidships. He knew he
+had the right to spend his time off on deck and he liked to be alone.
+Now and then he glimpsed a little streak of gray as some apprehensive
+person in a life belt disappeared in a companionway, driven in by the
+cold and the rough sea.
+
+Presently, he was quite alone and he fell to thinking about home, as he
+usually did when he was alone at night. He thought of his friend Roy
+Blakeley and of the happy summers spent at Temple Camp; of the stalking
+and tracking, and campfire yarns, and how they used to jolly him, just
+as these soldiers jollied him, and call him "Sherlock Nobody Holmes"
+just because he was interested in deduction and had "doped out" one or
+two little things.
+
+One thing will suggest another, and from Temple Camp, with its long
+messboard and its clamoring, hungry scouts, and the tin dishes heaped
+with savory hunters' stew, his thoughts wandered back across the ocean
+to a certain particular mess plate, right here on this very ship--a mess
+plate with a little black stain on it, where someone might have laid a
+burning match-end.
+
+He caught himself up and thought of Mr. Conne. But this was his time
+off and he had the right to _think_ about anything he pleased. He could
+not be reprimanded for just thinking. Nothing would tempt him to run the
+risk of another encounter with one of those stern, brisk-speaking
+officers, but he could _think_.
+
+And he wondered whether that black spot _had_ been made by a match-end.
+The spot would show plainly, of course, for he knew how shiny and clean
+mess plates were kept. Had he not done his part in scouring and rubbing
+them down there in the galley?
+
+He wondered how the mess plate had happened to be in the stateroom,
+anyway. Sherlock Nobody Holmes again! But the crew, as well as the
+troops, carried their supper wherever they pleased to eat it. So there
+was nothing so strange about that. If there had been, why, Uncle Sam's
+all-seeing eye would not have missed it.
+
+He fell to thinking of Bridgeboro again. And he thought of Adolf Schmitt
+and----
+
+A phrase from one of those letters ran through his mind--_It's the same
+idea as a periscope_.
+
+For a moment Tom Slade felt just as so often he had felt when he had
+found an indistinct footprint along a woodland trail. _What_ was the
+same idea as a periscope? What was a periscope, anyway?
+
+Why, a thing on a submarine by means of which you could look two ways at
+once--you could look up through the ocean and across the ocean--all with
+one look.
+
+He wondered whether Mr. Conne had noticed that rather puzzling phrase
+and whether the people on this ship had seen that letter. Mr. Conne had
+seemed to think that one the least important of the lot. Perhaps he had
+just told the ship's people to look out for spies. And they would do
+that anyway. The names of uniformed spies in the army cantonments--names
+in black and white--that was the important thing--the big discovery.
+
+But Tom Slade was only a humble Sherlock Nobody Holmes and he couldn't
+get that phrase out of his head.
+
+_It's the same idea as a periscope._
+
+A periscope is a kind of a--a kind of a----
+
+Tom's brow was knit, just as when he used carefully and anxiously to
+move the grass away from an all but obliterated footprint, and his eyes
+were half closed and keen.
+
+"I know what it is," he said to himself, suddenly. "It means how light
+can be passed through a room even while the room is dark all the
+time--kind of reflected--and you wouldn't have to use any match."
+
+He stood still, almost frightened at his own conclusion. The clean,
+shiny mess plate and the phrase out of that letter seemed to fit
+together like the sections of a picture puzzle. The black spot and the
+match-end (if there was any match-end) meant just nothing at all. The
+dim light out in the passageway down below hardly reached the dark
+staterooms, but----
+
+He could not remember just how it was down there, but he knew that in
+the staterooms where the glass ports were locked (and that was the case
+with all of the crews' quarters below) air was admitted by a slightly
+opened panel transom over the door.
+
+What should he do? Go and tell an officer about his discovery? If it
+_were_ a discovery that would be all very well. But after all, this was
+only a--a kind of a _deduction_. And they might laugh at him. He had
+always stood in awe of the officers and since last night he was mortally
+afraid of them. If he told any of the soldiers or even the steward they
+would only jolly him. He did not know exactly what he had better do.
+
+He made up his mind that he would go down through the passageway where
+those under engineers and electricians slept and see how it looked down
+there. He had been through there many times, but he thought that perhaps
+he would notice some thing now which would help to prove his theory and
+then perhaps they would listen to the captain's mess boy if he could
+muster the courage to speak.
+
+He had just left the rail when he saw, some distance to starboard as it
+seemed, and well forward of the ship, an infinitesimal bluish brown
+spark. How he happened to notice it he did not know. "Once a scout,
+always a scout," perhaps. In any event, it was only by fixing his eyes
+intently upon it that he could keep it in sight. And even so, he lost it
+after a few seconds. He tried to find it again, but quite in vain. It
+had been about as conspicuous as a snowflake would have been in a glass
+of milk.
+
+"Huh, if there's anyone on this ship can see _that_, he must be a peach.
+Maybe up in the rigging you can see it better, though. If it's on the
+destroyer, she's quite a ways ahead of us----"
+
+He squinted his eyes and, seeing a number of imaginary lights, decided
+that perhaps the other had been imaginary too. He crossed the saloon,
+went down the companionway and through the second class cabin
+dining-room where the soldiers hailed him pleasantly, and, passing the
+stokers' washroom, tiptoed along the dim, narrow passageway.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+HE GOES BELOW AND GROPES IN THE DARK
+
+
+There were half a dozen or more staterooms along this passage. At the
+end of it was the steep, greasy flight of iron steps leading down into
+the engine-rooms. Here, also, was a huge box with a hinged lid, filled
+with cotton waste. It was customary for one going down here to take a
+handful of this waste to protect his hands from the oily rail, and also
+on coming up to wipe his hands with a fresh lot. The very atmosphere of
+a ship's engine-room is oily. Here, also, were several fire-buckets in a
+rack.
+
+Along the side of the passage opposite the staterooms were electric
+bulbs at intervals, but only two of them were burning--just enough to
+light one through the narrow passage. Above each closed door was a solid
+wooden transom, hinged at its lower side and opened at an angle into the
+room.
+
+Tom moved quickly and very quietly, for he feared to be caught loitering
+here. He saw at once that only one of these staterooms could possibly
+be used for any such criminal purpose as he suspected, and that was the
+one with a light directly opposite it in the passage, for the other
+light was beyond the staterooms.
+
+For a few seconds he stood listening to the slow, monotonous sound of
+the machinery just below him. The vibration was very pronounced here;
+the floor thumped with the pulsations of the mighty engines. And Tom's
+heart was thumping too.
+
+Within the staterooms all was dark and quiet. He knew the under
+engineers turned in early. Not the faintest flicker was to be seen
+through any of those transoms. He had been mistaken, he thought; had
+jumped at a crazy notion. And he half turned to go up again.
+
+But instead he listened at the companionway, then tiptoed stealthily
+along the passage and looked over the oily iron rail, down, down into
+the depths of the great, dim, oil-smelling space with its iron galleries
+and the mammoth steel arms, moving back and forth, back and forth, far
+down there upon the grated floor. A tiny figure in a jumper went down
+from one of the lower galleries, paused to look at a big dial, then
+crossed the floor and disappeared, making never a sound. No other
+living thing was in sight--unless those mighty steel arms, ever meeting
+and parting might be said to be living. To come up from down there would
+mean the ascent of three iron stairways.
+
+Tom withdrew into the passage and quietly lifting one of the
+fire-buckets from the rack, tiptoed with it to the door which was
+directly opposite the passageway.
+
+Then he paused again. He could open that door, he knew, for no keys or
+bolts were allowed on any stateroom door. He could surprise the
+occupant, whom he would find in darkness. If his suspicion was correct
+(and he was beginning now to fear that it was not) there would be no
+actual proof of anything inside of that dark little room, save only just
+what the authorities had already found--an apparently innocent mess
+plate. The criminal act would consist of simply holding a shiny plate in
+a certain position. The moment a sound was heard outside the plate could
+be laid down. And who would be the wiser?
+
+Tom's heart was thumping in his breast, his eyes anxiously scanning one
+end of the passage, then the other.
+
+Not a sound--no sign of anyone.
+
+Tom Slade had been a scout and notwithstanding his suspense and almost
+panicky apprehension, he was not going to act impulsively or
+thoughtlessly. He knew that if he could only present a convincing case
+to his superiors, they would forgive him his presumption. If he made a
+bungle it might go hard with him. Anyway, he could not, or would not,
+turn back now.
+
+In truth, he did not believe that anything at all was going to happen.
+The stateroom was so dark and so still that all his fine ideas and
+deductions, which had seemed so striking and plausible up on the
+lonesome, wind-swept deck, began to fade away.
+
+But there would be no harm in one little test, and no one would be the
+wiser. He tried to picture in his mind's eye the interior of that little
+stateroom. If it were like his own, then the mirror was on the other
+side of the passage wall, that is, on the opposite side of the stateroom
+from the port hole. If one looked into the mirror he would see the port
+hole. All of the smaller rooms below decks which he had seen were
+arranged in the same way.
+
+Therefore, thought Tom, if one should hold a shiny mess plate, for
+instance, up near the transom, so as to catch the light from without,
+he could throw it down into the mirror, which would reflect not only the
+glare but the brilliant image of the bulb as well. From out on the ocean
+that reflected light would be very clear.
+
+All of which, thought Tom dubiously, was a very pretty theory, but----
+
+Without making a sound he placed the inverted bucket on the floor and
+listened. He put one foot on it and listened again. Then he stood upon
+it, his heart pounding like a triphammer.
+
+Not a sound.
+
+Probably the tired occupant of the room was fast asleep--sleeping the
+peaceful sleep of the innocent.
+
+Tom knew that if his mind's eye picture of the room's arrangement were
+correct, the metal reflector would be of no avail unless tilted at a
+slight angle from the horizontal, right inside the transom.
+
+For a moment he stood upon the bucket, not daring to budge. He could
+hear his own breathing, and far away the steady, dull thud of the
+tireless machinery. Something creaked in the passage, and he turned
+cold. He did not stir a muscle.
+
+Only some superficial crevice or crack somewhere--some loose panel or
+worn hinge responding to the onslaught of a giant wave without----
+Nothing----
+
+He turned his head and looked down the passage, clenching his fists in
+momentary fright, as if he feared the bending of his neck might be
+heard.
+
+No one. Not a sound.
+
+He tried to look through the transom but his eyes were not high enough.
+For another second he paused. Then he reached through the transom and
+moved his hand about in the silence and darkness. He heard the cracking
+again and waited, trembling, though he knew it was nothing.
+
+Then he groped about with his hand again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+HE MAKES A DISCOVERY AND IS GREATLY AGITATED
+
+
+Suddenly his hand encountered something hard and cold, and he grabbed it
+like lightning. His heart was in his throat now. There was a scuffling
+sound within and the object was wrenched and twisted and pulled
+frantically.
+
+But Tom had been a scout and he was prepared. The two big clumsy hands
+which bore the captain's tray back and forth each day had once torn a
+pack of thirty cards in half to entertain tenderfeet at campfire. And
+one of those hands clutched this thing now with the grip of a bulldog.
+
+His excitement and his pounding heart did not embarrass him in the brief
+tussle. A few dexterous twists this way and that, and he withdrew his
+hand triumphantly, scratched and bleeding, the light in the passage
+glinting upon the polished surface of the mess plate which he held.
+
+Scarcely three minutes had escaped since he came down from the deck,
+but in that short period his usually sturdy nerves had borne a terrific
+strain and for a moment he leaned against the opposite side of the
+passage, clutching the dish in consternation.
+
+In that brief moment when he had paused before putting his hand through
+the transom, he had thought that if indeed the plate were being held
+there even still the conspirator's eyes would be fixed upon the
+stationary mirror in order to keep the reflection centered in direct
+line with the porthole. Evidently he had been right and had taken the
+plotter quite unaware.
+
+Sherlock Nobody Holmes had succeeded beyond his most extravagant dreams!
+
+The door of the little room flew back and a figure stood in the dark
+opening, looking at him.
+
+"That--_that's_ what you meant," Tom stammered, scarcely knowing what he
+said, "about the same idea as a periscope. You thought--you thought----"
+
+The man, evidently surprised at seeing no one but the captain's mess
+boy, stuck out his head and looked apprehensively up and down the
+passage.
+
+"There's nobody," breathed Tom, "except me; but it won't do you any
+good--it won't--because I'm going to tell----"
+
+He paused, clutching the mess plate, and looked aghast at the
+disheveled, half-dressed man who faced him. Then the plate dropped from
+his hand, and a strange, cold feeling came over him.
+
+"Who are you?" he gasped, his eyes stark and staring. "I--I didn't
+know--I ain't----"
+
+He stopped, refusing to believe, and groped for the precious mess plate,
+part of the makeshift periscope which his own keenness had discovered
+and rendered useless. Then he stood again, fumbling the thing in his
+clumsy hands and staring, all bewildered, at the traitor who had used it
+to betray his country.
+
+Was it----? It could not be---- But the years had wrought more change in
+Tom himself than in the man who stood there glaring back at him, half
+recognizing.
+
+Yes, it _was_ his own brother, William Slade, who had left home so long
+ago!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+HE IS FRIGHTENED AND VERY THOUGHTFUL
+
+
+And this was the triumph of Sherlock Nobody Holmes! This was the
+startling discovery with which he would astonish his superiors and win
+their approbation! It was not Sherlock Nobody Holmes who heard in a sort
+of daze the whispered words that were next uttered. It was just the
+captain's mess boy, and he hung his head, not so much in crushing
+disappointment as in utter shame.
+
+"Come inside here and keep still. How'd _you_ get on this ship?
+Nobody'll be hunting for you, will they? Come in--quick. What's the
+matter with you?"
+
+Still clutching the dish, Tom was dragged into that dark little room. He
+seemed almost in a trance. The hand which had been raised in conspiracy
+and treason pushed him roughly onto the berth.
+
+"So you turned up like a bad penny, huh?" whispered his brother,
+fiercely.
+
+"I--I wrote you--a letter--after mother died," Tom said simply. "I
+don't know if you got it."
+
+"Shut up!" hissed his brother. "Don't talk so loud! You want to get me
+in trouble? How'd you know about this?"
+
+His voice was gruff and cold and seemed the more so for his frightened
+whisper.
+
+"She died of pneumonia," said Tom impassively. "I was----"
+
+"Gimme that plate!" his brother interrupted.
+
+But this roused Tom. He seemed to feel that his possession of the plate
+was a badge of innocence.
+
+"I got to keep it," he said; "it's----"
+
+"Shh!" his brother interrupted. "Somebody's coming; don't move and keep
+your mouth shut! It's the second shift of stokers!"
+
+From the companionway came the steady sound of footfalls. There was an
+authoritative sound to them as they echoed in the deserted passage,
+coming nearer and nearer. It was not the second shift of stokers.
+
+"Shh," said Tom's brother, clutching his arm. "If they should come here
+keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. They ain't got anything
+on me," he added in a hoarse whisper which bespoke his terror, "unless
+_you_--shhh!"
+
+"I know what it is," Tom whispered, "and I ain't a-scared. They got a
+signal from the destroyer. They know the room."
+
+"There's nothing they can find here," his brother breathed. "They were
+all through here last night. Put that dish down--put it down, I tell
+you! Shh!"
+
+Tom let go of the plate, scarcely knowing what he did.
+
+Nearer, nearer, came the footsteps and stopped. The door was thrown open
+and in the passage stood the captain, a sailor and the officer who had
+spoken to Tom the night before.
+
+Tom's heart was in his throat; he did not move a muscle. What happened
+seemed all a jumble to him, like things in a dream. He was aware of a
+lantern held by the officer and of the sailor standing by the porthole,
+over which he had spread something black.
+
+"Did you know this kid was mixed up in it?" the sailor asked. Tom felt
+that the sailor must be a Secret Service man.
+
+"They're brothers," said the captain. "You can see that."
+
+"He had him posted for a lookout," said the officer. "He was watching
+on the deck last night." Then, turning upon Tom he said brusquely, "you
+were supposed to hurry down here with the tip if the convoy signaled,
+eh?"
+
+Tom struggled to answer, but they did not give him time.
+
+"You're the fellow that read that semaphore message the other day, too,
+eh?" the officer said. "Stand up."
+
+Tom stood trembling while the sailor rapidly searched him. "Where's your
+flashlight?" he demanded apparently disappointed not to find one.
+
+"I haven't got any," said Tom, dully.
+
+"Pretty good team work," said the sailor.
+
+"Here you," he added, proceeding to search Tom's brother, while the
+captain and the officer fell to turning the little room inside out,
+hauling the mattress from the berth and examining every nook and cranny
+of the place. Tom noticed that the plate, which was now on a stool, had
+a sandwich on it and a piece of cheese, and he realized, if he had not
+realized before, his brother's almost diabolical foresight and sagacity.
+It looked very innocent--a harmless, late lunch, brought into the
+stateroom as was often done among the ship's people.
+
+During the search of the stateroom Tom stood silently by. He watched the
+coverings pulled ruthlessly from the berth, moved out of the way as the
+mattress was hauled to the floor, gazed fascinated at the quick
+thoroughness which mercilessly unfolded every innocent towel and
+scrutinized each joint and section of the life preserver, until
+presently the orderly little apartment was in a state of chaos. He saw
+the officer move the plate so as to examine the under side of the stool.
+He saw the disguised Secret Service man pick up a little piece of
+innocent cotton waste and carelessly throw it down again.
+
+But the turmoil about him was nothing to the turmoil in his own brain.
+What should he do? Would he dare to speak? What could he say? And still
+he stood silent, watching with a strange, cold feeling, looking
+occasionally at his brother, and thinking--thinking. As his brother
+watched him furtively, and a little fearfully, Tom became aware of a
+queer way he had of contracting his eyebrows, just as Uncle Job used to
+do when he told a joke. And there came into his mind the memory of a
+certain day long ago when his big brother and he had shot craps
+together in front of the bank building in Bridgeboro and his brother had
+looked just that same way when he watched the street for stray
+policemen. Funny that he should think of that just now. The sailor (or
+whatever he was) gave Tom a shove to get him out of the way so that he
+could crawl under the berth.
+
+And still Tom watched them dazedly. He was thinking of something that
+Mr. Ellsworth, his scoutmaster, had once said--that blood is thicker
+than water. As nearly as he could make out, that meant that after all a
+fellow's own people came first--before anything else. He had great
+respect for Mr. Ellsworth.
+
+The man in the sailor suit picked up the plate of food from the berth
+and slung the whole business into the basin. The jangle of the dish
+startled Tom and roused him. The others didn't seem to mind it. They had
+more important things to think of than a mess plate.
+
+And Tom Slade, captain's mess boy and former scout, went on thinking.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+HE PONDERS AND DECIDES BETWEEN TWO NEAR RELATIONS
+
+
+When Tom at length did speak his own voice sounded strange to him; but
+he said what he had to say with a simple straightforwardness which in
+ordinary circumstances would have carried conviction.
+
+"If you'd let me say something," he said, trying to keep his throat
+clear, "I'd like to tell you----"
+
+"It's the best thing, sonny," said the man in the sailor suit; "you
+needn't be afraid of squealing. How old are you?"
+
+"Seventeen," said Tom, "but it wasn't squealing I was thinking about. I
+ain't a-scared, if that's what you think."
+
+He avoided looking at his brother, who tried to catch his eye, and the
+men, perhaps seeing this and thinking it might be fruitful to let him
+say what he would in his own way, relaxed a trifle toward him.
+
+"While you were searching," Tom went on, hesitating, but still showing
+something of his old stolid manner, "I wasn't a-scared, but I was
+thinking--I had to think about something--before I could decide what I
+ought to do."
+
+"All right, sonny," said the man in the sailor clothes. "I'm glad you
+know what's best for you. Out with it. You've got a key to that
+porthole, eh? Now where is it?"
+
+"You had a flashlight and threw it out, didn't you?" added the officer.
+"Come now."
+
+Tom looked from one to the other. His brother began to speak but was
+peremptorily silenced.
+
+"It ain't knowin' what's good for me," Tom managed to say, "'cause as
+soon as I--as soon as I--made up my mind about that--then right away I
+knew what I ought to do----"
+
+He gulped and looked straight at the officer so as not to meet his
+brother's threatening look.
+
+"I had to decide it myself--'cause--'cause Mr. Ellsworth--a man I
+know--ain't here. Maybe a feller's own family come first and I
+wouldn't--I wouldn't--tell on 'em--if--if they stole--or something like
+that," he blurted out, twisting his fingers together. "And--and--I
+didn't forget neither--I didn't," he added, turning and looking his
+brother straight in the face, "I didn't--I----"
+
+He broke down completely and the men stared at him, waiting.
+
+"Anyway--anyway--I got to remember----" He broke off.
+
+"Well, what became of the light?" the officer urged rather coldly.
+
+"And when you saw me standing on the--deck--last night--I was thinking
+about Uncle Sam----" He gulped and hesitated, then went on,
+"and--and--that's what made me think about Uncle Sam being a relation
+too--kind of--and I got to decide between my brother and my
+uncle--like." He gulped again and shook his head with a kind of
+desperate resolution. "There--_there_ it is," he almost shouted,
+pointing at the scattered sandwich and the mess plate in the wash basin.
+"You--picked it up twice," he added with a kind of reckless triumph,
+"and you didn't know it."
+
+"What?" said the captain, with a puzzled look at his companions, as if
+he were a little doubtful of Tom's sanity.
+
+"There it is," Tom repeated, controlling himself better now that the
+truth was out. "He held it--up there--so's the light would shine in the
+glass. There ain't anything except that. It's--it's the same idea as a
+periscope. He said it in a letter that I gave Mr. Conne--and--and I
+found out what he meant. I--I didn't know he was----"
+
+Trying desperately to master his feeling he broke down and big tears
+rolled down his cheeks. "I couldn't help it," he said to his brother.
+"It ain't 'cause I don't remember--but--I had to decide--and I got to
+stand by Uncle Sam!"
+
+"If you didn't know about this," said the captain, watching him keenly,
+"how did you suspect it? You'd better try to control yourself and tell
+everything. This is a very serious matter."
+
+"You see that piece of cotton waste that you kicked?" said Tom, turning
+upon the disguised government agent. "You can see it's fresh and hasn't
+got any oil on it. You can see from the flat place on it how it was used
+to polish the dish. I ain't----" he gulped. "I ain't going to talk about
+my brother--but I got to tell about the papers he's got somewhere. The
+same person that said it was like a periscope said something about
+having plans of a motor. I got to tell that, and I ain't going to say
+any more about him. So now he can't do any more harm. And--and I want
+you to please go away," he burst forth, "because I--I got to tell him
+about how our mother died--'cause maybe he didn't--get the letter."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+HE IS ARRESTED AND PUT IN THE GUARDHOUSE
+
+
+But of course his brother _had_ received that letter. The circumstances
+of his mother's death were the least of his troubles now and he must
+have thought his young brother very innocent and sentimental. He did not
+understand Tom's wanting to talk about their mother's death any more
+than Tom understood how Bill could be a spy and a traitor.
+
+In short, the wily, self-seeking Bill, who would stop at nothing,
+probably thought his brother had a screw loose, as the saying is, and
+perhaps that is what the others thought also.
+
+Tom was never very lucid in explanation, and his emotion had made his
+surprising story choppy and unsatisfactory. His explanation of the use
+of the plate and of the telltale piece of cotton which his keen eyes had
+not missed, seemed plausible enough, and fell like a bomb-shell among
+his questioners.
+
+But they did not give him credit for his discovery nor even for his
+apparent innocence. It was, as the captain had said, a serious business,
+and Uncle Sam was taking no chances where spies and traitors were
+concerned. Probably they thought Tom was a weak-minded tool of his
+shrewder brother.
+
+"Well," said the officer rather curtly, "I'm glad you told the truth. If
+you had told me the truth last night when I caught you up there, it
+would have been better for you. Still, confession made at bay is better
+than none," he said to the captain, adding as he left the room, "I'll
+have a squad down."
+
+William Slade sat upon the berth, glaring at the detective who stood
+guarding the doorway. He looked vicious enough with his disheveled hair
+and sooty face and the dirty jumper such as the under engineers wore.
+Tom wondered when he had come east and how he had fallen in with his old
+patron, Adolf Schmitt.
+
+And this was his own brother! Evidently William had been in the German
+spy service for some time, for he had learned the rule of absolute
+silence when discovered and he had even acquired some of that lowering
+sullenness which sets the Teuton apart from all other beings.
+
+[Illustration: "THERE--_THERE_ IT IS," TOM ALMOST SHOUTED.]
+
+Presently there came the steady footfalls of soldiers in formation and
+a sudden fear seized upon Tom.
+
+"They--they ain't going to arrest me, are they?" he asked, with alarm in
+every line of his ordinarily expressionless face.
+
+"Put you both in the guardhouse," said the captain briefly.[2]
+
+"Didn't you--didn't you--believe me?" Tom pleaded simply and not without
+some effect.
+
+"You and your brother get your jobs together?" the captain asked.
+
+"Mr. Conne, who's in the Secret Service, got me mine," Tom said.
+
+"Who did he recommend you to?" asked the detective.
+
+Tom hesitated a moment. "To Mr. Wessel, the steward," he said.
+
+"Humph! Too bad Mr. Wessel died. You'll both have to go to the
+guardhouse."
+
+Tom saw there was no hope for him. For a moment he struggled, drawing a
+long breath in pitiful little gulps. If he had followed Mr. Conne's
+advice he would not be in this predicament. But where then might the
+great transport be? Who but he, captain's mess boy, had saved the ship
+and showed these people how the light----
+
+"It makes me feel like----" he began. "Can't I--please--can't I not be
+arrested--please?"
+
+Neither man answered him. Presently the door opened and four soldiers
+entered. One of them was "Pickles," who had nicknamed Tom "Tombstone,"
+because he was so sober. But he was not Pickles now; he was just one of
+a squad of four, and though he looked surprised he neither smiled nor
+spoke.
+
+"Pickles," said Tom. "I ain't--_You_ don't believe----"
+
+But Pickles had been too long in training camp to forget duty and
+discipline so readily and the only answer Tom got was the dull thud of
+Pickles' rifle butt on the floor as the officer uttered some word or
+other.
+
+That thud was a good thing for Tom. It seemed to settle him into his
+old stolid composure, which had so amused the boys in khaki.
+
+Side by side with his brother, whom so long ago he could not bear to see
+"licked," he marched out and along the passage, a soldier in front, one
+behind and one at either side. How strange the whole thing seemed!
+
+His brother who had gone out to Arizona when Tom was just a bad,
+troublesome little hoodlum! And here they were now, marching silently
+side by side, on one of Uncle Sam's big transports, with four soldiers
+escorting them! Both, the nephews of Uncle Job Slade who had died in the
+Soldiers' Home and had been buried with the Stars and Stripes draped
+over his coffin.
+
+Two things stood out in Tom Slade's memory, clearest of all, showing how
+unreasonable and contrary he was. Two lickings. One that made him mad
+and one that made him glad--and that he was proud of. The licking that
+his brother had got, when he could, as he had told honest Pete Connigan,
+"feel the madness way down in his fingers." And the licking his father
+had given _him_ for not hanging out the flag.
+
+"_Zey must be all fine people to haf' such a boy_," Frenchy had said.
+He hoped he would not see Frenchy now.
+
+But he was to be spared nothing. The second cabin saloon was filled with
+soldiers and they stared in amazement as the little group marched
+through, the steady thud, thud, of the guards' heavy shoes emphasized by
+the wondering stillness. Tom shuffled along with his usual clumsy gait,
+looking neither to right nor left. Up the main saloon stairway they
+went, and here, upon the top carpeted step sat Frenchy chatting with
+another soldier. He was such a hand to get off into odd corners for
+little chats! He stared, uttered an exclamation, then remembered that he
+was a soldier and caught himself. But he turned and following the little
+procession with astonished eyes until they disappeared.
+
+The guardhouse was the little smoking-room where Tom and Frenchy had sat
+upon the sill and talked and Frenchy had given him the iron button. Into
+the blank darkness of this place he and his brother were marched, and
+all through that long, dreadful night Tom could hear a soldier pacing
+back and forth, back and forth, on the deck just outside the door.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[2] The custom of putting arrested persons in the "brig" on liners and
+transports was discontinued by reason of the danger of their losing
+their lives without chance of rescue, in the event of torpedoing. The
+present rule is that the guardhouse must be above decks and a living
+guard must always be at hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+HE DOES MOST OF THE TALKING AND TAKES ALL THE BLAME
+
+
+Tramp, tramp, tramp--all through the endless, wakeful hours he heard
+that soldier marching back and forth, back and forth, outside the door.
+Every sound of those steady footfalls was like a blow, stinging afresh
+the cruel wound which had been opened in his impassive nature. He was
+under arrest and under guard. If he should try to get out that soldier
+would order him to halt, and if he didn't halt the soldier would shoot
+him. He wondered if the guard were Pickles.
+
+He did not think at all about his deductive triumph now. And he did not
+care much about what they would do with him. He wondered a little what
+the soldiers would say--particularly Frenchy. But if only his brother
+would talk to him and ask about their mother he could bear everything
+else--the dashing of his triumph, the danger he was in, the shame. The
+shame, most of all.
+
+He did not care so much now about being Sherlock Nobody Holmes--he had
+had enough of that. And no matter what they thought of "Yankee Doodle
+Whitey," _he_ knew that he was loyal. Let them think that all his talk
+of Uncle Job and the flag and his father's patriotism was just
+bluff--let Frenchy think he had been just deceiving him--he could stand
+anything, if only his brother would be like a brother to him now that
+they were alone together.
+
+It was a strange, unreasonable feeling.
+
+Once, only once, in the long night, he tried to make his brother
+understand.
+
+"Maybe you won't believe me, but I'm sorry," he said; "if you ain't
+asleep I wish you'd listen--Bill. Now that I told 'em I feel kind of
+different--I _had_ to tell 'em. I had to decide quick--and I didn't
+have nobody--anybody--to help me. Maybe you think I was crazy---- Are
+you listenin'?"
+
+There was no response, but he knew his brother was not asleep.
+
+"It ain't because I wanted 'em to think I was smart--Bill--if you think
+it was that, you're wrong. And anyway, it didn't show I was so
+smart--you was smarter, anyway, if it comes to that. I got to admit it.
+'Cause you thought about it first--about using the dish. It served me
+right for thinking I could deduce, and all like that, anyway. You ain't
+asleep, are you?"
+
+"Aw, shut up!" his brother grunted. "You could 'a' kept me out o' this
+by keepin' yer mouth shut. But you had to jabber it out, you----. And
+they'll plug me full of lead."
+
+A cold shudder ran through Tom.
+
+"I got to admit I'm a kind of a (he was going to say _traitor_, but for
+his brother's sake he avoided the word). I got to admit I wasn't loyal,
+too. I wasn't loyal to you, anyway. But I had to decide quick, Bill. And
+I saw I _had_ to tell 'em. You got to be loyal to Uncle Sam first of
+all. But--but---- Are you listening, Bill? I ain't mad, anyway. 'Cause
+Adolf Schmitt's most to blame. It ain't--it ain't 'cause I want to get
+let off free either, it ain't. I wouldn't care so much now what they did
+to me, anyway. 'Cause everything is kind of spoiled now about all of
+us--our family--being so kind of patriotic----"
+
+His brother, goaded out of his sullenness, turned upon him with a tirade
+of profane abuse, leaving the boy shamed and silent.
+
+And all the rest of that night Tom Slade, whose hand had extinguished
+the guiding light, perhaps, to some lurking submarine; who had had to
+"think quick and all by himself," and had decided for his Uncle Sam
+against his brother Bill, sat there upon the leather settee, feeling
+guilty and ashamed. He knew that he had done right, but his generous
+heart could not feel the black, shameless treason of his brother because
+his own smaller treason stood in the way. He could not see the full
+guilt of that wretched brother because he felt mean and contemptible
+himself. Truly, the soldier had hit the nail on the head when he said,
+"You're all right, Whitey!"
+
+And now, suspected, shamed, sworn at and denounced, even now, as his
+generous nature groped for some extenuation for this traitor whose
+scheme he had discovered and exposed, he found it comforting to lay the
+whole blame and responsibility upon the missing Adolf Schmitt.
+
+"Anyway, he tempted you," he said, though he knew his brother would
+neither listen nor respond. "Maybe you think I don't know that. He's
+worse than anybody--he is."
+
+_You're all right, Whitey!_
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+HE SEES A LITTLE AND HEARS MUCH
+
+
+Toward morning, he fell asleep, and when he awoke the vibration of the
+engines had ceased, and he heard outside the door of his prison a most
+uproarious clatter which almost drowned the regular footfalls of the
+soldier.
+
+He had heard linotype machines in operation--which are not exactly what
+you would call quiet; he had listened to the outlandish voice of a
+suction-dredge and the tumultuous clamor of a threshing machine. But
+this earsplitting clatter was like nothing he had ever heard before.
+
+The door opened and he was thankful to see that the soldier outside was
+not one of his particular friends. He was silently escorted to the wash
+room, in the doorway of which the guard waited while Tom refreshed
+himself after his sleepless night with a grateful bath.
+
+The vessel, as he could see, was moored parallel with the abrupt brick
+shore of a very narrow canal, with somber, uninviting houses close on
+either hand. It was as if a ship were tied up along the curb of a
+street. Up and down the gang planks and back and forth upon the deck
+hurried men in blouses with great, clumsy wooden shoes upon their feet
+and now Tom saw the cause of that earsplitting clatter; and he knew that
+he had reached "over there."
+
+Down on the brick street below the ship, a multitude of children, all in
+wooden shoes, danced and clattered about, in honor of the ship's
+arrival, and the windows were full of people waving the Stars and
+Stripes, calling "Vive l'Ameríque!" and trying, with occasional success,
+to throw loose flowers and little round potatoes with French and
+American flags stuck in them, onto the deck.
+
+All of the houses looked very dingy and old, and the men in blouses who
+pushed their clods about on this or that errand upon the troopship, were
+old, too, and had sad, worn faces. Only the children were joyful.
+
+As Tom went back along the deck, he glanced through a street which
+seemed to run almost perpendicularly up the side of a thickly built-up
+hill, and caught a passing glimpse of the open country beyond. France!
+He wondered whether the "front" were in that direction and how long it
+would take to get there, and what it looked like. It could not be so
+very far. Presently he heard a more orderly clatter of wooden shoes and
+he saw several of the soldiers, who had not yet gone ashore, hurry to
+the rail.
+
+He did not dare to do that himself, but as he walked he ventured to
+verge a little toward the vessel's side, and saw below several men in
+tattered, almost colorless uniforms, marching in line along the brick
+street, each with a wheelbarrow.
+
+He heard a woman call something from a window in French.
+
+"There's discipline for you, all right," a soldier said.
+
+"You said it," replied another; "it's second nature with 'em."
+
+He gathered that the little procession of laborers were German
+prisoners, and that the long ingrained habit of marching in step had
+become so much a part of their natures that they did it now
+instinctively.
+
+Then he realized that he himself was a prisoner and was in a worse
+plight than they.
+
+He spent the morning wondering what they would do with him and his
+brother. Of course they believed him to be the accomplice of his
+brother. They probably thought he had weakened and told in terror and in
+hope of clemency. He wondered if they had gone through his brother's
+luggage yet and whether they had found any papers.
+
+He realized that it seemed almost too much of a coincidence that he and
+his brother should have happened on the same ship--and in the same
+stateroom, all by accident. And he knew that his coming down from the
+deck just after the signal from the destroyer, looked bad. He knew that
+back home in America Germans had gone to Ellis Island upon less
+suspicious circumstances than that. But what would they do with an
+American? In the case of an American it was just plain treason and the
+punishment for treason is----
+
+A feeling almost of nausea overcame him and he tried to put the dreadful
+thought away from him.
+
+"Anyway, the whole business is a kind of a mix-up," he told himself; "it
+don't make any difference what you do--you get in trouble. But I don't
+blame them so much, 'cause they judge by looks, and that's the only way
+you can do. Anyway, you got to die some time. I'm glad I found it out
+and told 'em, 'cause anyway it don't make any difference if they think I
+confessed or just found it out--as long as they know it. That's the main
+thing."
+
+With this consoling thought he withdrew into his old stolid self, and
+was ready to stand up and be shot if that was what they intended to do
+with him. He did not blame anybody "because it was all a mix-up." If he
+had chosen to save his brother he might have saved himself. The great
+ship, with all her brave boys, would have gone down, perhaps, and his
+brother would have seen to it that they two were saved.
+
+Well, the ship had _not_ gone down, the brave boys who had jollied the
+life out of him were on their way across country now to die if need be,
+and who was he, Tom Slade, that he should be concerning himself as to
+just how or when _he_ should die, or whether he got any credit or not,
+so long as he had decided right and done what he ought to do?
+
+He would rather have died honorably in the trenches, but if doing Uncle
+Sam a good turn meant that he must die in disgrace, why then he would
+die in disgrace, that was all.
+
+The point was the _good_ turn. Once a scout, always a scout.
+
+No one spoke to him all through the day--not even his brother. He heard
+the hurried comings and goings on the deck, the creaking of the big
+winches as bag after bag of wheat, bale after bale of cotton, was swung
+over and lowered upon the brick quay. The little French children who
+made the neighborhood a bedlam with their gibberish and the outlandish
+clatter of their wooden shoes; the women who sat in their windows
+watching these good things being unloaded, as Santa Claus might unload
+his pack in the bosom of some poor family; the United States officers
+who were in authority at the port, and all the clamoring rabble which
+made the ship's vicinity a picnic ground, did not know, of course, that
+it was because the captain's mess boy had made a discovery and "decided
+right" that these precious stores were not at the bottom of the ocean.
+
+And the captain's mess boy, whose uncle had fought at Gettysburg, and
+whose brother was a traitor, could not see the things which were going
+to help win the war because he was locked up in a little dim room on
+board, called the guardhouse. He was sitting on the leather settee, his
+fingers intertwined nervously, gulping painfully now and then, but for
+the most part, quiet and brave. He did not try to talk with his brother
+now. He wished he could know the worst right away--what they were going
+to do with him. Then he would not care so much.
+
+Outside, upon the deck and quay, he could hear much, and he listened
+with a dull interest. He knew that old Uncle Sam was out there with his
+sleeves rolled up, making himself mightily at home, chucking wheat and
+wool and cotton and sugar and stuff out of the hold, slewing it,
+hoisting it, and letting it down plunk onto France! The boys in khaki
+were on trains already. He could hear the silly, piping screech of the
+French locomotives. His mind was half numbed, but he hoped that all this
+would encourage those French people and remind them that before Uncle
+Sam rolled down his sleeves again, he intended to bat out a home run.
+
+Sometimes he became frightened, but he tried not to think of what lay
+before him. He believed that his brother would drag him down to his own
+shameful punishment, but he told himself that he didn't care.
+
+"Anyway, I did my bit. I wish--I kinder wish I could have seen Frenchy
+again. But I ain't scared. I just as soon--stand--up--and be---- 'Cause
+I ain't much, anyway----. And it ain't--it ain't for me to decide how I
+ought to die."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+HE AWAITS THE WORST AND RECEIVES A SURPRISE
+
+
+After a while the monotony was broken by two soldiers coming to take his
+brother away. Tom did not know where they were taking him; it might be
+to court martial and death. He knew nothing about court martial, whether
+it was a matter of minutes or hours or days, only he knew that
+everything in military administration was quick, severe and thorough. He
+wanted to speak to his brother, but he did not dare, and after the grim
+little procession was gone he listened to the steady, ominous footfalls,
+as they receded along the deck.
+
+Soon they would come for _him_, and he made up his mind that he would be
+master of himself and at the last minute he would hold his head up and
+look straight at them, just like the statue of Nathan Hale which he had
+seen....
+
+He realized fully now that he had been caught in the meshes of his
+brother's intrigue, and that there was no hope for him. To have saved
+himself he would have had to spare his brother and allow the intriguing
+to go on. Well, it made no difference--here he was. "And it ain't so
+much, anyway," he said, "if one boy like me does get misjudged, as long
+as the ship is saved and those papers about the motor were found."
+
+So he tried to comfort himself, sitting there alone, twisting his
+fingers and gulping now and then. All his fine, patriotic memories of
+the Slades were knocked in the head, but even in these lonely hours he
+was stanch for Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam might make a mistake--a terrible
+mistake, as he presently would do--"but anyway he's more important than
+I am," he said.
+
+Occasionally he listened wistfully to the sounds outside and they made
+him wish he could see as well as hear. He heard the creaking of the busy
+pulleys, the men calling "Yo-o-ho!" as they handled the winch-ropes, the
+dull thud of the heavy bales upon the quay, the cheerful, lusty calls of
+the workers, the loud voices of the French people, and that incessant
+accompaniment of all, the clatter, clatter, clatter, of wooden shoes.
+
+Sometimes he would lose his mastery of himself and regain it only to
+listen again, wistfully, longingly. He hoped those German prisoners who
+walked as if they were wound up with a key, noticed all this hurry and
+bustle. They would soon see what it meant for Uncle Sam.
+
+There were voices outside and Tom's heart beat like a hammer. Could it
+be over so soon? The door opened a little and he could see that someone
+was holding the knob, talking to a soldier. He breathed heavily, his
+fingers were cold, but he stood up and looked straight before him,
+bravely. They had come to get him.
+
+Then the door opened wider and a familiar voice greeted him.
+
+"H'lo, Tommy. Well, well! Adventures never cease, huh?"
+
+Tom stood gaping. Through dimmed eyes he saw a cigar (it seemed like the
+same cigar) cocked up in the corner of Mr. Conne's mouth and that queer,
+whimsical look on Mr. Conne's face.
+
+"Mr. Conne----" he stammered. "I didn't know--you was--here. _You_ don't
+believe it, do you?"
+
+Mr. Conne worked his cigar leisurely over to the other side of his
+mouth.
+
+"Believe what?"
+
+"That--I'm--a--a spy and--and a traitor." He almost whispered the
+words.
+
+Mr. Conne smiled exasperatingly and hit him a rap on the shoulder.
+"Anybody accuse you of being that?"
+
+"That's what they think," said Tom.
+
+"Oh, no, they don't, Tommy. But they've got to be careful. Don't you
+know they have?"
+
+"I got to go and--get shot--maybe."
+
+"So? Fancy that! Sit down here and tell me the whole business, Tommy.
+What's it all about?"
+
+"I--got to admit it looks bad----"
+
+"They wouldn't have done anything with you till they saw me, Tommy. Even
+if they had to take you back to New York. Trouble was, Wessel's dying.
+How could they prove what you said about me getting you the job?"
+
+He put his arm over Tom's shoulder as they sat down upon the leather
+settee, and the effect of all the dread and humiliation and injustice
+and shame welled up in the boy now under that friendly touch and he went
+to pieces entirely.
+
+"Did you think I didn't know what I was doing when I picked you, Tommy?"
+
+Tom could not answer, but sat there with his breast heaving, his hand
+on Mr. Conne's knee.
+
+"Did you just find your brother there by accident, Tom?"
+
+"I--I got to be--ashamed----"
+
+"Yes," Mr. Conne said kindly; "you've got to be ashamed of _him_. But
+you see, I haven't got to be ashamed of you, have I? How'd you find out
+about it? Tell me the whole thing, Tom."
+
+And so, sitting there with this shrewd man who had befriended him, Tom
+told the whole story as he could not have told it to anyone else. He
+went away back into the old Barrel Alley days, when he had "swiped"
+apples from Adolf Schmitt and his brother Bill had worked in Schmitt's
+grocery store. He told how it used to make him mad when his brother "got
+licked unfair," as he said, and he did not know why Mr. Conne screwed up
+his face at that. He told about how he "had to decide quick, kind of,"
+when the officers confronted him in his brother's stateroom, and how the
+thought about Uncle Sam being his uncle had decided him. He told how he
+had had to keep his face turned away from his brother so that he
+"wouldn't feel so mean, like." And here again Mr. Conne gave his face
+another screw and Tom did not understand why. That was one trouble with
+Tom Slade--he was so thick that he could not understand a lot of things
+that were perfectly plain to other people.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+HE TALKS WITH MR. CONNE AND SEES THE BOYS START FOR THE FRONT
+
+
+"What--what do you think they'll do with him?"
+
+It was the question uppermost in Tom's mind, but he could not bring
+himself to ask it until his visitor was about to leave.
+
+"Why, that's hard to say, Tommy," Mr. Conne answered kindly but
+cautiously; then after a moment's silence he added, "I'll strain a point
+and tell you something because--well, because you're entitled to know.
+But you must keep it very quiet. They hope to learn much more from him
+than he has told, but they found in his luggage a lot of plans and
+specifications of the 'Liberty Motor.'"
+
+"I'm glad," said Tom simply.
+
+"Of course, we suspected from the letters sent to Schmitt that somebody
+had such plans, but we had no clue as to who it was. You grabbed more
+than the dish when you put your hand through that transom, Tommy. You
+got hold of the plans of the 'Liberty Motor' too."
+
+"I didn't take your advice," said Tom ruefully; "I got a good lesson."
+
+"That's all right, my boy. You've got a brain in your head and you did a
+good job. It'll all go to your credit, and the other part won't be
+remembered. So _you_ try not to think of it."
+
+"They won't kill him, will they?"
+
+"They won't do anything just at present, my boy. Now put your mind on
+your work and don't think of anything else----"
+
+"Have I got my job yet?"
+
+"Why, certainly," Mr. Conne laughed; "I'll see you again, Tommy.
+Good-by."
+
+                 *       *       *       *       *
+
+And Tom tried this time to follow his advice. He was soon released and
+the officer, whom he had so feared, was good enough to say, "You did
+well and you've had a pretty tough experience." The captain spoke kindly
+to him, too, and all the ship's people seemed to understand. The few
+soldiers who had not yet been sent forward to billets near the front,
+did not jolly him or even refer to his detective propensities. They did
+not even mimic him when he said "kind of," as they had done before.
+
+He had little to do during the ship's brief stay in port and Mr. Conne,
+who was there on some mysterious business, showed him about the quaint
+old French town and treated him more familiarly than he had ever done
+before. For Tom Slade had received his first wound in the great war and
+though it was long in healing, it yielded to kindness and sympathy, and
+these everyone showed him.
+
+And so there came a day when he and Mr. Conne stood upon the platform
+amid a throng of French people and watched the last contingent of the
+boys as they called back cheerily from the queer-looking freight cars
+which were to bear them up through the French country to that mysterious
+"somewhere"--the most famous place in France.
+
+"So long, Whitey!" they called. "See you later."
+
+"Good-by, Tommy, old boy; hope the tin fish don't get you going back!"
+
+"Hurry up back and bring some more over, Whitey!"
+
+"_Bon voyage!_"
+
+"_Au revoir!_"
+
+"Give my regards to Broadway, Whitey."
+
+"Cheer up, Whitey, old pal. Kaiser Bill'll be worse off than you are
+when _we_ get at him."
+
+"_N'importe_, Whitey."
+
+"I'll be there," called Tom.
+
+"_Venez donc!_" some one answered, amid much laughter.
+
+The last he saw of them they were waving their hats to him and making
+fun of each other's French. He watched the train wistfully until it
+passed out of sight.
+
+"They seem to like you, Tommy," Mr. Conne smiled. "Is that a new name,
+Whitey?"
+
+"Everybody kinder always seems to give me nicknames," said Tom. "I've
+had a lot of people jolly me, but never anybody so much as those
+soldiers--not even the scouts. I'll miss 'em going back."
+
+"The next lot you bring over will be just the same, Tom. They'll jolly
+you, too."
+
+"I don't mind it," said Tom. "But one thing I was thinking----"
+
+Mr. Conne rested his hand on Tom's shoulder and smiled very pleasantly
+at him. He seemed to be going out of his way these days to befriend him
+and to understand him.
+
+"It's about how you get to know people and get to like them, kind of,
+and then don't see them any more. That feller, Archibald Archer, that
+worked on the other ship I was on--I'd like to know where he is if he's
+alive. I liked that feller."
+
+"It's a big world, Tom."
+
+"Maybe I might see him again some time--same as I met my--my brother."
+
+"Perhaps," said Mr. Conne, cheerily. "It's always the unexpected that
+happens, you know."
+
+"I saw _you_ again, anyway."
+
+"Yes, you can't get away from me."
+
+"And Frenchy--maybe I'll never see him any more. He's got people that
+live in Alsace; he told me all about them. He hasn't heard from them
+since the war first began.--Gee, I hope Germany has to give Alsace back
+to France--just for his sake!"
+
+Mr. Conne laughed.
+
+"Most of the people there stick up for France in their hearts, only they
+dasn't show it. He gave me this button; it's made out of a cannon, and
+it means the French people there got to help you."
+
+"Hmm--hang on to it."
+
+"You bet I'm going to. But maybe he wouldn't like now, even if I met him
+again--after what he knows----"
+
+"Look here, Tom. You'll be sailing in a day or so and when you come back
+I'll probably be in Washington. Perhaps you'll wish to enlist over here
+soon. I'm going to give you a little button, _kind of_, as you would
+say--to keep in your head. And this is it. Remember, there's only one
+person in the world who can disgrace Tom Slade, and that is Tom Slade
+himself."
+
+He slapped Tom on the shoulder, and they strolled up the dingy, crooked
+street, past the jumble of old brown houses, until it petered out in a
+plain where there was a little cemetery, filled with wooden crosses.
+
+"Those poor fellows all did their bit," said Mr. Conne.
+
+Tom looked silently at the straight rows of graves. He seemed to be
+getting nearer and nearer to the war.
+
+"How far is the front?" he asked.
+
+"Not as far as from New York to Boston, Tom. Straight over that way is
+Paris. When you get past Paris you begin to see the villages all in
+ruins,--between the old front and the new front."
+
+"I've hiked as far as that."
+
+"Yes, it isn't far."
+
+"Do you know where our boys are--what part of it?"
+
+"Yes, I know, but I'm not going to tell you," Mr. Conne laughed. "You'd
+like to be there, I suppose."
+
+For a few moments Tom did not answer. Then he said in his old dull way,
+"I got a right to go now. I got a right to be a soldier, to make up
+for--_him_. The next time I get back here I'm going to join. If we don't
+get back for six weeks, then I'll be eighteen. I made up my mind now."
+
+Mr. Conne laughed approvingly and Tom gazed, with a kind of fascination,
+across the pleasant, undulating country.
+
+"I could even hike it," he repeated; "it seems funny to be so near."
+
+But when finally he did reach the front, it was over the back fence, as
+one might say, and after such an experience as he had never dreamed of.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+HE IS CAST AWAY AND IS IN GREAT PERIL
+
+
+"They're more likely to spill the cup when it's empty," said the deck
+steward, who was a sort of walking encyclopedia to Tom.
+
+"I suppose that's because we haven't got such a good convoy going back,"
+Tom said.
+
+"That and high visibility. You see, the less there is in the ship, the
+higher she sets up in the water, and the higher she sets the better they
+can see her. We're in ballast and floating like a balloon. They get
+better tips about westbound ships, too. All the French ports are full of
+German agents. They come through Switzerland."
+
+The first day out on the voyage homeward was very rough. At about dusk
+Tom was descending the steps from the bridge with a large tray when he
+saw several of the ship's people (whose time was pretty much their own
+on the westward trip) hurrying to the rail. One of them called to him,
+"We're in for it;" but Tom was not alarmed, for by this time he was too
+experienced a "salt" to be easily excited.
+
+"You can see the wake!" someone shouted.
+
+There was a sudden order on the bridge, somebody rushed past him and
+then the tray, with all its contents, went crashing upon the steps and
+Tom staggered against the stair-rail and clung to it.
+
+The ship was struck--struck as if by a bolt out of the sky.
+
+He had been through this sort of thing before and he was not scared. He
+was shocked at the suddenness of it, but he kept his head and started
+across the deck for his emergency post, aft. Everyone seemed to be
+running in that direction.
+
+He knew that however serious the damage, there was but small danger to
+life, since the convoy was at hand and since there were so very few
+people upon the ship; there were life-boats enough, without crowding,
+for all on board.
+
+But the impact, throwing him down the steps, as it did, had caused him
+to twist his foot and he limped over to the rail for its assistance in
+walking. Men were now appearing in life-preservers, and hovering
+impatiently in the vicinity of the lifeboat davits, but he heard no
+orders for manning the boats and he was distinctly aware of the engines
+still going.
+
+[Illustration: TOM WAS STANDING, OR TRYING TO STAND, ON A GERMAN
+SUBMARINE.]
+
+He hobbled along, holding the rail, intent upon reaching the davits
+astern, where the third officer would give him orders, when suddenly
+there was a splitting sound, the rail gave way, he struggled to regain
+his balance and went headlong over the side, still clutching the piece
+of rail which he had been leaning on.
+
+He had the presence of mind to keep hold of it and to swim quickly away
+from the vessel, trying to shout as he swam; but the sudden ducking had
+filled his mouth with water and he could do little more than splutter.
+
+He could see as he looked up that one of the upright stanchions which at
+once strengthened the rail and supported the deck above, was in
+splinters and it was this that had weakened the rail so that it gave
+way. Vaguely he remembered reading of a submarine which, after
+despatching a torpedo, had tried by gunfire to disable the steering
+apparatus of a ship, and he wondered if that was the cause of the
+shattered stanchion.
+
+He would not have believed that one could be carried out of hearing so
+rapidly, but before he realized it, he was thrown down into the abysmal
+depths of a great sea with only a towering wall of black water to be
+seen, and when he was borne up on the crest of another great roller he
+saw the ship and her convoy at what seemed a great distance from him.
+
+The vessels had seemed far apart from his viewpoint on deck, but now, so
+great was his distance from them, that they seemed to form a very
+compact flotilla and the hurried activities on the stricken vessel were
+not visible at all.
+
+He shouted lustily through the gathering dusk, but without result. Again
+and again he called, till his head throbbed from the exertion. He could
+see the smoke now, from his own vessel he thought, and he feared that
+she was under way, headed back to France.
+
+Later, when he was able to think connectedly at all, it was a matter of
+wonder to him that he could have been carried so far in so short a time,
+for he was not familiar with the fact known to all sailors that each
+roller means a third of a mile and that a person may be carried out of
+sight on the ocean in five minutes.
+
+He could discover no sign now of the flotilla except several little
+columns of smoke and he realized that the damage to the _Montauk_ could
+not be serious and that they were probably making for the nearest French
+port.
+
+Tom was an expert swimmer, but this accomplishment was, of course, of no
+avail now. He was nearly exhausted and his helplessness encouraged the
+fatal spirit of surrender. With a desperate impulse he all but cast the
+broken rail from him, resigned to struggle no more with its uncertain
+buoyancy, which yielded to his weight and submerged him with every other
+motion which he made.
+
+Then he had an idea. Dragging from the wood was part of the rope network
+which had been the under part of the ship's rail. It was stiff with
+paint. Grasping it firmly in his mouth he managed to get his duck jacket
+off and this he spread across the stiff network, floating the whole
+business, jacket underneath, so that the painted rope netting acted as a
+frame to hold the jacket spread out.
+
+To his delight, he found this very buoyant, and with the strip of wood
+which he lashed across it with his scarf and belt it was almost as good
+as a life-preserver. He had to be careful to keep it flat upon the
+water, for as soon as one edge went under the whole thing acted like the
+horizontal rudders of a submarine. But he soon got the hang of managing
+it and it was not half bad.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+HE IS TAKEN ABOARD THE "TIN FISH" AND QUESTIONED
+
+
+And then he saw it. Whether it had been near him all the time he did not
+know. It was in the same wave-valley with himself and seemed to be
+looking at him. Even before there was any sign of human life upon it, it
+seemed to be standing off there just looking at him, and there was
+something uncanny about it. It looked like the little flat cupola of the
+town hall at home, only it was darker, and on top of it two long things
+stood up like flagpoles. And it bobbed and moved and just stood
+there--looking at him.
+
+A life boat might have a name instead of a number but it could not look
+at him like that.
+
+Then he saw that it was nearer to him, although he could not exactly see
+it move. On top of it were two persons, one of whom appeared to be
+looking at him through a long glass. Tom wished that he could see the
+rest of it--the part underneath--for then it would not seem so
+unnatural.
+
+Then one of the men called to him through a megaphone and he was
+possessed by an odd feeling that it was the thing itself speaking and
+not the man upon it.
+
+"Speak German?"
+
+"No," Tom called, "I'm American."
+
+He waited, thinking they would either shoot him or else go away and
+leave him. Then the man called, "Lift up your feet!"
+
+This strange mandate made the whole thing seem more unreal, and he would
+not have been surprised to be told next to stand on his head. But he was
+not going to take any chances with a Teuton and he raised his feet as
+best he could, while the little tower came closer--closer, until it was
+almost upon him.
+
+Suddenly his feet caught in something, throwing him completely over, and
+as he frantically tried to regain his position his feet encountered
+something hard but slippery.
+
+"Vell, vot did I tell you, huh?" the man roared down at him.
+
+Tom was almost directly beneath him now, walking, slipping, and
+scrambling to his feet again, while this grim personage looked down at
+him like Humpty Dumpty from his wall. The whole business was so utterly
+strange that he could hardly realize that he was standing, or trying to
+stand, waist deep, at the conning tower of a German submarine. By all
+the rules of the newspapers and the story books, his approach should
+have been dramatic, but it was simply a sprawling, silly progress.
+
+Of course, he knew how it was now. The U-boat was only very slightly
+submerged, and evidently the removable hand rail had not been stowed and
+it was that on which his feet had caught and which had caused his
+inglorious aquatic somersault. He had walked, or stumbled, over the
+submerged deck and now stood, a drenched and astonished figure, beneath
+his rescuers--or his captors.
+
+The man lowered a rope which had something like a horse's stirrup
+hanging to it and into this Tom put his foot, at the same time grasping
+the rope, and was helped up somewhat roughly.
+
+Upon the top was a little hatch in which the man was standing, like a
+jack in the box, and now he went down an iron ladder with Tom after him.
+
+"You off der _Montauk_, huh?" he said.
+
+"Yes, sir," said Tom, "I fell off."
+
+"Vell, you haf' good loock."
+
+Tom did not know whether to consider himself lucky or not, but it
+occurred to him that the domineering manner of his captors might not be
+an indication of their temper. And the realization of this was to prove
+useful to him afterward for he found that with the Germans a not
+unkindly intention was often expressed with glowering severity. He made
+up his mind that he would not be afraid of him.
+
+The iron ladder descended into a compartment where there was much
+electrical apparatus, innumerable switches, etc., and two steering
+gears. In front of each of these was a thing to look into, having much
+the appearance of a penny in the slot machine, in which one sees
+changing views. These he knew for the lower ends of the two periscopes.
+There was an odor in the place which made him think of a motorcycle.
+
+A door in the middle of this apartment, forward, led into a tiny,
+immaculate galley, with utensils which fitted into each other for
+economy in space, like a camping outfit. Here a parrot hung in a
+cage--strange home for a bird of the air!
+
+Another door, midway in the opposite side of the galley, opened into a
+narrow aisle which ran forward through the center of the boat, with
+berths on either side, like the arrangement of a sleeping-car. In one of
+these squatted two men, in jumpers, playing a card game.
+
+The length of this aisle seemed to Tom about half the length of a
+railroad car. Through it his rescuer led him to a door which opened into
+a tiny compartment, furnished with linoleum, a flat desk, three
+stationary swivel chairs and a leather settee. It was very hot and
+stuffy, with an oily smell, but cosy and spotlessly clean.
+
+Directly across this compartment was another central door with something
+printed in German above it. The man knocked, opened this door, spoke to
+someone, then came back and went away in the direction from which they
+had come.
+
+Tom stood in the little compartment, not daring to sit down. He seemed
+to be in a strange world, like that of the Arabian Nights. He did not
+know whether the boat had descended or was still awash, or had come
+boldly up to the surface. He knew that the tower through the hatch of
+which he had descended was about in the middle, and that he had been
+taken from that point almost to the bow. He thought this cosy little
+room must be the commander's own private lair, and that probably the
+commander's sleeping quarters lay beyond that door. Forward of that must
+be the torpedo compartments. As to what lay astern, he supposed the
+engines were there and the stern torpedo tubes, but the Teutons were so
+impolite that they never showed him and all Tom ever really saw of the
+interior of a German U-boat was the part of it which he had just
+traversed, and which in a general sort of way reminded him of a
+sleeping-car with the odor of a motorcycle.
+
+Presently, the forward door opened, and a young man with a very sallow
+complexion entered. He wore a kind of dark blue jumper, the only
+semblance of which to a uniform was that its few buttons were of brass.
+He was twirling his mustache and looked at Tom with very keen eyes.
+
+"Vell, we are not so pad, huh? Ve don'd kill you!"
+
+Tom did not know exactly what to say, so he said, "I got to thank you."
+
+The man motioned to the settee and Tom sat down while he seated himself
+in one of the swivel chairs.
+
+"Vell, vot's der matter?" he said, seeing Tom shiver.
+
+"I'm wet," said Tom; adding, "but I don't mind it."
+
+The man continued to look at him sharply. His questions were peremptory,
+short, crisp.
+
+"You had a vite jacket?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I made a kind of a life preserver out of it."
+
+Tom suspected that they had seen him long before he had seen them and
+that they had watched his struggles in the water.
+
+"Steward's poy, huh?"
+
+"I was captain's mess boy. The railing was broke and I never noticed it,
+so I fell overboard. I don't think anybody else got hurt," he added.
+
+The man twirled his mustache, still with his keen eyes fixed on Tom.
+
+"You bring ofer a lot of droops?" It was a question, but he did not keep
+his voice raised at the end, as one asking a question usually does. In
+this sense a German never asks a question. He seemed to be making an
+announcement and expecting Tom to confirm it.
+
+"Quite a lot," said Tom.
+
+"Two thousand, huh?"
+
+"I couldn't count them, there were so many."
+
+"How many trips you make?"
+
+"This was my first on a transport," said Tom.
+
+"Huh. You make Brest? Vere?"
+
+"It wasn't Brest," said Tom, "and I ain't supposed to tell you."
+
+"Vell, I ain't supposed to rescue you neither."
+
+"If you'd asked me before you rescued me, even then I wouldn't of told
+you," said Tom simply.
+
+"Huh. You talk beeg. Look out!"
+
+And still he twirled his mustache.
+
+"Dey catch a spy, huh?"
+
+"Yes, they did," said Tom, feeling very much ashamed and wondering how
+his questioner knew. Then it occurred to him that this very U-boat had
+perhaps been watching for the signal light, and it gave him fresh
+satisfaction to remember that _he_ had perhaps foiled this man who sat
+there twirling his mustache.
+
+The commander did not pursue this line of inquiry, supposing, perhaps,
+that a mess boy would not be informed as to such matters, but he
+catechised Tom about everything else, foiled at every other question by
+the stolid answer, "I ain't supposed to tell you." And he could not
+frighten or browbeat or shake anything out of him.
+
+At length, he desisted, summoned a subordinate and poured a torrent of
+German gibberish at him, the result of which was that Tom's wet clothes
+were taken from him and he was ushered to one of the berths along the
+aisle, presumably there to wait until they dried.
+
+He was sorry that they would not let him accompany his wet clothing aft
+where the engines were, but he was relieved to find that he was
+evidently not going to be thrown back into the ocean.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+HE IS MADE A PRISONER AND MAKES A NEW FRIEND
+
+
+It was just another German mistake in diplomacy or strategy or
+browbeatery, or whatever you may call it. Tom had been rescued for the
+information which he might give, and he gave none. It was not that he
+was so clever, either. A fellow like Frenchy could have squeezed a whole
+lot out of him without his realizing it, but Captain von
+Something-or-other didn't know how to do it. And having failed, perhaps
+it was to his credit that he did not have Tom thrown back into the
+ocean.
+
+Tom would have liked to know whether the boat was still awash or
+completely submerged. Above all, he was anxious to know what they
+intended to do with him. The fact that the boat did not pitch or roll at
+all made him think that it must be far below these surface disturbances,
+but he did not dare to ask.
+
+When his clothes were returned to him he was given a piece of rye bread
+and a cup of coffee, which greatly refreshed him, and he lay in one of
+the bunks along the long aisle watching two of the Germans who were
+playing cribbage. Once the commander came through like a conductor and
+as he passed Tom he said, "Vell, you haf' more room soon."
+
+He said it in his usual gruff, decisive tone, but Tom felt that he had
+intended to be agreeable and he wondered what he meant.
+
+After a while he fell asleep and slept the sleep of utter exhaustion.
+When he awoke there was no one about, but he heard voices outside,
+talking in German. Presently a soldier in one of the familiar German
+helmets came in and beckoned to him.
+
+Tom followed him up the iron ladder, out through the hatch and down
+another little ladder which was leaning against the outside of the
+conning tower. The deck was quite free of the water and already it was
+cluttered with tanks and cases ready to be stowed aboard. On either
+side, ranged sideways in a long row, as if they were ready to start on a
+race, were other U-boats, as many as thirty Tom thought, their low decks
+the scene of much activity.
+
+On the wharf was a long line of hand trucks, each bearing what he
+supposed to be a torpedo, and these looked exactly like miniature
+submarines, minus the conning tower.
+
+These things he saw in one hurried, bewildered glance, for he was
+allowed no opportunity for observation. Scarcely had he stepped off the
+deck when two lame soldiers took him in hand. Another soldier, who was
+not lame, stepped in front of him and he was directed by an officer who
+managed the affair and spoke very good English, to keep his eyes upon
+the little spire of that soldier's helmet. What he saw thereafter, he
+saw only through the corners of his eyes, and these things consisted
+chiefly of German signs on buildings.
+
+In this formation, with Tom's eyes fixed upon the little shiny spire
+before him, a lame soldier limping on either side and an officer in
+attendance, they marched to a stone building not far distant. Here he
+was ushered into a room where two men in sailor suits and three or four
+in oilskins sat about on benches. Two crippled soldiers guarded the door
+and another, who stood by an inner door, wore a bandage about his head.
+
+[Illustration: TOM WAS DIRECTED TO KEEP HIS EYES UPON THE SOLDIER'S
+HELMET.]
+
+"Blimy, I thought I was 'avin' me eyes tested," said one of the
+sailors. "It's a bloomin' wonder they don't clap a pair o' blinders on
+yer and be done with it!"
+
+Tom had not expected to hear any English spoken and it had never sounded
+so good to him before. The sailor did not seem to be at all awed by the
+grim surroundings, and his freedom from restraint was comforting to Tom
+who had felt very apprehensive. He was soon to learn that the most
+conspicuous and attractive thing about a British sailor or soldier is
+his disposition to take things as he finds them and not to be greatly
+concerned about anything.
+
+"Hi, Fritzie," he added, addressing one of the soldiers, "are we for
+Wittenberg or carn't yer s'y?" The guard paid no attention.
+
+"It's no difference," said one of the men in oilskins.
+
+"It's a bloomin' lot o' difference," said the sailor, "whether you're
+civilian or not, I can jolly well tell you! It's a short course in
+Wittenberg--there and Slopsgotten, or wotever they calls it. And the
+Spanish Ambassador, 'e calls to inquire arfter yer 'ealth every d'y. Hi
+there, Fritzie, 'ave we long to wite, old pal?"
+
+As there seemed to be no objection to this freedom of speech, Tom
+ventured a question.
+
+"Is this Germany?"
+
+"Germany? No, it's the Cannibal Islands," said the sailor, and everyone
+except the guard laughed.
+
+"You're not from Blighty,[3] eh?" the sailor asked.
+
+"I'm American," said Tom; "I was ship's boy on a transport and I fell
+off and a U-boat picked me up."
+
+"You're in Willlamshaven," the sailor told him, expressing no surprise
+at his experience.
+
+"He's civilian," said one of the men in oilskins. "He's safe."
+
+"Mybe, and mybe not," said the sailor; "'ow old are yer?"
+
+"Seventeen," said Tom.
+
+"Transports aren't civilian," said the sailor.
+
+"Ship's boys are not naval in American service."
+
+"It's the ige of yer as does it," the sailor answered. "I'll wiger you
+me first package from 'ome 'e goes to Slopsgotten."
+
+"What is Slopsgotten?" Tom asked.
+
+"It's the ship's boys' 'eaven."
+
+"I guess it ain't so good," said the man.
+
+"It's a grite big rice track," said the sailor. "Me cousin was there
+afore the Yanks came in. Mr. Gerard 'e got him exchinged. They got a
+'ole army o' Yanks there now--all civilian."
+
+"Is it a prison camp?" said Tom.
+
+"A bloomin' sailors' 'ome."
+
+"Were you captured?" Tom asked.
+
+"We're off a bloomin' mine l'yer," the sailor answered, including his
+companion; "nabbed in the channel--'i, Freddie?"
+
+"An' I 'ad tickets in me pocket to tike me girl to the pl'y in
+Piccadilly that night. Mybe she's witing yet," responded Freddie.
+
+"Let 'er wite. Hi, Fritzie, we're a-goin' to add four shillins' to the
+bloomin' indemnity, to p'y fer the tickets!"
+
+Further conversation with this blithesome pair elicited the information
+that they had been taken by a German destroyer while in a small boat in
+the act of mine inspecting, and that the men in oilskins (the one who
+had spoken being an American) were captives taken from a sunken British
+trawler.
+
+One by one these prisoners were passed into an inner room where each
+remained for about five minutes. When the sailor came out, he held up a
+brass tag which had been fastened with a piece of wire to his
+buttonhole.
+
+"I got me bloomin' iron cross," he said, "and I'm a-goin' to mike me
+'ome in Slops! Kipe yer fingers crossed w'en yer go in there, Yank; tike
+me advice!"
+
+"I hope I go there too if you're going," said Tom, "'cause you make it
+seem not so bad, kind of, bein' a prisoner."
+
+"Hi, Fritzie!" the sailor called. "I got me reward for 'eroism!"
+
+But apparently the German soldier could not appreciate these frivolous
+references to the sacred iron cross, for he glowered upon the young
+Englishman, and turned away with a black look.
+
+"Hi, Fritzie, cawrn't yer tike a joke?" the sailor persisted.
+
+Tom thought it must be much better fun to be an English soldier than a
+German soldier. And he thought this good-natured prisoner would be able
+to hold his own even against a great Yankee drive--of jollying.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[3] England.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+HE LEARNS WHERE HE IS GOING AND FINDS A RAY OF HOPE
+
+
+It seemed to Tom that the two German officials who sat behind a table
+examining him, asked him every question which could possibly be framed
+in connection with himself. And when they had finished, and the answers
+had been written down, they made a few informal inquiries about American
+troops and transports, which he was thankful that he could not answer.
+When he returned to the ante-room he had fastened to his buttonhole a
+brass disk with a number stamped upon it and a German word which was not
+"Slopsgotten," though it looked as if it might be something like it.
+
+"Let's see," said the sailor; "didn't I jolly well tell yer?
+Congratulations!"
+
+"Does it mean I go to Slopsgotten?" Tom asked.
+
+"They'll keep us there till the war's over, too," said the one called
+Freddie. "We'll never get a good whack at Fritzie now."
+
+Tom's heart fell.
+
+"We'll be wittling souveneers out o' wood," Freddie concluded.
+
+"We'll have plenty o' wood," said his comrade. "The old Black Forest's
+down that w'y."
+
+"It's just north of Alsice," Freddie said.
+
+"A pair o' wire nippers and a bit o' French----"
+
+"Shh," cautioned Freddie.
+
+"We m'y be ible to s'y 'Owdy' to General 'Aig yet."
+
+"Shh! We aren't even there yet."
+
+Tom listened eagerly to this talk and thought much about it afterward.
+For one whole year he had longed to get into the war. He had waited for
+his eighteenth birthday as a child waits for Christmas. He had gone on
+the transport with the one thought of its bringing him nearer to
+military service. He was going to fight like two soldiers because his
+brother was--was not a soldier.
+
+And now it appeared that his part in the great war, his way of doing his
+bit, was to lie in a prison camp until the whole thing was over. That
+was worse than boring sticks in Bridgeboro and distributing badges. Tom
+had never quarreled with Fate, he had even been reconciled to the
+thought of dying as a spy; but he rebelled at this prospect.
+
+Instinctively, as he and his two philosophical companions were placed
+aboard the train, he reached down into his trousers pocket and found the
+little iron button which Frenchy had given him. He clutched it as if it
+were a life preserver, until his hand was warm and sweaty from holding
+it.
+
+It seemed his last forlorn hope now.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+HE MAKES A HIGH RESOLVE AND LOSES A FAVORITE WORD
+
+
+Miss Margaret Ellison, the stenographer in the Temple Camp office, had
+once pronounced judgment on Tom. It was that if he made up his mind to
+do a thing he would do it. There was something about his big mouth and
+his dogged scowl which made this prophecy seem likely of fulfilment.
+
+And now, silently, he threw his challenge down before Fate, before
+Germany, before barbed wire entanglements--before everything and
+everybody. He did not know whether they ever paroled ordinary prisoners,
+but he hoped they would not parole him, because then he would be bound
+by honor. And he did not want to be bound by honor. He kept his hand in
+his pocket, grasping his precious button, and it was well that the
+German officials did not know what was in his mind.
+
+"I ain't goin' to be cheated out of it now," he said to himself; "I
+don't care what."
+
+All day long they journeyed in the box car, but Tom could see nothing of
+Germany save an occasional glimpse now and then when the sliding door
+was opened at the stations, usually to admit more prisoners. Whatever
+became of the men from the British trawler he never knew, but his
+jack-tar companions were with him still and helped to keep up his
+spirits. He never knew them by any other names than Freddie and
+Tennert--the first name of one and the last name of the other--but so
+great was his liking for them that it included the whole of sturdy,
+plodding, indomitable old England into the bargain. They never talked
+patriotism, and seemed to regard the war merely as a sort of a job that
+had to be done--just like any other job. Early in the day before the car
+filled up, Tom talked a good deal with them and as there was no guard
+inside, the conversation was free.
+
+"When you said, 'Shh'," said Tom at one time, "I knew what you was
+thinkin' about. I was never in a war," he added innocently, "so I don't
+know much about it. But if I was sent to jail for--say, for stealing--I
+wouldn't think I had a right to escape."
+
+"You'd be a pretty honorable sort of a thief," said Freddie.
+
+"But, anyway," said Tom, "I was going to ask you about escapin' from a
+military prison. That ain't dishonorable, is it?"
+
+"No, strike me blind, it ain't! But it's jolly 'ard!" said Tennert.
+
+"It's fer them to keep yer and fer you to grease off, if you can," said
+Freddie. "If you give your parole, it's like a treaty----"
+
+"A bloomin' scrap o' piper," interrupted Tennert. "They wouldn't put you
+on yer honor because they don't know what honor is. It ain't in
+Fritzie's old dictionary."
+
+Tom was glad to think of it in this way. _It's for them to keep you and
+for you to grease off_ (which evidently meant "get away"). He had great
+respect for the opinions of these two Britishers and his mind dwelt upon
+this only hope even before he had so much as a glimpse of his prison.
+
+He meant to fight with the American forces, in spite of Fate and in
+spite of Germany. Germany had armed guards and barbed wire
+entanglements. Tom, on his side, had an iron button, a big mouth, a
+look of dogged determination, a sense of having been grossly cheated
+after he had made a considerable investment in time and a good deal of
+scout pluck and Yankee resource. The only thing that had stood in the
+way was the question of honor, and that was now settled on the high
+authority of the British navy! Who but sturdy old John Bull had come
+forward when Belgium was being violated? And now a couple of John Bull's
+jack-tars had told him that it was for Germany to keep him and for him
+to get away if he could.
+
+He was on the point of telling them of his double reason for wanting to
+escape; that he had to fight for two--himself and his brother. Then he
+thought he wouldn't for fear they might not understand.
+
+But he made up his mind that henceforth all his efforts and activities
+should be of double strength--to make up. He would think twice as hard,
+work twice as hard, fight twice as hard. Above all he would try twice as
+hard as he otherwise would have done, to get out of this predicament and
+get to the battlefront. He was glad of his scout training which he
+thought might help him a great deal now. And he would put every quality
+he had to the supreme test.
+
+"Do you believe," he asked, after a considerable silence, "that a feller
+can do more, kind of, if he's doing his own work and--I mean if he
+thinks he's got to do two people's work--for a special reason?"
+
+Freddie did not seem quite to "get" him, but Tennert answered readily,
+"You jolly well can! Look at Kippers wot cime 'ome fer orspital
+treatment arfter Verdoon. 'E lived in Chelsea. 'Is pal got sniped an'
+Fritzie took 'is shoes. They're awrful short o' shoes. Kippers, 'e s'ys,
+'I'll not l'y down me rifle till I plunk[4] a German and get 'is shoes.'
+Two d'ys arfter 'e comes crawlin' back through No Man's Land and the
+color sergeant arsks 'im did 'e carry out 'is resolootion. 'Yes,' s'ys
+'e, 'but blimy, I 'ad to plunk seven Germans before I could get a pair
+o' clods to fit me.' 'E was usin' 'is pal's strength too besides 'is
+own. Any Tommy'll tell yer a lad wot's dyin' on the field can leave 'is
+fightin' spunk to anyone 'e pleases."
+
+Tom stared open-eyed. He found it easy to believe this superstition of
+Tommy Atkins'. And he made up his mind anew that he would square matters
+with Uncle Sam by doing the work of two.
+
+                 *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the afternoon this pleasant chatting was made impossible by the
+numbers of military prisoners who were herded into the rough box car.
+They had come far enough south to be abreast of Belgium now and there
+must lately have been a successful German raid along the Flanders front,
+for both British and Belgian soldiers were driven aboard by the score.
+All of the British seemed exactly like Tennert and Freddie, cheerful,
+philosophical, chatting about Fritzie and the war as if the whole thing
+were a huge cricket game. Some of these were taken off farther down the
+line, to be sent to different camps, Tom supposed.
+
+At last, after an all day's ride, they reached their destination. But
+alas, there was no such place as Slopsgotten! Tom was sorry for this for
+he liked the name. It sounded funny when his English friends said it.
+Schlaabgaurtn, was the way he read it on the railroad station. He felt
+disappointed and aggrieved. He was by no means sure of the letters, and
+pronunciation was out of the question. He liked Slopsgotten. In
+Tennert's mouth he had almost come to love it.
+
+It was the only thing about Germany that he liked, and now he had to
+give it up!
+
+Slopsgotten!
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[4] Kill.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+HE GOES TO THE CIVILIAN CAMP AND DOESN'T LIKE IT
+
+
+"'Ere we are in bloomin' old Slops! Not 'arf bad, wot? Another inch and
+we'd bunk our noses plunk into Alsice! Wot d'ye s'y, Freddie?"
+
+"I s'y it's the back o' the old front. The only thing in the w'y is the
+mountains. Hi, Yankee! You see 'em? It's the ole mountains out of the
+song."
+
+Tom looked at a distant range of blue-gray heights. Crossing those
+somewhere was the battle line--the long, sweeping line which began far
+off at the Belgian coast. How lonesome and romantic it must be for the
+soldiers up in those wild hills. Somewhere through there years ago
+Frenchy had fled from German tyranny and pursuit, away from his beloved
+ancestral home. Funny, thought Tom, that he should see both the eastern
+and western extremities of France without ever crossing it.
+
+He was much nearer the front than he had been when he talked with Mr.
+Conne in the little French cemetery. Yet how much farther away! A
+prisoner in Germany, with a glowering, sullen Prussian guard at his very
+elbow!
+
+"We used to sing about them when I went to school," he said. "'The Blue
+Alsatian Mountains.'"
+
+"I'd jolly well like to be on the other side o' them," said Freddie.
+
+Tom clutched the little iron button in his pocket. Something prompted
+him to pull a button off his trousers and to work his little talisman
+into the torn place so that it would look like a suspender button. Then
+he turned again to gaze at the fair country which he supposed to be one
+of France's lost provinces--the home of Frenchy.
+
+"There ain't much trouble crossing mountains," said he; "all you need is
+a compass. I don't know if they have tree-toads here, but I could find
+out which is north and south that way if they have."
+
+"Blimy, if we don't listen and see if we can 'ear 'em s'ying 'polly voo
+Fransay' in the trees!" said Tennert.
+
+"But a feller could never get into France that way," said Tom. "'Cause
+he'd have to cross the battle line. The only way would be to go down
+around through Switzerland--around the end of the line, kind of."
+
+"Down through Alsice," grunted Tennert.
+
+"'E'd 'ave a 'underd miles of it," said Freddie.
+
+"Unless Fritzie offered 'im a carriage. Hi, Fritzie, w'en do we have
+tea?"
+
+They made no secret of this dangerous topic--perhaps because they knew
+the idea of escape from the clutches of Germany was so preposterous. In
+any event, "Fritzie" did not seem greatly interested.
+
+They were grouped at the station, a woebegone looking lot, despite their
+blithe demeanor. There were a dozen or more of them, in every variety of
+military and naval rags and tatters. Tom was coatless and the rest of
+his clothing was very much the worse for salt water. The sailor suits of
+his two companions were faded and torn, and Freddie suffered the
+handicap of a lost shoe. The rest were all young. Tom thought they might
+be drummer boys or despatch riders, or something like that. Several of
+them were slightly wounded, but none seriously, for Germany does not
+bother with prisoners who require much care. They were the residue of
+many who had come and gone in that long monotonous trip. Some had been
+taken off for the big camps at Wittenberg and Göttingen. As well as he
+could judge, he had to thank his non-combatant character as well as his
+youth for the advantages of "Slopsgotten."
+
+When the hapless prisoners had been examined and searched and relieved
+of their few possessions, they were marched to the neighboring camp--a
+civilian camp it was called, although it was hardly limited to that.
+They made a sad little procession as they passed through the street of
+the quaint old town. Some jeered at them, but for the most part the
+people watched silently as they went by. Either they had not the spirit
+for ridicule, or they were too accustomed to such sights to be moved to
+comment.
+
+Tom thought he had never in his life seen so many cripples; and instead
+of feeling sorry for himself his pity was aroused for these maimed young
+fellows, hanging on crutches and with armless coat sleeves, hollow-eyed
+and sallow, who braved the law to see the little cavalcade go by. For
+later he learned that a heavy fine was imposed on these poor wretches if
+they showed themselves before enemy prisoners, and he wondered where
+they got the money to pay the fines.
+
+The prison camp was in the form of a great oval and looked as if it
+might formerly have been a "rice track," as the all-knowing Tennert had
+said. It was entirely surrounded by a high barbed wire fence, the
+vicious wire interwoven this way and that into a mesh, the very sight of
+which must have been forbidding to the ambitious fugitive. It was not,
+however, electrified as in the strictly military prisons and on the
+frontiers. Tom was told that this was because it was chiefly a civilian
+camp, but he later learned that it was because of a shortage of coal.
+
+The buildings which had formerly been stables and open stalls had been
+converted into living quarters, and odds and ends of lumber gathered
+from the neighboring town had been used to throw up rough shacks for
+additional quarters.
+
+Straw was the only bedding and such food as the authorities supplied was
+dumped onto rusty tin dishes held out by the hungry prisoners. Some of
+these dishes had big holes in them and when such a plate became unusable
+it behooved its possessor to make friends with someone whose dish was
+not so far gone and share it with him. Some of the men carved wooden
+dishes, for there was nothing much to do with one's time, until their
+knives were taken from them. The life was one of grinding monotony and
+utter squalor, and the time which Tom spent there was the nightmare of
+his life.
+
+Occasionally someone from the Spanish Embassy in Berlin would visit the
+camp in the interest of the Americans, the effect of these visits
+usually being to greatly anger the retired old German officer who was
+commandant. He had a face like the sun at noon-day, a voice like a
+cannon, and the mere asking of a question set him into a rage.
+
+Many of the prisoners, of whom not a few were young Americans, received
+packages from home, through neutral sources--food, games, tobacco--which
+were always shared with their comrades. But Tom was slow in getting
+acquainted and before he had reached the stage of intimacy with anyone,
+something happened. He still retained his companionable status with
+Tennert and Freddie, but they fell in with their own set from good old
+"Blighty" and Tom saw little of them.
+
+There was absolutely no rule of life in the prison camp. They were
+simply kept from getting away. Besides conferring this favor upon them,
+about the only thing which the German government did was to send a
+doctor around occasionally to look down their throats and inspect their
+tongues. If a prisoner became ill, it behooved him to find another
+prisoner who had studied medicine and then wait until old General
+Griffenhaus was in a sufficiently good humor to give him medicines.
+General Griffenhaus was not cruel; perhaps he would have been pleasant
+if he had known how.
+
+As fast as Tom learned the custom, he adapted himself to the lazy,
+go-as-you-please kind of life. He scared up a rusty tin plate, made
+himself a straw bed in a boarded-in box stall, got hold of an old burlap
+bag which he wore as a kind of tunic while washing his clothes, and
+idled about listening to the war experiences of others. He had thought
+his own experiences rather remarkable, but now they seemed so tame that
+he did not venture to tell them. Fights with German raiders, rescues
+after days spent on the ocean, chats about the drive for Paris, the
+"try" at Verdun, the adventures of captured aviators--these things and
+many more, were familiarly discussed in the little sprawling groups
+among which he came to be a silent listener. In a way, it reminded him
+of camping and campfire yarns, except for the squalor and disorder.
+
+Of course, there was general work to be done, but the officials did not
+concern themselves about this until it became absolutely necessary. No
+one could say that the German discipline was strict. When the prisoners
+discovered that one or other of their number was good at this or that
+sort of work they elected him to attend to those matters--whether it was
+sweeping, settling quarrels, cooking, writing letters, petitioning "Old
+Griff," shaving, pulling teeth, or what not. Each prisoner contributed
+his knowledge and experience to make life bearable for all. The camp was
+a _democracy_, but Germany didn't seem to object. If the prisoners
+wished to dig a drain trench or a refuse pit, they asked for shovels.
+And sometimes they got them. Prisoners, ragged and forlorn, came to be
+known by the most dignified titles. There was the "consulting
+architect," the "sanitary inspector," the "secretary of state," the
+"chairman of the committee on kicks," etc.
+
+And one momentous day Tom met the "chief engineer."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+HE VISITS THE OLD PUMP AND RECEIVES A SHOCK
+
+
+"It's all happy-go-lucky here," said a young American from somewhere in
+Kansas, who had been raked in with a haul of prisoners from a torpedoed
+liner. "We used the water at the pump as long as the engines worked;
+then we shouldered our buckets and began going down to the brook. When
+the buckets went to pieces, we made a few out of canvas and they're not
+half bad."
+
+Tom had inquired why they went down to the end of the oval to get water
+when there was a pump up in the middle of the grounds.
+
+"So there you are," concluded his informer.
+
+"Is the engine supposed to pump water up from the brook?" Tom asked.
+
+"It isn't supposed to do anything," said the other, "it used to be
+supposed to, but it's retired."
+
+"I thought Germany was so efficient," said Tom. "I should think they'd
+fix it. Can't it be fixed?"
+
+"Not by anyone here, it seems. You see, they won't let us have any
+tools--wrenches, or files or anything. If you mention a file to Old
+Griff, he throws a couple of fits. Thinks you want to cut the barbed
+wire."
+
+"Then why don't _they_ fix it?"
+
+"Ah, a question. I suppose they think the exercise of trotting down to
+the brook will do us good. I dare say if the chief engineer could get
+hold of a file he could fix it; seems to think he could, anyway. But gas
+engines are funny things."
+
+"You're right they are," said Tom, thinking of the troop's motor boat
+away home in Bridgeboro. "Of course, _I_ don't mind the walk down
+there," he added, "only it seemed kind of funny----"
+
+"It's tragic for some of these lame fellows."
+
+"Who _is_ the chief engineer," Tom asked.
+
+"Oh, he's a kid that was a despatch rider, I think. Anyway, he's wise to
+motorcycles. He's had several consulting engineers on the job--Belgian,
+French, and British talent--but nothin' doing. He's gradually losing his
+head."
+
+"You couldn't exactly blame them for not letting him have a file," Tom
+said, reasonably enough, "or a wrench either for that matter, unless
+they watched him all the time."
+
+"Nah!" laughed his companion. "Nobody could file through that fence wire
+without the sentries hearing him; it's as thick as a slate pencil,
+almost."
+
+"Just the same you can't blame General Griffenhaus for not being willing
+to give files to prisoners. That's the way prisoners always get away--in
+stories."
+
+About dusk of the same day Tom wandered to the pump, which was not far
+from the center of the vast oval. On the earth beside it a ragged figure
+sat, its back toward Tom, evidently investigating the obstreperous
+engine. Tom had never taken particular notice of this disused pump or of
+the little engine which, in happy days of yore, had brought the water up
+from the brook and made it available for the pump in a well below.
+
+"Trying to dope it out?" he asked, by way of being sociable.
+
+The "chief engineer," who had half turned before Tom spoke, jumped to
+his feet as if frightened and stared blankly at Tom, who stood stark
+still gaping at him.
+
+"Well--I'll--be----" began the "chief engineer."
+
+Tom was grinning all over his face.
+
+"Hello, Archer!"
+
+"Chrr-is-to-pherr _Crrinkums_!" said Archer, with that familiar up-state
+roll to his R's. "Where in all _get-out_ did _you_ blow in from? I
+thought you was dead!"
+
+"You didn't think I was any deader than I thought you was," said Tom,
+with something of his old dull manner.
+
+"Cr-a-ab apples and custarrd pies!" Archer exclaimed, still hardly able
+to believe his eyes. "I sure did think you was at the bottom of the
+ocean!"
+
+"I didn't ever think I'd see _you_ again, either," said Tom.
+
+So the "chief engineer" proved to be none other than Archibald
+Archer--whose far-off home in the good old Catskills was almost within a
+stone's throw of Temple Camp--Archibald Archer, steward's boy on the
+poor old liner on which he had gotten Tom a job the year before.
+
+"I might of known nothing would kill _you_," Tom said. "Mr. Conne
+always said you'd land right side up. Do you eat apples as much as you
+used to?"
+
+"More," said Archer, "when I can get 'em."
+
+The poor old gas engine had to wait now while the two boys who had been
+such close friends sat down beside the disused pump in this German
+prison camp, and told each other of their escape from that torpedoed
+liner and of all that had befallen them since. And Tom felt that the war
+was not so bad, nor the squalid prison community either, since it had
+brought himself and Archibald Archer together again.
+
+But Archer's tale alone would have filled a book. He was just finishing
+an apple, so he said, and was about to shy the core at the second purser
+when the torpedo hit the ship. He was sorry he hadn't thrown the core a
+little quicker.
+
+He jumped for a life boat, missed it, swam to another, drifted with its
+famished occupants to the coast of Ireland, made his way to London, got
+a job on a channel steamer carrying troops, guyed the troops and became
+a torment and a nuisance generally, collected souvenirs with his old
+tenacity, and wound up in France, where, on the strength of being able
+to shrug his shoulders and say, _Oui_, _oui_, he got along famously.
+
+He had managed to wriggle into military service without the customary
+delays, and in the capacity of messenger he had ridden a motorcycle
+between various headquarters and the front until he had been caught by
+the Germans in a raid while he was engaged in giving an imitation of
+Charlie Chaplin in the French trenches. He spoke of General Haig as
+"Haigy;" of General Byng as "Bing Bang;" and his French was a circus all
+by itself. According to his account, he had been a prime favorite with
+all the high dignitaries of the war, and he attributed this to the fact
+that he was not afraid of them. In short, it was the same old flippant,
+boastful, R-rolling Archibald Archer who had won many a laugh from sober
+Tom Slade. And here he was again as large as life--larger, in fact.
+
+It was a long time before they got down to the subject of the engine,
+but when they did they discussed it for the greater part of the night,
+for, of course, they bunked together.
+
+"First I thought it was the triphammer," said Archer; "then I thought it
+was the mixing valve; then I thought it was bronchitis on account of the
+noise it made, and after that I decided it was German measles. Blamed
+if I know what's the matter with it. It's got the pip, I guess. I was
+going to file a nick in the make-and-break business but they're too foxy
+to give me a file. Now I wish I had a hammer and I'd knock the whole
+blamed business to smithereens."
+
+"Have a heart," laughed Tom. "And keep still, I want to go asleep. We'll
+look at it in the morning."
+
+"Did I tell you how we made a hand grenade full of old tomatoes near
+Rheims?"
+
+"No, but I want to go to sleep now," said Tom.
+
+"It landed plunk on a German officer's bun; Charlie Waite saw it from
+his plane."
+
+"Good night," laughed Tom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+HE HAS AN IDEA WHICH SUGGESTS ANOTHER
+
+
+In the morning, after grub line-up, they lost no time in going to the
+pump. Here, at least, was something to occupy Tom's mind and afford
+Archer fresh material for banter.
+
+"D'I tell you how I was kiddin' the niggerr we had in the life
+boat--when it was leakin'?"
+
+"No," said Tom, ready for anything.
+
+"Told him to bore anotherr hole so the waterr could get out again. Did I
+tell you 'bout----"
+
+"Here we are, let's take a look at the engine," said Tom.
+
+It was one of those one-cylinder kickers, about two horse power, and had
+an independent disposition.
+
+"Know what I think would be the best thing for it?" said the chief
+engineer. "Dynamite. D'I tell you 'bout the sharrk eatin' a bomb?"
+
+"Is there any gas in the tank?" said Tom.
+
+"Sure is, but I dunno what kind it is. Mebbe it's poison gas, for all
+_I_ know. There was a fellow in Ireland when we----"
+
+Tom ignored him, and making a guess adjustment of the mixing valve,
+opened the gas and threw the wheel over. "No batteries--magneto, huh?"
+
+"Yes, but it don't magnete. I'd ruther have a couple o' batteries that
+would _bat_."
+
+A few crankings and the little engine started, missing frightfully.
+
+"She'll stop in a minute," said Archer, and so she did. "We've all taken
+a crack at the carbureter and the timer," he added, "but nothin' doin'.
+It's cussedness, _I_ say."
+
+Tom started it again, listening as it missed, went faster, slowed down,
+stopped. It was getting gas and getting air and the bearings did not
+bind. He tried it again. It ran lamely and stopped, but started all
+right again whenever he cranked it, provided he waited a minute or two
+between each trial.
+
+"Can you beat that?" said Archer.
+
+"There's water getting into the cylinder," Tom said.
+
+"Cylinder's lucky. _We_ poor guys got to go way down the other end of
+the earth to get water."
+
+"Maybe the water in the water jacket froze last winter and cracked the
+cylinder wall and the crack didn't let any through at first, most
+likely. You can't get your explosions right if there's water. That's why
+it starts first off and keeps going till the water works through.
+'Tisn't much of a crack, I guess. A file wouldn't be any more use than a
+teaspoon."
+
+"A _what_? Believe _me_, I wouldn't know a teaspoon if I saw one," said
+Archer.
+
+"If we had a wrench to get the cylinder head off," said Tom, "I could
+show you."
+
+"It's the end of that engine," said Archer.
+
+"Depends on how bad it is. If it's only a little crack sometimes you can
+fix it with a chemical--sal ammoniac. It kind of--_corrodes_, I think
+they call it--right where the crack is and it'll work all right for
+quite a while. We had a cracked cylinder on our scout boat one time."
+
+Archer was generously pleased at Tom's sagacity and showed no
+professional jealousy. Before that day was over every prisoner in the
+camp knew that the rusty, dilapidated engine which languished near the
+pump was good for another season of usefulness. If Archer was not a
+good engineer he was at least a good promoter, and he started a grand
+drive for a rejuvenated pump. The R's rolled out of his busy mouth as
+the water had not flowed from the pump in many a day.
+
+A petition a yard long was passed about and everybody signed it with
+lukewarm interest. It besought General von Griffenhaus either to have
+the cylinder head of the engine removed or a wrench loaned to Tom Slade
+for that purpose.
+
+The prisoners did not lose any sleep over this enterprise, for both Tom
+and Archer were young and Archer at least was regarded as an
+irresponsible soul, whose mission on earth was to cause trifling
+annoyance and much amusement. Tom, sober, silent and new among them, was
+an unknown quantity.
+
+"Doncher care," said Archer. "Robert Fulton had a lot o' trouble and
+nobuddy b'lieved him, and all that."
+
+Tom was ready to stand upon his pronouncement of a cracked water jacket
+and, that established, he believed a little bottle of sal ammoniac would
+be easy to procure. When the pump was running again they would all be
+glad to use it and meanwhile they might laugh and call him the
+"consulting engineer" if they wanted to.
+
+At last Archer, having boosted this laggard campaign with amazing
+energy, elected himself the one to present the imposing petition to
+General von Griffenhaus, because, as he said, he was never rattled in
+the presence of greatness, which was quite true. He caught the general
+on inspection tour and prayed for a monkey wrench with the humility but
+determination of the old barons before King John.
+
+When he returned to their box-stall abode he triumphantly announced that
+"Old Griff" had surrendered with the one portentous sentence, "Ach! I
+vill see aboud this!" He found Tom sitting back against the board
+partition, arms about his drawn-up knees, sober and thoughtful.
+
+"Ain't gettin' cold feet, are you?" Archer asked.
+
+Tom looked at him, but did not speak.
+
+"You ain't afraid there's something else the matter with the engine,
+after all, are you?" Archer asked, anxiously. "I don't want this whole
+bunch guyin' me--afterr the petition, and all."
+
+"It's the way I said," said Tom dully.
+
+"Not sore 'cause they've been kiddin' us, are you? You can't blame 'em
+fer that; they've got nothin' else to do. Look at Columbus, how they
+guyed him--and all. But they were thankful afterward all right, all
+right--those greasy Spaniards. D'I tell you 'bout the way I----"
+
+"I don't mind their kiddin'," Tom interrupted; "I had a lot of that on
+the ship. And I know they'll be glad when the pump's running. I was
+thinkin' about something else. Come on, let's go out and hike." He
+always called those little restricted walks about the enclosure, hiking.
+He could not forget the good scout word.
+
+When they had walked for some little way Tom looked about to see if
+there was anyone near. The safest place for secrets and confidences is
+out in the open. He hesitated, made a couple of false starts, then
+began:
+
+"There's somethin' I've always thought about ever since I came here. I
+don't know if you've ever thought about it--I know you like adventures,
+but you're kind of----" He meant irresponsible and rattle-brained, but
+he did not want to say so. "And I wouldn't want to see you get in any
+trouble on account of me. You're different from me. You see, for a
+special reason I got to go and fight. Whatever you do, will you promise
+not to say anything to anybody?"
+
+Archer, somewhat bewildered, promised.
+
+"I'm going to get away," said Tom simply.
+
+"You must be crazy," Archer said, staring at him in astonishment. "How
+are you going to do it? Didn't I tell you, you couldn't even get a
+file?"
+
+Tom went on seriously.
+
+"I'd like to have you go with me only I don't know if you'd want to take
+a chance the same as I would."
+
+"Sure, I'd take a chance, but----"
+
+"_You_ don't _have_ to go and I do," Tom interrupted. "That's what I
+mean. If the war should end and I didn't fight, I'd be a kind of a---- I
+mean I got to fight for two people. I _got_ to. So it ain't a question
+of whether I take a chance or not. And it ain't a question of whether
+it's fair to try and escape. 'Cause I got that all settled."
+
+Archer said nothing, but looked at Tom just as he had first looked at
+him a year ago, and tried to dope him out. For a few paces they walked
+in silence.
+
+"If you take a chance, I take a chance with you," Archer said.
+
+"If anybody should discover us and call for us to halt, I'm not going
+to halt," said Tom.
+
+"Believe _me_, I'll sprint," said Archer, "but that part's a cinch
+anyway----"
+
+"It ain't a cinch," said Tom, "but I got to do it. I got a little button
+a French soldier gave me that'll help me get through Alsace. His people
+live there--in Leture--I mean Dundgardt."
+
+"That's only six miles down," said Archer.
+
+"That's so much the better," said Tom; "if I can once get that far----"
+
+"Don't say _I_--say _we_."
+
+"We'll be all right," finished Tom.
+
+"But what's the use talking about it, when we got that tangle of wire
+out there in front of us all the way round?"
+
+"You know where it runs through the bushes at the other end?" said Tom.
+
+"Yes, and if you made a sound down there you'd be heard! Besides, where
+you goin' to get the file?"
+
+"I'm hoping to have that to-morrow."
+
+"You got your work cut out for you, gettin' it."
+
+"If that stuff will corrode a cylinder wall it'll corrode wire," said
+Tom, after a few moments' silence. "It might take a few days, but after
+that you could break the wire with your fingers. It wouldn't make any
+noise. That ain't what I wanted to ask you about--'cause I know about
+that. The thing is, are you with me? You got to judge for yourself,
+'cause it's risky."
+
+Archer hit him a rap on the shoulder, then put his arm in friendly
+fashion about his neck.
+
+"Slady, I'm with you strong as mustarrd," said he; "did I tell you 'bout
+the feller I met in France that escaped from Siberia----"
+
+"And keep your mouth shut," said Tom. "First we got to fix the engine."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+HE PLANS A DESPERATE GAME AND DOES A GOOD JOB
+
+
+Archer was thoroughly game, Tom knew that, but he did not want to
+involve him in his own peril unless his friend fully realized what it
+meant. With himself, as he had said, it was different. But he might have
+saved himself any worry about his friend. Archer was not only game; he
+was delighted.
+
+Needless to say, they slept little that night. In the morning they were
+given a wrench with which they removed the cylinder head amid the gibes
+of a group of spectators. And there, sure enough, after the piston was
+disconnected and removed, they found a little, thin crack in the inner
+cylinder wall.
+
+"Feel o' that," said Archer, triumphantly rubbing his finger nail across
+it, for it was more easily felt than seen, "and then go away back and
+sit down, the whole bunch of you. We got a _regularr_ chief engineer
+here now," he added generously, "and you better treat him decent while
+he's here."
+
+Tom shuddered for fear he would say too much.
+
+"He might get exchanged any time," said Archer.
+
+"_Some_ boys," remarked one of the prisoners.
+
+"But findin's ain't fixin's," said a British soldier.
+
+"Oh, ain't they though!" said Archer. "We'll have it fixed in---- How
+long'll it take to fix it, Slady?"
+
+"Maybe a couple of days," said Tom.
+
+"Mybe a couple o' weeks," said the Britisher.
+
+"Mybe it won't, yer jolly good bloomin' ole London fag, you!" mimicked
+Archer. "It's as good as fixed already."
+
+"Better knock wood, Archie."
+
+"I'll knock something thickerr'n wood if you don't get out o' the way!"
+said Archer.
+
+One by one they strolled away laughing.
+
+"I'll give that bunch one parting shot, all right!" said Archer.
+
+"Shh!" said Tom, "look out what you're saying."
+
+Whether it was because the grim authorities who presided over
+this unfortunate community believed that the renewed activity of
+the pump would be advantageous to themselves, or whether it was
+just out of the goodness of their hearts that they supplied the
+small quantity of sal ammoniac, it would be difficult to say, but
+in the afternoon a small bottle was forthcoming with the label of
+Herman Schlossen-something-or-other, chemist, of the neighboring
+town.
+
+The boys smeared some of it on the crack and then poured some into a
+little vial which had contained toothache drops.
+
+"Things are so bad in Gerrmany they have to use sal ammoniac for files,"
+said Archer. "If the warr keeps up much longer the poor people'll be
+usin' witch hazel for screw drivers."
+
+"Shhh!" said Tom. It was about all he ever said now.
+
+After dark, with fast beating hearts, they went down to the place which
+Tom had selected for their operations. It was near the extreme end of
+the grounds, at a place where the wire ran through some thick shrubbery.
+Even a file might have been used here, if a file had been procurable,
+for one might work fully concealed though always in danger of the
+sentry's hearing the sound. But no file could ever get inside of that
+camp. They were not even obtainable in the stores of the neighboring
+town, except upon government order and every letter and package that
+came to the camp was scrutinized with German thoroughness. Since the
+recent army reorganization in which the number of sentries at camps all
+through the Empire had been reduced, and since the discontinuance of
+electrified wiring at this particular camp, the little file was watched
+for with greater suspicion than ever before, so that the prisoners had
+regarded it as a joke when Archer expressed the wish for one. The very
+thought of a file on the premises was preposterous. And what other way
+was there to get out?
+
+It was necessary, however, to watch for the sentry outside and here was
+where the team work came in. Archer spotted the gleam of his rifle at
+some distance up near the provision gate, and he scurried in that
+direction to hold him with his usual engaging banter, for even glowering
+"Fritzie" was not altogether proof against young Archer's wiles and his
+extraordinary German.
+
+Meanwhile, Tom, first looking in every direction, slipped under the
+bushes and felt carefully of the wiring. It was not simple flat fencing
+ranged in orderly strands, but somewhat like the entanglements before
+the trenches. As best he could, in the dim light, he selected seven
+places where, if the wiring were parted, he believed it would be
+possible to get through. The seven points involved four wires. He had to
+use his brain and calculate, as one does when seeking for the
+"combination" of a knotted rope, and his old scout habit of studying
+jungle bush before parting it when on scout hikes, served him in good
+stead here. He was nothing if not methodical, and neither the danger nor
+his high hopes interfered with his plodding thoroughness.
+
+Having selected the places, he poured a little of the liquid on the
+wiring at each spot and hid the bottle in the bushes. Then he rejoined
+Archer, the first step taken in their risky program.
+
+"How'll I know the places if I go there?" Archer inquired.
+
+"You won't go there," said Tom. "I'll be the one to do that."
+
+"I'm the entertainment committee, hey?"
+
+There was no sleep that night either--nothing but silent thoughtfulness
+and high expectation and dreadful suspense; for, notwithstanding
+Archer's loquacity, Tom refused positively to talk in their box stall
+for fear some one outside might hear.
+
+In the morning they gave the crack in the cylinder another dose (but
+oh, how prosy and unimportant seemed this business now), and at evening
+they screwed down the cylinder head, and with a gibing audience about
+them, wrestled with the mixing valve, slammed the timer this way and
+that, until the dilapidated old engine began to go--and kept on going.
+
+"There you are," said Archer blithely, as if the glory were all his.
+"Who're the public benefactors now? Every time you get a drink at that
+pump you'll think of Slady and me. Hey, Slady?"
+
+The engine kept on going until they stopped it. And the Philistines put
+aside their unholy mirth and did not stint their praise and gratitude.
+
+"Two plaguy clever American chaps," said a ragged British wireless
+operator.
+
+"Slade and Archer, Consulting Engineers," said Archer.
+
+It was a great triumph--one of the greatest of the world war, and the
+only reason that mankind has not heard more about it is probably because
+of the grudging German censor.
+
+"I'm glad it went," said Archer confidentially. "I was shaking in my
+shoes."
+
+"There wasn't any reason to shake," said Tom. "I knew it would go."
+
+"Same as we will."
+
+"Hush," said Tom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+HE DISAPPEARS--FOR THE TIME BEING
+
+
+Tom was too sensible to make his trip to the bushes each night. For one
+thing he wanted to give the mildly corrosive process a chance to weaken
+the wires. It was a case for small doses. Also he could not afford to
+attract attention. His hardest job was keeping Archer patient and quiet.
+
+When he did manage a second trip he was gratified to see that the spots
+he had "treated" were white and salty, like the bar in a battery. He
+gave them another dose and crawled out cautiously.
+
+Archer, in his excitement, had supposed the whole thing would be a
+matter of a day or two and his impatience greatly disturbed Tom.
+
+"Don't you see, if I try to break the wires before they're ready, we'll
+be worse off than ever?" he said. "Leave it to me."
+
+At last there came a dark night when Tom announced in a whisper that he
+had used the last of the sal ammoniac.
+
+"The wires are all white," he said, "and you can scrape into them with
+your finger-nails. It's good and dark to-night. If you want to back out
+you can. I won't be sore about it. Only tell me again about the road to
+Dundgardt."
+
+"Didn't I tell you I was with you strong as mustarrd? I don't want to
+back out."
+
+A while after dark Tom went down to the bushes. It was understood that
+Archer should follow him, timing his coming according to the sentry's
+rounds. Meanwhile Tom, not without some misgivings, bent the thick wire
+in one of the weakened spots and it broke. He paused and listened. Then
+he broke another strand, trembling lest even the breaking might cause a
+slight sound. The life had been eaten out of the wires and they parted
+easily.
+
+By the time Archer arrived he had opened a way through the thick
+entanglement large enough to crawl through. His nerves were on edge as
+he wriggled far enough through to peer about in the dark outside.
+
+"Anyway, your head has escaped," said Archer.
+
+"Shh," whispered Tom.
+
+Far down the side of the long fence he could see a little glint bobbing
+in the darkness.
+
+"Shh," he whispered. "I don't know which way he's going. Keep your feet
+still."
+
+For a few seconds more he waited, his heart in his mouth and every nerve
+tense.
+
+The tiny bobbing glint disappeared.
+
+"Is he there?" Archer whispered.
+
+"Shh! No, he's gone around the end."
+
+"He won't go all the way round; he'll turn back when he gets to the
+gate. Go on, make a break----"
+
+"Shh!" said Tom, straining his eyes in all directions.
+
+For one moment of awful suspense he waited, his thumping heart almost
+choking him. Then he moved silently out into the night, and paused
+again, holding a deterring hand up to keep his companion back until he
+knew the way was clear.
+
+Then he moved his hand.
+
+"Come on," he whispered, his whole frame trembling with suspense. "Let's
+get away from the fence. Don't speak."
+
+There was something of the old stalking and trailing stealth about his
+movements now as he hurried across the field adjacent to the camp.
+"Follow me," he whispered, "and do just what I do. What's that you've
+got in your hand?"
+
+"Nothin'. Where you goin'? The road ain't over there."
+
+"Shhh!"
+
+Silently Tom stole across the field.
+
+"You're goin' out of your way," whispered Archer again.
+
+"I don't want the road, I only want to know where it is," Tom answered;
+"I know what I'm doing."
+
+He had never dreamed that his tracking and trailing lore would one day
+serve him in far-off Germany and help him in so desperate a flight.
+Never before had he such need of all his wit--and such an incentive.
+
+Archer followed silently. Presently Tom paused and listened.
+
+"Anybody comin'?"
+
+"No, I was listenin' for--it's down there."
+
+He turned suddenly and grabbing Archer around the waist, lifted him off
+his feet and ran swiftly down a little slope and into the brook which in
+its meanderings crossed an end of the prison grounds. Then he let Archer
+down.
+
+"They'll never track us here," he panted, and felt for his precious
+button to make sure that Archer's body had not pulled it off. "They'll
+think only one came this way, maybe, and they won't know which way to
+go--Shh!"
+
+Archer held his breath. There was no sound except that of the water
+rippling at their feet.
+
+"Is that upstream?" Tom asked. "It ought to be shallow all the way. Keep
+in the water."
+
+"Step on that shore and you're in Alsace," said Archer.
+
+"Don't step on it," said Tom. "Shores are tell-tales. Which is the
+hill?"
+
+"That one with the windmill on it."
+
+"That black thing?"
+
+"The road runs around that," said Archer, "the other side."
+
+"We'll follow the road," said Tom, "but we'll keep in the brook till we
+get about a couple of hundred feet from the road. Come on."
+
+"You heading for Dundgardt?" Archer whispered.
+
+"Don't talk so loud. Yes--I got to find some people there named
+Leture--I can't pronounce it just right. That's nothin' but a tree----"
+
+"I thought it was a man," said Archer.
+
+"We ought to be there in an hour," and again Tom felt for his precious
+button. "If they'll keep us till to-morrow night we can get a good start
+for the Swiss border; I--I got some--some good ideas."
+
+"For traveling?"
+
+"Yes--at night. They'll do--anything after I tell 'em about Frenchy.
+Quiet. Bend your toes over the pebbles like I do."
+
+                 *       *       *       *       *
+
+But did they ever reach Dundgardt--once Leteur? Did they make their way
+through fair Alsace, under the shadow of the Blue Alsatian Mountains, to
+the Swiss border? Did Tom's "good ideas" pan out? Was the scout of the
+Acorn and the Indian head, to triumph still in the solitude of the Black
+Forest, even as he had triumphed in the rugged Catskills roundabout his
+beloved Temple Camp?
+
+Was he indeed permitted to carry out his determination to fight for two?
+
+Ah, that is another story.
+
+But one little hint may be given now, which perhaps throws some light
+upon his future history. Some months after this momentous night Mrs.
+Silas Archer, whose husband had a farm with a big apple orchard in the
+vicinity of Temple Camp, received a small box containing a little piece
+of junk and a letter in a sprawling hand. And this is what the letter
+said:
+
+     Dear Old Mudgie:
+
+     "Wish I was home to get in the fall russets. They don't have any
+     decent apples over here at all. Stand this piece of wire on the
+     whatnot in the sitting room and show it to the minister when he
+     comes. It's part of a German barbed wire fence. I kept it for a
+     souvenir when I escaped from Slops prison. You won't find that name
+     on the map, but nobody can pronounce the real name. You don't say
+     it--you have to sneeze it. I had a bully time in the prison camp
+     and met a feller that used to go to Temple Camp. We escaped
+     together.
+
+     "Send your letters to the War Department for we're with Pershing's
+     boys now and they'll be forwarded. Can't tell you much on account
+     of the censor. But don't worry, I'll be home for next Christmas.
+     Give my love to dad. And don't use all the sour apples when you're
+     making cider.
+
+     "Down with the Kaiser! Lots of love.
+                                                            "ARCHIE."
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+THIS ISN'T ALL!
+
+Would you like to know what became of the good friends you have made in
+this book?
+
+Would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures and
+experiences, or other books quite as entertaining by the same author?
+
+On the _reverse side_ of the wrapper which comes with this book, you
+will find a wonderful list of stories which you can buy at the same
+store where you got this book.
+
+_Don't throw away the Wrapper_
+
+_Use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have. But
+in case you do mislay it, write to the Publishers for a complete
+catalog._
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+THE TOM SLADE BOOKS
+
+By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
+Author of "Roy Blakeley," "Pee-wee Harris," "Westy Martin," Etc.
+
+Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Colors. Every Volume
+Complete in Itself.
+
+"Let your boy grow up with Tom Slade," is a suggestion which thousands
+of parents have followed during the past, with the result that the TOM
+SLADE BOOKS are the most popular boys' books published today. They take
+Tom Slade through a series of typical boy adventures through his
+tenderfoot days as a scout, through his gallant days as an American
+doughboy in France, back to his old patrol and the old camp ground at
+Black Lake, and so on.
+
+TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT
+TOM SLADE AT TEMPLE CAMP
+TOM SLADE ON THE RIVER
+TOM SLADE WITH THE COLORS
+TOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT
+TOM SLADE WITH THE BOYS OVER THERE
+TOM SLADE, MOTORCYCLE DISPATCH BEARER
+TOM SLADE WITH THE FLYING CORPS
+TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE
+TOM SLADE ON MYSTERY TRAIL
+TOM SLADE'S DOUBLE DARE
+TOM SLADE ON OVERLOOK MOUNTAIN
+TOM SLADE PICKS A WINNER
+TOM SLADE AT BEAR MOUNTAIN
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS
+
+By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
+
+Author of "Tom Slade," "Pee-wee Harris," "Westy Martin," Etc.
+
+Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Color. Every Volume Complete
+in Itself.
+
+In the character and adventures of Roy Blakeley are typified the very
+essence of Boy life. He is a real boy, as real as Huck Finn and Tom
+Sawyer. He is the moving spirit of the troop of Scouts of which he is a
+member, and the average boy has to go only a little way in the first
+book before Roy is the best friend he ever had, and he is willing to
+part with his best treasure to get the next book in the series.
+
+ROY BLAKELEY
+ROY BLAKELEY'S ADVENTURES IN CAMP
+ROY BLAKELEY, PATHFINDER
+ROY BLAKELEY'S CAMP ON WHEELS
+ROY BLAKELEY'S SILVER FOX PATROL
+ROY BLAKELEY'S MOTOR CARAVAN
+ROY BLAKELEY, LOST, STRAYED OR STOLEN
+ROY BLAKELEY'S BEE-LINE HIKE
+ROY BLAKELEY AT THE HAUNTED CAMP
+ROY BLAKELEY'S FUNNY BONE HIKE
+ROY BLAKELEY'S TANGLED TRAIL
+ROY BLAKELEY ON THE MOHAWK TRAIL
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+THE PEE-WEE HARRIS BOOKS
+
+By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
+
+Author of "Tom Slade," "Roy Blakeley," "Westy Martin," Etc.
+
+Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Color. Every Volume Complete
+in Itself.
+
+All readers of the Tom Slade and the Roy Blakeley books are acquainted
+with Pee-wee Harris. These stories record the true facts concerning his
+size (what there is of it) and his heroism (such as it is), his voice,
+his clothes, his appetite, his friends, his enemies, his victims.
+Together with the thrilling narrative of how he foiled, baffled,
+circumvented and triumphed over everything and everybody (except where
+he failed) and how even when he failed he succeeded. The whole recorded
+in a series of screams and told with neither muffler nor cut-out.
+
+PEE-WEE HARRIS
+PEE-WEE HARRIS ON THE TRAIL
+PEE-WEE HARRIS IN CAMP
+PEE-WEE HARRIS IN LUCK
+PEE-WEE HARRIS ADRIFT
+PEE-WEE HARRIS F. O. B. BRIDGEBORO
+PEE-WEE HARRIS FIXER
+PEE-WEE HARRIS: AS GOOD AS HIS WORD
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Tom Slade on a Transport, by Percy Keese Fitzhugh
+
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+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tom Slade on a Transport, by Percy K. Fitzhugh.
+    </title>
+  <style type="text/css">
+    /*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+    <!--
+    p                 {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;}
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+    table             {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;}
+    h2                {text-align: center; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 2em; clear: both;}
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+
+
+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's Tom Slade on a Transport, by Percy Keese Fitzhugh
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Tom Slade on a Transport
+
+Author: Percy Keese Fitzhugh
+
+Illustrator: Thomas Clarity
+
+Release Date: November 30, 2007 [EBook #23663]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='width:350px'>
+<a name='illus-000' id='illus-000'></a>
+<img src='images/slade-fpc.jpg' alt='TOM HOBBLED ALONG, HOLDING THE RAIL.' title='' width='350' /><br />
+<p style='text-align:center' class='caption'>TOM HOBBLED ALONG, HOLDING THE RAIL.</p>
+<p style='text-align:right' class='caption'>Frontispiece&mdash;(Page 131)</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='dashed' />
+
+<table style='margin: auto; border: black 1px solid; width:25em' summary=''><tr><td>
+<p style=' font-size:2.4em; margin-top:1em;'>TOM SLADE</p>
+<p style=' font-size:2.2em; margin-bottom:1em;'>ON A TRANSPORT</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:2em;'>BY PERCY K. FITZHUGH</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em; font-variant:small-caps;'>Author of</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT, TOM SLADE</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>AT TEMPLE CAMP, TOM SLADE</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>ON THE RIVER, TOM SLADE</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:3em;'>WITH THE COLORS</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.0em;'>ILLUSTRATED BY</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:4em;'>THOMAS CLARITY</p>
+<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>PUBLISHED WITH THE APPROVAL OF</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.0em; margin-bottom:4em;'>THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP</p>
+<p style=' font-size:1.0em; margin-bottom:1em;'>PUBLISHERS :: NEW YORK</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p class='center' style='font-size:small'>Made in the United States of America</p>
+
+<hr class='dashed' />
+
+<p class='center' style='margin: 2em auto 2em auto; font-size:smaller;'>Copyright, 1918, by GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP</p>
+
+<hr class='dashed' />
+
+<h2 class='toc'><a name='Contents' id='Contents'></a>CONTENTS</h2>
+<table border='0' width='650' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='font-variant:small-caps; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto'>
+<col style='width:10%;' />
+<col style='width:2%;'  />
+<col style='width:78%;' />
+<col style='width:10%;' />
+<tr>
+<td align='right'><span style='font-size:x-small'>CHAPTER</span></td>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+<td align='right'><span style='font-size:x-small'>PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>I</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>Tom Meets One Friend and is Reminded of Another</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#TOM_MEETS_ONE_FRIEND_AND_IS_REMINDED_OF_ANOTHER_141'>1</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>II</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Does a Good Turn and Makes a Discovery</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_DOES_A_GOOD_TURN_AND_MAKES_A_DISCOVERY_320'>9</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>III</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Scents Danger and Receives a Letter</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_SCENTS_DANGER_AND_RECEIVES_A_LETTER_558'>19</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>IV</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Gets a Job and Meets &#8220;Frenchy&#8221;</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_GETS_A_JOB_AND_MEETS_FRENCHY_772'>29</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>V</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Makes a Discovery and Receives a Shock</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_MAKES_A_DISCOVERY_AND_RECEIVES_A_SHOCK_1044'>39</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>VI</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Hears About Alsace and Receives a Present</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_HEARS_ABOUT_ALSACE_AND_RECEIVES_A_PRESENT_1189'>46</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>VII</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Becomes Very Proud, and Also Very Much Frightened</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_BECOMES_VERY_PROUD_AND_ALSO_VERY_MUCH_FRIGHTENED_1413'>55</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>VIII</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Hears Some News and is Confidential with Frenchy</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_HEARS_SOME_NEWS_AND_IS_CONFIDENTIAL_WITH_FRENCHY_1555'>61</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>IX</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Sees a Strange Light and Goes on Tiptoe</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_SEES_A_STRANGE_LIGHT_AND_GOES_ON_TIPTOE_1728'>68</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>X</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Goes Below and Gropes in the Dark</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_GOES_BELOW_AND_GROPES_IN_THE_DARK_1931'>77</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XI</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Makes a Discovery and is Greatly Agitated</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_MAKES_A_DISCOVERY_AND_IS_GREATLY_AGITATED_2066'>83</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XII</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He is Frightened and Very Thoughtful</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_IS_FRIGHTENED_AND_VERY_THOUGHTFUL_2140'>86</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XIII</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Ponders and Decides Between Two Near Relations</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_PONDERS_AND_DECIDES_BETWEEN_TWO_NEAR_RELATIONS_2285'>92</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XIV</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He is Arrested and Put in the Guardhouse</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_IS_ARRESTED_AND_PUT_IN_THE_GUARDHOUSE_2387'>97</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XV</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Does Most of the Talking and Takes All the Blame</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_DOES_MOST_OF_THE_TALKING_AND_TAKES_ALL_THE_BLAME_2534'>103</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XVI</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Sees a Little and Hears Much</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_SEES_A_LITTLE_AND_HEARS_MUCH_2629'>107</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XVII</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Awaits the Worst and Receives a Surprise</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_AWAITS_THE_WORST_AND_RECEIVES_A_SURPRISE_2788'>115</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XVIII</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Talks with Mr. Conne and Sees the Boys Start For the Front</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_TALKS_WITH_MR_CONNE_AND_SEES_THE_BOYS_START_FOR_THE_FRONT_2916'>121</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XIX</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He is Cast Away and is in Great Peril</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_IS_CAST_AWAY_AND_IS_IN_GREAT_PERIL_3102'>129</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XX</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He is Taken Aboard the &#8220;Tin Fish&#8221; and Questioned</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_IS_TAKEN_ABOARD_THE_TIN_FISH_AND_QUESTIONED_3227'>135</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XXI</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He is Made a Prisoner and Makes a New Friend</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_IS_MADE_A_PRISONER_AND_MAKES_A_NEW_FRIEND_3441'>144</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XXII</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Learns Where He is Going and Finds a Ray of Hope</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_LEARNS_WHERE_HE_IS_GOING_AND_FINDS_A_RAY_OF_HOPE_3622'>151</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XXIII</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Makes a High Resolve and Loses a Favorite Word</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_MAKES_A_HIGH_RESOLVE_AND_LOSES_A_FAVORITE_WORD_3688'>154</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XXIV</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Goes to the Civilian Camp and Doesn&#8217;t Like it</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_GOES_TO_THE_CIVILIAN_CAMP_AND_DOESNT_LIKE_IT_3824'>161</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XXV</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Visits the Old Pump and Receives a Shock</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_VISITS_THE_OLD_PUMP_AND_RECEIVES_A_SHOCK_3996'>169</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XXVI</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He has an Idea Which Suggests Another</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_HAS_AN_IDEA_WHICH_SUGGESTS_ANOTHER_4162'>176</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XXVII</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Plans a Desperate Game and Does a Good Job</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_PLANS_A_DESPERATE_GAME_AND_DOES_A_GOOD_JOB_4390'>185</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class='tdright'>XXVIII</td>
+  <td></td>
+  <td class='tdleft'>He Disappears&mdash;For the Time Being</td>
+  <td class='tdright'><a href='#HE_DISAPPEARSmdashFOR_THE_TIME_BEING_4548'>192</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class='dashed' />
+
+<p class='center' style='margin-top:2em;'>
+<span style='font-size:2em;'>TOM SLADE<br />ON A TRANSPORT</span></p>
+
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_1' id='pg_1'>1</a></span>
+<a name='TOM_MEETS_ONE_FRIEND_AND_IS_REMINDED_OF_ANOTHER_141' id='TOM_MEETS_ONE_FRIEND_AND_IS_REMINDED_OF_ANOTHER_141'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+<h3>TOM MEETS ONE FRIEND AND IS REMINDED OF ANOTHER</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>As Tom Slade went through Terrace Avenue on his way to the Temple Camp
+office, where he was employed, he paused beside a truck backed up
+against the curb in front of a certain vacant store. Upon it was a big
+table and wrestling with the table was Pete Connigan, the truckman&mdash;the
+very same Pete Connigan at whom Tom used to throw rocks and whom he had
+called a &#8220;mick.&#8221; It reminded him of old times to see Pete.</p>
+
+<p>The vacant store, too, aroused dubious memories, for there he had stolen
+many an apple in the days when Adolf Schmitt had his &#8220;cash grocery&#8221; on
+the premises, and used to stand in the doorway with his white apron on,
+shaking his fist as Tom scurried down the street and calling, &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+<i>strafe</i> you, you young loafer!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_2' id='pg_2'>2</a></span>Tom had wondered what <i>strafing</i> was, until long afterward he heard
+that poor Belgium was being <i>strafed</i>; and then he knew.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wal, ef &#8217;tain&#8217;t Tommy Slade!&#8221; said Pete, with a cordial grin of
+surprise. &#8220;I ain&#8217;t seen ye in two year! Ye&#8217;ve growed ter be a big,
+strappin&#8217; lad, ain&#8217;t ye?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Pete,&#8221; said Tom, shaking the Irishman&#8217;s brawny hand. &#8220;Glad to
+see you. I&#8217;ve been away working on a ship for quite a while. That&#8217;s one
+reason you haven&#8217;t seen me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Be gorry, the town&#8217;s gittin&#8217; big, an&#8217; that&#8217;s another reason. The last
+time I seen ye, ye wuz wid that Sweet Cap&#8217;ral lad, an&#8217; I knocked yer two
+sassy heads tergither for yez. Remember that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; laughed Tom, &#8220;and then I started running down the street and
+hollered, &#8216;Throw a brick, you Irish mick!&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye did,&#8221; vociferated Pete, &#8220;an&#8217; wid me afther ye.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You didn&#8217;t catch me, though,&#8221; laughed Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wal, I got ye now,&#8221; said Pete, grabbing him good-naturedly by the
+collar. And they sat down on the back of the truck to talk for a few
+moments.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_3' id='pg_3'>3</a></span>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad I came this way,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;I usually go down Main Street,
+but I&#8217;ve been away from Bridgeboro so long, I thought I&#8217;d kinder stroll
+through this way to see how the town looked. I&#8217;m not in any particular
+hurry,&#8221; he added. &#8220;I don&#8217;t have to get to work till nine. I was going to
+walk around through Terrace Court.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ben away on a ship, hev ye?&#8221; questioned Pete, and Tom told him the
+whole story of how he had given up the career of a hoodlum to join the
+Scouts, of the founding of Temple Camp by Mr. John Temple, of the
+summers spent there, of how he had later gotten a job on a steamer
+carrying supplies to the allies; how he had helped to apprehend a spy,
+how the ship had been torpedoed, how he had been rescued after two days
+spent in an open boat, of his roundabout journey back to Bridgeboro, and
+the taking up again of his prosaic duties in the local office of Temple
+Camp.</p>
+
+<p>The truckman, his case-spike hanging from his neck, listened with
+generous interest to Tom&#8217;s simple, unboastful account of all that had
+happened to him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There were two people on that ship I got to <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_4' id='pg_4'>4</a></span>be special friends with,&#8221;
+he concluded. &#8220;One was a Secret Service man named Conne; he promised to
+help me get a job in some kind of war service till I&#8217;m old enough to
+enlist next spring. The other was a feller about my own age named
+Archer. He was a steward&#8217;s boy. I guess they both got drowned, likely.
+Most all the boats got upset while they were launching them. I hope that
+German spy got drowned.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wuz he a German citizen?&#8221; Pete asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure, he was! You don&#8217;t suppose an American citizen would be a spy for
+Germany, do you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Be gorry, thar&#8217;s a lot uv German Amiricans, &#8217;n&#8217; I wouldn&#8217; trust &#8217;em,&#8221;
+said Pete.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, there&#8217;s some Irish people here that hate England, so they&#8217;re
+against the United States too,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye call me a thraiter, do ye!&#8221; roared Pete.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t call you anything,&#8221; Tom said, laughing and dodging the
+Irishman&#8217;s uplifted hand; &#8220;but I say a person is American or else he
+isn&#8217;t. It don&#8217;t make any difference where he was born. If he&#8217;s an
+American citizen and he helps Germany, then he&#8217;s worse than a spy&mdash;he&#8217;s
+a traitor and he ought to get shot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Be gorry, you said sumthin&#8217;!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_5' id='pg_5'>5</a></span>&#8220;He&#8217;s worse than anything else in the world,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;He&#8217;s worse
+than&mdash;than a murderer!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pete slapped him on the shoulder. &#8220;Bully fer you!&#8221; said he. &#8220;Fwhativer
+became uv yer fayther, lad?&#8221; he questioned after a moment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He died,&#8221; said Tom simply. &#8220;It was after we got put out of Barrel Alley
+and after I got to be a scout. Mr. Ellsworth said maybe it was
+better&mdash;sort of&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Pete nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; yer bruther?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, he went away long before that&mdash;even before my mother died. He went
+to work on a ranch out West somewhere&mdash;Arizona, I think.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;N&#8217; ye niver heard anny more uv him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No&mdash;I wrote him a letter when my mother died, but I never got any
+answer. Maybe I sent it to the wrong place. Did you ever hear of a place
+called O&#8217;Brien&#8217;s Junction out there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a good name, I&#8217;ll say that,&#8221; said Pete.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Everybody used to say he&#8217;d make money some day. Maybe he&#8217;s rich now,
+hey?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I remimber all uv yez when yez used fer ter worrk fer Schmitt, here,&#8221;
+said Pete.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It reminded me of that when I came along.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_6' id='pg_6'>6</a></span>&#8220;Yer fayther, he used fer ter drive th&#8217; wagon fer &#8217;im. Big Bill &#8217;n&#8217;
+Little Bill, we used fer ter call him &#8217;n&#8217; yer bruther. Yer fayther wuzn&#8217;
+fond uv worrk, I guess.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He used to get cramps,&#8221; said Tom simply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He used fer ter lick yez, I&#8217;m thinkin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maybe we deserved to get licked,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;Anyway <i>I</i> did.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yer right, ye did,&#8221; agreed Pete.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My brother was better than I was. It made me mad when I saw him get
+licked. I could feel it way down in my fingers, kind of&mdash;the madness.
+That&#8217;s why he went to live at Schmitt&#8217;s after my father got so he
+couldn&#8217;t work much. They always had lots to eat at Schmitt&#8217;s. I didn&#8217;t
+ever work there myself,&#8221; he added with his customary blunt honesty,
+&#8220;because I was a hoodlum.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wal, I see ye&#8217;ve growed up ter be a foine lad, jist the same,&#8221; said
+Pete consolingly, &#8220;&#8217;n&#8217; mebbe the lad as kin feel the tingles ter see&#8217;s
+bruther git licked unfair is as good as that same bruther, whativer!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom said nothing, but gazed up at the windows of the apartment above the
+store where the Schmitts had lived. How he had once envied <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_7' id='pg_7'>7</a></span>Bill his
+place in that home of good cheer and abundance! He remembered the
+sauerkraut and the sausages which Bill had told him of, and he had not
+believed Bill&#8217;s extravagant declaration that &#8220;at Schmitt&#8217;s you could
+have all you want to eat.&#8221; To poor Tom, living with his wretched father
+in the two-room tenement in Barrel Alley, with nothing to eat at all,
+these accounts of the Schmitt household had seemed like a tale from the
+Arabian Nights. Once his father had sent him there to get fifty cents
+from thrifty and industrious Bill, and Tom remembered the shiny oilcloth
+on the kitchen floor, the snowy white fluted paper on the shelves, the
+stiff, spotless apron on the buxom form of Mrs. Schmitt, whom Mr.
+Schmitt had called &#8220;Mooder.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom Slade, of Barrel Alley, had revenged himself on Bill and all the
+rest of this by stealing apples from the front of the store and calling,
+&#8220;Dirty Dutchman&#8221;&mdash;a singularly inappropriate epithet&mdash;at Mr. Schmitt.
+But he realized now that Mr. Schmitt had been a kind and hospitable man,
+a much better husband and father than poor Bill Slade, senior, had ever
+been, and an extremely good friend to lucky Bill, junior, who had lived
+so near to Heaven, in that immaculate home, as to <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_8' id='pg_8'>8</a></span>have all the
+sauerkraut and sausage and potato salad and rye bread and Swiss cheese
+and coffee cake that he could possibly manage&mdash;and more besides.</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_9' id='pg_9'>9</a></span>
+<a name='HE_DOES_A_GOOD_TURN_AND_MAKES_A_DISCOVERY_320' id='HE_DOES_A_GOOD_TURN_AND_MAKES_A_DISCOVERY_320'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+<h3>HE DOES A GOOD TURN AND MAKES A DISCOVERY</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;What became of the Schmitts?&#8221; Tom asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s aisy ter see ye&#8217;ve ben away from here,&#8221; said Pete.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve only been back five days,&#8221; Tom explained.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wal, if ye&#8217;d been here two weeks ago, ye&#8217;d know more&#8217;n ye know now
+about it. Ye&#8217;re a jack ashore, that&#8217;s what ye are. Ye&#8217;ve got ter be
+spruced up on the news. Did ye know the school house burned down?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I knew that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wal&mdash;about this Schmitt, here; thar wuz two detectives come out from
+Noo Yorrk&mdash;from the Fideral phad&#8217;ye call it. They wuz making inquiries
+about Schmitt. Fer th&#8217; wan thing he wuz an aly-<i>an</i>, &#8217;n&#8217; they hed some
+raysons to think he wuz mixed up in plots. They wuz mighty close-mouthed
+about it, so I heerd, &#8217;n&#8217; they asked more&#8217;n they told. Nivir within half
+a mile uv Schmitt did they go, but by gorry, he gits wind uv <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_10' id='pg_10'>10</a></span>it &#8217;n&#8217;
+th&#8217; nixt mornin&#8217; not so much as a sign uv him wuz thar left.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Cleared out, loike that,&#8221; said Pete, clapping his hands and spreading
+his arms by way of illustrating how Adolf Schmitt had vanished in air.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thar wuz th&#8217; grocery full uv stuff and all, &#8217;n&#8217; the furnitoor upstairs,
+but Adolf &#8217;n&#8217; the old wooman &#8217;n&#8217; th&#8217; kids &#8217;n&#8217; sich duds ez they cud cram
+inter their bags wuz gone&mdash;bury drawers lift wide open, ez if they&#8217;d
+went in a ghreat hurry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom had listened in great surprise. &#8220;What&mdash;do&mdash;you&mdash;know&mdash;about&mdash;that?&#8221;
+he gasped when Pete at last paused.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s iviry blessed worrd that I know. I&#8217;m thinkin&#8217; he wint ter Germany,
+mebbe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How could he get there?&#8221; Tom asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wouldn&#8217;t thim Dutch skippers in Noo Yorrk Harrbor help him out?&#8221; Pete
+shouted. &#8220;Gerrmany, Holland&mdash;&#8217;tis all th&#8217; same. Thar&#8217;s ways uv gittin&#8217;
+thar, you kin thrust the Germans. They&#8217;re comin&#8217; and goin&#8217; back all the
+toime.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you suppose they suspected him of?&#8221; Tom asked, his astonishment
+still possessing him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nivir a worrd wud they say, but ye kin bet yer Uncle Sammy&#8217;s not spyin&#8217;
+around afther people <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_11' id='pg_11'>11</a></span>fer nuthin&#8217;. They searched the store aftherworrds,
+but nary a thing cud they find.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So that was the explanation of the now vacant store which had been so
+much a part of the life of Tom Slade and his poor, shiftless family.
+That was the end, so far as Bridgeboro was concerned, of the jovial,
+good-hearted grocer, and Fritzie and little Emmy and &#8220;Mooder&#8221; in her
+stiff, spotless white apron. It seemed almost unbelievable.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A Hun is a Hun,&#8221; said Pete, &#8220;&#8217;n&#8217; that&#8217;s all thar is to&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What did they do with all the stuff?&#8221; Tom asked.</p>
+
+<p>Pete shrugged his shoulders. &#8220;Mister Temple, he owns th&#8217; buildin&#8217; an&#8217; he
+hed it cleared out, &#8217;n&#8217; now he leaves them Red Cross ladies use it fer
+ter make bandages &#8217;n&#8217; phwat all, &#8217;n&#8217; collect money fer their campaign.
+He&#8217;s a ghrand man, Mister Temple. Would ye gimme a lift wid this here
+table, now, while ye&#8217;re here, Tommy?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As they carried the table across the sidewalk, a group of ladies came
+down the block and whom should Tom see among them but Mrs. Temple and
+her daughter Mary. As he looked at Mary (whom he used to tease and call
+&#8220;stuck up&#8221;) he realized that he was not the only person in Bridgeboro
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_12' id='pg_12'>12</a></span>who had been growing up, for she was quite a young lady, and very
+pretty besides.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Thomas, how <i>do</i> you do!&#8221; said Mrs. Temple. &#8220;I heard you were
+back&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you never came to see us,&#8221; interrupted Mary.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I only got back Tuesday,&#8221; said Tom, a little flustered.</p>
+
+<p>He told them briefly of his trip and when the little chat was over Pete
+Connigan had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wonder if you wouldn&#8217;t be willing to move one or two things for us?&#8221;
+Mrs. Temple asked. &#8220;Have you time? I meant to ask the truckman, but&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He may be too old to be a scout any more, but he&#8217;s not too old to do a
+good turn,&#8221; teased Mary.</p>
+
+<p>They entered the store where the marks of the departed store fixtures
+were visible along the walls and Schmitt&#8217;s old counter stood against one
+side. Piles of Red Cross literature now lay upon it. Upon a rough
+makeshift table were boxes full of yarn (destined to keep many a long
+needle busy) and the place was full of the signs of its temporary
+occupancy.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_13' id='pg_13'>13</a></span>&#8220;If I hadn&#8217;t joined the Red Cross already, I&#8217;d join now,&#8221; said Tom,
+apologetically, displaying his button. &#8220;A girl in our office got me to
+join.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wasn&#8217;t she mean,&#8221; said Mary. &#8220;I&#8217;m going to make you work anyhow, just
+out of spite.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Other women now arrived, armed with no end of what Tom called &#8220;first aid
+stuff,&#8221; and with bundles of long knitting needles, silent weapons for
+the great drive.</p>
+
+<p>Tom was glad enough to retreat before this advancing host and carry
+several large boxes into the cellar. Then he hauled the old grocery
+counter around so that the women working at it could be seen from the
+street. The table, too, he pulled this way and that, to suit the
+changing fancy of the ladies in authority.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, I guess that&#8217;s about right,&#8221; said Mrs. Temple, eying it
+critically; &#8220;now, there&#8217;s just one thing more&mdash;if you&#8217;ve time. There&#8217;s a
+thing down in the cellar with little compartments, sort of&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; said Tom; &#8220;the old spice cabinet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wonder if we could bring it up together,&#8221; said Mrs. Temple.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll get it,&#8221; Tom said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You couldn&#8217;t do it alone,&#8221; said Mary. &#8220;I&#8217;ll help.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_14' id='pg_14'>14</a></span>&#8220;I can do it better without anybody getting in the way,&#8221; said Tom with
+characteristic bluntness, and Mary and her mother were completely
+squelched.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gracious, now he has grown,&#8221; said Mrs. Temple, as Tom disappeared
+downstairs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;His eyes used to be gray; they&#8217;ve changed,&#8221; said Mary.</p>
+
+<p>As if that had anything to do with moving tables and spice cabinets!</p>
+
+<p>The spice cabinet stood against the brick chimney and was covered with
+thick dust. Behind it was a disused stove-pipe hole stuffed with rags,
+which Tom pulled out to brush the dust off the cabinet before lifting
+it.</p>
+
+<p>He had pushed it hardly two feet in the direction of the stairs when his
+coat caught on a nail and he struck a match to see if it had torn. The
+damage was slight, and, with his customary attention to details, he saw
+that the nail was one of several which had fastened a narrow strip of
+molding around the cabinet. About two feet of this molding had been torn
+away, leaving the nails protruding from the cabinet and Tom noticed not
+only that the unvarnished strip which the molding had covered was clean
+and white, but <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_15' id='pg_15'>15</a></span>that the exposed parts of the nails were still shiny.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huh,&#8221; he thought, &#8220;whoever pulled that off must have been in a great
+hurry not to hammer the nails in or even pull them out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As he twisted the nails out, one by one, it occurred to him to wonder
+why the heavy, clinging coat of damp dust which covered the rest of the
+cabinet was absent from this white unsoiled strip and shiny nails. The
+cabinet, he thought, must have been in the cellar for some time, whereas
+the molding must have been wrenched from it very recently, for it does
+not take long for a nail to become rusty in a damp cellar.</p>
+
+<p>He struck another match and looked about near the chimney, intending, if
+the strip of molding were there, to take it upstairs and nail it on
+where it belonged, for one of the good things which the scout life had
+taught Tom was that broken furniture and crooked nails sticking out
+spell carelessness and slovenliness.</p>
+
+<p>But the strip was not to be found. A less observant boy would not have
+given two thoughts to the matter, but in his hasty thinking Tom reached
+this conclusion, that some one had very lately pulled this strip of
+molding off of the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_16' id='pg_16'>16</a></span>cabinet and had used it for a purpose, since it was
+nowhere to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>With Pete&#8217;s tale fresh in his mind, he struck match after match and
+peered about the cellar. Against the opposite wall he noticed a stick
+with curved tongs on one end of it, manipulated by a thin metal bar
+running to the other end. It was one of those handy implements used to
+lift cans down from high shelves. It stood among other articles, a rake,
+an old broom, but the deft little mechanical hand on the end of it was
+bright and shiny, so this, too, had not been long in the damp cellar.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Tom paused and thought. It never occurred to him that
+momentous consequences might hang upon his thinking. He was simply
+curious and rather puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>He picked up the can lifter and stood looking at it. Then with a sudden
+thought he went back to the chimney, struck a match and, thrusting his
+head into the sooty hole, looked up. Four or five feet above, well out
+of arm&#8217;s reach, something thin ran across from one side to the other of
+the spacious chimney. The can lifter was too long to be gotten wholly
+into the chimney, but Tom poked the end of it through the hole and
+upward <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_17' id='pg_17'>17</a></span>until its angle brought it against the chimney wall.</p>
+
+<p>It was right there that the crosspiece was wedged. In other words, it
+had been pushed as high, a little on this side, a little on that, as
+this handy implement would reach, and perhaps kept from falling in the
+process by the gripping tongs.</p>
+
+<p>Not another inch could Tom reach with this stick. By hammering upward
+against the end of it, however, he was able to jam it up a trifle,
+thanks to its capacity for bending. Thus he dislodged the crosspiece and
+as it tumbled down he saw that it was the strip of molding from the
+cabinet.</p>
+
+<p>But along with it there fell something else which interested him far
+more. This was a packet which had evidently been held against the side
+of the chimney by the stick. There were six bulging envelopes held
+together by a rubber band. The dampness of the chimney had not affected
+the live rubber and it still bore its powdery white freshness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wonder if they looked there,&#8221; Tom thought. &#8220;Maybe they just reached
+around&mdash;kind of. I should think they&#8217;d have noticed those shiny nails,
+though.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He put the packet safely in his pocket and, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_18' id='pg_18'>18</a></span>hauling the cabinet up on
+his back staggered up the stairs with it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What in the world took you so long?&#8221; said Mary Temple. &#8220;Oh, look at
+your face!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t look at it,&#8221; said matter-of-fact Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s too funny! You&#8217;ve got soot all over it. Come over here and I&#8217;ll
+wash it off.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was a curious thing about Tom Slade and a matter of much amusement to
+his friends, that however brave or noble or heroic his acts might be, he
+was pretty sure to get his necktie halfway around his neck and a dirty
+face into the bargain.</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_19' id='pg_19'>19</a></span>
+<a name='HE_SCENTS_DANGER_AND_RECEIVES_A_LETTER_558' id='HE_SCENTS_DANGER_AND_RECEIVES_A_LETTER_558'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+<h3>HE SCENTS DANGER AND RECEIVES A LETTER</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Tom was greatly excited by his discovery. As he hurried to the office he
+opened the envelopes and what he found was not of a nature to modify his
+excitement. Here was German propaganda work with a vengeance. He felt
+that he had plunged into the very heart of the Teuton spy system.
+Evidently the recipient of these documents had considered them too
+precious to destroy and too dangerous to carry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He might still think of a way to get them, maybe,&#8221; thought Tom.</p>
+
+<p>There was a paper containing a list of all the American cantonments and
+opposite each camp several names of individuals. Tom thought these might
+be spies in Uncle Sam&#8217;s uniform. There was some correspondence about
+smuggling dental rubber out of the United States to make gas masks in
+Germany. There were requests for money. <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_20' id='pg_20'>20</a></span>There was one letter giving
+information, in considerable detail, about aeroplane manufacture.</p>
+
+<p>Another letter in the same handwriting interested Tom particularly,
+because of his interest in gas engines&mdash;the result of his many tussles
+with the obstreperous motor of the troop&#8217;s cabin launch, <i>Good Turn</i>.
+Skimming hastily over some matter about the receipt of money through
+some intermediary, his interest was riveted by the following:</p>
+
+<div class='blockquot'>
+
+<p>&#8220;... I told you about having plans of high pressure motor. That&#8217;s
+for battle planes at high altitudes. I&#8217;ve got the drawings of the
+other now&mdash;the low pressure one I told you about at S&mdash;&mdash;&#8217;s. That&#8217;s
+for seaplanes, submarine spotting, and all that. Develops 400 H.P.
+They&#8217;re not putting those in the planes that are going over now,
+but all planes going over next year will have them. B&mdash;&mdash; told me
+what you said about me going across, but that&#8217;s the only reason I
+suggested it&mdash;because the information won&#8217;t be of any particular
+use to them after they bring down a plane. They&#8217;ll see the whole
+thing before their eyes then. But suit yourself. There&#8217;s a lot of
+new wrinkles on this motor. I&#8217;ll tell you that, but there&#8217;s no use<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_21' id='pg_21'>21</a></span>
+telling you about it when you don&#8217;t know a gas engine from a
+meat-chopper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure, I could tend to the other matter too&mdash;it&#8217;s the same idea as
+a periscope. That&#8217;s a cinch. I knew a chap worked on the
+<i>Christopher Colon</i>. She used to run to Central America. Maybe I
+could swing it that way. Anyway, I&#8217;ll see you.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you have to leave in a hurry, leave money and any directions at
+S&mdash;&mdash;&#8217;s.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to be laid off here, anyway, on account of my eardrums.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hope B&mdash;&mdash; will give you this all right. Guess that&#8217;s all now.&#8221; </p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Tom read this twice and out of its scrappiness and incompleteness he
+gathered this much! that somebody who was about to be dismissed from an
+aeroplane factory for the very usual reason that he could not stand the
+terrific noise, had succeeded in either making or procuring plans of
+Uncle Sam&#8217;s new aeroplane engine, the Liberty Motor.</p>
+
+<p>He understood the letter to mean that it was very important that these
+drawings reach Germany before the motors were in service, since then it
+would be too late for the Germans to avail themselves of &#8220;Yankee
+ingenuity,&#8221; and also <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_22' id='pg_22'>22</a></span>since they would in all probability succeed in
+capturing one of the planes.</p>
+
+<p>He gathered further that the sender of the letter was prepared to go
+himself with these plans, working his way on an American ship, and to do
+something else (doubtless of a diabolical character) on the way. The
+phrase &#8220;same idea as a periscope&#8221; puzzled him. It appeared, also, that
+the sender of the letter, whoever he was and wherever he was (for no
+place or date or signature was indicated and the envelopes were not the
+original ones) had not sent his communications direct to this alien
+grocer, but to someone else who had delivered them to Schmitt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t anything for me to be mixed up in, anyway,&#8221; Tom thought. He
+was almost afraid to carry papers of such sinister purport with him and
+he quickened his steps in order that he might turn them over to Mr.
+Burton, the manager of Temple Camp office.</p>
+
+<p>But when he reached the office he did not carry out this intention, for
+there was waiting for him a letter which upset all his plans and made
+him forget for the time being these sinister papers. It took him back
+with a rush to his experiences on shipboard and he read it with a smile
+on his lips.</p>
+
+<p class='blockquot'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_23' id='pg_23'>23</a></span>
+&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Dear Tommy</span>&mdash;I don&#8217;t know whether this letter will ever reach you,
+for, for all I know, you&#8217;re in Davy Jones&#8217;s locker. Even my memo of
+your address got pretty well soaked in the ocean and all I&#8217;m dead
+sure of is that you live in North America somewhere near a bridge.&#8221; </p>
+
+<p>Tom turned the sheet to look at the signature but he knew already that
+the letter was from his erstwhile friend, Mr. Carleton Conne.</p>
+
+<div class='blockquot'>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll remember that I promised to get you a job working for Uncle
+Sam. That job is yours if you&#8217;re alive to take it. It&#8217;ll bring you
+so near the war, if that&#8217;s what you want, that you couldn&#8217;t stick a
+piece of tissue paper between.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you get this all right and are still keen to work in transport
+service, there won&#8217;t be any difficulty on account of the experience
+you&#8217;ve had.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Drop in to see me Saturday afternoon, room 509, Federal Building,
+New York, if you&#8217;re interested.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Best wishes to you.</p>
+
+<p style='text-align: right'>&#8220;<span class='smcap'>Carleton Conne</span>.&#8221;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>So Mr. Conne was alive and had not forgotten him. Tom wished that the
+letter had told something <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_24' id='pg_24'>24</a></span>about the detective&#8217;s rescue and the fate of
+the spy, but he realized that Secret Service agents could hardly be
+expected to dwell on their adventures to &#8220;ship&#8217;s boy&#8221; acquaintances, and
+was it not enough that Mr. Conne remembered him at all, and his wish to
+serve on an army transport?</p>
+
+<p>He took the letter into the private office to show it to Mr. Burton,
+resolved now that he would say nothing about his discovery in Schmitt&#8217;s
+cellar, for surely Mr. Conne would be the proper one to give the papers
+to.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You remember,&#8221; he began, &#8220;that I said if I ever heard from Mr. Conne
+and he offered me a job, I&#8217;d like to go. And you said it would be all
+right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Burton nodded. &#8220;And the expected&mdash;or the unexpected&mdash;has happened,&#8221;
+he added, smiling, as he handed Mr. Conne&#8217;s letter back to Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;ll be all right, won&#8217;t it?&#8221; Tom asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose it will have to be, Tom,&#8221; Mr. Burton said pleasantly. &#8220;That
+was our understanding, wasn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir&mdash;but I&#8217;m sorry&mdash;kind of.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry, kind of, too; but I suppose there&#8217;s <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_25' id='pg_25'>25</a></span>no help for it. Some
+boys,&#8221; he added, as he toyed with a paperweight, &#8220;seem to be born to
+work in offices, and some to wander over the face of the earth. I would
+be the last to discourage you from entering war service in whatever form
+it might be. But I&#8217;m afraid you&#8217;d go anyway, Tom, war or no war. The
+world isn&#8217;t big enough for some people. They&#8217;re born that way. I&#8217;m
+afraid you&#8217;re one of them. It&#8217;s surprising how unimportant money is in
+traveling if one has the wanderlust. It&#8217;ll be all right,&#8221; he concluded
+with a pleasant but kind of rueful smile. He understood Tom Slade
+thoroughly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s another thing I was thinking about, too,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;Pretty soon
+I&#8217;ll be eighteen and then I want to enlist. If I enlist in this country
+I&#8217;ll have to spend a whole lot of time in camp, and maybe in the end I
+wouldn&#8217;t get sent to the firing line at all. There&#8217;s lots of &#8217;em won&#8217;t
+even get across. If they find you&#8217;ve got good handwriting or maybe some
+little thing like that, they&#8217;ll keep you here driving an army wagon or
+something. If I go on a transport I can give it up at either port. It&#8217;s
+mostly going over that the fellers are kept busy anyway; coming back
+they don&#8217;t need them. I found that out before. They&#8217;ll <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_26' id='pg_26'>26</a></span>give you a
+release there if you want to join the army. So if I keep going back and
+forth till my birthday, then maybe I could hike it through France and
+join Pershing&#8217;s army. I&#8217;d rather be trained over there, &#8217;cause then I&#8217;m
+nearer the front. You don&#8217;t think that&#8217;s sort of cheating the
+government, do you?&#8221; he added.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Burton laughed. &#8220;I don&#8217;t think the government will object to that
+sort of cheating,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I read about a feller that joined in France, so I know you can do it.
+You see, it cuts out a lot of red tape, and I&#8217;d kind of like hiking it
+alone&mdash;ever since I was a scout I&#8217;ve felt that way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Once a scout, always a scout,&#8221; smiled Mr. Burton, using a phrase of
+which he was very fond and which Tom had learned from him; &#8220;and it
+wouldn&#8217;t be Tom Slade if he didn&#8217;t go about things in a way of his own,
+eh, Tom? Well, good luck to you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom went out and in his exuberance he showed Mr. Conne&#8217;s letter to
+Margaret Ellison, who also worked in Temple Camp office.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s splendid,&#8221; she said, &#8220;and as soon as you <i>know</i> you&#8217;re going I&#8217;m
+going to hang a service flag in the window.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_27' id='pg_27'>27</a></span>&#8220;You can&#8217;t hang out a service flag for a feller that&#8217;s working on a
+transport,&#8221; Tom said. &#8220;He isn&#8217;t in regular military service. When I&#8217;m
+enlisted I&#8217;ll let you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must be sure to write.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom promised and was delighted. So great was his elation, indeed, that
+on his way home to his room that evening he went through Terrace Avenue
+again, to see how the Red Cross women were getting on in their new
+quarters.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Temple received him in a regular nurse&#8217;s costume, which made Tom
+almost wish that he were lying wounded on some battle-field. She was
+delighted at his good news, and, &#8220;Oh, we had such a funny man here just
+after you left,&#8221; she said. &#8220;Mother thinks he must have been insane. He
+said he came to read the gas-meter, so I took him down into the cellar
+and the gas-meter had been taken away. Wouldn&#8217;t you think the gas
+company would have known that? Then he said he would stay in the cellar
+and inspect the pipes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you let him?&#8221; Tom asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I certainly did <i>not</i>! With all our stuff down there? When he saw I
+intended to stay down as long as he did, he went right up. Do you <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_28' id='pg_28'>28</a></span>think
+he wanted to steal some of our membership buttons?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom shrugged his shoulders thoughtfully. He was glad the next day was
+Saturday.</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_29' id='pg_29'>29</a></span>
+<a name='HE_GETS_A_JOB_AND_MEETS_FRENCHY_772' id='HE_GETS_A_JOB_AND_MEETS_FRENCHY_772'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+<h3>HE GETS A JOB AND MEETS &#8220;FRENCHY&#8221;</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Tom found Mr. Conne poring over a scrapbook filled with cards containing
+finger-prints. His unlighted cigar was cocked up in the corner of his
+mouth like a flag-pole from a window, just the same as when Tom had seen
+him last. It almost seemed as if it must be the very same cigar. He
+greeted Tom cordially.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So they didn&#8217;t manage to sink my old chum, Sherlock Nobody Holmes, eh?
+Tommy, my boy, how are you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did the spy get rescued?&#8221; Tom asked, as the long hand-shake ended.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nope. Went down. But we nabbed a couple of his accomplices through his
+papers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I got a new mystery,&#8221; said Tom in his customary blunt manner. &#8220;I was
+going to give these papers to my boss, but when I got your letter I
+decided I&#8217;d give &#8217;em to you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He told the detective all about Adolf Schmitt and of how he had
+discovered the papers in the chimney.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_30' id='pg_30'>30</a></span>&#8220;You say the place had already been searched?&#8221; Mr. Conne asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but I s&#8217;pose maybe they were in a hurry and had other things to
+think about, maybe. A man came there again just the other day, too, and
+said he wanted to read the gas-meter. But he looked all &#8217;round the
+cellar.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hmm,&#8221; Mr. Conne said dryly. &#8220;Tom, if you don&#8217;t look out you&#8217;ll make a
+detective one of these days. I see you&#8217;ve got the same old wide-awake
+pair of eyes as ever.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I learned about deducing when I was in the scouts,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;They
+always made fun of me for it&mdash;the fellers did. Once I deduced an
+aeroplane landed in a big field because the grass was kind of dragged,
+but afterwards I found the fellers had made tracks there with an old
+baby carriage just to fool me. Sometimes one thing kind of tells you
+another, sort of.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, whenever you see something that you think tells you anything,
+Tommy, you just follow it up and never mind about folks laughing. I
+shouldn&#8217;t wonder if you&#8217;ve made a haul here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There was one of &#8217;em that interested me specially,&#8221; ventured Tom; &#8220;the
+one about motors.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_31' id='pg_31'>31</a></span>Mr. Conne glanced over the papers again. &#8220;Hmm,&#8221; said he, &#8220;I dare say
+that&#8217;s the least important of the lot&mdash;sort of crack-brained.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom felt squelched.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, anyway, they&#8217;ll all be taken care of,&#8221; Mr. Conne said
+conclusively, as he stuffed the papers in his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>Tom could have wished that he might share in the further developments
+connected with those interesting papers. But, however important Mr.
+Conne considered them, he put the matter temporarily aside in the
+interest of Tom&#8217;s proposed job.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I just happened to think of you,&#8221; he said, as he took his hat and coat,
+&#8220;when I was talking with the steward of the <i>Montauk</i>. He was saying
+they were short-handed. Come along, now, and we&#8217;ll go and see about it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Conne&#8217;s mind seemed full of other things as he hurried along the
+street with Tom after him. On the ferryboat, as they crossed to Hoboken,
+he was more sociable.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t think any more about those letters now,&#8221; he said. &#8220;The proper
+authorities will look after them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_32' id='pg_32'>32</a></span>&#8220;And whatever they set you to doing, put your mind on your work first
+of all. Keep your eyes and ears open&mdash;there&#8217;s no law against that&mdash;but
+do your work. It&#8217;s only in dime novels that youngsters like you are
+generals and captains and famous detectives.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What I mean is, don&#8217;t get any crazy notions in your head. You may land
+in the Secret Service yet. But meanwhile keep your feet on the earth&mdash;or
+the ship. Get me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom was sensible enough to know that this was good advice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your finding these letters was clever. If there are any spies in the
+camps they&#8217;ll be rounded up double quick. As for spy work at sea, I&#8217;ll
+tell you this, though you mustn&#8217;t mention it, there are government
+sleuths on all the ships&mdash;most of them working as hands.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going across on a fast ship to-morrow myself,&#8221; continued Mr. Conne,
+greatly to Tom&#8217;s surprise. &#8220;I&#8217;ll be in Liverpool and London and probably
+in France before you get there. There&#8217;s a bare possibility of you seeing
+me over there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I hope I do,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_33' id='pg_33'>33</a></span>The transport <i>Montauk</i> was one of the many privately owned steamers
+taken over into government service, and Tom soon learned that outside
+the steward&#8217;s department nearly all the positions on board were filled
+by naval men. Mr. Conne presented him to the steward, saying that Tom
+had made a trip on a munition carrier, and disappeared in a great hurry.</p>
+
+<p>Tom could not help feeling that he was one of the least important things
+among Mr. Conne&#8217;s multitudinous interests, and it must be confessed that
+he felt just a little chagrined at finding himself disposed of with so
+little ceremony.</p>
+
+<p>But, if he had only known it, this good friend who stood so high in that
+most fascinating department of all Uncle Sam&#8217;s departmental family, had
+borne him in mind more than he had encouraged Tom to think, and he had
+previously spoken words of praise to the steward, which now had their
+effect in Tom&#8217;s allotment to his humble duties.</p>
+
+<p>He was, in a word, given the best position to be had among the
+unskilled, non-naval force and became presently the envy of every
+youngster on board. This was the exalted post of captain&#8217;s mess boy, a
+place of honor and preferment which <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_34' id='pg_34'>34</a></span>gave him free entrance to that holy
+of holies, &#8220;the bridge,&#8221; where young naval officers marched back and
+forth, and where the captain dined in solitary state, save for Tom&#8217;s own
+presence.</p>
+
+<p>Now and then, in the course of that eventful trip, Tom looked enviously
+at the young wireless operators, and more particularly at the marine
+signalers, who moved their arms with such jerky and mechanical precision
+and sometimes, perhaps, he thought wistfully of certain fortunate young
+heroes of fiction who made bounding leaps to the top of the ladder of
+fame.</p>
+
+<p>But he did his work cheerfully and well and became a favorite on board,
+for his duties gave him the freedom of all the decks. He was the
+captain&#8217;s mess boy and could go anywhere.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, with one person he became a favorite even before the vessel
+started.</p>
+
+<p>It was well on toward dusk of the third day and he was beginning to
+think they would never sail, when suddenly he heard a tramp, tramp, on
+the pier and up the gangplank, and before he realized it the soldiers
+swarmed over the deck, their tin plates and cups jangling at their
+sides. They must have come through the adjoining ferry house and across
+a low roof without touching the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_35' id='pg_35'>35</a></span>street at all, for they appeared as if
+by magic and no one seemed to know how they had got there.</p>
+
+<p>Their arrival was accompanied by much banter and horseplay among
+themselves, interspersed with questions to the ship&#8217;s people, few of
+which could be answered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hey, pal, where are we going?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where do we go from here, kiddo?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say, what&#8217;s the next stop for this jitney?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class='noindent italic' style='margin: .5em 0em .5em 2em;'>
+&#8220;We don&#8217;t know where we&#8217;re going,<br />
+but we&#8217;re on our way,&#8221;
+</p>
+
+<p>someone piped up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re going to Berlin,&#8221; one shouted.</p>
+
+<p>The fact that no one gave them any information did not appear to
+discourage them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When do we eat?&#8221; one wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>Tom saw no reason why he should not answer that, so he said to those
+crowded nearest to him, &#8220;In about half an hour.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;G-o-o-d-ni-ight!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When are we going to start? Who&#8217;s running this camp anyway?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go and tell the engineer we&#8217;re here and he can start off.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fares, please. Ding ding!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_36' id='pg_36'>36</a></span>&#8220;Gimme me a transfer to Berlin.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And so it went. They sprawled about on the hatches, perched upon the
+rail, leaned in groups against the vent pipes; they covered the ship
+like a great brown blanket. They wrestled with each other, knocked each
+other about, shouted gibberish intended for French, talked about <i>Kaiser
+Bill</i>, and mixed things up generally.</p>
+
+<p>At last they were ordered into line and marched slowly through the
+galley where their plates and cups were filled and a butcher was kept
+busy demolishing large portions of a cow. They sprawled about anywhere
+they pleased, eating.</p>
+
+<p>To Tom it was like a scout picnic on a mammoth scale. Here and there was
+noticeable a glum, bewildered face, but for the most part the soldiers
+(drafted or otherwise) seemed bent on having the time of their lives. It
+could not be said that they were without patriotism, but their one
+thought now seemed to be to make merry. Tom&#8217;s customary stolidness
+disappeared in the face of this great mirthful drive and he sat on the
+edge of the hatch, his white jacket conspicuous by contrast, and smiled
+broadly.</p>
+
+<p>He wondered whether any other country in the world could produce such a
+slangy, jollying, devil-may-care <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_37' id='pg_37'>37</a></span>host as these vociferous American
+soldiers. How he longed to be one of them!</p>
+
+<p>A slim young soldier elbowed his way through the throng and, supper in
+hand, seated himself on the hatch beside Tom. He had the smallest
+possible mustache, with pointed ends, and his demeanor was gentlemanly
+and friendly. Even his way of stirring his coffee seemed different from
+the rough and tumble fashion of the others.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;These are <i>stirring</i> times, hey, Frenchy?&#8221; a soldier said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yess&mdash;zat is verry good&mdash;<i>stirring times</i>,&#8221; the young fellow answered,
+in appreciation of the joke. Then, turning to Tom, he said, &#8220;Zis is ze
+Bartholdi statue, yess? I am from ze West.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the Statue of Liberty,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;You&#8217;ll see it better when we
+pass it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, yess! zis is ze first; I haf&#8217; nevaire seen. I zank you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you know why the Statue of Liberty looks so sad, Frenchy?&#8221; a soldier
+asked. &#8220;Because she&#8217;s facing Brooklyn.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you know why she&#8217;s got her arm up?&#8221; another called.</p>
+
+<p>Frenchy was puzzled.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_38' id='pg_38'>38</a></span>&#8220;She represents the American woman hanging onto a strap in the subway.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t let them jolly you, Frenchy,&#8221; another said.</p>
+
+<p>Frenchy, a little bewildered, laughed good-humoredly as the bantering
+throng plied him with absurdities.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are you French?&#8221; Tom asked, as some new victim diverted the attention
+of the boys.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, no! I am Americ&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you were born in France?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yess&mdash;zey call it Zhermany, but it is France! I take ze coat from you.
+Still it is yours. Am I right? I am born in Alsace. Zat is France!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doncher believe him, kiddo!&#8221; said a soldier. &#8220;He was born in Germany.
+Look on the map.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s a German spy, Whitey; look out for him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Alsace&mdash;ziss is France!&#8221; said Frenchy fervently.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Ziss</i> is the United States,&#8221; shouted a soldier derisively.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Ziss</i> is Hoboken!&#8221; chimed in another.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Vive la Hoboken!&#8221; shrieked a third.</p>
+
+<p>Tom thought he had never laughed so much in all his life.</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_39' id='pg_39'>39</a></span>
+<a name='HE_MAKES_A_DISCOVERY_AND_RECEIVES_A_SHOCK_1044' id='HE_MAKES_A_DISCOVERY_AND_RECEIVES_A_SHOCK_1044'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+<h3>HE MAKES A DISCOVERY AND RECEIVES A SHOCK</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Soon after dusk the soldiers were ordered to throw away their &#8220;smokes&#8221;
+and either go below or lie flat upon the decks. Officers patrolled the
+rail while others strolled among the boys and reminded the unruly and
+forgetful not to raise themselves, and soon the big ship, with its
+crowding khaki-clad cargo, was moving down the stream&mdash;on its way to
+&#8220;can the Kaiser.&#8221; Then even the patrol was discontinued.</p>
+
+<p>A crowded ferryboat paused in its passage to give the great gray
+transport the right of way, and the throng of commuters upon its deck
+saw nothing as they looked up but one or two white-jacketed figures
+moving about.</p>
+
+<p>Tom thought the ship was off, but after fifteen or twenty minutes the
+throb of the engines ceased and he heard the clank, clank of the anchor
+winches. A little distant from the ship tiny green, red and white lights
+appeared and disappeared and were answered by other colored lights from
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_40' id='pg_40'>40</a></span>high up in the rigging of the <i>Montauk</i>. Other lights appeared in other
+directions and were answered by still others, changing rapidly. Tom
+thought that he could distinguish a dark outline below certain of these
+lights. The whole business seemed weird and mysterious.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning he looked from the rail at a sight which astonished and
+thrilled him. No sign of land was there to be seen. Steaming abreast of
+the <i>Montauk</i> and perhaps a couple of hundred yards from her, was a
+great ship with soldiers crowding at her rail waving caps and shouting,
+their voices singularly crisp and clear across the waters. Beyond her
+and still abreast was another great ship, the surging army upon her
+decks reduced to a brown mass in the distance. And far off on either
+side of this flotilla of three, and before it and behind it, was a
+sprightly little destroyer, moving this way and that, like a dog jumping
+about his master.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the nearest vessel a naval signaler was semaphoring to the
+<i>Montauk</i>&mdash;his movements jerky, clean-cut, perfect. Enviously Tom
+watched him, thinking of his own semaphore work at Temple Camp. He read
+the message easily; it was something about how many knots the ship
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_41' id='pg_41'>41</a></span>could make in a steady run of six hundred miles. The <i>Montauk</i> answered
+that she could make twenty-eight knots and keep it up for nineteen
+hours. The other signaler seemed to be relaying this to the transport
+beyond, which in turn signaled the destroyer on that side. Then there
+was signaling between the <i>Montauk</i> and her own neighbor destroyer about
+sailing formation in the danger zone.</p>
+
+<p>It was almost like A B C to Tom, but he remembered Mr. Conne&#8217;s good
+advice and resolved not to concern himself with matters outside his own
+little sphere of duty. But a few days later he made a discovery which
+turned his thoughts again to Adolf Schmitt&#8217;s cellar and to spies.</p>
+
+<p>He had piled the captain&#8217;s breakfast dishes, made his weather memoranda
+from the barometer for posting in the main saloon, and was dusting the
+captain&#8217;s table, when he chanced to notice the framed picture of a ship
+on the cabin wall. He had seen it before, but now he noticed the tiny
+name, scarcely decipherable, upon its bow, <i>Christopher Colon</i>.</p>
+
+<p>So that was the ship on which somebody or other known to the fugitive,
+Adolf Schmitt, had thought of sailing in order to carry certain
+information <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_42' id='pg_42'>42</a></span>to Germany. As Tom gazed curiously at this picture he
+thought of a certain phrase in that strange letter, <i>&#8220;Sure, I could tend
+to the other matter too&mdash;it&#8217;s the same idea as a periscope.&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>Yet Mr. Conne&#8217;s sensible advice would probably have prevailed and Tom
+would have put these sinister things out of his thoughts, but meeting
+one of the steward&#8217;s boys upon the deck shortly afterward he said,
+&#8220;There&#8217;s a picture of a ship, the <i>Christopher Colon</i>&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s this ship,&#8221; interrupted the steward&#8217;s boy. &#8220;They don&#8217;t say much
+about those things. It&#8217;s hard to find out anything. Nobody except these
+navy guys know about how many ships are taken over for transports. But I
+saw a couple of spoons in the dining saloon with that name on them. And
+sometimes you can make it out under the fresh paint on the life
+preservers and things. Uncle Sam&#8217;s some foxy old guy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom was so surprised that he stood stark still and stared as the boy
+hurried along about his duties. Upon the <i>Montauk&#8217;s</i> nearest neighbor
+the naval signalman was semaphoring, and he watched abstractedly. It was
+something about camouflage maneuvering in the zone. Tom took a certain
+pride in being able to read it. Far off, beyond <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_43' id='pg_43'>43</a></span>the other great ships,
+a sprightly little destroyer cut a zigzag course, as if practicing. The
+sky was clear and blue. As Tom watched, a young fellow in a sailor&#8217;s
+suit hurried by, working his way among the throng of soldiers.
+Presently, Frenchy strolled past talking volubly to another soldier, and
+waving his cigarette gracefully in accompaniment. A naval quartermaster
+leaned against the rail, chatting with a red-faced man with
+spectacles&mdash;the chief engineer, Tom thought.</p>
+
+<p>Who were Secret Service men and who were not? thought Tom. Who was a spy
+and who was not? Perhaps some one who brushed past him carried in his
+pockets (or more likely in the soles of his shoes) the designs of the
+Liberty Motor. Perhaps some one had the same thought about <i>him</i>. What a
+dreadful thing to be suspected of! A spy!</p>
+
+<p>That puzzling phrase came into his mind again: <i>Sure, I could tend to
+the other matter too&mdash;it&#8217;s the same idea as a periscope.</i> What did that
+mean? So the <i>Montauk</i> was the <i>Christopher Colon</i>....</p>
+
+<p>He was roused out of his abstraction by the fervid, jerky voice of
+Frenchy, talking about Alsace. Alsace was a part of Germany, whatever
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_44' id='pg_44'>44</a></span>Frenchy might say.... Again Tom bethought him of Mr. Conne&#8217;s very wise
+advice, and he went to the main saloon and posted the weather
+prediction.</p>
+
+<p>That same day something happened which shocked him and gave him an
+unpleasant feeling of loneliness. Mr. Wessel, the steward, died suddenly
+of heart failure. He was Tom&#8217;s immediate superior and in a way his
+friend. He, and he alone, had received Tom&#8217;s recommendation from Mr.
+Conne, and knew something of him. He had given Tom that enviable place
+as captain&#8217;s boy, and throughout these few days had treated him with a
+kind of pleasant familiarity.</p>
+
+<p>He stood by as the army chaplain read the simple burial service, while
+four soldiers held the rough, weighted casket upon the rail; and he saw
+it go down with a splash and disappear in the mysterious, fathomless
+ocean. It affected him more than the loss of a life by torpedoing or
+drowning could have done and left him solemn and thoughtful and with a
+deep sense of loss.</p>
+
+<p>Just before dark they semaphored over from the <i>Dorrilton</i> that they
+could spare the second steward for duty on the <i>Montauk</i>. Tom mentioned
+this to one of the deck stewards, and to <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_45' id='pg_45'>45</a></span>his surprise and
+consternation, an officer came to him a little later and asked him how
+he knew it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can read semaphoring,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;I used to be in the Boy Scouts.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The officer looked at him sharply and said, &#8220;Well, you&#8217;d better learn to
+keep your mouth shut. This is no place for amateurs and Boy Scouts to
+practice their games.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Y-yes, sir,&#8221; said Tom, greatly frightened.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, when the sea was quieter, they rowed his new boss over
+in a small boat.</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_46' id='pg_46'>46</a></span>
+<a name='HE_HEARS_ABOUT_ALSACE_AND_RECEIVES_A_PRESENT_1189' id='HE_HEARS_ABOUT_ALSACE_AND_RECEIVES_A_PRESENT_1189'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+<h3>HE HEARS ABOUT ALSACE AND RECEIVES A PRESENT</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>That was a good lesson for Tom and a practical demonstration of the
+wisdom of Mr. Conne&#8217;s advice. Not that he had exactly gone outside his
+duties to indulge his appetite for adventure, but he had had a good
+scare which reminded him what a suspicious and particular old gentleman
+Uncle Sam is in wartime.</p>
+
+<p>The officer, who had thus frightened him and, in Tom&#8217;s opinion, cast a
+slur upon the Scouts, made matters worse by scrutinizing him (or so he
+fancied) whenever they met upon the deck. But that was all there was to
+it, and the captain&#8217;s mess boy did his allotted tasks each day, and
+stood for no end of jollying from the soldiers, who called him &#8220;Whitey&#8221;
+and &#8220;Eats,&#8221; because he carried the captain&#8217;s tray back and forth.</p>
+
+<p>This banter he shared with Frenchy, who took it as good-humoredly as Tom
+himself, when he <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_47' id='pg_47'>47</a></span>understood it, and when he didn&#8217;t Tom explained it to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ziss&mdash;how you call&mdash;<i>can</i> ze Kaiser?&#8221; he would inquire politely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That means putting him in a tin can,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ze tin can? Ze&mdash;how you call&mdash;wipe ze floor wiz him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They both mean the same thing,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;They mean beating him&mdash;good
+and thorough&mdash;kind of.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Frenchy did not seem to understand but he would wave his hands and say
+with great vehemence, &#8220;Ah, ze Kaiser, he must be defeat! Ze wretch!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Frenchy&#8217;s name was Armande Lateur. He was an American by adoption and
+though he had spent much time among the people of his own nationality in
+Canada, he was strong for Uncle Sam with a pleasant, lingering fondness
+for the region of the &#8220;blue Alsatian mountains,&#8221; whence he had come.</p>
+
+<p>It was from Frenchy that Tom learned much which (if he had only known
+it) was to serve him well in the perilous days to come.</p>
+
+<p>The day before they entered the danger zone <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_48' id='pg_48'>48</a></span>the two, secure for a
+little while from the mirthful artillery fire of the soldiers, had a
+little chat which Tom was destined long to remember.</p>
+
+<p>They were sitting at dusk in the doorway of the unoccupied guardhouse
+which ordinarily was the second cabin smoking-room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Alsace-Lorraine is part of Germany,&#8221; said Tom, his heavy manner of
+talking contrasting strangely with Frenchy&#8217;s excitability. &#8220;So you were
+a German citizen before you got to be an American; and your people over
+there must be German citizens.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Zey are Zherman <i>slaves</i>&mdash;yess! Citizens&mdash;no! See! When still I am a
+leetle boy, I must learn ze Zherman. I must go to ze Zherman school. My
+pappa have to pay fine when hees cheeldren speak ze French. My little
+seester when she sing ze Marsellaise&mdash;she must go t&#8217;ree days to ze
+Zherman zhail!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You mean to prison?&#8221; Tom asked. &#8220;Just for singing the Marsellaise! Why,
+the hand-organs play that where I live!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, yess&mdash;Americ&#8217;! In Alsace, even before ze war&mdash;you sing ze
+Marsellaise, t&#8217;ree days you go to ze zhail. You haf&#8217; a book printed in
+ze French&mdash;feefty marks you must pay!&#8221; He <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_49' id='pg_49'>49</a></span>waived his cigarette, as if
+it might have been a deadly sword, and hurled it over the rail.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;After Germany took Alsace-Lorraine away from France,&#8221; said Tom,
+unmoved, &#8220;and began treating the French people that way, I should think
+lots of &#8217;em would have moved to France.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Many&mdash;yess; but some, no. My pappa had a veenyard. Many years ziss
+veenyard is owned by my people&mdash;my anceestors. Even ze village is name
+for my family&mdash;Lateur. You know ze Franco-Prussian War&mdash;when Zhermany
+take Alsace-Lorraine&mdash;yess?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My pappa fight for France. Hees arm he lose. When it is over and Alsace
+is lost, he haf&#8217; lost more than hees arm. Hees spirit! Where can he go?
+Away from ze veenyard? Here he hass lived&mdash;always.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I understand,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yess,&#8221; said Frenchy with great satisfaction. &#8220;Zat is how eet is&mdash;you
+will understand. My pappa cannot go. Zis is hees <i>home</i>. So he
+stay&mdash;stay under ze Zhermans. Ah! For everything, <i>everything</i>, we must
+pay ze tax. Five hundred soldiers, zey keep, <i>always</i>&mdash;in zis little
+village&mdash;and only seven hundred people. Ziss is ze way. <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_50' id='pg_50'>50</a></span>Ugh! Even ze
+name zey change&mdash;Dundgart! Ugh!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t like it as well as Lethure,&#8221; said matter-of-fact Tom.</p>
+
+<p>Frenchy laughed at Tom&#8217;s pronunciation. &#8220;Zis is how you say&mdash;Le-teur.
+See? I will teach you ze French.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How did you happen to come to America?&#8221; Tom asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah! I will tell you,&#8221; Frenchy said, as a grim, dangerous look gathered
+in his eyes. &#8220;You are&mdash;how many years, my frien&#8217;!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m seventeen,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;One cannot tell wiz ze Americans,&#8221; Frenchy explained. &#8220;Zey grow so
+queeck&mdash;so beeg. In Europe, zey haf&#8217; nevaire seen anyzing like zis&mdash;zis
+army,&#8221; he added, indicating with a sweeping wave of his hand the groups
+of lolling, joking soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They make fun of you a lot, don&#8217;t they?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, zat I do not mind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maybe that&#8217;s why they all like you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will tell you,&#8221; said Frenchy, reverting to Tom&#8217;s previous question.
+&#8220;I am zhust ze same age as you&mdash;sefenteen&mdash;when zey throw my seester in
+ze zhail because she sing ze Marsellaise. <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_51' id='pg_51'>51</a></span>Zat I cannot stand! You
+see?&mdash;When ze soldiers&mdash;fat Zhermans, ugh! When zey come for her, I
+strike zis fat one&mdash;here&mdash;so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad you did,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hees eye I cut open, <i>so</i>. Wiz my fist&mdash;zhust boy&#8217;s fist, but so
+sharp.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t blame you,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So zen I must flee. Even to be rude to ze Zherman soldier&mdash;zis is
+crime. So I come to Americ&#8217;. Zey are looking for me, but I go by night,
+I sleep in ze haystack&mdash;zis I show. (He exhibited a little iron button
+with nothing whatever upon it.) You see? Zis is&mdash;what you
+call&mdash;talisman. Yess?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So I come to Epinal across ze border, through ze pass in ze mountains.
+I am free! I go to my uncle in Canada who is agent to our wines. Zen I
+come to Chicago, where I haf&#8217; other uncle&mdash;also agent. Now I go to
+France wiz ze Americans to take Alsace back. What should I care if they
+laugh at me? We go to take Alsace back! Alsace!&mdash;Listen&mdash;I will tell
+you!</p>
+
+<p class='poetry italic'>&#8220;Vive la France!<br />
+A bas la Prusse!<br />
+D&#8217;Schwowe mien<br />
+Zuem Elsass &#8217;nuess!</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_52' id='pg_52'>52</a></span>See if you can say zis,&#8220; he smiled.</p>
+
+<p>Tom shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will tell you&mdash;see.</p>
+
+<p class='poetry'>&#8220;Long live France!<br />
+Down with Prussia!<br />
+The Boches must<br />
+Get out of Alsace!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It must make you feel good after all that to go back now and make them
+give up Alsace,&#8221; said Tom, his stolid nature moved by the young fellow&#8217;s
+enthusiasm. &#8220;I&#8217;d like it if I&#8217;d been with you when you escaped and ran
+away like that. I like long hikes and adventures and things, anyway. It
+must be a long time since you saw your people.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Saw! Even I haf&#8217; not <i>heard</i> for t&#8217;ree year. Eight years ago I fled
+away. Even before America is in ze war I haf&#8217; no letters. Ze Zhermans
+tear zem up! Ah, no matter. When it is all over and ze boundary line is
+back at ze Rhine again&mdash;zen I will see zem. My pappa, my moother, my
+seester Florette&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His eyes glistened and he paused.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I go wiz Uncle Sam! My seester will sing ze Marsellaise!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_53' id='pg_53'>53</a></span>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;She can sing it all she wants.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If zey are not yet killed,&#8221; Frenchy added, looking intently out upon
+the ocean.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I kind of feel that they&#8217;re not,&#8221; said Tom simply. &#8220;Sometimes I have
+feelings like that and they usually come out true.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Frenchy looked suddenly at him, then embraced him. &#8220;See, I will give you
+ziss,&#8221; he said, handing Tom the little iron button. &#8220;I haf&#8217; two&mdash;see? I
+will tell you about zis,&#8221; he added, drawing close and holding it so that
+Tom could see. &#8220;It is made from ze cannon in my pappa&#8217;s regiment. Zis is
+when Alsace and Lorraine were lost&mdash;you see? Zey swear zey would win or
+die together&mdash;and so zey all die&mdash;except seventy. So zese men, zey swear
+zey will stand by each other, forever&mdash;zese seventy. You see? Even in
+poor Alsace&mdash;and in Lorraine. So zese, ze haf&#8217; make from a piece of ze
+cannon. You see? If once you can get across ze Zherman lines into
+Alsace, zis will find you friends and shelter. Ah, but you must be
+careful. You see? You must watch for zis button and when you see&mdash;zen
+you can show zis. You will know ze person who wears ze button is
+French&mdash;man, woman, peasant, child. Ze Zhermans do <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_54' id='pg_54'>54</a></span>not know. Zey are
+fine spies, fine sneaks! But zis zey do not know. You see?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was as much to please the generous Frenchy as for any other reason
+(though, to be sure, he was glad to have it) that Tom took the little
+button and put it in his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ze iron cross&mdash;you know zat?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve heard about it,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Zat means murder, savagery, death! Zis little button means friendship,
+help. Ze Zhermans do not know. You take this for&mdash;what you call&mdash;lucky
+piece?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll always keep it,&#8221; said Tom, little dreaming what it would mean to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>An authoritative voice was heard and they saw the soldiers throwing away
+their cigars and cigarettes and emptying their pipes against the rail.
+At the same time the electric light in the converted guard house was
+extinguished and an officer came along calling something into each of
+the staterooms along the promenade tier. They were entering the danger
+zone.</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_55' id='pg_55'>55</a></span>
+<a name='HE_BECOMES_VERY_PROUD_AND_ALSO_VERY_MUCH_FRIGHTENED_1413' id='HE_BECOMES_VERY_PROUD_AND_ALSO_VERY_MUCH_FRIGHTENED_1413'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+<h3>HE BECOMES VERY PROUD, AND ALSO VERY MUCH FRIGHTENED</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Tom&#8217;s talk with Frenchy left him feeling very proud that he was American
+born. He had that advantage over the Frenchman, he thought, even though
+Frenchy had escaped through a pass in the Alsatian mountains and made
+such an adventurous flight.</p>
+
+<p>When Frenchy had spoken of the American soldiers Tom felt especially
+proud. He was glad that all his people so far as he knew anything about
+them, were good out-and-out Yankees. Even his poor worthless father had
+been a great patriot, and played the <i>Star-Spangled Banner</i> on his old
+accordion when he ought to have been at work.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was poor old one-armed Uncle Job Slade who used to get drunk,
+but he had told Tom about &#8220;them confounded rebels and traitors&#8221; of
+Lincoln&#8217;s time, and when he had died in the Soldiers&#8217; <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_56' id='pg_56'>56</a></span>Home they had
+buried him with the Stars and Stripes draped over his coffin.</p>
+
+<p>He was sorry now that he had not mentioned these things when gruff,
+well-meaning Pete Connigan had spoken disparagingly of the Slades.</p>
+
+<p>He was glad he was not an adopted American like Frenchy, but that all
+his family had been Americans as far back as he knew. He was proud to
+&#8220;belong&#8221; to a country that other people wanted to &#8220;join&#8221;&mdash;that <i>he</i> had
+never had to join. And as he stood at the rail when his duties were
+finished that same night and gazed off across the black, rough ocean, he
+made up his mind that after this when he heard slurs cast upon his
+father and his uncle, instead of feeling ashamed he would defend them,
+and tell of the good things which he knew about them.</p>
+
+<p>He stood there at the rail, quite alone, thinking. The night was very
+dark and the sea was rough. Not a light was to be seen upon the ship.</p>
+
+<p>It occurred to him that it might be better for him not to stand there
+with his white steward&#8217;s jacket on. He recalled how, up at Temple Camp,
+one could see the white tents very clearly all the way across the lake.</p>
+
+<p>There was no rule about it, apparently, but <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_57' id='pg_57'>57</a></span>sometimes, when people
+forgot to make a good rule, Tom made it for them. So now he went down to
+his little stateroom (the captain&#8217;s mess boy had a tiny stateroom to
+himself) and put on a dark coat.</p>
+
+<p>The second cabin dining saloon and dining room, which were below decks
+and had no outside ports, were crowded with soldiers, playing cards and
+checkers, and they did not fail to &#8220;josh&#8221; Whitey as he passed through.
+Frenchy was there and he waved pleasantly to Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Going to get out and walk, Whitey?&#8221; a soldier called. &#8220;I see you&#8217;ve got
+your street clothes on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thought maybe the white would be too easy to see,&#8221; Tom answered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wise guy!&#8221; someone commented.</p>
+
+<p>Reaching the main deck he edged his way along between the narrow
+passageway and the washroom to a secluded spot astern. He liked this
+place because it was so lonesome and unfrequented and because he could
+hear the whir and splash of the great propellers directly beneath him as
+each big roller lifted the after part of the vessel out of the water.
+Here he could think about Bridgeboro and Temple Camp, and Roy Blakeley
+and the other scouts, and of how proud he was <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_58' id='pg_58'>58</a></span>that he was an American
+through and through, and of what he was going to say to people after
+this when they called his father a &#8220;no good&#8221; and Uncle Job a &#8220;rummy.&#8221; He
+was glad he had thought about that, for back in Bridgeboro people were
+always saying something.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a stern, authoritative voice spoke just behind him. &#8220;What are
+you doing here?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the heavy darkness Tom could just make out that the figure was in
+khaki and he thought it was the uniform of an officer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t doing anything,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What did you come here for?&#8221; the voice demanded sternly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I don&#8217; know,&#8221; stammered Tom, thoroughly frightened.</p>
+
+<p>Quickly, deftly, the man slapped his clothing in the vicinity of his
+pockets.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who are you?&#8221; he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m captain&#8217;s mess boy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Laying his hand on Tom&#8217;s shoulder, he marched him into the saloon and to
+the head of the companionway where the dim light from the passageway
+below enabled him to get a better sight of the boy. Tom was all of a
+tremor as the officer scrutinized him.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_59' id='pg_59'>59</a></span>&#8220;You&#8217;re the fellow that read the semaphore message, aren&#8217;t you?&#8221; the
+officer demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Y-yes, sir, but I didn&#8217;t notice them any more since I found out I
+shouldn&#8217;t.&#8221; Then he mustered courage to add, &#8220;I only went back there
+because it was dark and lonely, kind of. I was thinking about where I
+live and things&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The officer scrutinized him curiously for a moment and apparently was
+satisfied, for he only added, speaking rather harshly, &#8220;You&#8217;d better be
+careful where you go at night and keep away from the ropes.&#8221; With this
+he wheeled about and strode away.</p>
+
+<p>For a minute or two Tom stood rooted to the spot where he stood, his
+heart pounding in his breast. He would not have been afraid of a whole
+regiment of Germans and he would probably have retained his stolid
+demeanor if the vessel had been sinking, but this little encounter
+frightened him. He wished that he had had the presence of mind to tell
+the officer why he had doffed his white jacket, and he wished that he
+had had the courage to mention how his Uncle Job had fought at
+Gettysburg and been buried with the flag over his coffin. Those things
+might have impressed the officer.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_60' id='pg_60'>60</a></span>As he lay in his berth that night, his feeling of fright passed away
+and he was overcome with a feeling of humiliation. That <i>he</i>, Tom Slade,
+who had been a scout of the scouts, who had worked for the Colors, whose
+whole family history had been one of loyalty and patriotism, should be
+even&mdash;&mdash; No, of course, he had not been actually <i>suspected</i> of anything,
+and he knew that the government had to be very watchful and careful,
+but&mdash;&mdash; Well, he felt ashamed and humiliated, that&#8217;s all.</p>
+
+<p>He made up his mind that if he should see that officer again, and he did
+not look too forbidding, he would mention how his mother had taught him
+to sing <i>America</i>, how his father had played the <i>Star-Spangled Banner</i>
+on his old accordion and how Uncle Job had died in the Soldiers&#8217; Home.
+Those were about the only good things he could remember about his father
+and Uncle Job, but weren&#8217;t they enough?</p>
+
+<p>And since the government was so very particular, Tom got up and hung his
+coat across the porthole, though no clink of light could possibly have
+escaped, for his little stateroom was as dark as pitch and even when he
+opened his door there was only the dim light from the inner passage.</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_61' id='pg_61'>61</a></span>
+<a name='HE_HEARS_SOME_NEWS_AND_IS_CONFIDENTIAL_WITH_FRENCHY_1555' id='HE_HEARS_SOME_NEWS_AND_IS_CONFIDENTIAL_WITH_FRENCHY_1555'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+<h3>HE HEARS SOME NEWS AND IS CONFIDENTIAL WITH FRENCHY</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>The next morning there was a rumor. Somebody told somebody who told
+somebody else who told a deck steward who told Tom that a couple of men
+had gone very stealthily along the dimly lighted passageway outside the
+forward staterooms below, looking for a lighted stateroom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There was never so much as a glint,&#8221; the deck steward volunteered.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly Tom thought of his experience of the previous night and there
+arose in his mind also certain passages from one of the letters he had
+turned over to Mr. Conne.</p>
+
+<p>Acting on his benefactor&#8217;s very sensible advice, he had not allowed his
+mind to dwell upon those mysterious things which were altogether outside
+his humble sphere. But now he could not help recalling that this ship
+had been the <i>Christopher Colon</i> on which somebody or other had thought
+he might be able to sail. Well, in any event, the ship&#8217;s people had
+those things in <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_62' id='pg_62'>62</a></span>hand, and after his disturbing experience of the night
+before, he would not dare speak to one of his superiors about what was
+in his mind. But he was greatly interested in this whispered news.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The electric lights are turned off in the staterooms, anyway,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but that bunch is always smoking&mdash;them engineers,&#8221; said the deck
+steward, &#8220;and a chap would naturally stick his head out of the port so
+as not to get the room full of smoke. All he&#8217;d have to do is drop his
+smoke in the ocean if anyone happened along. It&#8217;s been done more&#8217;n
+once.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then you don&#8217;t think it was spies they suspected or&mdash;anything like
+that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The deck steward, who was an old hand, hunched his shoulders. &#8220;Maybe,
+and maybe not. You can&#8217;t drum it into some men that a cigarette is like
+a searchlight on the ocean.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yet the destroyers signal at night&mdash;even here in the zone,&#8221; Tom said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not much&mdash;only when it&#8217;s necessary. And the transports don&#8217;t answer.
+It&#8217;s just a little brown kind of light, too. They say the tin fish<a name='FNanchor_1' id='FNanchor_1'></a><a href='#Footnote_1' class='fnanchor'>[1]</a>
+can&#8217;t make it out at all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_63' id='pg_63'>63</a></span>&#8220;Is that where the engineers sleep&mdash;down there?&#8221; Tom asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The chief and the first assistants up on deck; third and fourth and
+head fireman are down there, and two electricians. The carpenter&#8217;s
+there, too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, they didn&#8217;t find anything, anyway,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;Is that all they
+did?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did? They opened every room on their way back and searched every nook
+and corner. Not so much as a pipe or a cigarette or a cigar could they
+find&mdash;nor a whiff of smoke neither. Besides, the port windows were
+locked shut and the steward had the keys! They&#8217;re takin&#8217; no chances in
+the zone, you can bet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was thinking, if it was a spy or anyone like that, he might have had
+a flashlight,&#8221; said Tom, &#8220;and thrown it out if he heard anyone coming.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;With the glass locked shut?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, that spoils it,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They searched every bloomin&#8217; one of &#8217;em,&#8221; said the deck steward.
+&#8220;Charlie was two hours making up the berths again after the way they
+threw things around. But nothing doing. They found a mess plate with a
+little black spot on <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_64' id='pg_64'>64</a></span>it and he said they thought it might have been
+from a match-end being laid there, but I heard they told the captain
+there was nothing wrong down there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What made them think there was?&#8221; asked Tom.</p>
+
+<p>The deck steward shrugged his shoulders. &#8220;You can search <i>me</i>. But
+they&#8217;re mighty particular, huh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He went about his duties, leaving Tom to ponder on this interesting
+news, and though admittedly nothing had come of that stealthy raid which
+had exposed neither rule breakers nor spies, still Tom thought about it
+all day, more or less, and he was glad that Uncle Sam was so watchful
+and thorough. It made him realize, all the more, how absurd and
+preposterous it would be for him, the captain&#8217;s mess boy, to concern
+himself or ask questions or say anything about serious matters which
+were none of his business.</p>
+
+<p>All day long they ran a zigzag course, taking a long cut to France, as
+Pete Connigan would have said, the general tension relieved by the
+emergency drills, manning the boats and so forth.</p>
+
+<p>In the afternoon hours of respite from his duties he met Frenchy, whose
+patience had been <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_65' id='pg_65'>65</a></span>a little tried by some of Uncle Sam&#8217;s crack jolliers,
+and they sat down on the top step of a companionway and talked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Zis I cannot bear!&#8221; he said, shrugging his shoulders. &#8220;To be called ze
+Hun! Ugh!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re only kidding you,&#8221; said Tom; &#8220;fooling with you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do not like it&mdash;no!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But if you hadn&#8217;t become an American before the war,&#8221; said Tom, &#8220;you
+couldn&#8217;t have enlisted on our side because you really were a German&mdash;a
+German citizen&mdash;weren&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Subject, yess! Citizen, no! All will be changed. Alsace will be France
+again! We go to win her back! Yess?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;I only meant you belonged to Germany because you
+couldn&#8217;t help it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You are a lucky boy,&#8221; Frenchy said earnestly. &#8220;Zare is no&mdash;what you
+say?&mdash;Mix-up; Zhermany, France, America&mdash;no. You are all <i>American</i>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I got to remember that,&#8221; said Tom simply. &#8220;I know some rich fellers
+home where I live. They let me join their scout troop, so I got to know
+&#8217;em. One feller&#8217;s name is Van Arlen. His father <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_66' id='pg_66'>66</a></span>was born in Holland.
+They got two automobiles and a lot of servants and things. But anyway my
+father was born in the United States&mdash;that&#8217;s one thing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah,&#8221; said Frenchy, enthusiastically, &#8220;zat is ever&#8217;ting! You are fine
+boy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His expression was so generous, so pleasant, that Tom could not help
+saying, &#8220;I like France, too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Listen, I will tell you,&#8221; said Frenchy, laughing. &#8220;It is ze old saying,
+&#8216;Ever&#8217; man hass two countries; hees own and France!&#8217; You see?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the warmth of Frenchy&#8217;s generous admiration Tom opened up and said
+more than he had meant to say&mdash;more than he ever had said to anyone.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So I got to be proud of it, anyway,&#8221; he said, in his honest, blunt
+fashion. &#8220;Maybe you won&#8217;t understand, but one thing makes me like to go
+away from Bridgeboro, kind of, is the way people say things about my
+folks. They don&#8217;t do it on purpose&mdash;mostly. But anyway, all the fathers
+of the fellows I know, they call them Mr. Blakeley and Mr. Harris, and
+like that. But they always called my father Bill Slade. I didn&#8217;t ever
+hear anybody call him Mister. But anyway, he was <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_67' id='pg_67'>67</a></span>born in the United
+States&mdash;that&#8217;s one sure thing. And so was my grandfather and my
+grandmother, too. Once my father licked me because I forgot to hang out
+the flag on Decoration Day. That shows he was patriotic, doesn&#8217;t it? The
+other day I was going to tell you about my uncle but I forgot to. He was
+in the Civil War&mdash;he got his arm shot off. So I got a lot to be proud
+about, anyway. Just because my father didn&#8217;t get a job most&mdash;most of the
+time&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah!&#8221; vociferated Frenchy, clapping him on the shoulder. &#8220;You are
+ze&mdash;how you say&mdash;<i>one</i> fine boy!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom remained stolid, under this enthusiastic approval. He was thinking
+how glad and proud he was that his father had licked him for forgetting
+to hang out the flag. It had not been a licking exactly, but a beating
+and kicking, but this part of it he did not remember. He was very proud
+of his father for it. It was something to boast about. It showed that
+the Slades&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yess, you are a fine boy!&#8221; said Frenchy again, clapping him on the
+shoulder with such vehemence as to interrupt his train of thought. &#8220;Zey
+must be fine people&mdash;all ze way back&mdash;to haf&#8217; such a boy. You see?&#8221;</p>
+
+<div class='footnote'>
+<hr class='footnote' />
+<p><a name='Footnote_1' id='Footnote_1'></a>
+<span class='label'><a href='#FNanchor_1'>1</a></span> Submarines.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_68' id='pg_68'>68</a></span>
+<a name='HE_SEES_A_STRANGE_LIGHT_AND_GOES_ON_TIPTOE_1728' id='HE_SEES_A_STRANGE_LIGHT_AND_GOES_ON_TIPTOE_1728'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+<h3>HE SEES A STRANGE LIGHT AND GOES ON TIPTOE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Of course, it would have been expecting too much to suppose that the
+boys in khaki would overlook Tom Slade any more than Frenchy would
+escape them, and &#8220;Whitey&#8221; was the bull&#8217;s-eye for a good deal of target
+practice in the way of jollying. It got circulated about that Whitey had
+a bug&mdash;a patriotic bug, particularly in regard to his family, and it was
+whispered in his hearing as he came and went that his grandfather was
+none other than the original Yankee Doodle.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, Tom&#8217;s soberness increased this good-natured propensity of the
+soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hey, Whitey,&#8221; they would call as he passed with the captain&#8217;s tray, &#8220;I
+hear you were born on the Fourth of July. How about that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Or</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hey, Whitey, I hear your great grandfather was the fellow that put the
+bunk in Bunker Hill!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But Tom did not mind; joking or no joking, they knew where he stood with
+Uncle Sam and that was enough for him.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_69' id='pg_69'>69</a></span>Sometimes they would vary their tune and pleasantly chide him with
+being a secret agent of the Kaiser, &#8220;Baron von Slade,&#8221; and so on and so
+on. He only smiled in that stolid way of his and went about his duties.
+In his heart he was proud. Sometimes they would assume to be serious and
+ply him with questions, and he would fall into their trap and proudly
+tell about poor old Uncle Job and of how his father had licked him, by
+way of proving the stanch Americanism of the Slades.</p>
+
+<p>In their hearts they all liked him; he seemed so &#8220;easy&#8221; and bluntly
+honest, and his patriotism was so obvious and so sincere.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re all right, Whitey,&#8221; they would say.</p>
+
+<p>Then, suddenly, that thing happened which shocked and startled them with
+all the force of a torpedo from a U-boat, and left them gasping.</p>
+
+<p>It happened that same night, and little did Tom Slade dream, as he went
+along the deck in the darkening twilight, carrying the captain&#8217;s empty
+supper dishes down to the galley, of the dreadful thing which he would
+face before that last night in the danger zone was over.</p>
+
+<p>He washed his hands, combed his hair, put on his dark coat, and went up
+on deck for an hour or <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_70' id='pg_70'>70</a></span>two which he could call his own. In the
+companionway he passed his friend, the deck steward, talking with a
+couple of soldiers, and as he squeezed past them he paused a moment to
+listen.</p>
+
+<p>It was evidently another slice of the same gossip with which he had
+regaled Tom earlier in the day and he was imparting it with a great air
+of confidence to the interested soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t say I told you, but they had two of them in the quartermaster&#8217;s
+room, buzzing them. It&#8217;s more&#8217;n rule breaking, <i>I</i> think.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;German agents, you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The deck steward shrugged his shoulders in that mysterious way, as if he
+could not take the responsibility of answering that question.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But they haven&#8217;t got anything on &#8217;em,&#8221; he added. &#8220;The glass ports were
+locked&mdash;they couldn&#8217;t have thrown anything out. So there you are. The
+captain thinks it was phosphorus and maybe he&#8217;s right. It&#8217;s a kind of a
+light you sometimes see in the ocean.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huh,&#8221; said one of the soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s fooled others before. So I guess there won&#8217;t be any more about it.
+Keep your mouths shut.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom passed them and went out upon the deck. <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_71' id='pg_71'>71</a></span>He did not venture near the
+forbidden spot astern, but leaned against the rail amidships. He knew he
+had the right to spend his time off on deck and he liked to be alone.
+Now and then he glimpsed a little streak of gray as some apprehensive
+person in a life belt disappeared in a companionway, driven in by the
+cold and the rough sea.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, he was quite alone and he fell to thinking about home, as he
+usually did when he was alone at night. He thought of his friend Roy
+Blakeley and of the happy summers spent at Temple Camp; of the stalking
+and tracking, and campfire yarns, and how they used to jolly him, just
+as these soldiers jollied him, and call him &#8220;Sherlock Nobody Holmes&#8221;
+just because he was interested in deduction and had &#8220;doped out&#8221; one or
+two little things.</p>
+
+<p>One thing will suggest another, and from Temple Camp, with its long
+messboard and its clamoring, hungry scouts, and the tin dishes heaped
+with savory hunters&#8217; stew, his thoughts wandered back across the ocean
+to a certain particular mess plate, right here on this very ship&mdash;a mess
+plate with a little black stain on it, where someone might have laid a
+burning match-end.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_72' id='pg_72'>72</a></span>He caught himself up and thought of Mr. Conne. But this was his time
+off and he had the right to <i>think</i> about anything he pleased. He could
+not be reprimanded for just thinking. Nothing would tempt him to run the
+risk of another encounter with one of those stern, brisk-speaking
+officers, but he could <i>think</i>.</p>
+
+<p>And he wondered whether that black spot <i>had</i> been made by a match-end.
+The spot would show plainly, of course, for he knew how shiny and clean
+mess plates were kept. Had he not done his part in scouring and rubbing
+them down there in the galley?</p>
+
+<p>He wondered how the mess plate had happened to be in the stateroom,
+anyway. Sherlock Nobody Holmes again! But the crew, as well as the
+troops, carried their supper wherever they pleased to eat it. So there
+was nothing so strange about that. If there had been, why, Uncle Sam&#8217;s
+all-seeing eye would not have missed it.</p>
+
+<p>He fell to thinking of Bridgeboro again. And he thought of Adolf Schmitt
+and&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A phrase from one of those letters ran through his mind&mdash;<i>It&#8217;s the same
+idea as a periscope</i>.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Tom Slade felt just as so often he had felt when he had
+found an indistinct footprint <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_73' id='pg_73'>73</a></span>along a woodland trail. <i>What</i> was the
+same idea as a periscope? What was a periscope, anyway?</p>
+
+<p>Why, a thing on a submarine by means of which you could look two ways at
+once&mdash;you could look up through the ocean and across the ocean&mdash;all with
+one look.</p>
+
+<p>He wondered whether Mr. Conne had noticed that rather puzzling phrase
+and whether the people on this ship had seen that letter. Mr. Conne had
+seemed to think that one the least important of the lot. Perhaps he had
+just told the ship&#8217;s people to look out for spies. And they would do
+that anyway. The names of uniformed spies in the army cantonments&mdash;names
+in black and white&mdash;that was the important thing&mdash;the big discovery.</p>
+
+<p>But Tom Slade was only a humble Sherlock Nobody Holmes and he couldn&#8217;t
+get that phrase out of his head.</p>
+
+<p><i>It&#8217;s the same idea as a periscope.</i></p>
+
+<p>A periscope is a kind of a&mdash;a kind of a&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Tom&#8217;s brow was knit, just as when he used carefully and anxiously to
+move the grass away from an all but obliterated footprint, and his eyes
+were half closed and keen.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_74' id='pg_74'>74</a></span>&#8220;I know what it is,&#8221; he said to himself, suddenly. &#8220;It means how light
+can be passed through a room even while the room is dark all the
+time&mdash;kind of reflected&mdash;and you wouldn&#8217;t have to use any match.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He stood still, almost frightened at his own conclusion. The clean,
+shiny mess plate and the phrase out of that letter seemed to fit
+together like the sections of a picture puzzle. The black spot and the
+match-end (if there was any match-end) meant just nothing at all. The
+dim light out in the passageway down below hardly reached the dark
+staterooms, but&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>He could not remember just how it was down there, but he knew that in
+the staterooms where the glass ports were locked (and that was the case
+with all of the crews&#8217; quarters below) air was admitted by a slightly
+opened panel transom over the door.</p>
+
+<p>What should he do? Go and tell an officer about his discovery? If it
+<i>were</i> a discovery that would be all very well. But after all, this was
+only a&mdash;a kind of a <i>deduction</i>. And they might laugh at him. He had
+always stood in awe of the officers and since last night he was mortally
+afraid of them. If he told any of the soldiers or <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_75' id='pg_75'>75</a></span>even the steward they
+would only jolly him. He did not know exactly what he had better do.</p>
+
+<p>He made up his mind that he would go down through the passageway where
+those under engineers and electricians slept and see how it looked down
+there. He had been through there many times, but he thought that perhaps
+he would notice some thing now which would help to prove his theory and
+then perhaps they would listen to the captain&#8217;s mess boy if he could
+muster the courage to speak.</p>
+
+<p>He had just left the rail when he saw, some distance to starboard as it
+seemed, and well forward of the ship, an infinitesimal bluish brown
+spark. How he happened to notice it he did not know. &#8220;Once a scout,
+always a scout,&#8221; perhaps. In any event, it was only by fixing his eyes
+intently upon it that he could keep it in sight. And even so, he lost it
+after a few seconds. He tried to find it again, but quite in vain. It
+had been about as conspicuous as a snowflake would have been in a glass
+of milk.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huh, if there&#8217;s anyone on this ship can see <i>that</i>, he must be a peach.
+Maybe up in the rigging you can see it better, though. If it&#8217;s on the
+destroyer, she&#8217;s quite a ways ahead of us&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_76' id='pg_76'>76</a></span>He squinted his eyes and, seeing a number of imaginary lights, decided
+that perhaps the other had been imaginary too. He crossed the saloon,
+went down the companionway and through the second class cabin
+dining-room where the soldiers hailed him pleasantly, and, passing the
+stokers&#8217; washroom, tiptoed along the dim, narrow passageway.</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_77' id='pg_77'>77</a></span>
+<a name='HE_GOES_BELOW_AND_GROPES_IN_THE_DARK_1931' id='HE_GOES_BELOW_AND_GROPES_IN_THE_DARK_1931'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+<h3>HE GOES BELOW AND GROPES IN THE DARK</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>There were half a dozen or more staterooms along this passage. At the
+end of it was the steep, greasy flight of iron steps leading down into
+the engine-rooms. Here, also, was a huge box with a hinged lid, filled
+with cotton waste. It was customary for one going down here to take a
+handful of this waste to protect his hands from the oily rail, and also
+on coming up to wipe his hands with a fresh lot. The very atmosphere of
+a ship&#8217;s engine-room is oily. Here, also, were several fire-buckets in a
+rack.</p>
+
+<p>Along the side of the passage opposite the staterooms were electric
+bulbs at intervals, but only two of them were burning&mdash;just enough to
+light one through the narrow passage. Above each closed door was a solid
+wooden transom, hinged at its lower side and opened at an angle into the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>Tom moved quickly and very quietly, for he feared to be caught loitering
+here. He saw at once that only one of these staterooms could possibly
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_78' id='pg_78'>78</a></span>be used for any such criminal purpose as he suspected, and that was the
+one with a light directly opposite it in the passage, for the other
+light was beyond the staterooms.</p>
+
+<p>For a few seconds he stood listening to the slow, monotonous sound of
+the machinery just below him. The vibration was very pronounced here;
+the floor thumped with the pulsations of the mighty engines. And Tom&#8217;s
+heart was thumping too.</p>
+
+<p>Within the staterooms all was dark and quiet. He knew the under
+engineers turned in early. Not the faintest flicker was to be seen
+through any of those transoms. He had been mistaken, he thought; had
+jumped at a crazy notion. And he half turned to go up again.</p>
+
+<p>But instead he listened at the companionway, then tiptoed stealthily
+along the passage and looked over the oily iron rail, down, down into
+the depths of the great, dim, oil-smelling space with its iron galleries
+and the mammoth steel arms, moving back and forth, back and forth, far
+down there upon the grated floor. A tiny figure in a jumper went down
+from one of the lower galleries, paused to look at a big dial, then
+crossed the floor and disappeared, making never a <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_79' id='pg_79'>79</a></span>sound. No other
+living thing was in sight&mdash;unless those mighty steel arms, ever meeting
+and parting might be said to be living. To come up from down there would
+mean the ascent of three iron stairways.</p>
+
+<p>Tom withdrew into the passage and quietly lifting one of the
+fire-buckets from the rack, tiptoed with it to the door which was
+directly opposite the passageway.</p>
+
+<p>Then he paused again. He could open that door, he knew, for no keys or
+bolts were allowed on any stateroom door. He could surprise the
+occupant, whom he would find in darkness. If his suspicion was correct
+(and he was beginning now to fear that it was not) there would be no
+actual proof of anything inside of that dark little room, save only just
+what the authorities had already found&mdash;an apparently innocent mess
+plate. The criminal act would consist of simply holding a shiny plate in
+a certain position. The moment a sound was heard outside the plate could
+be laid down. And who would be the wiser?</p>
+
+<p>Tom&#8217;s heart was thumping in his breast, his eyes anxiously scanning one
+end of the passage, then the other.</p>
+
+<p>Not a sound&mdash;no sign of anyone.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_80' id='pg_80'>80</a></span>Tom Slade had been a scout and notwithstanding his suspense and almost
+panicky apprehension, he was not going to act impulsively or
+thoughtlessly. He knew that if he could only present a convincing case
+to his superiors, they would forgive him his presumption. If he made a
+bungle it might go hard with him. Anyway, he could not, or would not,
+turn back now.</p>
+
+<p>In truth, he did not believe that anything at all was going to happen.
+The stateroom was so dark and so still that all his fine ideas and
+deductions, which had seemed so striking and plausible up on the
+lonesome, wind-swept deck, began to fade away.</p>
+
+<p>But there would be no harm in one little test, and no one would be the
+wiser. He tried to picture in his mind&#8217;s eye the interior of that little
+stateroom. If it were like his own, then the mirror was on the other
+side of the passage wall, that is, on the opposite side of the stateroom
+from the port hole. If one looked into the mirror he would see the port
+hole. All of the smaller rooms below decks which he had seen were
+arranged in the same way.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore, thought Tom, if one should hold a shiny mess plate, for
+instance, up near the transom, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_81' id='pg_81'>81</a></span>so as to catch the light from without,
+he could throw it down into the mirror, which would reflect not only the
+glare but the brilliant image of the bulb as well. From out on the ocean
+that reflected light would be very clear.</p>
+
+<p>All of which, thought Tom dubiously, was a very pretty theory, but&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Without making a sound he placed the inverted bucket on the floor and
+listened. He put one foot on it and listened again. Then he stood upon
+it, his heart pounding like a triphammer.</p>
+
+<p>Not a sound.</p>
+
+<p>Probably the tired occupant of the room was fast asleep&mdash;sleeping the
+peaceful sleep of the innocent.</p>
+
+<p>Tom knew that if his mind&#8217;s eye picture of the room&#8217;s arrangement were
+correct, the metal reflector would be of no avail unless tilted at a
+slight angle from the horizontal, right inside the transom.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment he stood upon the bucket, not daring to budge. He could
+hear his own breathing, and far away the steady, dull thud of the
+tireless machinery. Something creaked in the passage, and he turned
+cold. He did not stir a muscle.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_82' id='pg_82'>82</a></span>Only some superficial crevice or crack somewhere&mdash;some loose panel or
+worn hinge responding to the onslaught of a giant wave without&mdash;&mdash;
+Nothing&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>He turned his head and looked down the passage, clenching his fists in
+momentary fright, as if he feared the bending of his neck might be
+heard.</p>
+
+<p>No one. Not a sound.</p>
+
+<p>He tried to look through the transom but his eyes were not high enough.
+For another second he paused. Then he reached through the transom and
+moved his hand about in the silence and darkness. He heard the cracking
+again and waited, trembling, though he knew it was nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Then he groped about with his hand again.</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_83' id='pg_83'>83</a></span>
+<a name='HE_MAKES_A_DISCOVERY_AND_IS_GREATLY_AGITATED_2066' id='HE_MAKES_A_DISCOVERY_AND_IS_GREATLY_AGITATED_2066'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+<h3>HE MAKES A DISCOVERY AND IS GREATLY AGITATED</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Suddenly his hand encountered something hard and cold, and he grabbed it
+like lightning. His heart was in his throat now. There was a scuffling
+sound within and the object was wrenched and twisted and pulled
+frantically.</p>
+
+<p>But Tom had been a scout and he was prepared. The two big clumsy hands
+which bore the captain&#8217;s tray back and forth each day had once torn a
+pack of thirty cards in half to entertain tenderfeet at campfire. And
+one of those hands clutched this thing now with the grip of a bulldog.</p>
+
+<p>His excitement and his pounding heart did not embarrass him in the brief
+tussle. A few dexterous twists this way and that, and he withdrew his
+hand triumphantly, scratched and bleeding, the light in the passage
+glinting upon the polished surface of the mess plate which he held.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_84' id='pg_84'>84</a></span>Scarcely three minutes had escaped since he came down from the deck,
+but in that short period his usually sturdy nerves had borne a terrific
+strain and for a moment he leaned against the opposite side of the
+passage, clutching the dish in consternation.</p>
+
+<p>In that brief moment when he had paused before putting his hand through
+the transom, he had thought that if indeed the plate were being held
+there even still the conspirator&#8217;s eyes would be fixed upon the
+stationary mirror in order to keep the reflection centered in direct
+line with the porthole. Evidently he had been right and had taken the
+plotter quite unaware.</p>
+
+<p>Sherlock Nobody Holmes had succeeded beyond his most extravagant dreams!</p>
+
+<p>The door of the little room flew back and a figure stood in the dark
+opening, looking at him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&mdash;<i>that&#8217;s</i> what you meant,&#8221; Tom stammered, scarcely knowing what he
+said, &#8220;about the same idea as a periscope. You thought&mdash;you thought&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The man, evidently surprised at seeing no one but the captain&#8217;s mess
+boy, stuck out his head and looked apprehensively up and down the
+passage.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s nobody,&#8221; breathed Tom, &#8220;except me; <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_85' id='pg_85'>85</a></span>but it won&#8217;t do you any
+good&mdash;it won&#8217;t&mdash;because I&#8217;m going to tell&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He paused, clutching the mess plate, and looked aghast at the
+disheveled, half-dressed man who faced him. Then the plate dropped from
+his hand, and a strange, cold feeling came over him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who are you?&#8221; he gasped, his eyes stark and staring. &#8220;I&mdash;I didn&#8217;t
+know&mdash;I ain&#8217;t&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He stopped, refusing to believe, and groped for the precious mess plate,
+part of the makeshift periscope which his own keenness had discovered
+and rendered useless. Then he stood again, fumbling the thing in his
+clumsy hands and staring, all bewildered, at the traitor who had used it
+to betray his country.</p>
+
+<p>Was it&mdash;&mdash;? It could not be&mdash;&mdash; But the years had wrought more change in
+Tom himself than in the man who stood there glaring back at him, half
+recognizing.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, it <i>was</i> his own brother, William Slade, who had left home so long
+ago!</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_86' id='pg_86'>86</a></span>
+<a name='HE_IS_FRIGHTENED_AND_VERY_THOUGHTFUL_2140' id='HE_IS_FRIGHTENED_AND_VERY_THOUGHTFUL_2140'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+<h3>HE IS FRIGHTENED AND VERY THOUGHTFUL</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>And this was the triumph of Sherlock Nobody Holmes! This was the
+startling discovery with which he would astonish his superiors and win
+their approbation! It was not Sherlock Nobody Holmes who heard in a sort
+of daze the whispered words that were next uttered. It was just the
+captain&#8217;s mess boy, and he hung his head, not so much in crushing
+disappointment as in utter shame.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come inside here and keep still. How&#8217;d <i>you</i> get on this ship?
+Nobody&#8217;ll be hunting for you, will they? Come in&mdash;quick. What&#8217;s the
+matter with you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Still clutching the dish, Tom was dragged into that dark little room. He
+seemed almost in a trance. The hand which had been raised in conspiracy
+and treason pushed him roughly onto the berth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So you turned up like a bad penny, huh?&#8221; whispered his brother,
+fiercely.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_87' id='pg_87'>87</a></span>&#8220;I&mdash;I wrote you&mdash;a letter&mdash;after mother died,&#8221; Tom said simply. &#8220;I
+don&#8217;t know if you got it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shut up!&#8221; hissed his brother. &#8220;Don&#8217;t talk so loud! You want to get me
+in trouble? How&#8217;d you know about this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His voice was gruff and cold and seemed the more so for his frightened
+whisper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She died of pneumonia,&#8221; said Tom impassively. &#8220;I was&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gimme that plate!&#8221; his brother interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>But this roused Tom. He seemed to feel that his possession of the plate
+was a badge of innocence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I got to keep it,&#8221; he said; &#8220;it&#8217;s&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shh!&#8221; his brother interrupted. &#8220;Somebody&#8217;s coming; don&#8217;t move and keep
+your mouth shut! It&#8217;s the second shift of stokers!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>From the companionway came the steady sound of footfalls. There was an
+authoritative sound to them as they echoed in the deserted passage,
+coming nearer and nearer. It was not the second shift of stokers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shh,&#8221; said Tom&#8217;s brother, clutching his arm. &#8220;If they should come here
+keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. They ain&#8217;t got anything
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_88' id='pg_88'>88</a></span>on me,&#8221; he added in a hoarse whisper which bespoke his terror, &#8220;unless
+<i>you</i>&mdash;shhh!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know what it is,&#8221; Tom whispered, &#8220;and I ain&#8217;t a-scared. They got a
+signal from the destroyer. They know the room.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s nothing they can find here,&#8221; his brother breathed. &#8220;They were
+all through here last night. Put that dish down&mdash;put it down, I tell
+you! Shh!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom let go of the plate, scarcely knowing what he did.</p>
+
+<p>Nearer, nearer, came the footsteps and stopped. The door was thrown open
+and in the passage stood the captain, a sailor and the officer who had
+spoken to Tom the night before.</p>
+
+<p>Tom&#8217;s heart was in his throat; he did not move a muscle. What happened
+seemed all a jumble to him, like things in a dream. He was aware of a
+lantern held by the officer and of the sailor standing by the porthole,
+over which he had spread something black.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you know this kid was mixed up in it?&#8221; the sailor asked. Tom felt
+that the sailor must be a Secret Service man.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re brothers,&#8221; said the captain. &#8220;You can see that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_89' id='pg_89'>89</a></span>&#8220;He had him posted for a lookout,&#8221; said the officer. &#8220;He was watching
+on the deck last night.&#8221; Then, turning upon Tom he said brusquely, &#8220;you
+were supposed to hurry down here with the tip if the convoy signaled,
+eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom struggled to answer, but they did not give him time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re the fellow that read that semaphore message the other day, too,
+eh?&#8221; the officer said. &#8220;Stand up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom stood trembling while the sailor rapidly searched him. &#8220;Where&#8217;s your
+flashlight?&#8221; he demanded apparently disappointed not to find one.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t got any,&#8221; said Tom, dully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pretty good team work,&#8221; said the sailor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here you,&#8221; he added, proceeding to search Tom&#8217;s brother, while the
+captain and the officer fell to turning the little room inside out,
+hauling the mattress from the berth and examining every nook and cranny
+of the place. Tom noticed that the plate, which was now on a stool, had
+a sandwich on it and a piece of cheese, and he realized, if he had not
+realized before, his brother&#8217;s almost diabolical foresight and sagacity.
+It looked very innocent&mdash;a harmless, late lunch, brought into <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_90' id='pg_90'>90</a></span>the
+stateroom as was often done among the ship&#8217;s people.</p>
+
+<p>During the search of the stateroom Tom stood silently by. He watched the
+coverings pulled ruthlessly from the berth, moved out of the way as the
+mattress was hauled to the floor, gazed fascinated at the quick
+thoroughness which mercilessly unfolded every innocent towel and
+scrutinized each joint and section of the life preserver, until
+presently the orderly little apartment was in a state of chaos. He saw
+the officer move the plate so as to examine the under side of the stool.
+He saw the disguised Secret Service man pick up a little piece of
+innocent cotton waste and carelessly throw it down again.</p>
+
+<p>But the turmoil about him was nothing to the turmoil in his own brain.
+What should he do? Would he dare to speak? What could he say? And still
+he stood silent, watching with a strange, cold feeling, looking
+occasionally at his brother, and thinking&mdash;thinking. As his brother
+watched him furtively, and a little fearfully, Tom became aware of a
+queer way he had of contracting his eyebrows, just as Uncle Job used to
+do when he told a joke. And there came into his mind the memory of a
+certain day long ago when his big <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_91' id='pg_91'>91</a></span>brother and he had shot craps
+together in front of the bank building in Bridgeboro and his brother had
+looked just that same way when he watched the street for stray
+policemen. Funny that he should think of that just now. The sailor (or
+whatever he was) gave Tom a shove to get him out of the way so that he
+could crawl under the berth.</p>
+
+<p>And still Tom watched them dazedly. He was thinking of something that
+Mr. Ellsworth, his scoutmaster, had once said&mdash;that blood is thicker
+than water. As nearly as he could make out, that meant that after all a
+fellow&#8217;s own people came first&mdash;before anything else. He had great
+respect for Mr. Ellsworth.</p>
+
+<p>The man in the sailor suit picked up the plate of food from the berth
+and slung the whole business into the basin. The jangle of the dish
+startled Tom and roused him. The others didn&#8217;t seem to mind it. They had
+more important things to think of than a mess plate.</p>
+
+<p>And Tom Slade, captain&#8217;s mess boy and former scout, went on thinking.</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_92' id='pg_92'>92</a></span>
+<a name='HE_PONDERS_AND_DECIDES_BETWEEN_TWO_NEAR_RELATIONS_2285' id='HE_PONDERS_AND_DECIDES_BETWEEN_TWO_NEAR_RELATIONS_2285'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+<h3>HE PONDERS AND DECIDES BETWEEN TWO NEAR RELATIONS</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>When Tom at length did speak his own voice sounded strange to him; but
+he said what he had to say with a simple straightforwardness which in
+ordinary circumstances would have carried conviction.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you&#8217;d let me say something,&#8221; he said, trying to keep his throat
+clear, &#8220;I&#8217;d like to tell you&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the best thing, sonny,&#8221; said the man in the sailor suit; &#8220;you
+needn&#8217;t be afraid of squealing. How old are you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Seventeen,&#8221; said Tom, &#8220;but it wasn&#8217;t squealing I was thinking about. I
+ain&#8217;t a-scared, if that&#8217;s what you think.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He avoided looking at his brother, who tried to catch his eye, and the
+men, perhaps seeing this and thinking it might be fruitful to let him
+say what he would in his own way, relaxed a trifle toward him.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_93' id='pg_93'>93</a></span>&#8220;While you were searching,&#8221; Tom went on, hesitating, but still showing
+something of his old stolid manner, &#8220;I wasn&#8217;t a-scared, but I was
+thinking&mdash;I had to think about something&mdash;before I could decide what I
+ought to do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right, sonny,&#8221; said the man in the sailor clothes. &#8220;I&#8217;m glad you
+know what&#8217;s best for you. Out with it. You&#8217;ve got a key to that
+porthole, eh? Now where is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You had a flashlight and threw it out, didn&#8217;t you?&#8221; added the officer.
+&#8220;Come now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom looked from one to the other. His brother began to speak but was
+peremptorily silenced.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It ain&#8217;t knowin&#8217; what&#8217;s good for me,&#8221; Tom managed to say, &#8220;&#8217;cause as
+soon as I&mdash;as soon as I&mdash;made up my mind about that&mdash;then right away I
+knew what I ought to do&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He gulped and looked straight at the officer so as not to meet his
+brother&#8217;s threatening look.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I had to decide it myself&mdash;&#8217;cause&mdash;&#8217;cause Mr. Ellsworth&mdash;a man I
+know&mdash;ain&#8217;t here. Maybe a feller&#8217;s own family come first and I
+wouldn&#8217;t&mdash;I wouldn&#8217;t&mdash;tell on &#8217;em&mdash;if&mdash;if they stole&mdash;or something like
+that,&#8221; he blurted out, twisting his fingers together. &#8220;And&mdash;and&mdash;I
+didn&#8217;t forget <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_94' id='pg_94'>94</a></span>neither&mdash;I didn&#8217;t,&#8221; he added, turning and looking his
+brother straight in the face, &#8220;I didn&#8217;t&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He broke down completely and the men stared at him, waiting.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Anyway&mdash;anyway&mdash;I got to remember&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He broke off.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, what became of the light?&#8221; the officer urged rather coldly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And when you saw me standing on the&mdash;deck&mdash;last night&mdash;I was thinking
+about Uncle Sam&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He gulped and hesitated, then went on,
+&#8220;and&mdash;and&mdash;that&#8217;s what made me think about Uncle Sam being a relation
+too&mdash;kind of&mdash;and I got to decide between my brother and my
+uncle&mdash;like.&#8221; He gulped again and shook his head with a kind of
+desperate resolution. &#8220;There&mdash;<i>there</i> it is,&#8221; he almost shouted,
+pointing at the scattered sandwich and the mess plate in the wash basin.
+&#8220;You&mdash;picked it up twice,&#8221; he added with a kind of reckless triumph,
+&#8220;and you didn&#8217;t know it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What?&#8221; said the captain, with a puzzled look at his companions, as if
+he were a little doubtful of Tom&#8217;s sanity.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There it is,&#8221; Tom repeated, controlling himself better now that the
+truth was out. &#8220;He held <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_95' id='pg_95'>95</a></span>it&mdash;up there&mdash;so&#8217;s the light would shine in the
+glass. There ain&#8217;t anything except that. It&#8217;s&mdash;it&#8217;s the same idea as a
+periscope. He said it in a letter that I gave Mr. Conne&mdash;and&mdash;and I
+found out what he meant. I&mdash;I didn&#8217;t know he was&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Trying desperately to master his feeling he broke down and big tears
+rolled down his cheeks. &#8220;I couldn&#8217;t help it,&#8221; he said to his brother.
+&#8220;It ain&#8217;t &#8217;cause I don&#8217;t remember&mdash;but&mdash;I had to decide&mdash;and I got to
+stand by Uncle Sam!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you didn&#8217;t know about this,&#8221; said the captain, watching him keenly,
+&#8220;how did you suspect it? You&#8217;d better try to control yourself and tell
+everything. This is a very serious matter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see that piece of cotton waste that you kicked?&#8221; said Tom, turning
+upon the disguised government agent. &#8220;You can see it&#8217;s fresh and hasn&#8217;t
+got any oil on it. You can see from the flat place on it how it was used
+to polish the dish. I ain&#8217;t&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; he gulped. &#8220;I ain&#8217;t going to talk about
+my brother&mdash;but I got to tell about the papers he&#8217;s got somewhere. The
+same person that said it was like a periscope said something about
+having plans of a motor. I got to tell that, and I ain&#8217;t going to say
+any more about him. <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_96' id='pg_96'>96</a></span>So now he can&#8217;t do any more harm. And&mdash;and I want
+you to please go away,&#8221; he burst forth, &#8220;because I&mdash;I got to tell him
+about how our mother died&mdash;&#8217;cause maybe he didn&#8217;t&mdash;get the letter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_97' id='pg_97'>97</a></span>
+<a name='HE_IS_ARRESTED_AND_PUT_IN_THE_GUARDHOUSE_2387' id='HE_IS_ARRESTED_AND_PUT_IN_THE_GUARDHOUSE_2387'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+<h3>HE IS ARRESTED AND PUT IN THE GUARDHOUSE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>But of course his brother <i>had</i> received that letter. The circumstances
+of his mother&#8217;s death were the least of his troubles now and he must
+have thought his young brother very innocent and sentimental. He did not
+understand Tom&#8217;s wanting to talk about their mother&#8217;s death any more
+than Tom understood how Bill could be a spy and a traitor.</p>
+
+<p>In short, the wily, self-seeking Bill, who would stop at nothing,
+probably thought his brother had a screw loose, as the saying is, and
+perhaps that is what the others thought also.</p>
+
+<p>Tom was never very lucid in explanation, and his emotion had made his
+surprising story choppy and unsatisfactory. His explanation of the use
+of the plate and of the telltale piece of cotton which his keen eyes had
+not missed, seemed plausible enough, and fell like a bomb-shell among
+his questioners.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_98' id='pg_98'>98</a></span>But they did not give him credit for his discovery nor even for his
+apparent innocence. It was, as the captain had said, a serious business,
+and Uncle Sam was taking no chances where spies and traitors were
+concerned. Probably they thought Tom was a weak-minded tool of his
+shrewder brother.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; said the officer rather curtly, &#8220;I&#8217;m glad you told the truth. If
+you had told me the truth last night when I caught you up there, it
+would have been better for you. Still, confession made at bay is better
+than none,&#8221; he said to the captain, adding as he left the room, &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+have a squad down.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>William Slade sat upon the berth, glaring at the detective who stood
+guarding the doorway. He looked vicious enough with his disheveled hair
+and sooty face and the dirty jumper such as the under engineers wore.
+Tom wondered when he had come east and how he had fallen in with his old
+patron, Adolf Schmitt.</p>
+
+<p>And this was his own brother! Evidently William had been in the German
+spy service for some time, for he had learned the rule of absolute
+silence when discovered and he had even acquired some of that lowering
+sullenness which sets the Teuton apart from all other beings.</p>
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='width:350px'>
+<a name='illus-001' id='illus-001'></a>
+<img src='images/slade-098.jpg' alt='&#34;THERE--THERE IT IS,&#34; TOM ALMOST SHOUTED. Page 94' title='' width='350' /><br />
+<p style='text-align:center' class='caption'>&#34;THERE&mdash;<i>THERE</i> IT IS,&#34; TOM ALMOST SHOUTED.</p>
+<p style='text-align:right' class='caption'><i>Page</i> 94</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_99' id='pg_99'>99</a></span>Presently there came the steady footfalls of soldiers in formation and
+a sudden fear seized upon Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&mdash;they ain&#8217;t going to arrest me, are they?&#8221; he asked, with alarm in
+every line of his ordinarily expressionless face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Put you both in the guardhouse,&#8221; said the captain briefly.<a name='FNanchor_2' id='FNanchor_2'></a><a href='#Footnote_2' class='fnanchor'>[2]</a></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t you&mdash;didn&#8217;t you&mdash;believe me?&#8221; Tom pleaded simply and not without
+some effect.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You and your brother get your jobs together?&#8221; the captain asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Conne, who&#8217;s in the Secret Service, got me mine,&#8221; Tom said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who did he recommend you to?&#8221; asked the detective.</p>
+
+<p>Tom hesitated a moment. &#8220;To Mr. Wessel, the steward,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Humph! Too bad Mr. Wessel died. You&#8217;ll both have to go to the
+guardhouse.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_100' id='pg_100'>100</a></span>Tom saw there was no hope for him. For a moment he struggled, drawing a
+long breath in pitiful little gulps. If he had followed Mr. Conne&#8217;s
+advice he would not be in this predicament. But where then might the
+great transport be? Who but he, captain&#8217;s mess boy, had saved the ship
+and showed these people how the light&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It makes me feel like&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; he began. &#8220;Can&#8217;t I&mdash;please&mdash;can&#8217;t I not be
+arrested&mdash;please?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Neither man answered him. Presently the door opened and four soldiers
+entered. One of them was &#8220;Pickles,&#8221; who had nicknamed Tom &#8220;Tombstone,&#8221;
+because he was so sober. But he was not Pickles now; he was just one of
+a squad of four, and though he looked surprised he neither smiled nor
+spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pickles,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;I ain&#8217;t&mdash;<i>You</i> don&#8217;t believe&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But Pickles had been too long in training camp to forget duty and
+discipline so readily and the only answer Tom got was the dull thud of
+Pickles&#8217; rifle butt on the floor as the officer uttered some word or
+other.</p>
+
+<p>That thud was a good thing for Tom. It <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_101' id='pg_101'>101</a></span>seemed to settle him into his
+old stolid composure, which had so amused the boys in khaki.</p>
+
+<p>Side by side with his brother, whom so long ago he could not bear to see
+&#8220;licked,&#8221; he marched out and along the passage, a soldier in front, one
+behind and one at either side. How strange the whole thing seemed!</p>
+
+<p>His brother who had gone out to Arizona when Tom was just a bad,
+troublesome little hoodlum! And here they were now, marching silently
+side by side, on one of Uncle Sam&#8217;s big transports, with four soldiers
+escorting them! Both, the nephews of Uncle Job Slade who had died in the
+Soldiers&#8217; Home and had been buried with the Stars and Stripes draped
+over his coffin.</p>
+
+<p>Two things stood out in Tom Slade&#8217;s memory, clearest of all, showing how
+unreasonable and contrary he was. Two lickings. One that made him mad
+and one that made him glad&mdash;and that he was proud of. The licking that
+his brother had got, when he could, as he had told honest Pete Connigan,
+&#8220;feel the madness way down in his fingers.&#8221; And the licking his father
+had given <i>him</i> for not hanging out the flag.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Zey must be all fine people to haf&#8217; such a boy</i>,&#8221; <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_102' id='pg_102'>102</a></span>Frenchy had said.
+He hoped he would not see Frenchy now.</p>
+
+<p>But he was to be spared nothing. The second cabin saloon was filled with
+soldiers and they stared in amazement as the little group marched
+through, the steady thud, thud, of the guards&#8217; heavy shoes emphasized by
+the wondering stillness. Tom shuffled along with his usual clumsy gait,
+looking neither to right nor left. Up the main saloon stairway they
+went, and here, upon the top carpeted step sat Frenchy chatting with
+another soldier. He was such a hand to get off into odd corners for
+little chats! He stared, uttered an exclamation, then remembered that he
+was a soldier and caught himself. But he turned and following the little
+procession with astonished eyes until they disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>The guardhouse was the little smoking-room where Tom and Frenchy had sat
+upon the sill and talked and Frenchy had given him the iron button. Into
+the blank darkness of this place he and his brother were marched, and
+all through that long, dreadful night Tom could hear a soldier pacing
+back and forth, back and forth, on the deck just outside the door.</p>
+
+<div class='footnote'>
+<hr class='footnote' />
+<p><a name='Footnote_2' id='Footnote_2'></a>
+<span class='label'><a href='#FNanchor_2'>[2]</a></span>
+The custom of putting arrested persons in the &#8220;brig&#8221; on liners and
+transports was discontinued by reason of the danger of their losing
+their lives without chance of rescue, in the event of torpedoing. The
+present rule is that the guardhouse must be above decks and a living
+guard must always be at hand.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_103' id='pg_103'>103</a></span>
+<a name='HE_DOES_MOST_OF_THE_TALKING_AND_TAKES_ALL_THE_BLAME_2534' id='HE_DOES_MOST_OF_THE_TALKING_AND_TAKES_ALL_THE_BLAME_2534'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+<h3>HE DOES MOST OF THE TALKING AND TAKES ALL THE BLAME</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Tramp, tramp, tramp&mdash;all through the endless, wakeful hours he heard
+that soldier marching back and forth, back and forth, outside the door.
+Every sound of those steady footfalls was like a blow, stinging afresh
+the cruel wound which had been opened in his impassive nature. He was
+under arrest and under guard. If he should try to get out that soldier
+would order him to halt, and if he didn&#8217;t halt the soldier would shoot
+him. He wondered if the guard were Pickles.</p>
+
+<p>He did not think at all about his deductive triumph now. And he did not
+care much about what they would do with him. He wondered a little what
+the soldiers would say&mdash;particularly Frenchy. But if only his brother
+would talk to him and ask about their mother he could bear everything
+else&mdash;the dashing of his triumph, the danger he was in, the shame. The
+shame, most of all.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_104' id='pg_104'>104</a></span>He did not care so much now about being Sherlock Nobody Holmes&mdash;he had
+had enough of that. And no matter what they thought of &#8220;Yankee Doodle
+Whitey,&#8221; <i>he</i> knew that he was loyal. Let them think that all his talk
+of Uncle Job and the flag and his father&#8217;s patriotism was just
+bluff&mdash;let Frenchy think he had been just deceiving him&mdash;he could stand
+anything, if only his brother would be like a brother to him now that
+they were alone together.</p>
+
+<p>It was a strange, unreasonable feeling.</p>
+
+<p>Once, only once, in the long night, he tried to make his brother
+understand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maybe you won&#8217;t believe me, but I&#8217;m sorry,&#8221; he said; &#8220;if you ain&#8217;t
+asleep I wish you&#8217;d listen&mdash;Bill. Now that I told &#8217;em I feel kind of
+different&mdash;I <i>had</i> to tell &#8217;em. I had to decide quick&mdash;and I didn&#8217;t
+have nobody&mdash;anybody&mdash;to help me. Maybe you think I was crazy&mdash;&mdash; Are
+you listenin&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was no response, but he knew his brother was not asleep.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It ain&#8217;t because I wanted &#8217;em to think I was smart&mdash;Bill&mdash;if you think
+it was that, you&#8217;re wrong. And anyway, it didn&#8217;t show I was so
+smart&mdash;you was smarter, anyway, if it comes to <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_105' id='pg_105'>105</a></span>that. I got to admit it.
+&#8217;Cause you thought about it first&mdash;about using the dish. It served me
+right for thinking I could deduce, and all like that, anyway. You ain&#8217;t
+asleep, are you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Aw, shut up!&#8221; his brother grunted. &#8220;You could &#8217;a&#8217; kept me out o&#8217; this
+by keepin&#8217; yer mouth shut. But you had to jabber it out, you&mdash;&mdash;. And
+they&#8217;ll plug me full of lead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A cold shudder ran through Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I got to admit I&#8217;m a kind of a (he was going to say <i>traitor</i>, but for
+his brother&#8217;s sake he avoided the word). I got to admit I wasn&#8217;t loyal,
+too. I wasn&#8217;t loyal to you, anyway. But I had to decide quick, Bill. And
+I saw I <i>had</i> to tell &#8217;em. You got to be loyal to Uncle Sam first of
+all. But&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash; Are you listening, Bill? I ain&#8217;t mad, anyway. &#8217;Cause
+Adolf Schmitt&#8217;s most to blame. It ain&#8217;t&mdash;it ain&#8217;t &#8217;cause I want to get
+let off free either, it ain&#8217;t. I wouldn&#8217;t care so much now what they did
+to me, anyway. &#8217;Cause everything is kind of spoiled now about all of
+us&mdash;our family&mdash;being so kind of patriotic&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His brother, goaded out of his sullenness, turned upon him with a tirade
+of profane abuse, leaving the boy shamed and silent.</p>
+
+<p>And all the rest of that night Tom Slade, whose <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_106' id='pg_106'>106</a></span>hand had extinguished
+the guiding light, perhaps, to some lurking submarine; who had had to
+&#8220;think quick and all by himself,&#8221; and had decided for his Uncle Sam
+against his brother Bill, sat there upon the leather settee, feeling
+guilty and ashamed. He knew that he had done right, but his generous
+heart could not feel the black, shameless treason of his brother because
+his own smaller treason stood in the way. He could not see the full
+guilt of that wretched brother because he felt mean and contemptible
+himself. Truly, the soldier had hit the nail on the head when he said,
+&#8220;You&#8217;re all right, Whitey!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And now, suspected, shamed, sworn at and denounced, even now, as his
+generous nature groped for some extenuation for this traitor whose
+scheme he had discovered and exposed, he found it comforting to lay the
+whole blame and responsibility upon the missing Adolf Schmitt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Anyway, he tempted you,&#8221; he said, though he knew his brother would
+neither listen nor respond. &#8220;Maybe you think I don&#8217;t know that. He&#8217;s
+worse than anybody&mdash;he is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><i>You&#8217;re all right, Whitey!</i></p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_107' id='pg_107'>107</a></span>
+<a name='HE_SEES_A_LITTLE_AND_HEARS_MUCH_2629' id='HE_SEES_A_LITTLE_AND_HEARS_MUCH_2629'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+<h3>HE SEES A LITTLE AND HEARS MUCH</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Toward morning, he fell asleep, and when he awoke the vibration of the
+engines had ceased, and he heard outside the door of his prison a most
+uproarious clatter which almost drowned the regular footfalls of the
+soldier.</p>
+
+<p>He had heard linotype machines in operation&mdash;which are not exactly what
+you would call quiet; he had listened to the outlandish voice of a
+suction-dredge and the tumultuous clamor of a threshing machine. But
+this earsplitting clatter was like nothing he had ever heard before.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened and he was thankful to see that the soldier outside was
+not one of his particular friends. He was silently escorted to the wash
+room, in the doorway of which the guard waited while Tom refreshed
+himself after his sleepless night with a grateful bath.</p>
+
+<p>The vessel, as he could see, was moored parallel with the abrupt brick
+shore of a very narrow <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_108' id='pg_108'>108</a></span>canal, with somber, uninviting houses close on
+either hand. It was as if a ship were tied up along the curb of a
+street. Up and down the gang planks and back and forth upon the deck
+hurried men in blouses with great, clumsy wooden shoes upon their feet
+and now Tom saw the cause of that earsplitting clatter; and he knew that
+he had reached &#8220;over there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Down on the brick street below the ship, a multitude of children, all in
+wooden shoes, danced and clattered about, in honor of the ship&#8217;s
+arrival, and the windows were full of people waving the Stars and
+Stripes, calling &#8220;Vive l&#8217;Amer&iacute;que!&#8221; and trying, with occasional success,
+to throw loose flowers and little round potatoes with French and
+American flags stuck in them, onto the deck.</p>
+
+<p>All of the houses looked very dingy and old, and the men in blouses who
+pushed their clods about on this or that errand upon the troopship, were
+old, too, and had sad, worn faces. Only the children were joyful.</p>
+
+<p>As Tom went back along the deck, he glanced through a street which
+seemed to run almost perpendicularly up the side of a thickly built-up
+hill, and caught a passing glimpse of the open country beyond. France!
+He wondered whether the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_109' id='pg_109'>109</a></span>&#8220;front&#8221; were in that direction and how long it
+would take to get there, and what it looked like. It could not be so
+very far. Presently he heard a more orderly clatter of wooden shoes and
+he saw several of the soldiers, who had not yet gone ashore, hurry to
+the rail.</p>
+
+<p>He did not dare to do that himself, but as he walked he ventured to
+verge a little toward the vessel&#8217;s side, and saw below several men in
+tattered, almost colorless uniforms, marching in line along the brick
+street, each with a wheelbarrow.</p>
+
+<p>He heard a woman call something from a window in French.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s discipline for you, all right,&#8221; a soldier said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You said it,&#8221; replied another; &#8220;it&#8217;s second nature with &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He gathered that the little procession of laborers were German
+prisoners, and that the long ingrained habit of marching in step had
+become so much a part of their natures that they did it now
+instinctively.</p>
+
+<p>Then he realized that he himself was a prisoner and was in a worse
+plight than they.</p>
+
+<p>He spent the morning wondering what they <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_110' id='pg_110'>110</a></span>would do with him and his
+brother. Of course they believed him to be the accomplice of his
+brother. They probably thought he had weakened and told in terror and in
+hope of clemency. He wondered if they had gone through his brother&#8217;s
+luggage yet and whether they had found any papers.</p>
+
+<p>He realized that it seemed almost too much of a coincidence that he and
+his brother should have happened on the same ship&mdash;and in the same
+stateroom, all by accident. And he knew that his coming down from the
+deck just after the signal from the destroyer, looked bad. He knew that
+back home in America Germans had gone to Ellis Island upon less
+suspicious circumstances than that. But what would they do with an
+American? In the case of an American it was just plain treason and the
+punishment for treason is&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A feeling almost of nausea overcame him and he tried to put the dreadful
+thought away from him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Anyway, the whole business is a kind of a mix-up,&#8221; he told himself; &#8220;it
+don&#8217;t make any difference what you do&mdash;you get in trouble. But I don&#8217;t
+blame them so much, &#8217;cause they judge by looks, and that&#8217;s the only way
+you can do. Anyway, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_111' id='pg_111'>111</a></span>you got to die some time. I&#8217;m glad I found it out
+and told &#8217;em, &#8217;cause anyway it don&#8217;t make any difference if they think I
+confessed or just found it out&mdash;as long as they know it. That&#8217;s the main
+thing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>With this consoling thought he withdrew into his old stolid self, and
+was ready to stand up and be shot if that was what they intended to do
+with him. He did not blame anybody &#8220;because it was all a mix-up.&#8221; If he
+had chosen to save his brother he might have saved himself. The great
+ship, with all her brave boys, would have gone down, perhaps, and his
+brother would have seen to it that they two were saved.</p>
+
+<p>Well, the ship had <i>not</i> gone down, the brave boys who had jollied the
+life out of him were on their way across country now to die if need be,
+and who was he, Tom Slade, that he should be concerning himself as to
+just how or when <i>he</i> should die, or whether he got any credit or not,
+so long as he had decided right and done what he ought to do?</p>
+
+<p>He would rather have died honorably in the trenches, but if doing Uncle
+Sam a good turn meant that he must die in disgrace, why then he would
+die in disgrace, that was all.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_112' id='pg_112'>112</a></span>The point was the <i>good</i> turn. Once a scout, always a scout.</p>
+
+<p>No one spoke to him all through the day&mdash;not even his brother. He heard
+the hurried comings and goings on the deck, the creaking of the big
+winches as bag after bag of wheat, bale after bale of cotton, was swung
+over and lowered upon the brick quay. The little French children who
+made the neighborhood a bedlam with their gibberish and the outlandish
+clatter of their wooden shoes; the women who sat in their windows
+watching these good things being unloaded, as Santa Claus might unload
+his pack in the bosom of some poor family; the United States officers
+who were in authority at the port, and all the clamoring rabble which
+made the ship&#8217;s vicinity a picnic ground, did not know, of course, that
+it was because the captain&#8217;s mess boy had made a discovery and &#8220;decided
+right&#8221; that these precious stores were not at the bottom of the ocean.</p>
+
+<p>And the captain&#8217;s mess boy, whose uncle had fought at Gettysburg, and
+whose brother was a traitor, could not see the things which were going
+to help win the war because he was locked up in a little dim room on
+board, called the guardhouse. He was sitting on the leather settee, his
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_113' id='pg_113'>113</a></span>fingers intertwined nervously, gulping painfully now and then, but for
+the most part, quiet and brave. He did not try to talk with his brother
+now. He wished he could know the worst right away&mdash;what they were going
+to do with him. Then he would not care so much.</p>
+
+<p>Outside, upon the deck and quay, he could hear much, and he listened
+with a dull interest. He knew that old Uncle Sam was out there with his
+sleeves rolled up, making himself mightily at home, chucking wheat and
+wool and cotton and sugar and stuff out of the hold, slewing it,
+hoisting it, and letting it down plunk onto France! The boys in khaki
+were on trains already. He could hear the silly, piping screech of the
+French locomotives. His mind was half numbed, but he hoped that all this
+would encourage those French people and remind them that before Uncle
+Sam rolled down his sleeves again, he intended to bat out a home run.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes he became frightened, but he tried not to think of what lay
+before him. He believed that his brother would drag him down to his own
+shameful punishment, but he told himself that he didn&#8217;t care.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Anyway, I did my bit. I wish&mdash;I kinder <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_114' id='pg_114'>114</a></span>wish I could have seen Frenchy
+again. But I ain&#8217;t scared. I just as soon&mdash;stand&mdash;up&mdash;and be&mdash;&mdash; &#8217;Cause
+I ain&#8217;t much, anyway&mdash;&mdash;. And it ain&#8217;t&mdash;it ain&#8217;t for me to decide how I
+ought to die.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_115' id='pg_115'>115</a></span>
+<a name='HE_AWAITS_THE_WORST_AND_RECEIVES_A_SURPRISE_2788' id='HE_AWAITS_THE_WORST_AND_RECEIVES_A_SURPRISE_2788'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+<h3>HE AWAITS THE WORST AND RECEIVES A SURPRISE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>After a while the monotony was broken by two soldiers coming to take his
+brother away. Tom did not know where they were taking him; it might be
+to court martial and death. He knew nothing about court martial, whether
+it was a matter of minutes or hours or days, only he knew that
+everything in military administration was quick, severe and thorough. He
+wanted to speak to his brother, but he did not dare, and after the grim
+little procession was gone he listened to the steady, ominous footfalls,
+as they receded along the deck.</p>
+
+<p>Soon they would come for <i>him</i>, and he made up his mind that he would be
+master of himself and at the last minute he would hold his head up and
+look straight at them, just like the statue of Nathan Hale which he had
+seen....</p>
+
+<p>He realized fully now that he had been caught <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_116' id='pg_116'>116</a></span>in the meshes of his
+brother&#8217;s intrigue, and that there was no hope for him. To have saved
+himself he would have had to spare his brother and allow the intriguing
+to go on. Well, it made no difference&mdash;here he was. &#8220;And it ain&#8217;t so
+much, anyway,&#8221; he said, &#8220;if one boy like me does get misjudged, as long
+as the ship is saved and those papers about the motor were found.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So he tried to comfort himself, sitting there alone, twisting his
+fingers and gulping now and then. All his fine, patriotic memories of
+the Slades were knocked in the head, but even in these lonely hours he
+was stanch for Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam might make a mistake&mdash;a terrible
+mistake, as he presently would do&mdash;&#8220;but anyway he&#8217;s more important than
+I am,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Occasionally he listened wistfully to the sounds outside and they made
+him wish he could see as well as hear. He heard the creaking of the busy
+pulleys, the men calling &#8220;Yo-o-ho!&#8221; as they handled the winch-ropes, the
+dull thud of the heavy bales upon the quay, the cheerful, lusty calls of
+the workers, the loud voices of the French people, and that incessant
+accompaniment of all, the clatter, clatter, clatter, of wooden shoes.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes he would lose his mastery of himself <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_117' id='pg_117'>117</a></span>and regain it only to
+listen again, wistfully, longingly. He hoped those German prisoners who
+walked as if they were wound up with a key, noticed all this hurry and
+bustle. They would soon see what it meant for Uncle Sam.</p>
+
+<p>There were voices outside and Tom&#8217;s heart beat like a hammer. Could it
+be over so soon? The door opened a little and he could see that someone
+was holding the knob, talking to a soldier. He breathed heavily, his
+fingers were cold, but he stood up and looked straight before him,
+bravely. They had come to get him.</p>
+
+<p>Then the door opened wider and a familiar voice greeted him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;H&#8217;lo, Tommy. Well, well! Adventures never cease, huh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom stood gaping. Through dimmed eyes he saw a cigar (it seemed like the
+same cigar) cocked up in the corner of Mr. Conne&#8217;s mouth and that queer,
+whimsical look on Mr. Conne&#8217;s face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. Conne&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; he stammered. &#8220;I didn&#8217;t know&mdash;you was&mdash;here. <i>You</i> don&#8217;t
+believe it, do you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Conne worked his cigar leisurely over to the other side of his
+mouth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Believe what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_118' id='pg_118'>118</a></span>&#8220;That&mdash;I&#8217;m&mdash;a&mdash;a spy and&mdash;and a traitor.&#8221; He almost whispered the
+words.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Conne smiled exasperatingly and hit him a rap on the shoulder.
+&#8220;Anybody accuse you of being that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what they think,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, they don&#8217;t, Tommy. But they&#8217;ve got to be careful. Don&#8217;t you
+know they have?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I got to go and&mdash;get shot&mdash;maybe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So? Fancy that! Sit down here and tell me the whole business, Tommy.
+What&#8217;s it all about?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;got to admit it looks bad&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They wouldn&#8217;t have done anything with you till they saw me, Tommy. Even
+if they had to take you back to New York. Trouble was, Wessel&#8217;s dying.
+How could they prove what you said about me getting you the job?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He put his arm over Tom&#8217;s shoulder as they sat down upon the leather
+settee, and the effect of all the dread and humiliation and injustice
+and shame welled up in the boy now under that friendly touch and he went
+to pieces entirely.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you think I didn&#8217;t know what I was doing when I picked you, Tommy?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_119' id='pg_119'>119</a></span>Tom could not answer, but sat there with his breast heaving, his hand
+on Mr. Conne&#8217;s knee.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you just find your brother there by accident, Tom?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&mdash;I got to be&mdash;ashamed&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; Mr. Conne said kindly; &#8220;you&#8217;ve got to be ashamed of <i>him</i>. But
+you see, I haven&#8217;t got to be ashamed of you, have I? How&#8217;d you find out
+about it? Tell me the whole thing, Tom.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And so, sitting there with this shrewd man who had befriended him, Tom
+told the whole story as he could not have told it to anyone else. He
+went away back into the old Barrel Alley days, when he had &#8220;swiped&#8221;
+apples from Adolf Schmitt and his brother Bill had worked in Schmitt&#8217;s
+grocery store. He told how it used to make him mad when his brother &#8220;got
+licked unfair,&#8221; as he said, and he did not know why Mr. Conne screwed up
+his face at that. He told about how he &#8220;had to decide quick, kind of,&#8221;
+when the officers confronted him in his brother&#8217;s stateroom, and how the
+thought about Uncle Sam being his uncle had decided him. He told how he
+had had to keep his face turned away from his brother so that he
+&#8220;wouldn&#8217;t feel so mean, like.&#8221; And here <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_120' id='pg_120'>120</a></span>again Mr. Conne gave his face
+another screw and Tom did not understand why. That was one trouble with
+Tom Slade&mdash;he was so thick that he could not understand a lot of things
+that were perfectly plain to other people.</p>
+
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_121' id='pg_121'>121</a></span>
+<a name='HE_TALKS_WITH_MR_CONNE_AND_SEES_THE_BOYS_START_FOR_THE_FRONT_2916' id='HE_TALKS_WITH_MR_CONNE_AND_SEES_THE_BOYS_START_FOR_THE_FRONT_2916'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+<h3>HE TALKS WITH MR. CONNE AND SEES THE BOYS START FOR THE FRONT</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&mdash;what do you think they&#8217;ll do with him?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was the question uppermost in Tom&#8217;s mind, but he could not bring
+himself to ask it until his visitor was about to leave.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, that&#8217;s hard to say, Tommy,&#8221; Mr. Conne answered kindly but
+cautiously; then after a moment&#8217;s silence he added, &#8220;I&#8217;ll strain a point
+and tell you something because&mdash;well, because you&#8217;re entitled to know.
+But you must keep it very quiet. They hope to learn much more from him
+than he has told, but they found in his luggage a lot of plans and
+specifications of the &#8216;Liberty Motor.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad,&#8221; said Tom simply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course, we suspected from the letters sent to Schmitt that somebody
+had such plans, but we <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_122' id='pg_122'>122</a></span>had no clue as to who it was. You grabbed more
+than the dish when you put your hand through that transom, Tommy. You
+got hold of the plans of the &#8216;Liberty Motor&#8217; too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t take your advice,&#8221; said Tom ruefully; &#8220;I got a good lesson.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s all right, my boy. You&#8217;ve got a brain in your head and you did a
+good job. It&#8217;ll all go to your credit, and the other part won&#8217;t be
+remembered. So <i>you</i> try not to think of it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They won&#8217;t kill him, will they?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They won&#8217;t do anything just at present, my boy. Now put your mind on
+your work and don&#8217;t think of anything else&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have I got my job yet?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, certainly,&#8221; Mr. Conne laughed; &#8220;I&#8217;ll see you again, Tommy.
+Good-by.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>And Tom tried this time to follow his advice. He was soon released and
+the officer, whom he had so feared, was good enough to say, &#8220;You did
+well and you&#8217;ve had a pretty tough experience.&#8221; The captain spoke kindly
+to him, too, and all the ship&#8217;s people seemed to understand. The few
+soldiers who had not yet been sent forward to billets near the front,
+did not jolly him or even <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_123' id='pg_123'>123</a></span>refer to his detective propensities. They did
+not even mimic him when he said &#8220;kind of,&#8221; as they had done before.</p>
+
+<p>He had little to do during the ship&#8217;s brief stay in port and Mr. Conne,
+who was there on some mysterious business, showed him about the quaint
+old French town and treated him more familiarly than he had ever done
+before. For Tom Slade had received his first wound in the great war and
+though it was long in healing, it yielded to kindness and sympathy, and
+these everyone showed him.</p>
+
+<p>And so there came a day when he and Mr. Conne stood upon the platform
+amid a throng of French people and watched the last contingent of the
+boys as they called back cheerily from the queer-looking freight cars
+which were to bear them up through the French country to that mysterious
+&#8220;somewhere&#8221;&mdash;the most famous place in France.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So long, Whitey!&#8221; they called. &#8220;See you later.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-by, Tommy, old boy; hope the tin fish don&#8217;t get you going back!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hurry up back and bring some more over, Whitey!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_124' id='pg_124'>124</a></span><i>&#8220;Bon voyage!&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p><i>&#8220;Au revoir!&#8221;</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Give my regards to Broadway, Whitey.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Cheer up, Whitey, old pal. Kaiser Bill&#8217;ll be worse off than you are
+when <i>we</i> get at him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>N&#8217;importe</i>, Whitey.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll be there,&#8221; called Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Venez donc!</i>&#8221; some one answered, amid much laughter.</p>
+
+<p>The last he saw of them they were waving their hats to him and making
+fun of each other&#8217;s French. He watched the train wistfully until it
+passed out of sight.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They seem to like you, Tommy,&#8221; Mr. Conne smiled. &#8220;Is that a new name,
+Whitey?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Everybody kinder always seems to give me nicknames,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;I&#8217;ve
+had a lot of people jolly me, but never anybody so much as those
+soldiers&mdash;not even the scouts. I&#8217;ll miss &#8217;em going back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The next lot you bring over will be just the same, Tom. They&#8217;ll jolly
+you, too.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t mind it,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;But one thing I was thinking&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Conne rested his hand on Tom&#8217;s shoulder <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_125' id='pg_125'>125</a></span>and smiled very pleasantly
+at him. He seemed to be going out of his way these days to befriend him
+and to understand him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s about how you get to know people and get to like them, kind of,
+and then don&#8217;t see them any more. That feller, Archibald Archer, that
+worked on the other ship I was on&mdash;I&#8217;d like to know where he is if he&#8217;s
+alive. I liked that feller.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a big world, Tom.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maybe I might see him again some time&mdash;same as I met my&mdash;my brother.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; said Mr. Conne, cheerily. &#8220;It&#8217;s always the unexpected that
+happens, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I saw <i>you</i> again, anyway.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, you can&#8217;t get away from me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And Frenchy&mdash;maybe I&#8217;ll never see him any more. He&#8217;s got people that
+live in Alsace; he told me all about them. He hasn&#8217;t heard from them
+since the war first began.&mdash;Gee, I hope Germany has to give Alsace back
+to France&mdash;just for his sake!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Conne laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Most of the people there stick up for France in their hearts, only they
+dasn&#8217;t show it. He gave <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_126' id='pg_126'>126</a></span>me this button; it&#8217;s made out of a cannon, and
+it means the French people there got to help you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hmm&mdash;hang on to it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You bet I&#8217;m going to. But maybe he wouldn&#8217;t like now, even if I met him
+again&mdash;after what he knows&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look here, Tom. You&#8217;ll be sailing in a day or so and when you come back
+I&#8217;ll probably be in Washington. Perhaps you&#8217;ll wish to enlist over here
+soon. I&#8217;m going to give you a little button, <i>kind of</i>, as you would
+say&mdash;to keep in your head. And this is it. Remember, there&#8217;s only one
+person in the world who can disgrace Tom Slade, and that is Tom Slade
+himself.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He slapped Tom on the shoulder, and they strolled up the dingy, crooked
+street, past the jumble of old brown houses, until it petered out in a
+plain where there was a little cemetery, filled with wooden crosses.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Those poor fellows all did their bit,&#8221; said Mr. Conne.</p>
+
+<p>Tom looked silently at the straight rows of graves. He seemed to be
+getting nearer and nearer to the war.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_127' id='pg_127'>127</a></span>&#8220;How far is the front?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not as far as from New York to Boston, Tom. Straight over that way is
+Paris. When you get past Paris you begin to see the villages all in
+ruins,&mdash;between the old front and the new front.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve hiked as far as that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it isn&#8217;t far.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you know where our boys are&mdash;what part of it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know, but I&#8217;m not going to tell you,&#8221; Mr. Conne laughed. &#8220;You&#8217;d
+like to be there, I suppose.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For a few moments Tom did not answer. Then he said in his old dull way,
+&#8220;I got a right to go now. I got a right to be a soldier, to make up
+for&mdash;<i>him</i>. The next time I get back here I&#8217;m going to join. If we don&#8217;t
+get back for six weeks, then I&#8217;ll be eighteen. I made up my mind now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Conne laughed approvingly and Tom gazed, with a kind of fascination,
+across the pleasant, undulating country.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I could even hike it,&#8221; he repeated; &#8220;it seems funny to be so near.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_128' id='pg_128'>128</a></span>But when finally he did reach the front, it was over the back fence, as
+one might say, and after such an experience as he had never dreamed of.</p>
+
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_129' id='pg_129'>129</a></span>
+<a name='HE_IS_CAST_AWAY_AND_IS_IN_GREAT_PERIL_3102' id='HE_IS_CAST_AWAY_AND_IS_IN_GREAT_PERIL_3102'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+<h3>HE IS CAST AWAY AND IS IN GREAT PERIL</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re more likely to spill the cup when it&#8217;s empty,&#8221; said the deck
+steward, who was a sort of walking encyclopedia to Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose that&#8217;s because we haven&#8217;t got such a good convoy going back,&#8221;
+Tom said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That and high visibility. You see, the less there is in the ship, the
+higher she sets up in the water, and the higher she sets the better they
+can see her. We&#8217;re in ballast and floating like a balloon. They get
+better tips about westbound ships, too. All the French ports are full of
+German agents. They come through Switzerland.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The first day out on the voyage homeward was very rough. At about dusk
+Tom was descending the steps from the bridge with a large tray when he
+saw several of the ship&#8217;s people (whose time was pretty much their own
+on the westward trip) hurrying to the rail. One of them called to him,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_130' id='pg_130'>130</a></span>&#8220;We&#8217;re in for it;&#8221; but Tom was not alarmed, for by this time he was too
+experienced a &#8220;salt&#8221; to be easily excited.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You can see the wake!&#8221; someone shouted.</p>
+
+<p>There was a sudden order on the bridge, somebody rushed past him and
+then the tray, with all its contents, went crashing upon the steps and
+Tom staggered against the stair-rail and clung to it.</p>
+
+<p>The ship was struck&mdash;struck as if by a bolt out of the sky.</p>
+
+<p>He had been through this sort of thing before and he was not scared. He
+was shocked at the suddenness of it, but he kept his head and started
+across the deck for his emergency post, aft. Everyone seemed to be
+running in that direction.</p>
+
+<p>He knew that however serious the damage, there was but small danger to
+life, since the convoy was at hand and since there were so very few
+people upon the ship; there were life-boats enough, without crowding,
+for all on board.</p>
+
+<p>But the impact, throwing him down the steps, as it did, had caused him
+to twist his foot and he limped over to the rail for its assistance in
+walking. Men were now appearing in life-preservers, and hovering
+impatiently in the vicinity of the lifeboat davits, but he heard no
+orders for manning the boats and he was distinctly aware of the engines
+still going.</p>
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='width:350px'>
+<a name='illus-002' id='illus-002'></a>
+<img src='images/slade-130.jpg' alt='TOM WAS STANDING, OR TRYING TO STAND, ON A GERMAN SUBMARINE. Page 137' title='' width='350' /><br />
+<p style='text-align:center' class='caption'>TOM WAS STANDING, OR TRYING TO STAND, ON A GERMAN SUBMARINE.</p>
+<p style='text-align:right' class='caption'><i>Page</i> 137</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_131' id='pg_131'>131</a></span>He hobbled along, holding the rail, intent upon reaching the davits
+astern, where the third officer would give him orders, when suddenly
+there was a splitting sound, the rail gave way, he struggled to regain
+his balance and went headlong over the side, still clutching the piece
+of rail which he had been leaning on.</p>
+
+<p>He had the presence of mind to keep hold of it and to swim quickly away
+from the vessel, trying to shout as he swam; but the sudden ducking had
+filled his mouth with water and he could do little more than splutter.</p>
+
+<p>He could see as he looked up that one of the upright stanchions which at
+once strengthened the rail and supported the deck above, was in
+splinters and it was this that had weakened the rail so that it gave
+way. Vaguely he remembered reading of a submarine which, after
+despatching a torpedo, had tried by gunfire to disable the steering
+apparatus of a ship, and he wondered if that was the cause of the
+shattered stanchion.</p>
+
+<p>He would not have believed that one could be carried out of hearing so
+rapidly, but before he <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_132' id='pg_132'>132</a></span>realized it, he was thrown down into the abysmal
+depths of a great sea with only a towering wall of black water to be
+seen, and when he was borne up on the crest of another great roller he
+saw the ship and her convoy at what seemed a great distance from him.</p>
+
+<p>The vessels had seemed far apart from his viewpoint on deck, but now, so
+great was his distance from them, that they seemed to form a very
+compact flotilla and the hurried activities on the stricken vessel were
+not visible at all.</p>
+
+<p>He shouted lustily through the gathering dusk, but without result. Again
+and again he called, till his head throbbed from the exertion. He could
+see the smoke now, from his own vessel he thought, and he feared that
+she was under way, headed back to France.</p>
+
+<p>Later, when he was able to think connectedly at all, it was a matter of
+wonder to him that he could have been carried so far in so short a time,
+for he was not familiar with the fact known to all sailors that each
+roller means a third of a mile and that a person may be carried out of
+sight on the ocean in five minutes.</p>
+
+<p>He could discover no sign now of the flotilla except several little
+columns of smoke and he <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_133' id='pg_133'>133</a></span>realized that the damage to the <i>Montauk</i> could
+not be serious and that they were probably making for the nearest French
+port.</p>
+
+<p>Tom was an expert swimmer, but this accomplishment was, of course, of no
+avail now. He was nearly exhausted and his helplessness encouraged the
+fatal spirit of surrender. With a desperate impulse he all but cast the
+broken rail from him, resigned to struggle no more with its uncertain
+buoyancy, which yielded to his weight and submerged him with every other
+motion which he made.</p>
+
+<p>Then he had an idea. Dragging from the wood was part of the rope network
+which had been the under part of the ship&#8217;s rail. It was stiff with
+paint. Grasping it firmly in his mouth he managed to get his duck jacket
+off and this he spread across the stiff network, floating the whole
+business, jacket underneath, so that the painted rope netting acted as a
+frame to hold the jacket spread out.</p>
+
+<p>To his delight, he found this very buoyant, and with the strip of wood
+which he lashed across it with his scarf and belt it was almost as good
+as a life-preserver. He had to be careful to keep it <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_134' id='pg_134'>134</a></span>flat upon the
+water, for as soon as one edge went under the whole thing acted like the
+horizontal rudders of a submarine. But he soon got the hang of managing
+it and it was not half bad.</p>
+
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_135' id='pg_135'>135</a></span>
+<a name='HE_IS_TAKEN_ABOARD_THE_TIN_FISH_AND_QUESTIONED_3227' id='HE_IS_TAKEN_ABOARD_THE_TIN_FISH_AND_QUESTIONED_3227'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+<h3>HE IS TAKEN ABOARD THE &#8220;TIN FISH&#8221; AND QUESTIONED</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>And then he saw it. Whether it had been near him all the time he did not
+know. It was in the same wave-valley with himself and seemed to be
+looking at him. Even before there was any sign of human life upon it, it
+seemed to be standing off there just looking at him, and there was
+something uncanny about it. It looked like the little flat cupola of the
+town hall at home, only it was darker, and on top of it two long things
+stood up like flagpoles. And it bobbed and moved and just stood
+there&mdash;looking at him.</p>
+
+<p>A life boat might have a name instead of a number but it could not look
+at him like that.</p>
+
+<p>Then he saw that it was nearer to him, although he could not exactly see
+it move. On top of it were two persons, one of whom appeared to be
+looking at him through a long glass. Tom wished that he could see the
+rest of it&mdash;the part underneath&mdash;for then it would not seem so
+unnatural.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_136' id='pg_136'>136</a></span>Then one of the men called to him through a megaphone and he was
+possessed by an odd feeling that it was the thing itself speaking and
+not the man upon it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Speak German?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; Tom called, &#8220;I&#8217;m American.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He waited, thinking they would either shoot him or else go away and
+leave him. Then the man called, &#8220;Lift up your feet!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This strange mandate made the whole thing seem more unreal, and he would
+not have been surprised to be told next to stand on his head. But he was
+not going to take any chances with a Teuton and he raised his feet as
+best he could, while the little tower came closer&mdash;closer, until it was
+almost upon him.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly his feet caught in something, throwing him completely over, and
+as he frantically tried to regain his position his feet encountered
+something hard but slippery.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Vell, vot did I tell you, huh?&#8221; the man roared down at him.</p>
+
+<p>Tom was almost directly beneath him now, walking, slipping, and
+scrambling to his feet again, while this grim personage looked down at
+him like Humpty Dumpty from his wall. The <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_137' id='pg_137'>137</a></span>whole business was so utterly
+strange that he could hardly realize that he was standing, or trying to
+stand, waist deep, at the conning tower of a German submarine. By all
+the rules of the newspapers and the story books, his approach should
+have been dramatic, but it was simply a sprawling, silly progress.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, he knew how it was now. The U-boat was only very slightly
+submerged, and evidently the removable hand rail had not been stowed and
+it was that on which his feet had caught and which had caused his
+inglorious aquatic somersault. He had walked, or stumbled, over the
+submerged deck and now stood, a drenched and astonished figure, beneath
+his rescuers&mdash;or his captors.</p>
+
+<p>The man lowered a rope which had something like a horse&#8217;s stirrup
+hanging to it and into this Tom put his foot, at the same time grasping
+the rope, and was helped up somewhat roughly.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the top was a little hatch in which the man was standing, like a
+jack in the box, and now he went down an iron ladder with Tom after him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You off der <i>Montauk</i>, huh?&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir,&#8221; said Tom, &#8220;I fell off.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_138' id='pg_138'>138</a></span>&#8220;Vell, you haf&#8217; good loock.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom did not know whether to consider himself lucky or not, but it
+occurred to him that the domineering manner of his captors might not be
+an indication of their temper. And the realization of this was to prove
+useful to him afterward for he found that with the Germans a not
+unkindly intention was often expressed with glowering severity. He made
+up his mind that he would not be afraid of him.</p>
+
+<p>The iron ladder descended into a compartment where there was much
+electrical apparatus, innumerable switches, etc., and two steering
+gears. In front of each of these was a thing to look into, having much
+the appearance of a penny in the slot machine, in which one sees
+changing views. These he knew for the lower ends of the two periscopes.
+There was an odor in the place which made him think of a motorcycle.</p>
+
+<p>A door in the middle of this apartment, forward, led into a tiny,
+immaculate galley, with utensils which fitted into each other for
+economy in space, like a camping outfit. Here a parrot hung in a
+cage&mdash;strange home for a bird of the air!</p>
+
+<p>Another door, midway in the opposite side of the galley, opened into a
+narrow aisle which ran <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_139' id='pg_139'>139</a></span>forward through the center of the boat, with
+berths on either side, like the arrangement of a sleeping-car. In one of
+these squatted two men, in jumpers, playing a card game.</p>
+
+<p>The length of this aisle seemed to Tom about half the length of a
+railroad car. Through it his rescuer led him to a door which opened into
+a tiny compartment, furnished with linoleum, a flat desk, three
+stationary swivel chairs and a leather settee. It was very hot and
+stuffy, with an oily smell, but cosy and spotlessly clean.</p>
+
+<p>Directly across this compartment was another central door with something
+printed in German above it. The man knocked, opened this door, spoke to
+someone, then came back and went away in the direction from which they
+had come.</p>
+
+<p>Tom stood in the little compartment, not daring to sit down. He seemed
+to be in a strange world, like that of the Arabian Nights. He did not
+know whether the boat had descended or was still awash, or had come
+boldly up to the surface. He knew that the tower through the hatch of
+which he had descended was about in the middle, and that he had been
+taken from that point almost to the bow. He thought this cosy little
+room must be the commander&#8217;s own private <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_140' id='pg_140'>140</a></span>lair, and that probably the
+commander&#8217;s sleeping quarters lay beyond that door. Forward of that must
+be the torpedo compartments. As to what lay astern, he supposed the
+engines were there and the stern torpedo tubes, but the Teutons were so
+impolite that they never showed him and all Tom ever really saw of the
+interior of a German U-boat was the part of it which he had just
+traversed, and which in a general sort of way reminded him of a
+sleeping-car with the odor of a motorcycle.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, the forward door opened, and a young man with a very sallow
+complexion entered. He wore a kind of dark blue jumper, the only
+semblance of which to a uniform was that its few buttons were of brass.
+He was twirling his mustache and looked at Tom with very keen eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Vell, we are not so pad, huh? Ve don&#8217;d kill you!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom did not know exactly what to say, so he said, &#8220;I got to thank you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The man motioned to the settee and Tom sat down while he seated himself
+in one of the swivel chairs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Vell, vot&#8217;s der matter?&#8221; he said, seeing Tom shiver.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_141' id='pg_141'>141</a></span>&#8220;I&#8217;m wet,&#8221; said Tom; adding, &#8220;but I don&#8217;t mind it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The man continued to look at him sharply. His questions were peremptory,
+short, crisp.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You had a vite jacket?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir. I made a kind of a life preserver out of it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom suspected that they had seen him long before he had seen them and
+that they had watched his struggles in the water.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Steward&#8217;s poy, huh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was captain&#8217;s mess boy. The railing was broke and I never noticed it,
+so I fell overboard. I don&#8217;t think anybody else got hurt,&#8221; he added.</p>
+
+<p>The man twirled his mustache, still with his keen eyes fixed on Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You bring ofer a lot of droops?&#8221; It was a question, but he did not keep
+his voice raised at the end, as one asking a question usually does. In
+this sense a German never asks a question. He seemed to be making an
+announcement and expecting Tom to confirm it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Quite a lot,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Two thousand, huh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I couldn&#8217;t count them, there were so many.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How many trips you make?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_142' id='pg_142'>142</a></span>&#8220;This was my first on a transport,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huh. You make Brest? Vere?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It wasn&#8217;t Brest,&#8221; said Tom, &#8220;and I ain&#8217;t supposed to tell you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Vell, I ain&#8217;t supposed to rescue you neither.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you&#8217;d asked me before you rescued me, even then I wouldn&#8217;t of told
+you,&#8221; said Tom simply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huh. You talk beeg. Look out!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And still he twirled his mustache.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dey catch a spy, huh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, they did,&#8221; said Tom, feeling very much ashamed and wondering how
+his questioner knew. Then it occurred to him that this very U-boat had
+perhaps been watching for the signal light, and it gave him fresh
+satisfaction to remember that <i>he</i> had perhaps foiled this man who sat
+there twirling his mustache.</p>
+
+<p>The commander did not pursue this line of inquiry, supposing, perhaps,
+that a mess boy would not be informed as to such matters, but he
+catechised Tom about everything else, foiled at every other question by
+the stolid answer, &#8220;I ain&#8217;t supposed to tell you.&#8221; And he could not
+frighten or browbeat or shake anything out of him.</p>
+
+<p>At length, he desisted, summoned a subordinate and poured a torrent of
+German gibberish at him, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_143' id='pg_143'>143</a></span>the result of which was that Tom&#8217;s wet clothes
+were taken from him and he was ushered to one of the berths along the
+aisle, presumably there to wait until they dried.</p>
+
+<p>He was sorry that they would not let him accompany his wet clothing aft
+where the engines were, but he was relieved to find that he was
+evidently not going to be thrown back into the ocean.</p>
+
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_144' id='pg_144'>144</a></span>
+<a name='HE_IS_MADE_A_PRISONER_AND_MAKES_A_NEW_FRIEND_3441' id='HE_IS_MADE_A_PRISONER_AND_MAKES_A_NEW_FRIEND_3441'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+<h3>HE IS MADE A PRISONER AND MAKES A NEW FRIEND</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was just another German mistake in diplomacy or strategy or
+browbeatery, or whatever you may call it. Tom had been rescued for the
+information which he might give, and he gave none. It was not that he
+was so clever, either. A fellow like Frenchy could have squeezed a whole
+lot out of him without his realizing it, but Captain von
+Something-or-other didn&#8217;t know how to do it. And having failed, perhaps
+it was to his credit that he did not have Tom thrown back into the
+ocean.</p>
+
+<p>Tom would have liked to know whether the boat was still awash or
+completely submerged. Above all, he was anxious to know what they
+intended to do with him. The fact that the boat did not pitch or roll at
+all made him think that it must be far below these surface disturbances,
+but he did not dare to ask.</p>
+
+<p>When his clothes were returned to him he was <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_145' id='pg_145'>145</a></span>given a piece of rye bread
+and a cup of coffee, which greatly refreshed him, and he lay in one of
+the bunks along the long aisle watching two of the Germans who were
+playing cribbage. Once the commander came through like a conductor and
+as he passed Tom he said, &#8220;Vell, you haf&#8217; more room soon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He said it in his usual gruff, decisive tone, but Tom felt that he had
+intended to be agreeable and he wondered what he meant.</p>
+
+<p>After a while he fell asleep and slept the sleep of utter exhaustion.
+When he awoke there was no one about, but he heard voices outside,
+talking in German. Presently a soldier in one of the familiar German
+helmets came in and beckoned to him.</p>
+
+<p>Tom followed him up the iron ladder, out through the hatch and down
+another little ladder which was leaning against the outside of the
+conning tower. The deck was quite free of the water and already it was
+cluttered with tanks and cases ready to be stowed aboard. On either
+side, ranged sideways in a long row, as if they were ready to start on a
+race, were other U-boats, as many as thirty Tom thought, their low decks
+the scene of much activity.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_146' id='pg_146'>146</a></span>On the wharf was a long line of hand trucks, each bearing what he
+supposed to be a torpedo, and these looked exactly like miniature
+submarines, minus the conning tower.</p>
+
+<p>These things he saw in one hurried, bewildered glance, for he was
+allowed no opportunity for observation. Scarcely had he stepped off the
+deck when two lame soldiers took him in hand. Another soldier, who was
+not lame, stepped in front of him and he was directed by an officer who
+managed the affair and spoke very good English, to keep his eyes upon
+the little spire of that soldier&#8217;s helmet. What he saw thereafter, he
+saw only through the corners of his eyes, and these things consisted
+chiefly of German signs on buildings.</p>
+
+<p>In this formation, with Tom&#8217;s eyes fixed upon the little shiny spire
+before him, a lame soldier limping on either side and an officer in
+attendance, they marched to a stone building not far distant. Here he
+was ushered into a room where two men in sailor suits and three or four
+in oilskins sat about on benches. Two crippled soldiers guarded the door
+and another, who stood by an inner door, wore a bandage about his head.</p>
+
+<div class='figcenter' style='width:350px'>
+<a name='illus-003' id='illus-003'></a>
+<img src='images/slade-146.jpg' alt='TOM WAS DIRECTED TO KEEP HIS EYES UPON THE SOLDIER&#39;S HELMET. Page 146' title='' width='350' /><br />
+<p style='text-align:center' class='caption'>TOM WAS DIRECTED TO KEEP HIS EYES UPON THE SOLDIER&#39;S HELMET.</p>
+<p style='text-align:right' class='caption'><i>Page</i> 146</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_147' id='pg_147'>147</a></span>&#8220;Blimy, I thought I was &#8217;avin&#8217; me eyes tested,&#8221; said one of the
+sailors. &#8220;It&#8217;s a bloomin&#8217; wonder they don&#8217;t clap a pair o&#8217; blinders on
+yer and be done with it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom had not expected to hear any English spoken and it had never sounded
+so good to him before. The sailor did not seem to be at all awed by the
+grim surroundings, and his freedom from restraint was comforting to Tom
+who had felt very apprehensive. He was soon to learn that the most
+conspicuous and attractive thing about a British sailor or soldier is
+his disposition to take things as he finds them and not to be greatly
+concerned about anything.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hi, Fritzie,&#8221; he added, addressing one of the soldiers, &#8220;are we for
+Wittenberg or carn&#8217;t yer s&#8217;y?&#8221; The guard paid no attention.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s no difference,&#8221; said one of the men in oilskins.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a bloomin&#8217; lot o&#8217; difference,&#8221; said the sailor, &#8220;whether you&#8217;re
+civilian or not, I can jolly well tell you! It&#8217;s a short course in
+Wittenberg&mdash;there and Slopsgotten, or wotever they calls it. And the
+Spanish Ambassador, &#8217;e calls to inquire arfter yer &#8217;ealth every d&#8217;y. Hi
+there, Fritzie, &#8217;ave we long to wite, old pal?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_148' id='pg_148'>148</a></span>As there seemed to be no objection to this freedom of speech, Tom
+ventured a question.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is this Germany?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Germany? No, it&#8217;s the Cannibal Islands,&#8221; said the sailor, and everyone
+except the guard laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re not from Blighty,<a name='FNanchor_3' id='FNanchor_3'></a><a href='#Footnote_3' class='fnanchor'>[3]</a> eh?&#8221; the sailor asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m American,&#8221; said Tom; &#8220;I was ship&#8217;s boy on a transport and I fell
+off and a U-boat picked me up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re in Willlamshaven,&#8221; the sailor told him, expressing no surprise
+at his experience.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s civilian,&#8221; said one of the men in oilskins. &#8220;He&#8217;s safe.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mybe, and mybe not,&#8221; said the sailor; &#8220;&#8217;ow old are yer?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Seventeen,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Transports aren&#8217;t civilian,&#8221; said the sailor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ship&#8217;s boys are not naval in American service.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the ige of yer as does it,&#8221; the sailor answered. &#8220;I&#8217;ll wiger you
+me first package from &#8217;ome &#8217;e goes to Slopsgotten.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is Slopsgotten?&#8221; Tom asked.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_149' id='pg_149'>149</a></span>&#8220;It&#8217;s the ship&#8217;s boys&#8217; &#8217;eaven.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess it ain&#8217;t so good,&#8221; said the man.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a grite big rice track,&#8221; said the sailor. &#8220;Me cousin was there
+afore the Yanks came in. Mr. Gerard &#8217;e got him exchinged. They got a
+&#8217;ole army o&#8217; Yanks there now&mdash;all civilian.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is it a prison camp?&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A bloomin&#8217; sailors&#8217; &#8217;ome.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Were you captured?&#8221; Tom asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re off a bloomin&#8217; mine l&#8217;yer,&#8221; the sailor answered, including his
+companion; &#8220;nabbed in the channel&mdash;&#8217;i, Freddie?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; I &#8217;ad tickets in me pocket to tike me girl to the pl&#8217;y in
+Piccadilly that night. Mybe she&#8217;s witing yet,&#8221; responded Freddie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let &#8217;er wite. Hi, Fritzie, we&#8217;re a-goin&#8217; to add four shillins&#8217; to the
+bloomin&#8217; indemnity, to p&#8217;y fer the tickets!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Further conversation with this blithesome pair elicited the information
+that they had been taken by a German destroyer while in a small boat in
+the act of mine inspecting, and that the men in oilskins (the one who
+had spoken being an American) were captives taken from a sunken British
+trawler.</p>
+
+<p>One by one these prisoners were passed into an <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_150' id='pg_150'>150</a></span>inner room where each
+remained for about five minutes. When the sailor came out, he held up a
+brass tag which had been fastened with a piece of wire to his
+buttonhole.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I got me bloomin&#8217; iron cross,&#8221; he said, &#8220;and I&#8217;m a-goin&#8217; to mike me
+&#8217;ome in Slops! Kipe yer fingers crossed w&#8217;en yer go in there, Yank; tike
+me advice!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I hope I go there too if you&#8217;re going,&#8221; said Tom, &#8220;&#8217;cause you make it
+seem not so bad, kind of, bein&#8217; a prisoner.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hi, Fritzie!&#8221; the sailor called. &#8220;I got me reward for &#8217;eroism!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But apparently the German soldier could not appreciate these frivolous
+references to the sacred iron cross, for he glowered upon the young
+Englishman, and turned away with a black look.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hi, Fritzie, cawrn&#8217;t yer tike a joke?&#8221; the sailor persisted.</p>
+
+<p>Tom thought it must be much better fun to be an English soldier than a
+German soldier. And he thought this good-natured prisoner would be able
+to hold his own even against a great Yankee drive&mdash;of jollying.</p>
+
+<div class='footnote'>
+<hr class='footnote' />
+<p><a name='Footnote_3' id='Footnote_3'></a>
+<span class='label'><a href='#FNanchor_3'>[3]</a></span> England.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_151' id='pg_151'>151</a></span>
+<a name='HE_LEARNS_WHERE_HE_IS_GOING_AND_FINDS_A_RAY_OF_HOPE_3622' id='HE_LEARNS_WHERE_HE_IS_GOING_AND_FINDS_A_RAY_OF_HOPE_3622'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+<h3>HE LEARNS WHERE HE IS GOING AND FINDS A RAY OF HOPE</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>It seemed to Tom that the two German officials who sat behind a table
+examining him, asked him every question which could possibly be framed
+in connection with himself. And when they had finished, and the answers
+had been written down, they made a few informal inquiries about American
+troops and transports, which he was thankful that he could not answer.
+When he returned to the ante-room he had fastened to his buttonhole a
+brass disk with a number stamped upon it and a German word which was not
+&#8220;Slopsgotten,&#8221; though it looked as if it might be something like it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s see,&#8221; said the sailor; &#8220;didn&#8217;t I jolly well tell yer?
+Congratulations!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does it mean I go to Slopsgotten?&#8221; Tom asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ll keep us there till the war&#8217;s over, too,&#8221; <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_152' id='pg_152'>152</a></span>said the one called
+Freddie. &#8220;We&#8217;ll never get a good whack at Fritzie now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom&#8217;s heart fell.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll be wittling souveneers out o&#8217; wood,&#8221; Freddie concluded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll have plenty o&#8217; wood,&#8221; said his comrade. &#8220;The old Black Forest&#8217;s
+down that w&#8217;y.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s just north of Alsice,&#8221; Freddie said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A pair o&#8217; wire nippers and a bit o&#8217; French&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shh,&#8221; cautioned Freddie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We m&#8217;y be ible to s&#8217;y &#8216;Owdy&#8217; to General &#8217;Aig yet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shh! We aren&#8217;t even there yet.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom listened eagerly to this talk and thought much about it afterward.
+For one whole year he had longed to get into the war. He had waited for
+his eighteenth birthday as a child waits for Christmas. He had gone on
+the transport with the one thought of its bringing him nearer to
+military service. He was going to fight like two soldiers because his
+brother was&mdash;was not a soldier.</p>
+
+<p>And now it appeared that his part in the great war, his way of doing his
+bit, was to lie in a prison camp until the whole thing was over. That
+was <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_153' id='pg_153'>153</a></span>worse than boring sticks in Bridgeboro and distributing badges. Tom
+had never quarreled with Fate, he had even been reconciled to the
+thought of dying as a spy; but he rebelled at this prospect.</p>
+
+<p>Instinctively, as he and his two philosophical companions were placed
+aboard the train, he reached down into his trousers pocket and found the
+little iron button which Frenchy had given him. He clutched it as if it
+were a life preserver, until his hand was warm and sweaty from holding
+it.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed his last forlorn hope now.</p>
+
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_154' id='pg_154'>154</a></span>
+<a name='HE_MAKES_A_HIGH_RESOLVE_AND_LOSES_A_FAVORITE_WORD_3688' id='HE_MAKES_A_HIGH_RESOLVE_AND_LOSES_A_FAVORITE_WORD_3688'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+<h3>HE MAKES A HIGH RESOLVE AND LOSES A FAVORITE WORD</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Miss Margaret Ellison, the stenographer in the Temple Camp office, had
+once pronounced judgment on Tom. It was that if he made up his mind to
+do a thing he would do it. There was something about his big mouth and
+his dogged scowl which made this prophecy seem likely of fulfilment.</p>
+
+<p>And now, silently, he threw his challenge down before Fate, before
+Germany, before barbed wire entanglements&mdash;before everything and
+everybody. He did not know whether they ever paroled ordinary prisoners,
+but he hoped they would not parole him, because then he would be bound
+by honor. And he did not want to be bound by honor. He kept his hand in
+his pocket, grasping his precious button, and it was well that the
+German officials did not know what was in his mind.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_155' id='pg_155'>155</a></span>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t goin&#8217; to be cheated out of it now,&#8221; he said to himself; &#8220;I
+don&#8217;t care what.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>All day long they journeyed in the box car, but Tom could see nothing of
+Germany save an occasional glimpse now and then when the sliding door
+was opened at the stations, usually to admit more prisoners. Whatever
+became of the men from the British trawler he never knew, but his
+jack-tar companions were with him still and helped to keep up his
+spirits. He never knew them by any other names than Freddie and
+Tennert&mdash;the first name of one and the last name of the other&mdash;but so
+great was his liking for them that it included the whole of sturdy,
+plodding, indomitable old England into the bargain. They never talked
+patriotism, and seemed to regard the war merely as a sort of a job that
+had to be done&mdash;just like any other job. Early in the day before the car
+filled up, Tom talked a good deal with them and as there was no guard
+inside, the conversation was free.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When you said, &#8216;Shh&#8217;,&#8221; said Tom at one time, &#8220;I knew what you was
+thinkin&#8217; about. I was never in a war,&#8221; he added innocently, &#8220;so I don&#8217;t
+know much about it. But if I was sent to jail for&mdash;say, <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_156' id='pg_156'>156</a></span>for stealing&mdash;I
+wouldn&#8217;t think I had a right to escape.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;d be a pretty honorable sort of a thief,&#8221; said Freddie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, anyway,&#8221; said Tom, &#8220;I was going to ask you about escapin&#8217; from a
+military prison. That ain&#8217;t dishonorable, is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, strike me blind, it ain&#8217;t! But it&#8217;s jolly &#8217;ard!&#8221; said Tennert.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s fer them to keep yer and fer you to grease off, if you can,&#8221; said
+Freddie. &#8220;If you give your parole, it&#8217;s like a treaty&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A bloomin&#8217; scrap o&#8217; piper,&#8221; interrupted Tennert. &#8220;They wouldn&#8217;t put you
+on yer honor because they don&#8217;t know what honor is. It ain&#8217;t in
+Fritzie&#8217;s old dictionary.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom was glad to think of it in this way. <i>It&#8217;s for them to keep you and
+for you to grease off</i> (which evidently meant &#8220;get away&#8221;). He had great
+respect for the opinions of these two Britishers and his mind dwelt upon
+this only hope even before he had so much as a glimpse of his prison.</p>
+
+<p>He meant to fight with the American forces, in spite of Fate and in
+spite of Germany. Germany had armed guards and barbed wire
+entanglements. <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_157' id='pg_157'>157</a></span>Tom, on his side, had an iron button, a big mouth, a
+look of dogged determination, a sense of having been grossly cheated
+after he had made a considerable investment in time and a good deal of
+scout pluck and Yankee resource. The only thing that had stood in the
+way was the question of honor, and that was now settled on the high
+authority of the British navy! Who but sturdy old John Bull had come
+forward when Belgium was being violated? And now a couple of John Bull&#8217;s
+jack-tars had told him that it was for Germany to keep him and for him
+to get away if he could.</p>
+
+<p>He was on the point of telling them of his double reason for wanting to
+escape; that he had to fight for two&mdash;himself and his brother. Then he
+thought he wouldn&#8217;t for fear they might not understand.</p>
+
+<p>But he made up his mind that henceforth all his efforts and activities
+should be of double strength&mdash;to make up. He would think twice as hard,
+work twice as hard, fight twice as hard. Above all he would try twice as
+hard as he otherwise would have done, to get out of this predicament and
+get to the battlefront. He was glad of his scout training which he
+thought might help <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_158' id='pg_158'>158</a></span>him a great deal now. And he would put every quality
+he had to the supreme test.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you believe,&#8221; he asked, after a considerable silence, &#8220;that a feller
+can do more, kind of, if he&#8217;s doing his own work and&mdash;I mean if he
+thinks he&#8217;s got to do two people&#8217;s work&mdash;for a special reason?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Freddie did not seem quite to &#8220;get&#8221; him, but Tennert answered readily,
+&#8220;You jolly well can! Look at Kippers wot cime &#8217;ome fer orspital
+treatment arfter Verdoon. &#8217;E lived in Chelsea. &#8217;Is pal got sniped an&#8217;
+Fritzie took &#8217;is shoes. They&#8217;re awrful short o&#8217; shoes. Kippers, &#8217;e s&#8217;ys,
+&#8216;I&#8217;ll not l&#8217;y down me rifle till I plunk<a name='FNanchor_4' id='FNanchor_4'></a><a href='#Footnote_4' class='fnanchor'>[4]</a>
+a German and get &#8217;is shoes.&#8217;
+Two d&#8217;ys arfter &#8217;e comes crawlin&#8217; back through No Man&#8217;s Land and the
+color sergeant arsks &#8217;im did &#8217;e carry out &#8217;is resolootion. &#8216;Yes,&#8217; s&#8217;ys
+&#8217;e, &#8216;but blimy, I &#8217;ad to plunk seven Germans before I could get a pair
+o&#8217; clods to fit me.&#8217; &#8217;E was usin&#8217; &#8217;is pal&#8217;s strength too besides &#8217;is
+own. Any Tommy&#8217;ll tell yer a lad wot&#8217;s dyin&#8217; on the field can leave &#8217;is
+fightin&#8217; spunk to anyone &#8217;e pleases.&#8221;
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_159' id='pg_159'>159</a></span>Tom stared open-eyed. He found it easy to believe this superstition of
+Tommy Atkins&#8217;. And he made up his mind anew that he would square matters
+with Uncle Sam by doing the work of two.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>In the afternoon this pleasant chatting was made impossible by the
+numbers of military prisoners who were herded into the rough box car.
+They had come far enough south to be abreast of Belgium now and there
+must lately have been a successful German raid along the Flanders front,
+for both British and Belgian soldiers were driven aboard by the score.
+All of the British seemed exactly like Tennert and Freddie, cheerful,
+philosophical, chatting about Fritzie and the war as if the whole thing
+were a huge cricket game. Some of these were taken off farther down the
+line, to be sent to different camps, Tom supposed.</p>
+
+<p>At last, after an all day&#8217;s ride, they reached their destination. But
+alas, there was no such place as Slopsgotten! Tom was sorry for this for
+he liked the name. It sounded funny when his English friends said it.
+Schlaabgaurtn, was the way he read it on the railroad station. He felt
+disappointed and aggrieved. He was by no means sure of the letters, and
+pronunciation was <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_160' id='pg_160'>160</a></span>out of the question. He liked Slopsgotten. In
+Tennert&#8217;s mouth he had almost come to love it.</p>
+
+<p>It was the only thing about Germany that he liked, and now he had to
+give it up!</p>
+
+<p>Slopsgotten!</p>
+
+<div class='footnote'>
+<hr class='footnote' />
+<p><a name='Footnote_4' id='Footnote_4'></a>
+<span class='label'><a href='#FNanchor_4'>[4]</a></span> Kill.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_161' id='pg_161'>161</a></span>
+<a name='HE_GOES_TO_THE_CIVILIAN_CAMP_AND_DOESNT_LIKE_IT_3824' id='HE_GOES_TO_THE_CIVILIAN_CAMP_AND_DOESNT_LIKE_IT_3824'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+<h3>HE GOES TO THE CIVILIAN CAMP AND DOESN&#8217;T LIKE IT</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Ere we are in bloomin&#8217; old Slops! Not &#8217;arf bad, wot? Another inch and
+we&#8217;d bunk our noses plunk into Alsice! Wot d&#8217;ye s&#8217;y, Freddie?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I s&#8217;y it&#8217;s the back o&#8217; the old front. The only thing in the w&#8217;y is the
+mountains. Hi, Yankee! You see &#8217;em? It&#8217;s the ole mountains out of the
+song.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom looked at a distant range of blue-gray heights. Crossing those
+somewhere was the battle line&mdash;the long, sweeping line which began far
+off at the Belgian coast. How lonesome and romantic it must be for the
+soldiers up in those wild hills. Somewhere through there years ago
+Frenchy had fled from German tyranny and pursuit, away from his beloved
+ancestral home. Funny, thought Tom, that he should see both the eastern
+and western extremities of France without ever crossing it.</p>
+
+<p>He was much nearer the front than he had <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_162' id='pg_162'>162</a></span>been when he talked with Mr.
+Conne in the little French cemetery. Yet how much farther away! A
+prisoner in Germany, with a glowering, sullen Prussian guard at his very
+elbow!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We used to sing about them when I went to school,&#8221; he said. &#8220;&#8216;The Blue
+Alsatian Mountains.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d jolly well like to be on the other side o&#8217; them,&#8221; said Freddie.</p>
+
+<p>Tom clutched the little iron button in his pocket. Something prompted
+him to pull a button off his trousers and to work his little talisman
+into the torn place so that it would look like a suspender button. Then
+he turned again to gaze at the fair country which he supposed to be one
+of France&#8217;s lost provinces&mdash;the home of Frenchy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There ain&#8217;t much trouble crossing mountains,&#8221; said he; &#8220;all you need is
+a compass. I don&#8217;t know if they have tree-toads here, but I could find
+out which is north and south that way if they have.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Blimy, if we don&#8217;t listen and see if we can &#8217;ear &#8217;em s&#8217;ying &#8216;polly voo
+Fransay&#8217; in the trees!&#8221; said Tennert.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But a feller could never get into France that way,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;&#8217;Cause
+he&#8217;d have to cross the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_163' id='pg_163'>163</a></span>battle line. The only way would be to go down
+around through Switzerland&mdash;around the end of the line, kind of.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Down through Alsice,&#8221; grunted Tennert.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;E&#8217;d &#8217;ave a &#8217;underd miles of it,&#8221; said Freddie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Unless Fritzie offered &#8217;im a carriage. Hi, Fritzie, w&#8217;en do we have
+tea?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>They made no secret of this dangerous topic&mdash;perhaps because they knew
+the idea of escape from the clutches of Germany was so preposterous. In
+any event, &#8220;Fritzie&#8221; did not seem greatly interested.</p>
+
+<p>They were grouped at the station, a woebegone looking lot, despite their
+blithe demeanor. There were a dozen or more of them, in every variety of
+military and naval rags and tatters. Tom was coatless and the rest of
+his clothing was very much the worse for salt water. The sailor suits of
+his two companions were faded and torn, and Freddie suffered the
+handicap of a lost shoe. The rest were all young. Tom thought they might
+be drummer boys or despatch riders, or something like that. Several of
+them were slightly wounded, but none seriously, for Germany does not
+bother with prisoners who require much care. They were the residue of
+many who had come and gone in <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_164' id='pg_164'>164</a></span>that long monotonous trip. Some had been
+taken off for the big camps at Wittenberg and G&ouml;ttingen. As well as he
+could judge, he had to thank his non-combatant character as well as his
+youth for the advantages of &#8220;Slopsgotten.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When the hapless prisoners had been examined and searched and relieved
+of their few possessions, they were marched to the neighboring camp&mdash;a
+civilian camp it was called, although it was hardly limited to that.
+They made a sad little procession as they passed through the street of
+the quaint old town. Some jeered at them, but for the most part the
+people watched silently as they went by. Either they had not the spirit
+for ridicule, or they were too accustomed to such sights to be moved to
+comment.</p>
+
+<p>Tom thought he had never in his life seen so many cripples; and instead
+of feeling sorry for himself his pity was aroused for these maimed young
+fellows, hanging on crutches and with armless coat sleeves, hollow-eyed
+and sallow, who braved the law to see the little cavalcade go by. For
+later he learned that a heavy fine was imposed on these poor wretches if
+they showed themselves before enemy prisoners, and he wondered where
+they got the money to pay the fines.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_165' id='pg_165'>165</a></span>The prison camp was in the form of a great oval and looked as if it
+might formerly have been a &#8220;rice track,&#8221; as the all-knowing Tennert had
+said. It was entirely surrounded by a high barbed wire fence, the
+vicious wire interwoven this way and that into a mesh, the very sight of
+which must have been forbidding to the ambitious fugitive. It was not,
+however, electrified as in the strictly military prisons and on the
+frontiers. Tom was told that this was because it was chiefly a civilian
+camp, but he later learned that it was because of a shortage of coal.</p>
+
+<p>The buildings which had formerly been stables and open stalls had been
+converted into living quarters, and odds and ends of lumber gathered
+from the neighboring town had been used to throw up rough shacks for
+additional quarters.</p>
+
+<p>Straw was the only bedding and such food as the authorities supplied was
+dumped onto rusty tin dishes held out by the hungry prisoners. Some of
+these dishes had big holes in them and when such a plate became unusable
+it behooved its possessor to make friends with someone whose dish was
+not so far gone and share it with him. Some of the men carved wooden
+dishes, for there was nothing much to do with one&#8217;s time, until their
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_166' id='pg_166'>166</a></span>knives were taken from them. The life was one of grinding monotony and
+utter squalor, and the time which Tom spent there was the nightmare of
+his life.</p>
+
+<p>Occasionally someone from the Spanish Embassy in Berlin would visit the
+camp in the interest of the Americans, the effect of these visits
+usually being to greatly anger the retired old German officer who was
+commandant. He had a face like the sun at noon-day, a voice like a
+cannon, and the mere asking of a question set him into a rage.</p>
+
+<p>Many of the prisoners, of whom not a few were young Americans, received
+packages from home, through neutral sources&mdash;food, games, tobacco&mdash;which
+were always shared with their comrades. But Tom was slow in getting
+acquainted and before he had reached the stage of intimacy with anyone,
+something happened. He still retained his companionable status with
+Tennert and Freddie, but they fell in with their own set from good old
+&#8220;Blighty&#8221; and Tom saw little of them.</p>
+
+<p>There was absolutely no rule of life in the prison camp. They were
+simply kept from getting away. Besides conferring this favor upon <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_167' id='pg_167'>167</a></span>them,
+about the only thing which the German government did was to send a
+doctor around occasionally to look down their throats and inspect their
+tongues. If a prisoner became ill, it behooved him to find another
+prisoner who had studied medicine and then wait until old General
+Griffenhaus was in a sufficiently good humor to give him medicines.
+General Griffenhaus was not cruel; perhaps he would have been pleasant
+if he had known how.</p>
+
+<p>As fast as Tom learned the custom, he adapted himself to the lazy,
+go-as-you-please kind of life. He scared up a rusty tin plate, made
+himself a straw bed in a boarded-in box stall, got hold of an old burlap
+bag which he wore as a kind of tunic while washing his clothes, and
+idled about listening to the war experiences of others. He had thought
+his own experiences rather remarkable, but now they seemed so tame that
+he did not venture to tell them. Fights with German raiders, rescues
+after days spent on the ocean, chats about the drive for Paris, the
+&#8220;try&#8221; at Verdun, the adventures of captured aviators&mdash;these things and
+many more, were familiarly discussed in the little sprawling groups
+among which he came to be a silent listener. In a way, it reminded him
+of <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_168' id='pg_168'>168</a></span>camping and campfire yarns, except for the squalor and disorder.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, there was general work to be done, but the officials did not
+concern themselves about this until it became absolutely necessary. No
+one could say that the German discipline was strict. When the prisoners
+discovered that one or other of their number was good at this or that
+sort of work they elected him to attend to those matters&mdash;whether it was
+sweeping, settling quarrels, cooking, writing letters, petitioning &#8220;Old
+Griff,&#8221; shaving, pulling teeth, or what not. Each prisoner contributed
+his knowledge and experience to make life bearable for all. The camp was
+a <i>democracy</i>, but Germany didn&#8217;t seem to object. If the prisoners
+wished to dig a drain trench or a refuse pit, they asked for shovels.
+And sometimes they got them. Prisoners, ragged and forlorn, came to be
+known by the most dignified titles. There was the &#8220;consulting
+architect,&#8221; the &#8220;sanitary inspector,&#8221; the &#8220;secretary of state,&#8221; the
+&#8220;chairman of the committee on kicks,&#8221; etc.</p>
+
+<p>And one momentous day Tom met the &#8220;chief engineer.&#8221;</p>
+
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_169' id='pg_169'>169</a></span>
+<a name='HE_VISITS_THE_OLD_PUMP_AND_RECEIVES_A_SHOCK_3996' id='HE_VISITS_THE_OLD_PUMP_AND_RECEIVES_A_SHOCK_3996'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+<h3>HE VISITS THE OLD PUMP AND RECEIVES A SHOCK</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s all happy-go-lucky here,&#8221; said a young American from somewhere in
+Kansas, who had been raked in with a haul of prisoners from a torpedoed
+liner. &#8220;We used the water at the pump as long as the engines worked;
+then we shouldered our buckets and began going down to the brook. When
+the buckets went to pieces, we made a few out of canvas and they&#8217;re not
+half bad.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom had inquired why they went down to the end of the oval to get water
+when there was a pump up in the middle of the grounds.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So there you are,&#8221; concluded his informer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is the engine supposed to pump water up from the brook?&#8221; Tom asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It isn&#8217;t supposed to do anything,&#8221; said the other, &#8220;it used to be
+supposed to, but it&#8217;s retired.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thought Germany was so efficient,&#8221; said <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_170' id='pg_170'>170</a></span>Tom. &#8220;I should think they&#8217;d
+fix it. Can&#8217;t it be fixed?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not by anyone here, it seems. You see, they won&#8217;t let us have any
+tools&mdash;wrenches, or files or anything. If you mention a file to Old
+Griff, he throws a couple of fits. Thinks you want to cut the barbed
+wire.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then why don&#8217;t <i>they</i> fix it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ah, a question. I suppose they think the exercise of trotting down to
+the brook will do us good. I dare say if the chief engineer could get
+hold of a file he could fix it; seems to think he could, anyway. But gas
+engines are funny things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re right they are,&#8221; said Tom, thinking of the troop&#8217;s motor boat
+away home in Bridgeboro. &#8220;Of course, <i>I</i> don&#8217;t mind the walk down
+there,&#8221; he added, &#8220;only it seemed kind of funny&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s tragic for some of these lame fellows.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who <i>is</i> the chief engineer,&#8221; Tom asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, he&#8217;s a kid that was a despatch rider, I think. Anyway, he&#8217;s wise to
+motorcycles. He&#8217;s had several consulting engineers on the job&mdash;Belgian,
+French, and British talent&mdash;but nothin&#8217; doing. He&#8217;s gradually losing his
+head.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_171' id='pg_171'>171</a></span>&#8220;You couldn&#8217;t exactly blame them for not letting him have a file,&#8221; Tom
+said, reasonably enough, &#8220;or a wrench either for that matter, unless
+they watched him all the time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nah!&#8221; laughed his companion. &#8220;Nobody could file through that fence wire
+without the sentries hearing him; it&#8217;s as thick as a slate pencil,
+almost.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just the same you can&#8217;t blame General Griffenhaus for not being willing
+to give files to prisoners. That&#8217;s the way prisoners always get away&mdash;in
+stories.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>About dusk of the same day Tom wandered to the pump, which was not far
+from the center of the vast oval. On the earth beside it a ragged figure
+sat, its back toward Tom, evidently investigating the obstreperous
+engine. Tom had never taken particular notice of this disused pump or of
+the little engine which, in happy days of yore, had brought the water up
+from the brook and made it available for the pump in a well below.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Trying to dope it out?&#8221; he asked, by way of being sociable.</p>
+
+<p>The &#8220;chief engineer,&#8221; who had half turned before Tom spoke, jumped to
+his feet as if frightened <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_172' id='pg_172'>172</a></span>and stared blankly at Tom, who stood stark
+still gaping at him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well&mdash;I&#8217;ll&mdash;be&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; began the &#8220;chief engineer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom was grinning all over his face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hello, Archer!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Chrr-is-to-pherr <i>Crrinkums</i>!&#8221; said Archer, with that familiar up-state
+roll to his R&#8217;s. &#8220;Where in all <i>get-out</i> did <i>you</i> blow in from? I
+thought you was dead!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You didn&#8217;t think I was any deader than I thought you was,&#8221; said Tom,
+with something of his old dull manner.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Cr-a-ab apples and custarrd pies!&#8221; Archer exclaimed, still hardly able
+to believe his eyes. &#8220;I sure did think you was at the bottom of the
+ocean!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t ever think I&#8217;d see <i>you</i> again, either,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>So the &#8220;chief engineer&#8221; proved to be none other than Archibald
+Archer&mdash;whose far-off home in the good old Catskills was almost within a
+stone&#8217;s throw of Temple Camp&mdash;Archibald Archer, steward&#8217;s boy on the
+poor old liner on which he had gotten Tom a job the year before.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I might of known nothing would kill <i>you</i>,&#8221; <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_173' id='pg_173'>173</a></span>Tom said. &#8220;Mr. Conne
+always said you&#8217;d land right side up. Do you eat apples as much as you
+used to?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;More,&#8221; said Archer, &#8220;when I can get &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The poor old gas engine had to wait now while the two boys who had been
+such close friends sat down beside the disused pump in this German
+prison camp, and told each other of their escape from that torpedoed
+liner and of all that had befallen them since. And Tom felt that the war
+was not so bad, nor the squalid prison community either, since it had
+brought himself and Archibald Archer together again.</p>
+
+<p>But Archer&#8217;s tale alone would have filled a book. He was just finishing
+an apple, so he said, and was about to shy the core at the second purser
+when the torpedo hit the ship. He was sorry he hadn&#8217;t thrown the core a
+little quicker.</p>
+
+<p>He jumped for a life boat, missed it, swam to another, drifted with its
+famished occupants to the coast of Ireland, made his way to London, got
+a job on a channel steamer carrying troops, guyed the troops and became
+a torment and a nuisance generally, collected souvenirs with his old
+tenacity, and wound up in France, where, on the <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_174' id='pg_174'>174</a></span>strength of being able
+to shrug his shoulders and say, <i>Oui</i>, <i>oui</i>, he got along famously.</p>
+
+<p>He had managed to wriggle into military service without the customary
+delays, and in the capacity of messenger he had ridden a motorcycle
+between various headquarters and the front until he had been caught by
+the Germans in a raid while he was engaged in giving an imitation of
+Charlie Chaplin in the French trenches. He spoke of General Haig as
+&#8220;Haigy;&#8221; of General Byng as &#8220;Bing Bang;&#8221; and his French was a circus all
+by itself. According to his account, he had been a prime favorite with
+all the high dignitaries of the war, and he attributed this to the fact
+that he was not afraid of them. In short, it was the same old flippant,
+boastful, R-rolling Archibald Archer who had won many a laugh from sober
+Tom Slade. And here he was again as large as life&mdash;larger, in fact.</p>
+
+<p>It was a long time before they got down to the subject of the engine,
+but when they did they discussed it for the greater part of the night,
+for, of course, they bunked together.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;First I thought it was the triphammer,&#8221; said Archer; &#8220;then I thought it
+was the mixing valve; then I thought it was bronchitis on account of the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_175' id='pg_175'>175</a></span>noise it made, and after that I decided it was German measles. Blamed
+if I know what&#8217;s the matter with it. It&#8217;s got the pip, I guess. I was
+going to file a nick in the make-and-break business but they&#8217;re too foxy
+to give me a file. Now I wish I had a hammer and I&#8217;d knock the whole
+blamed business to smithereens.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have a heart,&#8221; laughed Tom. &#8220;And keep still, I want to go asleep. We&#8217;ll
+look at it in the morning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did I tell you how we made a hand grenade full of old tomatoes near
+Rheims?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, but I want to go to sleep now,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It landed plunk on a German officer&#8217;s bun; Charlie Waite saw it from
+his plane.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good night,&#8221; laughed Tom.</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_176' id='pg_176'>176</a></span>
+<a name='HE_HAS_AN_IDEA_WHICH_SUGGESTS_ANOTHER_4162' id='HE_HAS_AN_IDEA_WHICH_SUGGESTS_ANOTHER_4162'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+<h3>HE HAS AN IDEA WHICH SUGGESTS ANOTHER</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>In the morning, after grub line-up, they lost no time in going to the
+pump. Here, at least, was something to occupy Tom&#8217;s mind and afford
+Archer fresh material for banter.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;D&#8217;I tell you how I was kiddin&#8217; the niggerr we had in the life
+boat&mdash;when it was leakin&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said Tom, ready for anything.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Told him to bore anotherr hole so the waterr could get out again. Did I
+tell you &#8217;bout&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here we are, let&#8217;s take a look at the engine,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>It was one of those one-cylinder kickers, about two horse power, and had
+an independent disposition.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Know what I think would be the best thing for it?&#8221; said the chief
+engineer. &#8220;Dynamite. D&#8217;I tell you &#8217;bout the sharrk eatin&#8217; a bomb?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is there any gas in the tank?&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure is, but I dunno what kind it is. Mebbe <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_177' id='pg_177'>177</a></span>it&#8217;s poison gas, for all
+<i>I</i> know. There was a fellow in Ireland when we&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom ignored him, and making a guess adjustment of the mixing valve,
+opened the gas and threw the wheel over. &#8220;No batteries&mdash;magneto, huh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, but it don&#8217;t magnete. I&#8217;d ruther have a couple o&#8217; batteries that
+would <i>bat</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A few crankings and the little engine started, missing frightfully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;ll stop in a minute,&#8221; said Archer, and so she did. &#8220;We&#8217;ve all taken
+a crack at the carbureter and the timer,&#8221; he added, &#8220;but nothin&#8217; doin&#8217;.
+It&#8217;s cussedness, <i>I</i> say.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom started it again, listening as it missed, went faster, slowed down,
+stopped. It was getting gas and getting air and the bearings did not
+bind. He tried it again. It ran lamely and stopped, but started all
+right again whenever he cranked it, provided he waited a minute or two
+between each trial.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can you beat that?&#8221; said Archer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s water getting into the cylinder,&#8221; Tom said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Cylinder&#8217;s lucky. <i>We</i> poor guys got to go <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_178' id='pg_178'>178</a></span>way down the other end of
+the earth to get water.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maybe the water in the water jacket froze last winter and cracked the
+cylinder wall and the crack didn&#8217;t let any through at first, most
+likely. You can&#8217;t get your explosions right if there&#8217;s water. That&#8217;s why
+it starts first off and keeps going till the water works through.
+&#8217;Tisn&#8217;t much of a crack, I guess. A file wouldn&#8217;t be any more use than a
+teaspoon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A <i>what</i>? Believe <i>me</i>, I wouldn&#8217;t know a teaspoon if I saw one,&#8221; said
+Archer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If we had a wrench to get the cylinder head off,&#8221; said Tom, &#8220;I could
+show you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the end of that engine,&#8221; said Archer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Depends on how bad it is. If it&#8217;s only a little crack sometimes you can
+fix it with a chemical&mdash;sal ammoniac. It kind of&mdash;<i>corrodes</i>, I think
+they call it&mdash;right where the crack is and it&#8217;ll work all right for
+quite a while. We had a cracked cylinder on our scout boat one time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Archer was generously pleased at Tom&#8217;s sagacity and showed no
+professional jealousy. Before that day was over every prisoner in the
+camp knew that the rusty, dilapidated engine which languished near the
+pump was good for another season <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_179' id='pg_179'>179</a></span>of usefulness. If Archer was not a
+good engineer he was at least a good promoter, and he started a grand
+drive for a rejuvenated pump. The R&#8217;s rolled out of his busy mouth as
+the water had not flowed from the pump in many a day.</p>
+
+<p>A petition a yard long was passed about and everybody signed it with
+lukewarm interest. It besought General von Griffenhaus either to have
+the cylinder head of the engine removed or a wrench loaned to Tom Slade
+for that purpose.</p>
+
+<p>The prisoners did not lose any sleep over this enterprise, for both Tom
+and Archer were young and Archer at least was regarded as an
+irresponsible soul, whose mission on earth was to cause trifling
+annoyance and much amusement. Tom, sober, silent and new among them, was
+an unknown quantity.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doncher care,&#8221; said Archer. &#8220;Robert Fulton had a lot o&#8217; trouble and
+nobuddy b&#8217;lieved him, and all that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom was ready to stand upon his pronouncement of a cracked water jacket
+and, that established, he believed a little bottle of sal ammoniac would
+be easy to procure. When the pump was running again they would all be
+glad to use it <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_180' id='pg_180'>180</a></span>and meanwhile they might laugh and call him the
+&#8220;consulting engineer&#8221; if they wanted to.</p>
+
+<p>At last Archer, having boosted this laggard campaign with amazing
+energy, elected himself the one to present the imposing petition to
+General von Griffenhaus, because, as he said, he was never rattled in
+the presence of greatness, which was quite true. He caught the general
+on inspection tour and prayed for a monkey wrench with the humility but
+determination of the old barons before King John.</p>
+
+<p>When he returned to their box-stall abode he triumphantly announced that
+&#8220;Old Griff&#8221; had surrendered with the one portentous sentence, &#8220;Ach! I
+vill see aboud this!&#8221; He found Tom sitting back against the board
+partition, arms about his drawn-up knees, sober and thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ain&#8217;t gettin&#8217; cold feet, are you?&#8221; Archer asked.</p>
+
+<p>Tom looked at him, but did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You ain&#8217;t afraid there&#8217;s something else the matter with the engine,
+after all, are you?&#8221; Archer asked, anxiously. &#8220;I don&#8217;t want this whole
+bunch guyin&#8217; me&mdash;afterr the petition, and all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the way I said,&#8221; said Tom dully.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_181' id='pg_181'>181</a></span>&#8220;Not sore &#8217;cause they&#8217;ve been kiddin&#8217; us, are you? You can&#8217;t blame &#8217;em
+fer that; they&#8217;ve got nothin&#8217; else to do. Look at Columbus, how they
+guyed him&mdash;and all. But they were thankful afterward all right, all
+right&mdash;those greasy Spaniards. D&#8217;I tell you &#8217;bout the way I&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t mind their kiddin&#8217;,&#8221; Tom interrupted; &#8220;I had a lot of that on
+the ship. And I know they&#8217;ll be glad when the pump&#8217;s running. I was
+thinkin&#8217; about something else. Come on, let&#8217;s go out and hike.&#8221; He
+always called those little restricted walks about the enclosure, hiking.
+He could not forget the good scout word.</p>
+
+<p>When they had walked for some little way Tom looked about to see if
+there was anyone near. The safest place for secrets and confidences is
+out in the open. He hesitated, made a couple of false starts, then
+began:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s somethin&#8217; I&#8217;ve always thought about ever since I came here. I
+don&#8217;t know if you&#8217;ve ever thought about it&mdash;I know you like adventures,
+but you&#8217;re kind of&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; He meant irresponsible and rattle-brained, but
+he did not want to say so. &#8220;And I wouldn&#8217;t want to see you get in any
+trouble on account of me. You&#8217;re different from me. You see, for a
+special reason I got to <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_182' id='pg_182'>182</a></span>go and fight. Whatever you do, will you promise
+not to say anything to anybody?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Archer, somewhat bewildered, promised.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m going to get away,&#8221; said Tom simply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You must be crazy,&#8221; Archer said, staring at him in astonishment. &#8220;How
+are you going to do it? Didn&#8217;t I tell you, you couldn&#8217;t even get a
+file?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tom went on seriously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;d like to have you go with me only I don&#8217;t know if you&#8217;d want to take
+a chance the same as I would.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure, I&#8217;d take a chance, but&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>You</i> don&#8217;t <i>have</i> to go and I do,&#8221; Tom interrupted. &#8220;That&#8217;s what I
+mean. If the war should end and I didn&#8217;t fight, I&#8217;d be a kind of a&mdash;&mdash; I
+mean I got to fight for two people. I <i>got</i> to. So it ain&#8217;t a question
+of whether I take a chance or not. And it ain&#8217;t a question of whether
+it&#8217;s fair to try and escape. &#8217;Cause I got that all settled.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Archer said nothing, but looked at Tom just as he had first looked at
+him a year ago, and tried to dope him out. For a few paces they walked
+in silence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you take a chance, I take a chance with you,&#8221; Archer said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_183' id='pg_183'>183</a></span>&#8220;If anybody should discover us and call for us to halt, I&#8217;m not going
+to halt,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Believe <i>me</i>, I&#8217;ll sprint,&#8221; said Archer, &#8220;but that part&#8217;s a cinch
+anyway&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It ain&#8217;t a cinch,&#8221; said Tom, &#8220;but I got to do it. I got a little button
+a French soldier gave me that&#8217;ll help me get through Alsace. His people
+live there&mdash;in Leture&mdash;I mean Dundgardt.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s only six miles down,&#8221; said Archer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s so much the better,&#8221; said Tom; &#8220;if I can once get that far&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t say <i>I</i>&mdash;say <i>we</i>.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll be all right,&#8221; finished Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what&#8217;s the use talking about it, when we got that tangle of wire
+out there in front of us all the way round?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You know where it runs through the bushes at the other end?&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, and if you made a sound down there you&#8217;d be heard! Besides, where
+you goin&#8217; to get the file?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m hoping to have that to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You got your work cut out for you, gettin&#8217; it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If that stuff will corrode a cylinder wall it&#8217;ll corrode wire,&#8221; said
+Tom, after a few moments&#8217; silence. &#8220;It might take a few days, but after
+that <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_184' id='pg_184'>184</a></span>you could break the wire with your fingers. It wouldn&#8217;t make any
+noise. That ain&#8217;t what I wanted to ask you about&mdash;&#8217;cause I know about
+that. The thing is, are you with me? You got to judge for yourself,
+&#8217;cause it&#8217;s risky.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Archer hit him a rap on the shoulder, then put his arm in friendly
+fashion about his neck.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Slady, I&#8217;m with you strong as mustarrd,&#8221; said he; &#8220;did I tell you &#8217;bout
+the feller I met in France that escaped from Siberia&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And keep your mouth shut,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;First we got to fix the engine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_185' id='pg_185'>185</a></span>
+<a name='HE_PLANS_A_DESPERATE_GAME_AND_DOES_A_GOOD_JOB_4390' id='HE_PLANS_A_DESPERATE_GAME_AND_DOES_A_GOOD_JOB_4390'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2>
+<h3>HE PLANS A DESPERATE GAME AND DOES A GOOD JOB</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Archer was thoroughly game, Tom knew that, but he did not want to
+involve him in his own peril unless his friend fully realized what it
+meant. With himself, as he had said, it was different. But he might have
+saved himself any worry about his friend. Archer was not only game; he
+was delighted.</p>
+
+<p>Needless to say, they slept little that night. In the morning they were
+given a wrench with which they removed the cylinder head amid the gibes
+of a group of spectators. And there, sure enough, after the piston was
+disconnected and removed, they found a little, thin crack in the inner
+cylinder wall.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Feel o&#8217; that,&#8221; said Archer, triumphantly rubbing his finger nail across
+it, for it was more easily felt than seen, &#8220;and then go away back and
+sit down, the whole bunch of you. We got a <i>regularr</i> chief engineer
+here now,&#8221; he added generously, &#8220;and you better treat him decent while
+he&#8217;s here.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_186' id='pg_186'>186</a></span>Tom shuddered for fear he would say too much.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He might get exchanged any time,&#8221; said Archer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Some</i> boys,&#8221; remarked one of the prisoners.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But findin&#8217;s ain&#8217;t fixin&#8217;s,&#8221; said a British soldier.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, ain&#8217;t they though!&#8221; said Archer. &#8220;We&#8217;ll have it fixed in&mdash;&mdash; How
+long&#8217;ll it take to fix it, Slady?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maybe a couple of days,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mybe a couple o&#8217; weeks,&#8221; said the Britisher.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mybe it won&#8217;t, yer jolly good bloomin&#8217; ole London fag, you!&#8221; mimicked
+Archer. &#8220;It&#8217;s as good as fixed already.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Better knock wood, Archie.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll knock something thickerr&#8217;n wood if you don&#8217;t get out o&#8217; the way!&#8221;
+said Archer.</p>
+
+<p>One by one they strolled away laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll give that bunch one parting shot, all right!&#8221; said Archer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shh!&#8221; said Tom, &#8220;look out what you&#8217;re saying.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Whether it was because the grim authorities who presided over
+this unfortunate community believed that the renewed activity of
+the pump would be advantageous to themselves, or whether <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_187' id='pg_187'>187</a></span>it was
+just out of the goodness of their hearts that they supplied the
+small quantity of sal ammoniac, it would be difficult to say, but
+in the afternoon a small bottle was forthcoming with the label of
+Herman Schlossen-something-or-other, chemist, of the neighboring
+town.</p>
+
+<p>The boys smeared some of it on the crack and then poured some into a
+little vial which had contained toothache drops.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Things are so bad in Gerrmany they have to use sal ammoniac for files,&#8221;
+said Archer. &#8220;If the warr keeps up much longer the poor people&#8217;ll be
+usin&#8217; witch hazel for screw drivers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shhh!&#8221; said Tom. It was about all he ever said now.</p>
+
+<p>After dark, with fast beating hearts, they went down to the place which
+Tom had selected for their operations. It was near the extreme end of
+the grounds, at a place where the wire ran through some thick shrubbery.
+Even a file might have been used here, if a file had been procurable,
+for one might work fully concealed though always in danger of the
+sentry&#8217;s hearing the sound. But no file could ever get inside of that
+camp. They were not even obtainable in the stores of the neighboring
+town, except upon government order <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_188' id='pg_188'>188</a></span>and every letter and package that
+came to the camp was scrutinized with German thoroughness. Since the
+recent army reorganization in which the number of sentries at camps all
+through the Empire had been reduced, and since the discontinuance of
+electrified wiring at this particular camp, the little file was watched
+for with greater suspicion than ever before, so that the prisoners had
+regarded it as a joke when Archer expressed the wish for one. The very
+thought of a file on the premises was preposterous. And what other way
+was there to get out?</p>
+
+<p>It was necessary, however, to watch for the sentry outside and here was
+where the team work came in. Archer spotted the gleam of his rifle at
+some distance up near the provision gate, and he scurried in that
+direction to hold him with his usual engaging banter, for even glowering
+&#8220;Fritzie&#8221; was not altogether proof against young Archer&#8217;s wiles and his
+extraordinary German.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Tom, first looking in every direction, slipped under the
+bushes and felt carefully of the wiring. It was not simple flat fencing
+ranged in orderly strands, but somewhat like the entanglements before
+the trenches. As best he could, in the dim light, he selected seven
+places <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_189' id='pg_189'>189</a></span>where, if the wiring were parted, he believed it would be
+possible to get through. The seven points involved four wires. He had to
+use his brain and calculate, as one does when seeking for the
+&#8220;combination&#8221; of a knotted rope, and his old scout habit of studying
+jungle bush before parting it when on scout hikes, served him in good
+stead here. He was nothing if not methodical, and neither the danger nor
+his high hopes interfered with his plodding thoroughness.</p>
+
+<p>Having selected the places, he poured a little of the liquid on the
+wiring at each spot and hid the bottle in the bushes. Then he rejoined
+Archer, the first step taken in their risky program.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How&#8217;ll I know the places if I go there?&#8221; Archer inquired.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You won&#8217;t go there,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;I&#8217;ll be the one to do that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m the entertainment committee, hey?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was no sleep that night either&mdash;nothing but silent thoughtfulness
+and high expectation and dreadful suspense; for, notwithstanding
+Archer&#8217;s loquacity, Tom refused positively to talk in their box stall
+for fear some one outside might hear.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_190' id='pg_190'>190</a></span>In the morning they gave the crack in the cylinder another dose (but
+oh, how prosy and unimportant seemed this business now), and at evening
+they screwed down the cylinder head, and with a gibing audience about
+them, wrestled with the mixing valve, slammed the timer this way and
+that, until the dilapidated old engine began to go&mdash;and kept on going.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There you are,&#8221; said Archer blithely, as if the glory were all his.
+&#8220;Who&#8217;re the public benefactors now? Every time you get a drink at that
+pump you&#8217;ll think of Slady and me. Hey, Slady?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The engine kept on going until they stopped it. And the Philistines put
+aside their unholy mirth and did not stint their praise and gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Two plaguy clever American chaps,&#8221; said a ragged British wireless
+operator.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Slade and Archer, Consulting Engineers,&#8221; said Archer.</p>
+
+<p>It was a great triumph&mdash;one of the greatest of the world war, and the
+only reason that mankind has not heard more about it is probably because
+of the grudging German censor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m glad it went,&#8221; said Archer confidentially. &#8220;I was shaking in my
+shoes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_191' id='pg_191'>191</a></span>&#8220;There wasn&#8217;t any reason to shake,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;I knew it would go.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Same as we will.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hush,&#8221; said Tom.</p>
+
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_192' id='pg_192'>192</a></span>
+<a name='HE_DISAPPEARSmdashFOR_THE_TIME_BEING_4548' id='HE_DISAPPEARSmdashFOR_THE_TIME_BEING_4548'></a>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2>
+<h3>HE DISAPPEARS&mdash;FOR THE TIME BEING</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>Tom was too sensible to make his trip to the bushes each night. For one
+thing he wanted to give the mildly corrosive process a chance to weaken
+the wires. It was a case for small doses. Also he could not afford to
+attract attention. His hardest job was keeping Archer patient and quiet.</p>
+
+<p>When he did manage a second trip he was gratified to see that the spots
+he had &#8220;treated&#8221; were white and salty, like the bar in a battery. He
+gave them another dose and crawled out cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>Archer, in his excitement, had supposed the whole thing would be a
+matter of a day or two and his impatience greatly disturbed Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you see, if I try to break the wires before they&#8217;re ready, we&#8217;ll
+be worse off than ever?&#8221; he said. &#8220;Leave it to me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At last there came a dark night when Tom announced in a whisper that he
+had used the last of the sal ammoniac.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_193' id='pg_193'>193</a></span>&#8220;The wires are all white,&#8221; he said, &#8220;and you can scrape into them with
+your finger-nails. It&#8217;s good and dark to-night. If you want to back out
+you can. I won&#8217;t be sore about it. Only tell me again about the road to
+Dundgardt.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t I tell you I was with you strong as mustarrd? I don&#8217;t want to
+back out.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A while after dark Tom went down to the bushes. It was understood that
+Archer should follow him, timing his coming according to the sentry&#8217;s
+rounds. Meanwhile Tom, not without some misgivings, bent the thick wire
+in one of the weakened spots and it broke. He paused and listened. Then
+he broke another strand, trembling lest even the breaking might cause a
+slight sound. The life had been eaten out of the wires and they parted
+easily.</p>
+
+<p>By the time Archer arrived he had opened a way through the thick
+entanglement large enough to crawl through. His nerves were on edge as
+he wriggled far enough through to peer about in the dark outside.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Anyway, your head has escaped,&#8221; said Archer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shh,&#8221; whispered Tom.</p>
+
+<p>Far down the side of the long fence he could see a little glint bobbing
+in the darkness.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_194' id='pg_194'>194</a></span>&#8220;Shh,&#8221; he whispered. &#8220;I don&#8217;t know which way he&#8217;s going. Keep your feet
+still.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For a few seconds more he waited, his heart in his mouth and every nerve
+tense.</p>
+
+<p>The tiny bobbing glint disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is he there?&#8221; Archer whispered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shh! No, he&#8217;s gone around the end.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He won&#8217;t go all the way round; he&#8217;ll turn back when he gets to the
+gate. Go on, make a break&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shh!&#8221; said Tom, straining his eyes in all directions.</p>
+
+<p>For one moment of awful suspense he waited, his thumping heart almost
+choking him. Then he moved silently out into the night, and paused
+again, holding a deterring hand up to keep his companion back until he
+knew the way was clear.</p>
+
+<p>Then he moved his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come on,&#8221; he whispered, his whole frame trembling with suspense. &#8220;Let&#8217;s
+get away from the fence. Don&#8217;t speak.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was something of the old stalking and trailing stealth about his
+movements now as he hurried across the field adjacent to the camp.
+&#8220;Follow me,&#8221; he whispered, &#8220;and do just what I do. What&#8217;s that you&#8217;ve
+got in your hand?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_195' id='pg_195'>195</a></span>&#8220;Nothin&#8217;. Where you goin&#8217;? The road ain&#8217;t over there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shhh!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Silently Tom stole across the field.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re goin&#8217; out of your way,&#8221; whispered Archer again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t want the road, I only want to know where it is,&#8221; Tom answered;
+&#8220;I know what I&#8217;m doing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He had never dreamed that his tracking and trailing lore would one day
+serve him in far-off Germany and help him in so desperate a flight.
+Never before had he such need of all his wit&mdash;and such an incentive.</p>
+
+<p>Archer followed silently. Presently Tom paused and listened.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Anybody comin&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, I was listenin&#8217; for&mdash;it&#8217;s down there.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He turned suddenly and grabbing Archer around the waist, lifted him off
+his feet and ran swiftly down a little slope and into the brook which in
+its meanderings crossed an end of the prison grounds. Then he let Archer
+down.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;ll never track us here,&#8221; he panted, and felt for his precious
+button to make sure that Archer&#8217;s body had not pulled it off. &#8220;They&#8217;ll
+<span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_196' id='pg_196'>196</a></span>think only one came this way, maybe, and they won&#8217;t know which way to
+go&mdash;Shh!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Archer held his breath. There was no sound except that of the water
+rippling at their feet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is that upstream?&#8221; Tom asked. &#8220;It ought to be shallow all the way. Keep
+in the water.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Step on that shore and you&#8217;re in Alsace,&#8221; said Archer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t step on it,&#8221; said Tom. &#8220;Shores are tell-tales. Which is the
+hill?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That one with the windmill on it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That black thing?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The road runs around that,&#8221; said Archer, &#8220;the other side.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll follow the road,&#8221; said Tom, &#8220;but we&#8217;ll keep in the brook till we
+get about a couple of hundred feet from the road. Come on.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You heading for Dundgardt?&#8221; Archer whispered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t talk so loud. Yes&mdash;I got to find some people there named
+Leture&mdash;I can&#8217;t pronounce it just right. That&#8217;s nothin&#8217; but a tree&mdash;&mdash;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thought it was a man,&#8221; said Archer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We ought to be there in an hour,&#8221; and again Tom felt for his precious
+button. &#8220;If they&#8217;ll keep us till to-morrow night we can get a good start
+for <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_197' id='pg_197'>197</a></span>the Swiss border; I&mdash;I got some&mdash;some good ideas.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For traveling?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes&mdash;at night. They&#8217;ll do&mdash;anything after I tell &#8217;em about Frenchy.
+Quiet. Bend your toes over the pebbles like I do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>But did they ever reach Dundgardt&mdash;once Leteur? Did they make their way
+through fair Alsace, under the shadow of the Blue Alsatian Mountains, to
+the Swiss border? Did Tom&#8217;s &#8220;good ideas&#8221; pan out? Was the scout of the
+Acorn and the Indian head, to triumph still in the solitude of the Black
+Forest, even as he had triumphed in the rugged Catskills roundabout his
+beloved Temple Camp?</p>
+
+<p>Was he indeed permitted to carry out his determination to fight for two?</p>
+
+<p>Ah, that is another story.</p>
+
+<p>But one little hint may be given now, which perhaps throws some light
+upon his future history. Some months after this momentous night Mrs.
+Silas Archer, whose husband had a farm with a big apple orchard in the
+vicinity of Temple Camp, received a small box containing a little <span class='pagenum'><a name='pg_198' id='pg_198'>198</a></span>piece
+of junk and a letter in a sprawling hand. And this is what the letter
+said:</p>
+
+<div class='blockquot'>
+<span class='smcap'>Dear Old Mudgie:</span><br />
+
+<p>&#8220;Wish I was home to get in the fall russets. They don&#8217;t have any
+decent apples over here at all. Stand this piece of wire on the
+whatnot in the sitting room and show it to the minister when he
+comes. It&#8217;s part of a German barbed wire fence. I kept it for a
+souvenir when I escaped from Slops prison. You won&#8217;t find that name
+on the map, but nobody can pronounce the real name. You don&#8217;t say
+it&mdash;you have to sneeze it. I had a bully time in the prison camp
+and met a feller that used to go to Temple Camp. We escaped
+together.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Send your letters to the War Department for we&#8217;re with Pershing&#8217;s
+boys now and they&#8217;ll be forwarded. Can&#8217;t tell you much on account
+of the censor. But don&#8217;t worry, I&#8217;ll be home for next Christmas.
+Give my love to dad. And don&#8217;t use all the sour apples when you&#8217;re
+making cider.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Down with the Kaiser! Lots of love.</p>
+
+<p style='text-align:right;'>&#8220;ARCHIE.&#8221;</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='dashed' />
+
+<p class='center' style='font-size: x-large; margin-top: 1em; font-style: italic'>This Isn&#8217;t All!</p>
+
+<div style='margin: 0 10% 1em 10%'>
+<p>Would you like to know what became of the good friends you have made in
+this book?</p>
+
+<p>Would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures and
+experiences, or other books quite as entertaining by the same author?</p>
+
+<p>On the <i>reverse side</i> of the wrapper which comes with this book, you
+will find a wonderful list of stories which you can buy at the same
+store where you got this book.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h3><i>Don&#8217;t throw away the Wrapper</i></h3>
+
+<p style='margin: 1em 10% 0 10%'><i>Use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have. But
+in case you do mislay it, write to the Publishers for a complete
+catalog.</i></p>
+
+<hr class='ads' style='margin-bottom: 3em' />
+
+<p class='center' style='font-size: x-large;'>THE TOM SLADE BOOKS</p>
+<p class='center' style='font-size: large;'>By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH</p>
+<p class='center' style='margin: 0'>Author of &#8220;Roy Blakeley,&#8221; &#8220;Pee-wee Harris,&#8221;<br />&#8220;Westy Martin,&#8221; Etc.</p>
+
+<hr class='ads' />
+
+<p class='center'>Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Colors.<br />Every Volume
+Complete in Itself.</p>
+
+<hr class='ads' />
+
+<p>&#8220;Let your boy grow up with Tom Slade,&#8221; is a suggestion which thousands
+of parents have followed during the past, with the result that the TOM
+SLADE BOOKS are the most popular boys&#8217; books published today. They take
+Tom Slade through a series of typical boy adventures through his
+tenderfoot days as a scout, through his gallant days as an American
+doughboy in France, back to his old patrol and the old camp ground at
+Black Lake, and so on.</p>
+
+<p class='poetry'>TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT<br />
+TOM SLADE AT TEMPLE CAMP<br />
+TOM SLADE ON THE RIVER<br />
+TOM SLADE WITH THE COLORS<br />
+TOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT<br />
+TOM SLADE WITH THE BOYS OVER THERE<br />
+TOM SLADE, MOTORCYCLE DISPATCH BEARER<br />
+TOM SLADE WITH THE FLYING CORPS<br />
+TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE<br />
+TOM SLADE ON MYSTERY TRAIL<br />
+TOM SLADE&#8217;S DOUBLE DARE<br />
+TOM SLADE ON OVERLOOK MOUNTAIN<br />
+TOM SLADE PICKS A WINNER<br />
+TOM SLADE AT BEAR MOUNTAIN</p>
+
+<hr class='ads' />
+<p class='center'>Grosset &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York.</p>
+<hr style='border:1px solid #eee; margin-bottom: 2em;' />
+
+<p class='center' style='font-size: x-large;'>THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS</p>
+<p class='center' style='font-size: large;'>By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH</p>
+<p class='center' style='margin: 0'>Author of &#8220;Tom Slade,&#8221; &#8220;Pee-wee Harris,&#8221; &#8220;Westy Martin,&#8221; Etc.</p>
+
+<hr class='ads' />
+
+<p class='center'>Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Colors.<br />Every Volume
+Complete in Itself.</p>
+
+<hr class='ads' />
+
+<p>In the character and adventures of Roy Blakeley are typified the very
+essence of Boy life. He is a real boy, as real as Huck Finn and Tom
+Sawyer. He is the moving spirit of the troop of Scouts of which he is a
+member, and the average boy has to go only a little way in the first
+book before Roy is the best friend he ever had, and he is willing to
+part with his best treasure to get the next book in the series.</p>
+
+<p class='poetry'>ROY BLAKELEY<br />
+ROY BLAKELEY&#8217;S ADVENTURES IN CAMP<br />
+ROY BLAKELEY, PATHFINDER<br />
+ROY BLAKELEY&#8217;S CAMP ON WHEELS<br />
+ROY BLAKELEY&#8217;S SILVER FOX PATROL<br />
+ROY BLAKELEY&#8217;S MOTOR CARAVAN<br />
+ROY BLAKELEY, LOST, STRAYED OR STOLEN<br />
+ROY BLAKELEY&#8217;S BEE-LINE HIKE<br />
+ROY BLAKELEY AT THE HAUNTED CAMP<br />
+ROY BLAKELEY&#8217;S FUNNY BONE HIKE<br />
+ROY BLAKELEY&#8217;S TANGLED TRAIL<br />
+ROY BLAKELEY ON THE MOHAWK TRAIL</p>
+
+<hr class='ads' />
+<p class='center'>Grosset &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York.</p>
+
+<hr class='ads' style='margin-bottom: 3em' />
+
+<p class='center' style='font-size: x-large;'>THE PEE-WEE HARRIS BOOKS</p>
+<p class='center' style='font-size: large;'>By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH</p>
+
+<p class='center' style='margin: 0'>Author of &#8220;Tom Slade,&#8221; &#8220;Pee-wee Harris,&#8221; &#8220;Westy Martin,&#8221; Etc.</p>
+
+<hr class='ads' />
+
+<p class='center'>Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Colors.<br />Every Volume
+Complete in Itself.</p>
+
+<hr class='ads' />
+
+<p>All readers of the Tom Slade and the Roy Blakeley books are acquainted
+with Pee-wee Harris. These stories record the true facts concerning his
+size (what there is of it) and his heroism (such as it is), his voice,
+his clothes, his appetite, his friends, his enemies, his victims.
+Together with the thrilling narrative of how he foiled, baffled,
+circumvented and triumphed over everything and everybody (except where
+he failed) and how even when he failed he succeeded. The whole recorded
+in a series of screams and told with neither muffler nor cut-out.</p>
+
+<p class='poetry'>PEE-WEE HARRIS<br />
+PEE-WEE HARRIS ON THE TRAIL<br />
+PEE-WEE HARRIS IN CAMP<br />
+PEE-WEE HARRIS IN LUCK<br />
+PEE-WEE HARRIS ADRIFT<br />
+PEE-WEE HARRIS F. O. B. BRIDGEBORO<br />
+PEE-WEE HARRIS FIXER<br />
+PEE-WEE HARRIS: AS GOOD AS HIS WORD</p>
+
+<hr class='ads' />
+<p class='center'>Grosset &amp; Dunlap, Publishers, New York</p>
+
+<hr class='ads' style='margin-bottom: 3em' />
+
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/slade-fly.jpg' alt='' title='' style='border:1px solid black' />
+<p class='caption center'>[Transcriber Note: inside cover illustration]</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Tom Slade on a Transport, by Percy Keese Fitzhugh
+
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+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
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+Project Gutenberg's Tom Slade on a Transport, by Percy Keese Fitzhugh
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Tom Slade on a Transport
+
+Author: Percy Keese Fitzhugh
+
+Illustrator: Thomas Clarity
+
+Release Date: November 30, 2007 [EBook #23663]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: TOM HOBBLED ALONG, HOLDING THE RAIL.
+Frontispiece--(Page 131)]
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+TOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT
+
+By Percy K. Fitzhugh
+
+Author of TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT, TOM SLADE AT TEMPLE CAMP,
+TOM SLADE ON THE RIVER, TOM SLADE WITH THE COLORS
+
+Illustrated by Thomas Clarity
+
+Published With the Approval of the Boy Scouts of America
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS :: NEW YORK
+Made in the United States of America
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Copyright, 1918, by GROSSET & DUNLAP
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+CONTENTS
+
+    CHAPTER                                                         PAGE
+
+         I. Tom Meets One Friend and Is Reminded of Another            1
+        II. He Does a Good Turn and Makes a Discovery                  9
+       III. He Scents Danger and Receives a Letter                    19
+        IV. He Gets a Job and Meets "Frenchy"                         29
+         V. He Makes a Discovery and Receives a Shock                 39
+        VI. He Hears About Alsace and Receives a Present              46
+       VII. He Becomes Very Proud, and Also Very Much Frightened      55
+      VIII. He Hears Some News and Is Confidential with Frenchy       61
+        IX. He Sees a Strange Light and Goes on Tiptoe                68
+         X. He Goes Below and Gropes in the Dark                      77
+        XI. He Makes a Discovery and Is Greatly Agitated              83
+       XII. He Is Frightened and Very Thoughtful                      86
+      XIII. He Ponders and Decides Between Two Near Relations         92
+       XIV. He is Arrested and Put in the Guardhouse                  97
+        XV. He Does Most of the Talking and Takes All the Blame      103
+       XVI. He Sees a Little and Hears Much                          107
+      XVII. He Awaits the Worst and Receives a Surprise              115
+     XVIII. He Talks With Mr. Conne and Sees the Boys
+            Start for the Front                                      121
+       XIX. He Is Cast Away and Is in Great Peril                    129
+        XX. He Is Taken Aboard the "Tin Fish" and Questioned         135
+       XXI. He Is Made a Prisoner and Makes a New Friend             144
+      XXII. He Learns Where He Is Going and Finds a Ray of Hope      151
+     XXIII. He Makes a High Resolve and Loses a Favorite Word        154
+      XXIV. He Goes to the Civilian Camp and Doesn't Like It         161
+       XXV. He Visits the Old Pump and Receives a Shock              169
+      XXVI. He Has an Idea Which Suggests Another                    176
+     XXVII. He Plans a Desperate Game and Does a Good Job            185
+    XXVIII. He Disappears--for the Time Being                        192
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+TOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+TOM MEETS ONE FRIEND AND IS REMINDED OF ANOTHER
+
+
+As Tom Slade went through Terrace Avenue on his way to the Temple Camp
+office, where he was employed, he paused beside a truck backed up
+against the curb in front of a certain vacant store. Upon it was a big
+table and wrestling with the table was Pete Connigan, the truckman--the
+very same Pete Connigan at whom Tom used to throw rocks and whom he had
+called a "mick." It reminded him of old times to see Pete.
+
+The vacant store, too, aroused dubious memories, for there he had stolen
+many an apple in the days when Adolf Schmitt had his "cash grocery" on
+the premises, and used to stand in the doorway with his white apron on,
+shaking his fist as Tom scurried down the street and calling, "I'll
+_strafe_ you, you young loafer!"
+
+Tom had wondered what _strafing_ was, until long afterward he heard
+that poor Belgium was being _strafed_; and then he knew.
+
+"Wal, ef 'tain't Tommy Slade!" said Pete, with a cordial grin of
+surprise. "I ain't seen ye in two year! Ye've growed ter be a big,
+strappin' lad, ain't ye?"
+
+"Hello, Pete," said Tom, shaking the Irishman's brawny hand. "Glad to
+see you. I've been away working on a ship for quite a while. That's one
+reason you haven't seen me."
+
+"Be gorry, the town's gittin' big, an' that's another reason. The last
+time I seen ye, ye wuz wid that Sweet Cap'ral lad, an' I knocked yer two
+sassy heads tergither for yez. Remember that?"
+
+"Yes," laughed Tom, "and then I started running down the street and
+hollered, 'Throw a brick, you Irish mick!'?"
+
+"Ye did," vociferated Pete, "an' wid me afther ye."
+
+"You didn't catch me, though," laughed Tom.
+
+"Wal, I got ye now," said Pete, grabbing him good-naturedly by the
+collar. And they sat down on the back of the truck to talk for a few
+moments.
+
+"I'm glad I came this way," said Tom. "I usually go down Main Street,
+but I've been away from Bridgeboro so long, I thought I'd kinder stroll
+through this way to see how the town looked. I'm not in any particular
+hurry," he added. "I don't have to get to work till nine. I was going to
+walk around through Terrace Court."
+
+"Ben away on a ship, hev ye?" questioned Pete, and Tom told him the
+whole story of how he had given up the career of a hoodlum to join the
+Scouts, of the founding of Temple Camp by Mr. John Temple, of the
+summers spent there, of how he had later gotten a job on a steamer
+carrying supplies to the allies; how he had helped to apprehend a spy,
+how the ship had been torpedoed, how he had been rescued after two days
+spent in an open boat, of his roundabout journey back to Bridgeboro, and
+the taking up again of his prosaic duties in the local office of Temple
+Camp.
+
+The truckman, his case-spike hanging from his neck, listened with
+generous interest to Tom's simple, unboastful account of all that had
+happened to him.
+
+"There were two people on that ship I got to be special friends with,"
+he concluded. "One was a Secret Service man named Conne; he promised to
+help me get a job in some kind of war service till I'm old enough to
+enlist next spring. The other was a feller about my own age named
+Archer. He was a steward's boy. I guess they both got drowned, likely.
+Most all the boats got upset while they were launching them. I hope that
+German spy got drowned."
+
+"Wuz he a German citizen?" Pete asked.
+
+"Sure, he was! You don't suppose an American citizen would be a spy for
+Germany, do you?"
+
+"Be gorry, thar's a lot uv German Amiricans, 'n' I wouldn' trust 'em,"
+said Pete.
+
+"Well, there's some Irish people here that hate England, so they're
+against the United States too," said Tom.
+
+"Ye call me a thraiter, do ye!" roared Pete.
+
+"I didn't call you anything," Tom said, laughing and dodging the
+Irishman's uplifted hand; "but I say a person is American or else he
+isn't. It don't make any difference where he was born. If he's an
+American citizen and he helps Germany, then he's worse than a spy--he's
+a traitor and he ought to get shot."
+
+"Be gorry, you said sumthin'!"
+
+"He's worse than anything else in the world," said Tom. "He's worse
+than--than a murderer!"
+
+Pete slapped him on the shoulder. "Bully fer you!" said he. "Fwhativer
+became uv yer fayther, lad?" he questioned after a moment.
+
+"He died," said Tom simply. "It was after we got put out of Barrel Alley
+and after I got to be a scout. Mr. Ellsworth said maybe it was
+better--sort of----"
+
+Pete nodded.
+
+"An' yer bruther?"
+
+"Oh, he went away long before that--even before my mother died. He went
+to work on a ranch out West somewhere--Arizona, I think."
+
+"'N' ye niver heard anny more uv him?"
+
+"No--I wrote him a letter when my mother died, but I never got any
+answer. Maybe I sent it to the wrong place. Did you ever hear of a place
+called O'Brien's Junction out there?"
+
+"It's a good name, I'll say that," said Pete.
+
+"Everybody used to say he'd make money some day. Maybe he's rich now,
+hey?"
+
+"I remimber all uv yez when yez used fer ter worrk fer Schmitt, here,"
+said Pete.
+
+"It reminded me of that when I came along."
+
+"Yer fayther, he used fer ter drive th' wagon fer 'im. Big Bill 'n'
+Little Bill, we used fer ter call him 'n' yer bruther. Yer fayther wuzn'
+fond uv worrk, I guess."
+
+"He used to get cramps," said Tom simply.
+
+"He used fer ter lick yez, I'm thinkin'."
+
+"Maybe we deserved to get licked," said Tom. "Anyway _I_ did."
+
+"Yer right, ye did," agreed Pete.
+
+"My brother was better than I was. It made me mad when I saw him get
+licked. I could feel it way down in my fingers, kind of--the madness.
+That's why he went to live at Schmitt's after my father got so he
+couldn't work much. They always had lots to eat at Schmitt's. I didn't
+ever work there myself," he added with his customary blunt honesty,
+"because I was a hoodlum."
+
+"Wal, I see ye've growed up ter be a foine lad, jist the same," said
+Pete consolingly, "'n' mebbe the lad as kin feel the tingles ter see's
+bruther git licked unfair is as good as that same bruther, whativer!"
+
+Tom said nothing, but gazed up at the windows of the apartment above the
+store where the Schmitts had lived. How he had once envied Bill his
+place in that home of good cheer and abundance! He remembered the
+sauerkraut and the sausages which Bill had told him of, and he had not
+believed Bill's extravagant declaration that "at Schmitt's you could
+have all you want to eat." To poor Tom, living with his wretched father
+in the two-room tenement in Barrel Alley, with nothing to eat at all,
+these accounts of the Schmitt household had seemed like a tale from the
+Arabian Nights. Once his father had sent him there to get fifty cents
+from thrifty and industrious Bill, and Tom remembered the shiny oilcloth
+on the kitchen floor, the snowy white fluted paper on the shelves, the
+stiff, spotless apron on the buxom form of Mrs. Schmitt, whom Mr.
+Schmitt had called "Mooder."
+
+Tom Slade, of Barrel Alley, had revenged himself on Bill and all the
+rest of this by stealing apples from the front of the store and calling,
+"Dirty Dutchman"--a singularly inappropriate epithet--at Mr. Schmitt.
+But he realized now that Mr. Schmitt had been a kind and hospitable man,
+a much better husband and father than poor Bill Slade, senior, had ever
+been, and an extremely good friend to lucky Bill, junior, who had lived
+so near to Heaven, in that immaculate home, as to have all the
+sauerkraut and sausage and potato salad and rye bread and Swiss cheese
+and coffee cake that he could possibly manage--and more besides.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+HE DOES A GOOD TURN AND MAKES A DISCOVERY
+
+
+"What became of the Schmitts?" Tom asked.
+
+"It's aisy ter see ye've ben away from here," said Pete.
+
+"I've only been back five days," Tom explained.
+
+"Wal, if ye'd been here two weeks ago, ye'd know more'n ye know now
+about it. Ye're a jack ashore, that's what ye are. Ye've got ter be
+spruced up on the news. Did ye know the school house burned down?"
+
+"Yes, I knew that."
+
+"Wal--about this Schmitt, here; thar wuz two detectives come out from
+Noo Yorrk--from the Fideral phad'ye call it. They wuz making inquiries
+about Schmitt. Fer th' wan thing he wuz an aly-_an_, 'n' they hed some
+raysons to think he wuz mixed up in plots. They wuz mighty close-mouthed
+about it, so I heerd, 'n' they asked more'n they told. Nivir within half
+a mile uv Schmitt did they go, but by gorry, he gits wind uv it 'n'
+th' nixt mornin' not so much as a sign uv him wuz thar left.
+
+"Cleared out, loike that," said Pete, clapping his hands and spreading
+his arms by way of illustrating how Adolf Schmitt had vanished in air.
+
+"Thar wuz th' grocery full uv stuff and all, 'n' the furnitoor upstairs,
+but Adolf 'n' the old wooman 'n' th' kids 'n' sich duds ez they cud cram
+inter their bags wuz gone--bury drawers lift wide open, ez if they'd
+went in a ghreat hurry."
+
+Tom had listened in great surprise. "What--do--you--know--about--that?"
+he gasped when Pete at last paused.
+
+"It's iviry blessed worrd that I know. I'm thinkin' he wint ter Germany,
+mebbe."
+
+"How could he get there?" Tom asked.
+
+"Wouldn't thim Dutch skippers in Noo Yorrk Harrbor help him out?" Pete
+shouted. "Gerrmany, Holland--'tis all th' same. Thar's ways uv gittin'
+thar, you kin thrust the Germans. They're comin' and goin' back all the
+toime."
+
+"What do you suppose they suspected him of?" Tom asked, his astonishment
+still possessing him.
+
+"Nivir a worrd wud they say, but ye kin bet yer Uncle Sammy's not spyin'
+around afther people fer nuthin'. They searched the store aftherworrds,
+but nary a thing cud they find."
+
+So that was the explanation of the now vacant store which had been so
+much a part of the life of Tom Slade and his poor, shiftless family.
+That was the end, so far as Bridgeboro was concerned, of the jovial,
+good-hearted grocer, and Fritzie and little Emmy and "Mooder" in her
+stiff, spotless white apron. It seemed almost unbelievable.
+
+"A Hun is a Hun," said Pete, "'n' that's all thar is to't."
+
+"What did they do with all the stuff?" Tom asked.
+
+Pete shrugged his shoulders. "Mister Temple, he owns th' buildin' an' he
+hed it cleared out, 'n' now he leaves them Red Cross ladies use it fer
+ter make bandages 'n' phwat all, 'n' collect money fer their campaign.
+He's a ghrand man, Mister Temple. Would ye gimme a lift wid this here
+table, now, while ye're here, Tommy?"
+
+As they carried the table across the sidewalk, a group of ladies came
+down the block and whom should Tom see among them but Mrs. Temple and
+her daughter Mary. As he looked at Mary (whom he used to tease and call
+"stuck up") he realized that he was not the only person in Bridgeboro
+who had been growing up, for she was quite a young lady, and very
+pretty besides.
+
+"Why, Thomas, how _do_ you do!" said Mrs. Temple. "I heard you were
+back----"
+
+"And you never came to see us," interrupted Mary.
+
+"I only got back Tuesday," said Tom, a little flustered.
+
+He told them briefly of his trip and when the little chat was over Pete
+Connigan had disappeared.
+
+"I wonder if you wouldn't be willing to move one or two things for us?"
+Mrs. Temple asked. "Have you time? I meant to ask the truckman, but----"
+
+"He may be too old to be a scout any more, but he's not too old to do a
+good turn," teased Mary.
+
+They entered the store where the marks of the departed store fixtures
+were visible along the walls and Schmitt's old counter stood against one
+side. Piles of Red Cross literature now lay upon it. Upon a rough
+makeshift table were boxes full of yarn (destined to keep many a long
+needle busy) and the place was full of the signs of its temporary
+occupancy.
+
+"If I hadn't joined the Red Cross already, I'd join now," said Tom,
+apologetically, displaying his button. "A girl in our office got me to
+join."
+
+"Wasn't she mean," said Mary. "I'm going to make you work anyhow, just
+out of spite."
+
+Other women now arrived, armed with no end of what Tom called "first aid
+stuff," and with bundles of long knitting needles, silent weapons for
+the great drive.
+
+Tom was glad enough to retreat before this advancing host and carry
+several large boxes into the cellar. Then he hauled the old grocery
+counter around so that the women working at it could be seen from the
+street. The table, too, he pulled this way and that, to suit the
+changing fancy of the ladies in authority.
+
+"There, I guess that's about right," said Mrs. Temple, eying it
+critically; "now, there's just one thing more--if you've time. There's a
+thing down in the cellar with little compartments, sort of----"
+
+"I know," said Tom; "the old spice cabinet."
+
+"I wonder if we could bring it up together," said Mrs. Temple.
+
+"I'll get it," Tom said.
+
+"You couldn't do it alone," said Mary. "I'll help."
+
+"I can do it better without anybody getting in the way," said Tom with
+characteristic bluntness, and Mary and her mother were completely
+squelched.
+
+"Gracious, now he has grown," said Mrs. Temple, as Tom disappeared
+downstairs.
+
+"His eyes used to be gray; they've changed," said Mary.
+
+As if that had anything to do with moving tables and spice cabinets!
+
+The spice cabinet stood against the brick chimney and was covered with
+thick dust. Behind it was a disused stove-pipe hole stuffed with rags,
+which Tom pulled out to brush the dust off the cabinet before lifting
+it.
+
+He had pushed it hardly two feet in the direction of the stairs when his
+coat caught on a nail and he struck a match to see if it had torn. The
+damage was slight, and, with his customary attention to details, he saw
+that the nail was one of several which had fastened a narrow strip of
+molding around the cabinet. About two feet of this molding had been torn
+away, leaving the nails protruding from the cabinet and Tom noticed not
+only that the unvarnished strip which the molding had covered was clean
+and white, but that the exposed parts of the nails were still shiny.
+
+"Huh," he thought, "whoever pulled that off must have been in a great
+hurry not to hammer the nails in or even pull them out."
+
+As he twisted the nails out, one by one, it occurred to him to wonder
+why the heavy, clinging coat of damp dust which covered the rest of the
+cabinet was absent from this white unsoiled strip and shiny nails. The
+cabinet, he thought, must have been in the cellar for some time, whereas
+the molding must have been wrenched from it very recently, for it does
+not take long for a nail to become rusty in a damp cellar.
+
+He struck another match and looked about near the chimney, intending, if
+the strip of molding were there, to take it upstairs and nail it on
+where it belonged, for one of the good things which the scout life had
+taught Tom was that broken furniture and crooked nails sticking out
+spell carelessness and slovenliness.
+
+But the strip was not to be found. A less observant boy would not have
+given two thoughts to the matter, but in his hasty thinking Tom reached
+this conclusion, that some one had very lately pulled this strip of
+molding off of the cabinet and had used it for a purpose, since it was
+nowhere to be seen.
+
+With Pete's tale fresh in his mind, he struck match after match and
+peered about the cellar. Against the opposite wall he noticed a stick
+with curved tongs on one end of it, manipulated by a thin metal bar
+running to the other end. It was one of those handy implements used to
+lift cans down from high shelves. It stood among other articles, a rake,
+an old broom, but the deft little mechanical hand on the end of it was
+bright and shiny, so this, too, had not been long in the damp cellar.
+
+For a moment Tom paused and thought. It never occurred to him that
+momentous consequences might hang upon his thinking. He was simply
+curious and rather puzzled.
+
+He picked up the can lifter and stood looking at it. Then with a sudden
+thought he went back to the chimney, struck a match and, thrusting his
+head into the sooty hole, looked up. Four or five feet above, well out
+of arm's reach, something thin ran across from one side to the other of
+the spacious chimney. The can lifter was too long to be gotten wholly
+into the chimney, but Tom poked the end of it through the hole and
+upward until its angle brought it against the chimney wall.
+
+It was right there that the crosspiece was wedged. In other words, it
+had been pushed as high, a little on this side, a little on that, as
+this handy implement would reach, and perhaps kept from falling in the
+process by the gripping tongs.
+
+Not another inch could Tom reach with this stick. By hammering upward
+against the end of it, however, he was able to jam it up a trifle,
+thanks to its capacity for bending. Thus he dislodged the crosspiece and
+as it tumbled down he saw that it was the strip of molding from the
+cabinet.
+
+But along with it there fell something else which interested him far
+more. This was a packet which had evidently been held against the side
+of the chimney by the stick. There were six bulging envelopes held
+together by a rubber band. The dampness of the chimney had not affected
+the live rubber and it still bore its powdery white freshness.
+
+"I wonder if they looked there," Tom thought. "Maybe they just reached
+around--kind of. I should think they'd have noticed those shiny nails,
+though."
+
+He put the packet safely in his pocket and, hauling the cabinet up on
+his back staggered up the stairs with it.
+
+"What in the world took you so long?" said Mary Temple. "Oh, look at
+your face!"
+
+"I can't look at it," said matter-of-fact Tom.
+
+"It's too funny! You've got soot all over it. Come over here and I'll
+wash it off."
+
+It was a curious thing about Tom Slade and a matter of much amusement to
+his friends, that however brave or noble or heroic his acts might be, he
+was pretty sure to get his necktie halfway around his neck and a dirty
+face into the bargain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+HE SCENTS DANGER AND RECEIVES A LETTER
+
+
+Tom was greatly excited by his discovery. As he hurried to the office he
+opened the envelopes and what he found was not of a nature to modify his
+excitement. Here was German propaganda work with a vengeance. He felt
+that he had plunged into the very heart of the Teuton spy system.
+Evidently the recipient of these documents had considered them too
+precious to destroy and too dangerous to carry.
+
+"He might still think of a way to get them, maybe," thought Tom.
+
+There was a paper containing a list of all the American cantonments and
+opposite each camp several names of individuals. Tom thought these might
+be spies in Uncle Sam's uniform. There was some correspondence about
+smuggling dental rubber out of the United States to make gas masks in
+Germany. There were requests for money. There was one letter giving
+information, in considerable detail, about aeroplane manufacture.
+
+Another letter in the same handwriting interested Tom particularly,
+because of his interest in gas engines--the result of his many tussles
+with the obstreperous motor of the troop's cabin launch, _Good Turn_.
+Skimming hastily over some matter about the receipt of money through
+some intermediary, his interest was riveted by the following:
+
+     "... I told you about having plans of high pressure motor. That's
+     for battle planes at high altitudes. I've got the drawings of the
+     other now--the low pressure one I told you about at S----'s. That's
+     for seaplanes, submarine spotting, and all that. Develops 400 H.P.
+     They're not putting those in the planes that are going over now,
+     but all planes going over next year will have them. B---- told me
+     what you said about me going across, but that's the only reason I
+     suggested it--because the information won't be of any particular
+     use to them after they bring down a plane. They'll see the whole
+     thing before their eyes then. But suit yourself. There's a lot of
+     new wrinkles on this motor. I'll tell you that, but there's no use
+     telling you about it when you don't know a gas engine from a
+     meat-chopper.
+
+     "Sure, I could tend to the other matter too--it's the same idea as
+     a periscope. That's a cinch. I knew a chap worked on the
+     _Christopher Colon_. She used to run to Central America. Maybe I
+     could swing it that way. Anyway, I'll see you.
+
+     "If you have to leave in a hurry, leave money and any directions at
+     S----'s.
+
+     "I'm going to be laid off here, anyway, on account of my eardrums.
+
+     "Hope B---- will give you this all right. Guess that's all now."
+
+Tom read this twice and out of its scrappiness and incompleteness he
+gathered this much! that somebody who was about to be dismissed from an
+aeroplane factory for the very usual reason that he could not stand the
+terrific noise, had succeeded in either making or procuring plans of
+Uncle Sam's new aeroplane engine, the Liberty Motor.
+
+He understood the letter to mean that it was very important that these
+drawings reach Germany before the motors were in service, since then it
+would be too late for the Germans to avail themselves of "Yankee
+ingenuity," and also since they would in all probability succeed in
+capturing one of the planes.
+
+He gathered further that the sender of the letter was prepared to go
+himself with these plans, working his way on an American ship, and to do
+something else (doubtless of a diabolical character) on the way. The
+phrase "same idea as a periscope" puzzled him. It appeared, also, that
+the sender of the letter, whoever he was and wherever he was (for no
+place or date or signature was indicated and the envelopes were not the
+original ones) had not sent his communications direct to this alien
+grocer, but to someone else who had delivered them to Schmitt.
+
+"It isn't anything for me to be mixed up in, anyway," Tom thought. He
+was almost afraid to carry papers of such sinister purport with him and
+he quickened his steps in order that he might turn them over to Mr.
+Burton, the manager of Temple Camp office.
+
+But when he reached the office he did not carry out this intention, for
+there was waiting for him a letter which upset all his plans and made
+him forget for the time being these sinister papers. It took him back
+with a rush to his experiences on shipboard and he read it with a smile
+on his lips.
+
+     "Dear Tommy--I don't know whether this letter will ever reach you,
+     for, for all I know, you're in Davy Jones's locker. Even my memo of
+     your address got pretty well soaked in the ocean and all I'm dead
+     sure of is that you live in North America somewhere near a bridge."
+
+Tom turned the sheet to look at the signature but he knew already that
+the letter was from his erstwhile friend, Mr. Carleton Conne.
+
+     "You'll remember that I promised to get you a job working for Uncle
+     Sam. That job is yours if you're alive to take it. It'll bring you
+     so near the war, if that's what you want, that you couldn't stick a
+     piece of tissue paper between.
+
+     "If you get this all right and are still keen to work in transport
+     service, there won't be any difficulty on account of the experience
+     you've had.
+
+     "Drop in to see me Saturday afternoon, room 509, Federal Building,
+     New York, if you're interested.
+
+     "Best wishes to you.
+                                                    "Carleton Conne."
+
+So Mr. Conne was alive and had not forgotten him. Tom wished that the
+letter had told something about the detective's rescue and the fate of
+the spy, but he realized that Secret Service agents could hardly be
+expected to dwell on their adventures to "ship's boy" acquaintances, and
+was it not enough that Mr. Conne remembered him at all, and his wish to
+serve on an army transport?
+
+He took the letter into the private office to show it to Mr. Burton,
+resolved now that he would say nothing about his discovery in Schmitt's
+cellar, for surely Mr. Conne would be the proper one to give the papers
+to.
+
+"You remember," he began, "that I said if I ever heard from Mr. Conne
+and he offered me a job, I'd like to go. And you said it would be all
+right."
+
+Mr. Burton nodded. "And the expected--or the unexpected--has happened,"
+he added, smiling, as he handed Mr. Conne's letter back to Tom.
+
+"It'll be all right, won't it?" Tom asked.
+
+"I suppose it will have to be, Tom," Mr. Burton said pleasantly. "That
+was our understanding, wasn't it?"
+
+"Yes, sir--but I'm sorry--kind of."
+
+"I'm sorry, kind of, too; but I suppose there's no help for it. Some
+boys," he added, as he toyed with a paperweight, "seem to be born to
+work in offices, and some to wander over the face of the earth. I would
+be the last to discourage you from entering war service in whatever form
+it might be. But I'm afraid you'd go anyway, Tom, war or no war. The
+world isn't big enough for some people. They're born that way. I'm
+afraid you're one of them. It's surprising how unimportant money is in
+traveling if one has the wanderlust. It'll be all right," he concluded
+with a pleasant but kind of rueful smile. He understood Tom Slade
+thoroughly.
+
+"That's another thing I was thinking about, too," said Tom. "Pretty soon
+I'll be eighteen and then I want to enlist. If I enlist in this country
+I'll have to spend a whole lot of time in camp, and maybe in the end I
+wouldn't get sent to the firing line at all. There's lots of 'em won't
+even get across. If they find you've got good handwriting or maybe some
+little thing like that, they'll keep you here driving an army wagon or
+something. If I go on a transport I can give it up at either port. It's
+mostly going over that the fellers are kept busy anyway; coming back
+they don't need them. I found that out before. They'll give you a
+release there if you want to join the army. So if I keep going back and
+forth till my birthday, then maybe I could hike it through France and
+join Pershing's army. I'd rather be trained over there, 'cause then I'm
+nearer the front. You don't think that's sort of cheating the
+government, do you?" he added.
+
+Mr. Burton laughed. "I don't think the government will object to that
+sort of cheating," he said.
+
+"I read about a feller that joined in France, so I know you can do it.
+You see, it cuts out a lot of red tape, and I'd kind of like hiking it
+alone--ever since I was a scout I've felt that way."
+
+"Once a scout, always a scout," smiled Mr. Burton, using a phrase of
+which he was very fond and which Tom had learned from him; "and it
+wouldn't be Tom Slade if he didn't go about things in a way of his own,
+eh, Tom? Well, good luck to you."
+
+Tom went out and in his exuberance he showed Mr. Conne's letter to
+Margaret Ellison, who also worked in Temple Camp office.
+
+"It's splendid," she said, "and as soon as you _know_ you're going I'm
+going to hang a service flag in the window."
+
+"You can't hang out a service flag for a feller that's working on a
+transport," Tom said. "He isn't in regular military service. When I'm
+enlisted I'll let you know."
+
+"You must be sure to write."
+
+Tom promised and was delighted. So great was his elation, indeed, that
+on his way home to his room that evening he went through Terrace Avenue
+again, to see how the Red Cross women were getting on in their new
+quarters.
+
+Mary Temple received him in a regular nurse's costume, which made Tom
+almost wish that he were lying wounded on some battle-field. She was
+delighted at his good news, and, "Oh, we had such a funny man here just
+after you left," she said. "Mother thinks he must have been insane. He
+said he came to read the gas-meter, so I took him down into the cellar
+and the gas-meter had been taken away. Wouldn't you think the gas
+company would have known that? Then he said he would stay in the cellar
+and inspect the pipes."
+
+"Did you let him?" Tom asked.
+
+"I certainly did _not_! With all our stuff down there? When he saw I
+intended to stay down as long as he did, he went right up. Do you think
+he wanted to steal some of our membership buttons?"
+
+Tom shrugged his shoulders thoughtfully. He was glad the next day was
+Saturday.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+HE GETS A JOB AND MEETS "FRENCHY"
+
+
+Tom found Mr. Conne poring over a scrapbook filled with cards containing
+finger-prints. His unlighted cigar was cocked up in the corner of his
+mouth like a flag-pole from a window, just the same as when Tom had seen
+him last. It almost seemed as if it must be the very same cigar. He
+greeted Tom cordially.
+
+"So they didn't manage to sink my old chum, Sherlock Nobody Holmes, eh?
+Tommy, my boy, how are you?"
+
+"Did the spy get rescued?" Tom asked, as the long hand-shake ended.
+
+"Nope. Went down. But we nabbed a couple of his accomplices through his
+papers."
+
+"I got a new mystery," said Tom in his customary blunt manner. "I was
+going to give these papers to my boss, but when I got your letter I
+decided I'd give 'em to you."
+
+He told the detective all about Adolf Schmitt and of how he had
+discovered the papers in the chimney.
+
+"You say the place had already been searched?" Mr. Conne asked.
+
+"Yes, but I s'pose maybe they were in a hurry and had other things to
+think about, maybe. A man came there again just the other day, too, and
+said he wanted to read the gas-meter. But he looked all 'round the
+cellar."
+
+"Hmm," Mr. Conne said dryly. "Tom, if you don't look out you'll make a
+detective one of these days. I see you've got the same old wide-awake
+pair of eyes as ever."
+
+"I learned about deducing when I was in the scouts," said Tom. "They
+always made fun of me for it--the fellers did. Once I deduced an
+aeroplane landed in a big field because the grass was kind of dragged,
+but afterwards I found the fellers had made tracks there with an old
+baby carriage just to fool me. Sometimes one thing kind of tells you
+another, sort of."
+
+"Well, whenever you see something that you think tells you anything,
+Tommy, you just follow it up and never mind about folks laughing. I
+shouldn't wonder if you've made a haul here."
+
+"There was one of 'em that interested me specially," ventured Tom; "the
+one about motors."
+
+Mr. Conne glanced over the papers again. "Hmm," said he, "I dare say
+that's the least important of the lot--sort of crack-brained."
+
+Tom felt squelched.
+
+"Well, anyway, they'll all be taken care of," Mr. Conne said
+conclusively, as he stuffed the papers in his pocket.
+
+Tom could have wished that he might share in the further developments
+connected with those interesting papers. But, however important Mr.
+Conne considered them, he put the matter temporarily aside in the
+interest of Tom's proposed job.
+
+"I just happened to think of you," he said, as he took his hat and coat,
+"when I was talking with the steward of the _Montauk_. He was saying
+they were short-handed. Come along, now, and we'll go and see about it."
+
+Mr. Conne's mind seemed full of other things as he hurried along the
+street with Tom after him. On the ferryboat, as they crossed to Hoboken,
+he was more sociable.
+
+"Don't think any more about those letters now," he said. "The proper
+authorities will look after them."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And whatever they set you to doing, put your mind on your work first
+of all. Keep your eyes and ears open--there's no law against that--but
+do your work. It's only in dime novels that youngsters like you are
+generals and captains and famous detectives."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Tom.
+
+"What I mean is, don't get any crazy notions in your head. You may land
+in the Secret Service yet. But meanwhile keep your feet on the earth--or
+the ship. Get me?"
+
+Tom was sensible enough to know that this was good advice.
+
+"Your finding these letters was clever. If there are any spies in the
+camps they'll be rounded up double quick. As for spy work at sea, I'll
+tell you this, though you mustn't mention it, there are government
+sleuths on all the ships--most of them working as hands."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Tom.
+
+"I'm going across on a fast ship to-morrow myself," continued Mr. Conne,
+greatly to Tom's surprise. "I'll be in Liverpool and London and probably
+in France before you get there. There's a bare possibility of you seeing
+me over there."
+
+"I hope I do," said Tom.
+
+The transport _Montauk_ was one of the many privately owned steamers
+taken over into government service, and Tom soon learned that outside
+the steward's department nearly all the positions on board were filled
+by naval men. Mr. Conne presented him to the steward, saying that Tom
+had made a trip on a munition carrier, and disappeared in a great hurry.
+
+Tom could not help feeling that he was one of the least important things
+among Mr. Conne's multitudinous interests, and it must be confessed that
+he felt just a little chagrined at finding himself disposed of with so
+little ceremony.
+
+But, if he had only known it, this good friend who stood so high in that
+most fascinating department of all Uncle Sam's departmental family, had
+borne him in mind more than he had encouraged Tom to think, and he had
+previously spoken words of praise to the steward, which now had their
+effect in Tom's allotment to his humble duties.
+
+He was, in a word, given the best position to be had among the
+unskilled, non-naval force and became presently the envy of every
+youngster on board. This was the exalted post of captain's mess boy, a
+place of honor and preferment which gave him free entrance to that holy
+of holies, "the bridge," where young naval officers marched back and
+forth, and where the captain dined in solitary state, save for Tom's own
+presence.
+
+Now and then, in the course of that eventful trip, Tom looked enviously
+at the young wireless operators, and more particularly at the marine
+signalers, who moved their arms with such jerky and mechanical precision
+and sometimes, perhaps, he thought wistfully of certain fortunate young
+heroes of fiction who made bounding leaps to the top of the ladder of
+fame.
+
+But he did his work cheerfully and well and became a favorite on board,
+for his duties gave him the freedom of all the decks. He was the
+captain's mess boy and could go anywhere.
+
+Indeed, with one person he became a favorite even before the vessel
+started.
+
+It was well on toward dusk of the third day and he was beginning to
+think they would never sail, when suddenly he heard a tramp, tramp, on
+the pier and up the gangplank, and before he realized it the soldiers
+swarmed over the deck, their tin plates and cups jangling at their
+sides. They must have come through the adjoining ferry house and across
+a low roof without touching the street at all, for they appeared as if
+by magic and no one seemed to know how they had got there.
+
+Their arrival was accompanied by much banter and horseplay among
+themselves, interspersed with questions to the ship's people, few of
+which could be answered.
+
+"Hey, pal, where are we going?"
+
+"Where do we go from here, kiddo?"
+
+"Say, what's the next stop for this jitney?"
+
+    "We don't know where we're going,
+    but we're on our way,"
+
+someone piped up.
+
+"We're going to Berlin," one shouted.
+
+The fact that no one gave them any information did not appear to
+discourage them.
+
+"When do we eat?" one wanted to know.
+
+Tom saw no reason why he should not answer that, so he said to those
+crowded nearest to him, "In about half an hour."
+
+"G-o-o-d-ni-ight!"
+
+"When are we going to start? Who's running this camp anyway?"
+
+"Go and tell the engineer we're here and he can start off."
+
+"Fares, please. Ding ding!"
+
+"Gimme me a transfer to Berlin."
+
+And so it went. They sprawled about on the hatches, perched upon the
+rail, leaned in groups against the vent pipes; they covered the ship
+like a great brown blanket. They wrestled with each other, knocked each
+other about, shouted gibberish intended for French, talked about _Kaiser
+Bill_, and mixed things up generally.
+
+At last they were ordered into line and marched slowly through the
+galley where their plates and cups were filled and a butcher was kept
+busy demolishing large portions of a cow. They sprawled about anywhere
+they pleased, eating.
+
+To Tom it was like a scout picnic on a mammoth scale. Here and there was
+noticeable a glum, bewildered face, but for the most part the soldiers
+(drafted or otherwise) seemed bent on having the time of their lives. It
+could not be said that they were without patriotism, but their one
+thought now seemed to be to make merry. Tom's customary stolidness
+disappeared in the face of this great mirthful drive and he sat on the
+edge of the hatch, his white jacket conspicuous by contrast, and smiled
+broadly.
+
+He wondered whether any other country in the world could produce such a
+slangy, jollying, devil-may-care host as these vociferous American
+soldiers. How he longed to be one of them!
+
+A slim young soldier elbowed his way through the throng and, supper in
+hand, seated himself on the hatch beside Tom. He had the smallest
+possible mustache, with pointed ends, and his demeanor was gentlemanly
+and friendly. Even his way of stirring his coffee seemed different from
+the rough and tumble fashion of the others.
+
+"These are _stirring_ times, hey, Frenchy?" a soldier said.
+
+"Yess--zat is verry good--_stirring times_," the young fellow answered,
+in appreciation of the joke. Then, turning to Tom, he said, "Zis is ze
+Bartholdi statue, yess? I am from ze West."
+
+"That's the Statue of Liberty," said Tom. "You'll see it better when we
+pass it."
+
+"Ah, yess! zis is ze first; I haf' nevaire seen. I zank you."
+
+"Do you know why the Statue of Liberty looks so sad, Frenchy?" a soldier
+asked. "Because she's facing Brooklyn."
+
+"Do you know why she's got her arm up?" another called.
+
+Frenchy was puzzled.
+
+"She represents the American woman hanging onto a strap in the subway."
+
+"Don't let them jolly you, Frenchy," another said.
+
+Frenchy, a little bewildered, laughed good-humoredly as the bantering
+throng plied him with absurdities.
+
+"Are you French?" Tom asked, as some new victim diverted the attention
+of the boys.
+
+"Ah, no! I am Americ'."
+
+"But you were born in France?"
+
+"Yess--zey call it Zhermany, but it is France! I take ze coat from you.
+Still it is yours. Am I right? I am born in Alsace. Zat is France!"
+
+"Doncher believe him, kiddo!" said a soldier. "He was born in Germany.
+Look on the map."
+
+"He's a German spy, Whitey; look out for him."
+
+"Alsace--ziss is France!" said Frenchy fervently.
+
+"_Ziss_ is the United States," shouted a soldier derisively.
+
+"_Ziss_ is Hoboken!" chimed in another.
+
+"Vive la Hoboken!" shrieked a third.
+
+Tom thought he had never laughed so much in all his life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+HE MAKES A DISCOVERY AND RECEIVES A SHOCK
+
+
+Soon after dusk the soldiers were ordered to throw away their "smokes"
+and either go below or lie flat upon the decks. Officers patrolled the
+rail while others strolled among the boys and reminded the unruly and
+forgetful not to raise themselves, and soon the big ship, with its
+crowding khaki-clad cargo, was moving down the stream--on its way to
+"can the Kaiser." Then even the patrol was discontinued.
+
+A crowded ferryboat paused in its passage to give the great gray
+transport the right of way, and the throng of commuters upon its deck
+saw nothing as they looked up but one or two white-jacketed figures
+moving about.
+
+Tom thought the ship was off, but after fifteen or twenty minutes the
+throb of the engines ceased and he heard the clank, clank of the anchor
+winches. A little distant from the ship tiny green, red and white lights
+appeared and disappeared and were answered by other colored lights from
+high up in the rigging of the _Montauk_. Other lights appeared in other
+directions and were answered by still others, changing rapidly. Tom
+thought that he could distinguish a dark outline below certain of these
+lights. The whole business seemed weird and mysterious.
+
+In the morning he looked from the rail at a sight which astonished and
+thrilled him. No sign of land was there to be seen. Steaming abreast of
+the _Montauk_ and perhaps a couple of hundred yards from her, was a
+great ship with soldiers crowding at her rail waving caps and shouting,
+their voices singularly crisp and clear across the waters. Beyond her
+and still abreast was another great ship, the surging army upon her
+decks reduced to a brown mass in the distance. And far off on either
+side of this flotilla of three, and before it and behind it, was a
+sprightly little destroyer, moving this way and that, like a dog jumping
+about his master.
+
+Upon the nearest vessel a naval signaler was semaphoring to the
+_Montauk_--his movements jerky, clean-cut, perfect. Enviously Tom
+watched him, thinking of his own semaphore work at Temple Camp. He read
+the message easily; it was something about how many knots the ship
+could make in a steady run of six hundred miles. The _Montauk_ answered
+that she could make twenty-eight knots and keep it up for nineteen
+hours. The other signaler seemed to be relaying this to the transport
+beyond, which in turn signaled the destroyer on that side. Then there
+was signaling between the _Montauk_ and her own neighbor destroyer about
+sailing formation in the danger zone.
+
+It was almost like A B C to Tom, but he remembered Mr. Conne's good
+advice and resolved not to concern himself with matters outside his own
+little sphere of duty. But a few days later he made a discovery which
+turned his thoughts again to Adolf Schmitt's cellar and to spies.
+
+He had piled the captain's breakfast dishes, made his weather memoranda
+from the barometer for posting in the main saloon, and was dusting the
+captain's table, when he chanced to notice the framed picture of a ship
+on the cabin wall. He had seen it before, but now he noticed the tiny
+name, scarcely decipherable, upon its bow, _Christopher Colon_.
+
+So that was the ship on which somebody or other known to the fugitive,
+Adolf Schmitt, had thought of sailing in order to carry certain
+information to Germany. As Tom gazed curiously at this picture he
+thought of a certain phrase in that strange letter, _"Sure, I could tend
+to the other matter too--it's the same idea as a periscope."_
+
+Yet Mr. Conne's sensible advice would probably have prevailed and Tom
+would have put these sinister things out of his thoughts, but meeting
+one of the steward's boys upon the deck shortly afterward he said,
+"There's a picture of a ship, the _Christopher Colon_----"
+
+"That's this ship," interrupted the steward's boy. "They don't say much
+about those things. It's hard to find out anything. Nobody except these
+navy guys know about how many ships are taken over for transports. But I
+saw a couple of spoons in the dining saloon with that name on them. And
+sometimes you can make it out under the fresh paint on the life
+preservers and things. Uncle Sam's some foxy old guy."
+
+Tom was so surprised that he stood stark still and stared as the boy
+hurried along about his duties. Upon the _Montauk's_ nearest neighbor
+the naval signalman was semaphoring, and he watched abstractedly. It was
+something about camouflage maneuvering in the zone. Tom took a certain
+pride in being able to read it. Far off, beyond the other great ships,
+a sprightly little destroyer cut a zigzag course, as if practicing. The
+sky was clear and blue. As Tom watched, a young fellow in a sailor's
+suit hurried by, working his way among the throng of soldiers.
+Presently, Frenchy strolled past talking volubly to another soldier, and
+waving his cigarette gracefully in accompaniment. A naval quartermaster
+leaned against the rail, chatting with a red-faced man with
+spectacles--the chief engineer, Tom thought.
+
+Who were Secret Service men and who were not? thought Tom. Who was a spy
+and who was not? Perhaps some one who brushed past him carried in his
+pockets (or more likely in the soles of his shoes) the designs of the
+Liberty Motor. Perhaps some one had the same thought about _him_. What a
+dreadful thing to be suspected of! A spy!
+
+That puzzling phrase came into his mind again: _Sure, I could tend to
+the other matter too--it's the same idea as a periscope._ What did that
+mean? So the _Montauk_ was the _Christopher Colon_....
+
+He was roused out of his abstraction by the fervid, jerky voice of
+Frenchy, talking about Alsace. Alsace was a part of Germany, whatever
+Frenchy might say.... Again Tom bethought him of Mr. Conne's very wise
+advice, and he went to the main saloon and posted the weather
+prediction.
+
+That same day something happened which shocked him and gave him an
+unpleasant feeling of loneliness. Mr. Wessel, the steward, died suddenly
+of heart failure. He was Tom's immediate superior and in a way his
+friend. He, and he alone, had received Tom's recommendation from Mr.
+Conne, and knew something of him. He had given Tom that enviable place
+as captain's boy, and throughout these few days had treated him with a
+kind of pleasant familiarity.
+
+He stood by as the army chaplain read the simple burial service, while
+four soldiers held the rough, weighted casket upon the rail; and he saw
+it go down with a splash and disappear in the mysterious, fathomless
+ocean. It affected him more than the loss of a life by torpedoing or
+drowning could have done and left him solemn and thoughtful and with a
+deep sense of loss.
+
+Just before dark they semaphored over from the _Dorrilton_ that they
+could spare the second steward for duty on the _Montauk_. Tom mentioned
+this to one of the deck stewards, and to his surprise and
+consternation, an officer came to him a little later and asked him how
+he knew it.
+
+"I can read semaphoring," said Tom. "I used to be in the Boy Scouts."
+
+The officer looked at him sharply and said, "Well, you'd better learn to
+keep your mouth shut. This is no place for amateurs and Boy Scouts to
+practice their games."
+
+"Y-yes, sir," said Tom, greatly frightened.
+
+The next morning, when the sea was quieter, they rowed his new boss over
+in a small boat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+HE HEARS ABOUT ALSACE AND RECEIVES A PRESENT
+
+
+That was a good lesson for Tom and a practical demonstration of the
+wisdom of Mr. Conne's advice. Not that he had exactly gone outside his
+duties to indulge his appetite for adventure, but he had had a good
+scare which reminded him what a suspicious and particular old gentleman
+Uncle Sam is in wartime.
+
+The officer, who had thus frightened him and, in Tom's opinion, cast a
+slur upon the Scouts, made matters worse by scrutinizing him (or so he
+fancied) whenever they met upon the deck. But that was all there was to
+it, and the captain's mess boy did his allotted tasks each day, and
+stood for no end of jollying from the soldiers, who called him "Whitey"
+and "Eats," because he carried the captain's tray back and forth.
+
+This banter he shared with Frenchy, who took it as good-humoredly as Tom
+himself, when he understood it, and when he didn't Tom explained it to
+him.
+
+"Ziss--how you call--_can_ ze Kaiser?" he would inquire politely.
+
+"That means putting him in a tin can," said Tom.
+
+"Ze tin can? Ze--how you call--wipe ze floor wiz him?"
+
+"They both mean the same thing," said Tom. "They mean beating him--good
+and thorough--kind of."
+
+Frenchy did not seem to understand but he would wave his hands and say
+with great vehemence, "Ah, ze Kaiser, he must be defeat! Ze wretch!"
+
+Frenchy's name was Armande Lateur. He was an American by adoption and
+though he had spent much time among the people of his own nationality in
+Canada, he was strong for Uncle Sam with a pleasant, lingering fondness
+for the region of the "blue Alsatian mountains," whence he had come.
+
+It was from Frenchy that Tom learned much which (if he had only known
+it) was to serve him well in the perilous days to come.
+
+The day before they entered the danger zone the two, secure for a
+little while from the mirthful artillery fire of the soldiers, had a
+little chat which Tom was destined long to remember.
+
+They were sitting at dusk in the doorway of the unoccupied guardhouse
+which ordinarily was the second cabin smoking-room.
+
+"Alsace-Lorraine is part of Germany," said Tom, his heavy manner of
+talking contrasting strangely with Frenchy's excitability. "So you were
+a German citizen before you got to be an American; and your people over
+there must be German citizens."
+
+"Zey are Zherman _slaves_--yess! Citizens--no! See! When still I am a
+leetle boy, I must learn ze Zherman. I must go to ze Zherman school. My
+pappa have to pay fine when hees cheeldren speak ze French. My little
+seester when she sing ze Marsellaise--she must go t'ree days to ze
+Zherman zhail!"
+
+"You mean to prison?" Tom asked. "Just for singing the Marsellaise! Why,
+the hand-organs play that where I live!"
+
+"Ah, yess--Americ'! In Alsace, even before ze war--you sing ze
+Marsellaise, t'ree days you go to ze zhail. You haf' a book printed in
+ze French--feefty marks you must pay!" He waived his cigarette, as if
+it might have been a deadly sword, and hurled it over the rail.
+
+"After Germany took Alsace-Lorraine away from France," said Tom,
+unmoved, "and began treating the French people that way, I should think
+lots of 'em would have moved to France."
+
+"Many--yess; but some, no. My pappa had a veenyard. Many years ziss
+veenyard is owned by my people--my anceestors. Even ze village is name
+for my family--Lateur. You know ze Franco-Prussian War--when Zhermany
+take Alsace-Lorraine--yess?"
+
+"Yes," said Tom.
+
+"My pappa fight for France. Hees arm he lose. When it is over and Alsace
+is lost, he haf' lost more than hees arm. Hees spirit! Where can he go?
+Away from ze veenyard? Here he hass lived--always."
+
+"I understand," said Tom.
+
+"Yess," said Frenchy with great satisfaction. "Zat is how eet is--you
+will understand. My pappa cannot go. Zis is hees _home_. So he
+stay--stay under ze Zhermans. Ah! For everything, _everything_, we must
+pay ze tax. Five hundred soldiers, zey keep, _always_--in zis little
+village--and only seven hundred people. Ziss is ze way. Ugh! Even ze
+name zey change--Dundgart! Ugh!"
+
+"I don't like it as well as Lethure," said matter-of-fact Tom.
+
+Frenchy laughed at Tom's pronunciation. "Zis is how you say--Le-teur.
+See? I will teach you ze French."
+
+"How did you happen to come to America?" Tom asked.
+
+"Ah! I will tell you," Frenchy said, as a grim, dangerous look gathered
+in his eyes. "You are--how many years, my frien'!"
+
+"I'm seventeen," said Tom.
+
+"One cannot tell wiz ze Americans," Frenchy explained. "Zey grow so
+queeck--so beeg. In Europe, zey haf' nevaire seen anyzing like zis--zis
+army," he added, indicating with a sweeping wave of his hand the groups
+of lolling, joking soldiers.
+
+"They make fun of you a lot, don't they?"
+
+"Ah, zat I do not mind."
+
+"Maybe that's why they all like you."
+
+"I will tell you," said Frenchy, reverting to Tom's previous question.
+"I am zhust ze same age as you--sefenteen--when zey throw my seester in
+ze zhail because she sing ze Marsellaise. Zat I cannot stand! You
+see?--When ze soldiers--fat Zhermans, ugh! When zey come for her, I
+strike zis fat one--here--so."
+
+"I'm glad you did," said Tom.
+
+"Hees eye I cut open, _so_. Wiz my fist--zhust boy's fist, but so
+sharp."
+
+"I don't blame you," said Tom.
+
+"So zen I must flee. Even to be rude to ze Zherman soldier--zis is
+crime. So I come to Americ'. Zey are looking for me, but I go by night,
+I sleep in ze haystack--zis I show. (He exhibited a little iron button
+with nothing whatever upon it.) You see? Zis is--what you
+call--talisman. Yess?
+
+"So I come to Epinal across ze border, through ze pass in ze mountains.
+I am free! I go to my uncle in Canada who is agent to our wines. Zen I
+come to Chicago, where I haf' other uncle--also agent. Now I go to
+France wiz ze Americans to take Alsace back. What should I care if they
+laugh at me? We go to take Alsace back! Alsace!--Listen--I will tell
+you!
+
+    "Vive la France!
+    A bas la Prusse!
+    D'Schwowe mien
+    Zuem Elsass 'nuess!
+
+See if you can say zis," he smiled.
+
+Tom shook his head.
+
+"I will tell you--see.
+
+    "Long live France!
+    Down with Prussia!
+    The Boches must
+    Get out of Alsace!"
+
+"It must make you feel good after all that to go back now and make them
+give up Alsace," said Tom, his stolid nature moved by the young fellow's
+enthusiasm. "I'd like it if I'd been with you when you escaped and ran
+away like that. I like long hikes and adventures and things, anyway. It
+must be a long time since you saw your people."
+
+"Saw! Even I haf' not _heard_ for t'ree year. Eight years ago I fled
+away. Even before America is in ze war I haf' no letters. Ze Zhermans
+tear zem up! Ah, no matter. When it is all over and ze boundary line is
+back at ze Rhine again--zen I will see zem. My pappa, my moother, my
+seester Florette----"
+
+His eyes glistened and he paused.
+
+"I go wiz Uncle Sam! My seester will sing ze Marsellaise!"
+
+"Yes," said Tom. "She can sing it all she wants."
+
+"If zey are not yet killed," Frenchy added, looking intently out upon
+the ocean.
+
+"I kind of feel that they're not," said Tom simply. "Sometimes I have
+feelings like that and they usually come out true."
+
+Frenchy looked suddenly at him, then embraced him. "See, I will give you
+ziss," he said, handing Tom the little iron button. "I haf' two--see? I
+will tell you about zis," he added, drawing close and holding it so that
+Tom could see. "It is made from ze cannon in my pappa's regiment. Zis is
+when Alsace and Lorraine were lost--you see? Zey swear zey would win or
+die together--and so zey all die--except seventy. So zese men, zey swear
+zey will stand by each other, forever--zese seventy. You see? Even in
+poor Alsace--and in Lorraine. So zese, ze haf' make from a piece of ze
+cannon. You see? If once you can get across ze Zherman lines into
+Alsace, zis will find you friends and shelter. Ah, but you must be
+careful. You see? You must watch for zis button and when you see--zen
+you can show zis. You will know ze person who wears ze button is
+French--man, woman, peasant, child. Ze Zhermans do not know. Zey are
+fine spies, fine sneaks! But zis zey do not know. You see?"
+
+It was as much to please the generous Frenchy as for any other reason
+(though, to be sure, he was glad to have it) that Tom took the little
+button and put it in his pocket.
+
+"Ze iron cross--you know zat?"
+
+"I've heard about it," said Tom.
+
+"Zat means murder, savagery, death! Zis little button means friendship,
+help. Ze Zhermans do not know. You take this for--what you call--lucky
+piece?"
+
+"I'll always keep it," said Tom, little dreaming what it would mean to
+him.
+
+An authoritative voice was heard and they saw the soldiers throwing away
+their cigars and cigarettes and emptying their pipes against the rail.
+At the same time the electric light in the converted guard house was
+extinguished and an officer came along calling something into each of
+the staterooms along the promenade tier. They were entering the danger
+zone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+HE BECOMES VERY PROUD, AND ALSO VERY MUCH FRIGHTENED
+
+
+Tom's talk with Frenchy left him feeling very proud that he was American
+born. He had that advantage over the Frenchman, he thought, even though
+Frenchy had escaped through a pass in the Alsatian mountains and made
+such an adventurous flight.
+
+When Frenchy had spoken of the American soldiers Tom felt especially
+proud. He was glad that all his people so far as he knew anything about
+them, were good out-and-out Yankees. Even his poor worthless father had
+been a great patriot, and played the _Star-Spangled Banner_ on his old
+accordion when he ought to have been at work.
+
+Then there was poor old one-armed Uncle Job Slade who used to get drunk,
+but he had told Tom about "them confounded rebels and traitors" of
+Lincoln's time, and when he had died in the Soldiers' Home they had
+buried him with the Stars and Stripes draped over his coffin.
+
+He was sorry now that he had not mentioned these things when gruff,
+well-meaning Pete Connigan had spoken disparagingly of the Slades.
+
+He was glad he was not an adopted American like Frenchy, but that all
+his family had been Americans as far back as he knew. He was proud to
+"belong" to a country that other people wanted to "join"--that _he_ had
+never had to join. And as he stood at the rail when his duties were
+finished that same night and gazed off across the black, rough ocean, he
+made up his mind that after this when he heard slurs cast upon his
+father and his uncle, instead of feeling ashamed he would defend them,
+and tell of the good things which he knew about them.
+
+He stood there at the rail, quite alone, thinking. The night was very
+dark and the sea was rough. Not a light was to be seen upon the ship.
+
+It occurred to him that it might be better for him not to stand there
+with his white steward's jacket on. He recalled how, up at Temple Camp,
+one could see the white tents very clearly all the way across the lake.
+
+There was no rule about it, apparently, but sometimes, when people
+forgot to make a good rule, Tom made it for them. So now he went down to
+his little stateroom (the captain's mess boy had a tiny stateroom to
+himself) and put on a dark coat.
+
+The second cabin dining saloon and dining room, which were below decks
+and had no outside ports, were crowded with soldiers, playing cards and
+checkers, and they did not fail to "josh" Whitey as he passed through.
+Frenchy was there and he waved pleasantly to Tom.
+
+"Going to get out and walk, Whitey?" a soldier called. "I see you've got
+your street clothes on."
+
+"I thought maybe the white would be too easy to see," Tom answered.
+
+"Wise guy!" someone commented.
+
+Reaching the main deck he edged his way along between the narrow
+passageway and the washroom to a secluded spot astern. He liked this
+place because it was so lonesome and unfrequented and because he could
+hear the whir and splash of the great propellers directly beneath him as
+each big roller lifted the after part of the vessel out of the water.
+Here he could think about Bridgeboro and Temple Camp, and Roy Blakeley
+and the other scouts, and of how proud he was that he was an American
+through and through, and of what he was going to say to people after
+this when they called his father a "no good" and Uncle Job a "rummy." He
+was glad he had thought about that, for back in Bridgeboro people were
+always saying something.
+
+Suddenly a stern, authoritative voice spoke just behind him. "What are
+you doing here?"
+
+In the heavy darkness Tom could just make out that the figure was in
+khaki and he thought it was the uniform of an officer.
+
+"I ain't doing anything," he said.
+
+"What did you come here for?" the voice demanded sternly.
+
+"I--I don' know," stammered Tom, thoroughly frightened.
+
+Quickly, deftly, the man slapped his clothing in the vicinity of his
+pockets.
+
+"Who are you?" he demanded.
+
+"I'm captain's mess boy."
+
+Laying his hand on Tom's shoulder, he marched him into the saloon and to
+the head of the companionway where the dim light from the passageway
+below enabled him to get a better sight of the boy. Tom was all of a
+tremor as the officer scrutinized him.
+
+"You're the fellow that read the semaphore message, aren't you?" the
+officer demanded.
+
+"Y-yes, sir, but I didn't notice them any more since I found out I
+shouldn't." Then he mustered courage to add, "I only went back there
+because it was dark and lonely, kind of. I was thinking about where I
+live and things----"
+
+The officer scrutinized him curiously for a moment and apparently was
+satisfied, for he only added, speaking rather harshly, "You'd better be
+careful where you go at night and keep away from the ropes." With this
+he wheeled about and strode away.
+
+For a minute or two Tom stood rooted to the spot where he stood, his
+heart pounding in his breast. He would not have been afraid of a whole
+regiment of Germans and he would probably have retained his stolid
+demeanor if the vessel had been sinking, but this little encounter
+frightened him. He wished that he had had the presence of mind to tell
+the officer why he had doffed his white jacket, and he wished that he
+had had the courage to mention how his Uncle Job had fought at
+Gettysburg and been buried with the flag over his coffin. Those things
+might have impressed the officer.
+
+As he lay in his berth that night, his feeling of fright passed away
+and he was overcome with a feeling of humiliation. That _he_, Tom Slade,
+who had been a scout of the scouts, who had worked for the Colors, whose
+whole family history had been one of loyalty and patriotism, should be
+even---- No, of course, he had not been actually _suspected_ of anything,
+and he knew that the government had to be very watchful and careful,
+but---- Well, he felt ashamed and humiliated, that's all.
+
+He made up his mind that if he should see that officer again, and he did
+not look too forbidding, he would mention how his mother had taught him
+to sing _America_, how his father had played the _Star-Spangled Banner_
+on his old accordion and how Uncle Job had died in the Soldiers' Home.
+Those were about the only good things he could remember about his father
+and Uncle Job, but weren't they enough?
+
+And since the government was so very particular, Tom got up and hung his
+coat across the porthole, though no clink of light could possibly have
+escaped, for his little stateroom was as dark as pitch and even when he
+opened his door there was only the dim light from the inner passage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+HE HEARS SOME NEWS AND IS CONFIDENTIAL WITH FRENCHY
+
+
+The next morning there was a rumor. Somebody told somebody who told
+somebody else who told a deck steward who told Tom that a couple of men
+had gone very stealthily along the dimly lighted passageway outside the
+forward staterooms below, looking for a lighted stateroom.
+
+"There was never so much as a glint," the deck steward volunteered.
+
+Instantly Tom thought of his experience of the previous night and there
+arose in his mind also certain passages from one of the letters he had
+turned over to Mr. Conne.
+
+Acting on his benefactor's very sensible advice, he had not allowed his
+mind to dwell upon those mysterious things which were altogether outside
+his humble sphere. But now he could not help recalling that this ship
+had been the _Christopher Colon_ on which somebody or other had thought
+he might be able to sail. Well, in any event, the ship's people had
+those things in hand, and after his disturbing experience of the night
+before, he would not dare speak to one of his superiors about what was
+in his mind. But he was greatly interested in this whispered news.
+
+"The electric lights are turned off in the staterooms, anyway," he said.
+
+"Yes, but that bunch is always smoking--them engineers," said the deck
+steward, "and a chap would naturally stick his head out of the port so
+as not to get the room full of smoke. All he'd have to do is drop his
+smoke in the ocean if anyone happened along. It's been done more'n
+once."
+
+"Then you don't think it was spies they suspected or--anything like
+that?"
+
+The deck steward, who was an old hand, hunched his shoulders. "Maybe,
+and maybe not. You can't drum it into some men that a cigarette is like
+a searchlight on the ocean."
+
+"Yet the destroyers signal at night--even here in the zone," Tom said.
+
+"Not much--only when it's necessary. And the transports don't answer.
+It's just a little brown kind of light, too. They say the tin fish[1]
+can't make it out at all."
+
+"Is that where the engineers sleep--down there?" Tom asked.
+
+"The chief and the first assistants up on deck; third and fourth and
+head fireman are down there, and two electricians. The carpenter's
+there, too."
+
+"Well, they didn't find anything, anyway," said Tom. "Is that all they
+did?"
+
+"Did? They opened every room on their way back and searched every nook
+and corner. Not so much as a pipe or a cigarette or a cigar could they
+find--nor a whiff of smoke neither. Besides, the port windows were
+locked shut and the steward had the keys! They're takin' no chances in
+the zone, you can bet."
+
+"I was thinking, if it was a spy or anyone like that, he might have had
+a flashlight," said Tom, "and thrown it out if he heard anyone coming."
+
+"With the glass locked shut?"
+
+"No, that spoils it," said Tom.
+
+"They searched every bloomin' one of 'em," said the deck steward.
+"Charlie was two hours making up the berths again after the way they
+threw things around. But nothing doing. They found a mess plate with a
+little black spot on it and he said they thought it might have been
+from a match-end being laid there, but I heard they told the captain
+there was nothing wrong down there."
+
+"What made them think there was?" asked Tom.
+
+The deck steward shrugged his shoulders. "You can search _me_. But
+they're mighty particular, huh?"
+
+He went about his duties, leaving Tom to ponder on this interesting
+news, and though admittedly nothing had come of that stealthy raid which
+had exposed neither rule breakers nor spies, still Tom thought about it
+all day, more or less, and he was glad that Uncle Sam was so watchful
+and thorough. It made him realize, all the more, how absurd and
+preposterous it would be for him, the captain's mess boy, to concern
+himself or ask questions or say anything about serious matters which
+were none of his business.
+
+All day long they ran a zigzag course, taking a long cut to France, as
+Pete Connigan would have said, the general tension relieved by the
+emergency drills, manning the boats and so forth.
+
+In the afternoon hours of respite from his duties he met Frenchy, whose
+patience had been a little tried by some of Uncle Sam's crack jolliers,
+and they sat down on the top step of a companionway and talked.
+
+"Zis I cannot bear!" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "To be called ze
+Hun! Ugh!"
+
+"They're only kidding you," said Tom; "fooling with you."
+
+"I do not like it--no!"
+
+"But if you hadn't become an American before the war," said Tom, "you
+couldn't have enlisted on our side because you really were a German--a
+German citizen--weren't you?"
+
+"Subject, yess! Citizen, no! All will be changed. Alsace will be France
+again! We go to win her back! Yess?"
+
+"Yes," said Tom. "I only meant you belonged to Germany because you
+couldn't help it."
+
+"You are a lucky boy," Frenchy said earnestly. "Zare is no--what you
+say?--Mix-up; Zhermany, France, America--no. You are all _American_!"
+
+"I got to remember that," said Tom simply. "I know some rich fellers
+home where I live. They let me join their scout troop, so I got to know
+'em. One feller's name is Van Arlen. His father was born in Holland.
+They got two automobiles and a lot of servants and things. But anyway my
+father was born in the United States--that's one thing."
+
+"Ah," said Frenchy, enthusiastically, "zat is ever'ting! You are fine
+boy."
+
+His expression was so generous, so pleasant, that Tom could not help
+saying, "I like France, too."
+
+"Listen, I will tell you," said Frenchy, laughing. "It is ze old saying,
+'Ever' man hass two countries; hees own and France!' You see?"
+
+In the warmth of Frenchy's generous admiration Tom opened up and said
+more than he had meant to say--more than he ever had said to anyone.
+
+"So I got to be proud of it, anyway," he said, in his honest, blunt
+fashion. "Maybe you won't understand, but one thing makes me like to go
+away from Bridgeboro, kind of, is the way people say things about my
+folks. They don't do it on purpose--mostly. But anyway, all the fathers
+of the fellows I know, they call them Mr. Blakeley and Mr. Harris, and
+like that. But they always called my father Bill Slade. I didn't ever
+hear anybody call him Mister. But anyway, he was born in the United
+States--that's one sure thing. And so was my grandfather and my
+grandmother, too. Once my father licked me because I forgot to hang out
+the flag on Decoration Day. That shows he was patriotic, doesn't it? The
+other day I was going to tell you about my uncle but I forgot to. He was
+in the Civil War--he got his arm shot off. So I got a lot to be proud
+about, anyway. Just because my father didn't get a job most--most of the
+time----"
+
+"Ah!" vociferated Frenchy, clapping him on the shoulder. "You are
+ze--how you say--_one_ fine boy!"
+
+Tom remained stolid, under this enthusiastic approval. He was thinking
+how glad and proud he was that his father had licked him for forgetting
+to hang out the flag. It had not been a licking exactly, but a beating
+and kicking, but this part of it he did not remember. He was very proud
+of his father for it. It was something to boast about. It showed that
+the Slades----
+
+"Yess, you are a fine boy!" said Frenchy again, clapping him on the
+shoulder with such vehemence as to interrupt his train of thought. "Zey
+must be fine people--all ze way back--to haf' such a boy. You see?"
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+[1] Submarines.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+HE SEES A STRANGE LIGHT AND GOES ON TIPTOE
+
+
+Of course, it would have been expecting too much to suppose that the
+boys in khaki would overlook Tom Slade any more than Frenchy would
+escape them, and "Whitey" was the bull's-eye for a good deal of target
+practice in the way of jollying. It got circulated about that Whitey had
+a bug--a patriotic bug, particularly in regard to his family, and it was
+whispered in his hearing as he came and went that his grandfather was
+none other than the original Yankee Doodle.
+
+Of course, Tom's soberness increased this good-natured propensity of the
+soldiers.
+
+"Hey, Whitey," they would call as he passed with the captain's tray, "I
+hear you were born on the Fourth of July. How about that?"
+
+Or
+
+"Hey, Whitey, I hear your great grandfather was the fellow that put the
+bunk in Bunker Hill!"
+
+But Tom did not mind; joking or no joking, they knew where he stood with
+Uncle Sam and that was enough for him.
+
+Sometimes they would vary their tune and pleasantly chide him with
+being a secret agent of the Kaiser, "Baron von Slade," and so on and so
+on. He only smiled in that stolid way of his and went about his duties.
+In his heart he was proud. Sometimes they would assume to be serious and
+ply him with questions, and he would fall into their trap and proudly
+tell about poor old Uncle Job and of how his father had licked him, by
+way of proving the stanch Americanism of the Slades.
+
+In their hearts they all liked him; he seemed so "easy" and bluntly
+honest, and his patriotism was so obvious and so sincere.
+
+"You're all right, Whitey," they would say.
+
+Then, suddenly, that thing happened which shocked and startled them with
+all the force of a torpedo from a U-boat, and left them gasping.
+
+It happened that same night, and little did Tom Slade dream, as he went
+along the deck in the darkening twilight, carrying the captain's empty
+supper dishes down to the galley, of the dreadful thing which he would
+face before that last night in the danger zone was over.
+
+He washed his hands, combed his hair, put on his dark coat, and went up
+on deck for an hour or two which he could call his own. In the
+companionway he passed his friend, the deck steward, talking with a
+couple of soldiers, and as he squeezed past them he paused a moment to
+listen.
+
+It was evidently another slice of the same gossip with which he had
+regaled Tom earlier in the day and he was imparting it with a great air
+of confidence to the interested soldiers.
+
+"Don't say I told you, but they had two of them in the quartermaster's
+room, buzzing them. It's more'n rule breaking, _I_ think."
+
+"German agents, you mean?"
+
+The deck steward shrugged his shoulders in that mysterious way, as if he
+could not take the responsibility of answering that question.
+
+"But they haven't got anything on 'em," he added. "The glass ports were
+locked--they couldn't have thrown anything out. So there you are. The
+captain thinks it was phosphorus and maybe he's right. It's a kind of a
+light you sometimes see in the ocean."
+
+"Huh," said one of the soldiers.
+
+"It's fooled others before. So I guess there won't be any more about it.
+Keep your mouths shut."
+
+Tom passed them and went out upon the deck. He did not venture near the
+forbidden spot astern, but leaned against the rail amidships. He knew he
+had the right to spend his time off on deck and he liked to be alone.
+Now and then he glimpsed a little streak of gray as some apprehensive
+person in a life belt disappeared in a companionway, driven in by the
+cold and the rough sea.
+
+Presently, he was quite alone and he fell to thinking about home, as he
+usually did when he was alone at night. He thought of his friend Roy
+Blakeley and of the happy summers spent at Temple Camp; of the stalking
+and tracking, and campfire yarns, and how they used to jolly him, just
+as these soldiers jollied him, and call him "Sherlock Nobody Holmes"
+just because he was interested in deduction and had "doped out" one or
+two little things.
+
+One thing will suggest another, and from Temple Camp, with its long
+messboard and its clamoring, hungry scouts, and the tin dishes heaped
+with savory hunters' stew, his thoughts wandered back across the ocean
+to a certain particular mess plate, right here on this very ship--a mess
+plate with a little black stain on it, where someone might have laid a
+burning match-end.
+
+He caught himself up and thought of Mr. Conne. But this was his time
+off and he had the right to _think_ about anything he pleased. He could
+not be reprimanded for just thinking. Nothing would tempt him to run the
+risk of another encounter with one of those stern, brisk-speaking
+officers, but he could _think_.
+
+And he wondered whether that black spot _had_ been made by a match-end.
+The spot would show plainly, of course, for he knew how shiny and clean
+mess plates were kept. Had he not done his part in scouring and rubbing
+them down there in the galley?
+
+He wondered how the mess plate had happened to be in the stateroom,
+anyway. Sherlock Nobody Holmes again! But the crew, as well as the
+troops, carried their supper wherever they pleased to eat it. So there
+was nothing so strange about that. If there had been, why, Uncle Sam's
+all-seeing eye would not have missed it.
+
+He fell to thinking of Bridgeboro again. And he thought of Adolf Schmitt
+and----
+
+A phrase from one of those letters ran through his mind--_It's the same
+idea as a periscope_.
+
+For a moment Tom Slade felt just as so often he had felt when he had
+found an indistinct footprint along a woodland trail. _What_ was the
+same idea as a periscope? What was a periscope, anyway?
+
+Why, a thing on a submarine by means of which you could look two ways at
+once--you could look up through the ocean and across the ocean--all with
+one look.
+
+He wondered whether Mr. Conne had noticed that rather puzzling phrase
+and whether the people on this ship had seen that letter. Mr. Conne had
+seemed to think that one the least important of the lot. Perhaps he had
+just told the ship's people to look out for spies. And they would do
+that anyway. The names of uniformed spies in the army cantonments--names
+in black and white--that was the important thing--the big discovery.
+
+But Tom Slade was only a humble Sherlock Nobody Holmes and he couldn't
+get that phrase out of his head.
+
+_It's the same idea as a periscope._
+
+A periscope is a kind of a--a kind of a----
+
+Tom's brow was knit, just as when he used carefully and anxiously to
+move the grass away from an all but obliterated footprint, and his eyes
+were half closed and keen.
+
+"I know what it is," he said to himself, suddenly. "It means how light
+can be passed through a room even while the room is dark all the
+time--kind of reflected--and you wouldn't have to use any match."
+
+He stood still, almost frightened at his own conclusion. The clean,
+shiny mess plate and the phrase out of that letter seemed to fit
+together like the sections of a picture puzzle. The black spot and the
+match-end (if there was any match-end) meant just nothing at all. The
+dim light out in the passageway down below hardly reached the dark
+staterooms, but----
+
+He could not remember just how it was down there, but he knew that in
+the staterooms where the glass ports were locked (and that was the case
+with all of the crews' quarters below) air was admitted by a slightly
+opened panel transom over the door.
+
+What should he do? Go and tell an officer about his discovery? If it
+_were_ a discovery that would be all very well. But after all, this was
+only a--a kind of a _deduction_. And they might laugh at him. He had
+always stood in awe of the officers and since last night he was mortally
+afraid of them. If he told any of the soldiers or even the steward they
+would only jolly him. He did not know exactly what he had better do.
+
+He made up his mind that he would go down through the passageway where
+those under engineers and electricians slept and see how it looked down
+there. He had been through there many times, but he thought that perhaps
+he would notice some thing now which would help to prove his theory and
+then perhaps they would listen to the captain's mess boy if he could
+muster the courage to speak.
+
+He had just left the rail when he saw, some distance to starboard as it
+seemed, and well forward of the ship, an infinitesimal bluish brown
+spark. How he happened to notice it he did not know. "Once a scout,
+always a scout," perhaps. In any event, it was only by fixing his eyes
+intently upon it that he could keep it in sight. And even so, he lost it
+after a few seconds. He tried to find it again, but quite in vain. It
+had been about as conspicuous as a snowflake would have been in a glass
+of milk.
+
+"Huh, if there's anyone on this ship can see _that_, he must be a peach.
+Maybe up in the rigging you can see it better, though. If it's on the
+destroyer, she's quite a ways ahead of us----"
+
+He squinted his eyes and, seeing a number of imaginary lights, decided
+that perhaps the other had been imaginary too. He crossed the saloon,
+went down the companionway and through the second class cabin
+dining-room where the soldiers hailed him pleasantly, and, passing the
+stokers' washroom, tiptoed along the dim, narrow passageway.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+HE GOES BELOW AND GROPES IN THE DARK
+
+
+There were half a dozen or more staterooms along this passage. At the
+end of it was the steep, greasy flight of iron steps leading down into
+the engine-rooms. Here, also, was a huge box with a hinged lid, filled
+with cotton waste. It was customary for one going down here to take a
+handful of this waste to protect his hands from the oily rail, and also
+on coming up to wipe his hands with a fresh lot. The very atmosphere of
+a ship's engine-room is oily. Here, also, were several fire-buckets in a
+rack.
+
+Along the side of the passage opposite the staterooms were electric
+bulbs at intervals, but only two of them were burning--just enough to
+light one through the narrow passage. Above each closed door was a solid
+wooden transom, hinged at its lower side and opened at an angle into the
+room.
+
+Tom moved quickly and very quietly, for he feared to be caught loitering
+here. He saw at once that only one of these staterooms could possibly
+be used for any such criminal purpose as he suspected, and that was the
+one with a light directly opposite it in the passage, for the other
+light was beyond the staterooms.
+
+For a few seconds he stood listening to the slow, monotonous sound of
+the machinery just below him. The vibration was very pronounced here;
+the floor thumped with the pulsations of the mighty engines. And Tom's
+heart was thumping too.
+
+Within the staterooms all was dark and quiet. He knew the under
+engineers turned in early. Not the faintest flicker was to be seen
+through any of those transoms. He had been mistaken, he thought; had
+jumped at a crazy notion. And he half turned to go up again.
+
+But instead he listened at the companionway, then tiptoed stealthily
+along the passage and looked over the oily iron rail, down, down into
+the depths of the great, dim, oil-smelling space with its iron galleries
+and the mammoth steel arms, moving back and forth, back and forth, far
+down there upon the grated floor. A tiny figure in a jumper went down
+from one of the lower galleries, paused to look at a big dial, then
+crossed the floor and disappeared, making never a sound. No other
+living thing was in sight--unless those mighty steel arms, ever meeting
+and parting might be said to be living. To come up from down there would
+mean the ascent of three iron stairways.
+
+Tom withdrew into the passage and quietly lifting one of the
+fire-buckets from the rack, tiptoed with it to the door which was
+directly opposite the passageway.
+
+Then he paused again. He could open that door, he knew, for no keys or
+bolts were allowed on any stateroom door. He could surprise the
+occupant, whom he would find in darkness. If his suspicion was correct
+(and he was beginning now to fear that it was not) there would be no
+actual proof of anything inside of that dark little room, save only just
+what the authorities had already found--an apparently innocent mess
+plate. The criminal act would consist of simply holding a shiny plate in
+a certain position. The moment a sound was heard outside the plate could
+be laid down. And who would be the wiser?
+
+Tom's heart was thumping in his breast, his eyes anxiously scanning one
+end of the passage, then the other.
+
+Not a sound--no sign of anyone.
+
+Tom Slade had been a scout and notwithstanding his suspense and almost
+panicky apprehension, he was not going to act impulsively or
+thoughtlessly. He knew that if he could only present a convincing case
+to his superiors, they would forgive him his presumption. If he made a
+bungle it might go hard with him. Anyway, he could not, or would not,
+turn back now.
+
+In truth, he did not believe that anything at all was going to happen.
+The stateroom was so dark and so still that all his fine ideas and
+deductions, which had seemed so striking and plausible up on the
+lonesome, wind-swept deck, began to fade away.
+
+But there would be no harm in one little test, and no one would be the
+wiser. He tried to picture in his mind's eye the interior of that little
+stateroom. If it were like his own, then the mirror was on the other
+side of the passage wall, that is, on the opposite side of the stateroom
+from the port hole. If one looked into the mirror he would see the port
+hole. All of the smaller rooms below decks which he had seen were
+arranged in the same way.
+
+Therefore, thought Tom, if one should hold a shiny mess plate, for
+instance, up near the transom, so as to catch the light from without,
+he could throw it down into the mirror, which would reflect not only the
+glare but the brilliant image of the bulb as well. From out on the ocean
+that reflected light would be very clear.
+
+All of which, thought Tom dubiously, was a very pretty theory, but----
+
+Without making a sound he placed the inverted bucket on the floor and
+listened. He put one foot on it and listened again. Then he stood upon
+it, his heart pounding like a triphammer.
+
+Not a sound.
+
+Probably the tired occupant of the room was fast asleep--sleeping the
+peaceful sleep of the innocent.
+
+Tom knew that if his mind's eye picture of the room's arrangement were
+correct, the metal reflector would be of no avail unless tilted at a
+slight angle from the horizontal, right inside the transom.
+
+For a moment he stood upon the bucket, not daring to budge. He could
+hear his own breathing, and far away the steady, dull thud of the
+tireless machinery. Something creaked in the passage, and he turned
+cold. He did not stir a muscle.
+
+Only some superficial crevice or crack somewhere--some loose panel or
+worn hinge responding to the onslaught of a giant wave without----
+Nothing----
+
+He turned his head and looked down the passage, clenching his fists in
+momentary fright, as if he feared the bending of his neck might be
+heard.
+
+No one. Not a sound.
+
+He tried to look through the transom but his eyes were not high enough.
+For another second he paused. Then he reached through the transom and
+moved his hand about in the silence and darkness. He heard the cracking
+again and waited, trembling, though he knew it was nothing.
+
+Then he groped about with his hand again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+HE MAKES A DISCOVERY AND IS GREATLY AGITATED
+
+
+Suddenly his hand encountered something hard and cold, and he grabbed it
+like lightning. His heart was in his throat now. There was a scuffling
+sound within and the object was wrenched and twisted and pulled
+frantically.
+
+But Tom had been a scout and he was prepared. The two big clumsy hands
+which bore the captain's tray back and forth each day had once torn a
+pack of thirty cards in half to entertain tenderfeet at campfire. And
+one of those hands clutched this thing now with the grip of a bulldog.
+
+His excitement and his pounding heart did not embarrass him in the brief
+tussle. A few dexterous twists this way and that, and he withdrew his
+hand triumphantly, scratched and bleeding, the light in the passage
+glinting upon the polished surface of the mess plate which he held.
+
+Scarcely three minutes had escaped since he came down from the deck,
+but in that short period his usually sturdy nerves had borne a terrific
+strain and for a moment he leaned against the opposite side of the
+passage, clutching the dish in consternation.
+
+In that brief moment when he had paused before putting his hand through
+the transom, he had thought that if indeed the plate were being held
+there even still the conspirator's eyes would be fixed upon the
+stationary mirror in order to keep the reflection centered in direct
+line with the porthole. Evidently he had been right and had taken the
+plotter quite unaware.
+
+Sherlock Nobody Holmes had succeeded beyond his most extravagant dreams!
+
+The door of the little room flew back and a figure stood in the dark
+opening, looking at him.
+
+"That--_that's_ what you meant," Tom stammered, scarcely knowing what he
+said, "about the same idea as a periscope. You thought--you thought----"
+
+The man, evidently surprised at seeing no one but the captain's mess
+boy, stuck out his head and looked apprehensively up and down the
+passage.
+
+"There's nobody," breathed Tom, "except me; but it won't do you any
+good--it won't--because I'm going to tell----"
+
+He paused, clutching the mess plate, and looked aghast at the
+disheveled, half-dressed man who faced him. Then the plate dropped from
+his hand, and a strange, cold feeling came over him.
+
+"Who are you?" he gasped, his eyes stark and staring. "I--I didn't
+know--I ain't----"
+
+He stopped, refusing to believe, and groped for the precious mess plate,
+part of the makeshift periscope which his own keenness had discovered
+and rendered useless. Then he stood again, fumbling the thing in his
+clumsy hands and staring, all bewildered, at the traitor who had used it
+to betray his country.
+
+Was it----? It could not be---- But the years had wrought more change in
+Tom himself than in the man who stood there glaring back at him, half
+recognizing.
+
+Yes, it _was_ his own brother, William Slade, who had left home so long
+ago!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+HE IS FRIGHTENED AND VERY THOUGHTFUL
+
+
+And this was the triumph of Sherlock Nobody Holmes! This was the
+startling discovery with which he would astonish his superiors and win
+their approbation! It was not Sherlock Nobody Holmes who heard in a sort
+of daze the whispered words that were next uttered. It was just the
+captain's mess boy, and he hung his head, not so much in crushing
+disappointment as in utter shame.
+
+"Come inside here and keep still. How'd _you_ get on this ship?
+Nobody'll be hunting for you, will they? Come in--quick. What's the
+matter with you?"
+
+Still clutching the dish, Tom was dragged into that dark little room. He
+seemed almost in a trance. The hand which had been raised in conspiracy
+and treason pushed him roughly onto the berth.
+
+"So you turned up like a bad penny, huh?" whispered his brother,
+fiercely.
+
+"I--I wrote you--a letter--after mother died," Tom said simply. "I
+don't know if you got it."
+
+"Shut up!" hissed his brother. "Don't talk so loud! You want to get me
+in trouble? How'd you know about this?"
+
+His voice was gruff and cold and seemed the more so for his frightened
+whisper.
+
+"She died of pneumonia," said Tom impassively. "I was----"
+
+"Gimme that plate!" his brother interrupted.
+
+But this roused Tom. He seemed to feel that his possession of the plate
+was a badge of innocence.
+
+"I got to keep it," he said; "it's----"
+
+"Shh!" his brother interrupted. "Somebody's coming; don't move and keep
+your mouth shut! It's the second shift of stokers!"
+
+From the companionway came the steady sound of footfalls. There was an
+authoritative sound to them as they echoed in the deserted passage,
+coming nearer and nearer. It was not the second shift of stokers.
+
+"Shh," said Tom's brother, clutching his arm. "If they should come here
+keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. They ain't got anything
+on me," he added in a hoarse whisper which bespoke his terror, "unless
+_you_--shhh!"
+
+"I know what it is," Tom whispered, "and I ain't a-scared. They got a
+signal from the destroyer. They know the room."
+
+"There's nothing they can find here," his brother breathed. "They were
+all through here last night. Put that dish down--put it down, I tell
+you! Shh!"
+
+Tom let go of the plate, scarcely knowing what he did.
+
+Nearer, nearer, came the footsteps and stopped. The door was thrown open
+and in the passage stood the captain, a sailor and the officer who had
+spoken to Tom the night before.
+
+Tom's heart was in his throat; he did not move a muscle. What happened
+seemed all a jumble to him, like things in a dream. He was aware of a
+lantern held by the officer and of the sailor standing by the porthole,
+over which he had spread something black.
+
+"Did you know this kid was mixed up in it?" the sailor asked. Tom felt
+that the sailor must be a Secret Service man.
+
+"They're brothers," said the captain. "You can see that."
+
+"He had him posted for a lookout," said the officer. "He was watching
+on the deck last night." Then, turning upon Tom he said brusquely, "you
+were supposed to hurry down here with the tip if the convoy signaled,
+eh?"
+
+Tom struggled to answer, but they did not give him time.
+
+"You're the fellow that read that semaphore message the other day, too,
+eh?" the officer said. "Stand up."
+
+Tom stood trembling while the sailor rapidly searched him. "Where's your
+flashlight?" he demanded apparently disappointed not to find one.
+
+"I haven't got any," said Tom, dully.
+
+"Pretty good team work," said the sailor.
+
+"Here you," he added, proceeding to search Tom's brother, while the
+captain and the officer fell to turning the little room inside out,
+hauling the mattress from the berth and examining every nook and cranny
+of the place. Tom noticed that the plate, which was now on a stool, had
+a sandwich on it and a piece of cheese, and he realized, if he had not
+realized before, his brother's almost diabolical foresight and sagacity.
+It looked very innocent--a harmless, late lunch, brought into the
+stateroom as was often done among the ship's people.
+
+During the search of the stateroom Tom stood silently by. He watched the
+coverings pulled ruthlessly from the berth, moved out of the way as the
+mattress was hauled to the floor, gazed fascinated at the quick
+thoroughness which mercilessly unfolded every innocent towel and
+scrutinized each joint and section of the life preserver, until
+presently the orderly little apartment was in a state of chaos. He saw
+the officer move the plate so as to examine the under side of the stool.
+He saw the disguised Secret Service man pick up a little piece of
+innocent cotton waste and carelessly throw it down again.
+
+But the turmoil about him was nothing to the turmoil in his own brain.
+What should he do? Would he dare to speak? What could he say? And still
+he stood silent, watching with a strange, cold feeling, looking
+occasionally at his brother, and thinking--thinking. As his brother
+watched him furtively, and a little fearfully, Tom became aware of a
+queer way he had of contracting his eyebrows, just as Uncle Job used to
+do when he told a joke. And there came into his mind the memory of a
+certain day long ago when his big brother and he had shot craps
+together in front of the bank building in Bridgeboro and his brother had
+looked just that same way when he watched the street for stray
+policemen. Funny that he should think of that just now. The sailor (or
+whatever he was) gave Tom a shove to get him out of the way so that he
+could crawl under the berth.
+
+And still Tom watched them dazedly. He was thinking of something that
+Mr. Ellsworth, his scoutmaster, had once said--that blood is thicker
+than water. As nearly as he could make out, that meant that after all a
+fellow's own people came first--before anything else. He had great
+respect for Mr. Ellsworth.
+
+The man in the sailor suit picked up the plate of food from the berth
+and slung the whole business into the basin. The jangle of the dish
+startled Tom and roused him. The others didn't seem to mind it. They had
+more important things to think of than a mess plate.
+
+And Tom Slade, captain's mess boy and former scout, went on thinking.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+HE PONDERS AND DECIDES BETWEEN TWO NEAR RELATIONS
+
+
+When Tom at length did speak his own voice sounded strange to him; but
+he said what he had to say with a simple straightforwardness which in
+ordinary circumstances would have carried conviction.
+
+"If you'd let me say something," he said, trying to keep his throat
+clear, "I'd like to tell you----"
+
+"It's the best thing, sonny," said the man in the sailor suit; "you
+needn't be afraid of squealing. How old are you?"
+
+"Seventeen," said Tom, "but it wasn't squealing I was thinking about. I
+ain't a-scared, if that's what you think."
+
+He avoided looking at his brother, who tried to catch his eye, and the
+men, perhaps seeing this and thinking it might be fruitful to let him
+say what he would in his own way, relaxed a trifle toward him.
+
+"While you were searching," Tom went on, hesitating, but still showing
+something of his old stolid manner, "I wasn't a-scared, but I was
+thinking--I had to think about something--before I could decide what I
+ought to do."
+
+"All right, sonny," said the man in the sailor clothes. "I'm glad you
+know what's best for you. Out with it. You've got a key to that
+porthole, eh? Now where is it?"
+
+"You had a flashlight and threw it out, didn't you?" added the officer.
+"Come now."
+
+Tom looked from one to the other. His brother began to speak but was
+peremptorily silenced.
+
+"It ain't knowin' what's good for me," Tom managed to say, "'cause as
+soon as I--as soon as I--made up my mind about that--then right away I
+knew what I ought to do----"
+
+He gulped and looked straight at the officer so as not to meet his
+brother's threatening look.
+
+"I had to decide it myself--'cause--'cause Mr. Ellsworth--a man I
+know--ain't here. Maybe a feller's own family come first and I
+wouldn't--I wouldn't--tell on 'em--if--if they stole--or something like
+that," he blurted out, twisting his fingers together. "And--and--I
+didn't forget neither--I didn't," he added, turning and looking his
+brother straight in the face, "I didn't--I----"
+
+He broke down completely and the men stared at him, waiting.
+
+"Anyway--anyway--I got to remember----" He broke off.
+
+"Well, what became of the light?" the officer urged rather coldly.
+
+"And when you saw me standing on the--deck--last night--I was thinking
+about Uncle Sam----" He gulped and hesitated, then went on,
+"and--and--that's what made me think about Uncle Sam being a relation
+too--kind of--and I got to decide between my brother and my
+uncle--like." He gulped again and shook his head with a kind of
+desperate resolution. "There--_there_ it is," he almost shouted,
+pointing at the scattered sandwich and the mess plate in the wash basin.
+"You--picked it up twice," he added with a kind of reckless triumph,
+"and you didn't know it."
+
+"What?" said the captain, with a puzzled look at his companions, as if
+he were a little doubtful of Tom's sanity.
+
+"There it is," Tom repeated, controlling himself better now that the
+truth was out. "He held it--up there--so's the light would shine in the
+glass. There ain't anything except that. It's--it's the same idea as a
+periscope. He said it in a letter that I gave Mr. Conne--and--and I
+found out what he meant. I--I didn't know he was----"
+
+Trying desperately to master his feeling he broke down and big tears
+rolled down his cheeks. "I couldn't help it," he said to his brother.
+"It ain't 'cause I don't remember--but--I had to decide--and I got to
+stand by Uncle Sam!"
+
+"If you didn't know about this," said the captain, watching him keenly,
+"how did you suspect it? You'd better try to control yourself and tell
+everything. This is a very serious matter."
+
+"You see that piece of cotton waste that you kicked?" said Tom, turning
+upon the disguised government agent. "You can see it's fresh and hasn't
+got any oil on it. You can see from the flat place on it how it was used
+to polish the dish. I ain't----" he gulped. "I ain't going to talk about
+my brother--but I got to tell about the papers he's got somewhere. The
+same person that said it was like a periscope said something about
+having plans of a motor. I got to tell that, and I ain't going to say
+any more about him. So now he can't do any more harm. And--and I want
+you to please go away," he burst forth, "because I--I got to tell him
+about how our mother died--'cause maybe he didn't--get the letter."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+HE IS ARRESTED AND PUT IN THE GUARDHOUSE
+
+
+But of course his brother _had_ received that letter. The circumstances
+of his mother's death were the least of his troubles now and he must
+have thought his young brother very innocent and sentimental. He did not
+understand Tom's wanting to talk about their mother's death any more
+than Tom understood how Bill could be a spy and a traitor.
+
+In short, the wily, self-seeking Bill, who would stop at nothing,
+probably thought his brother had a screw loose, as the saying is, and
+perhaps that is what the others thought also.
+
+Tom was never very lucid in explanation, and his emotion had made his
+surprising story choppy and unsatisfactory. His explanation of the use
+of the plate and of the telltale piece of cotton which his keen eyes had
+not missed, seemed plausible enough, and fell like a bomb-shell among
+his questioners.
+
+But they did not give him credit for his discovery nor even for his
+apparent innocence. It was, as the captain had said, a serious business,
+and Uncle Sam was taking no chances where spies and traitors were
+concerned. Probably they thought Tom was a weak-minded tool of his
+shrewder brother.
+
+"Well," said the officer rather curtly, "I'm glad you told the truth. If
+you had told me the truth last night when I caught you up there, it
+would have been better for you. Still, confession made at bay is better
+than none," he said to the captain, adding as he left the room, "I'll
+have a squad down."
+
+William Slade sat upon the berth, glaring at the detective who stood
+guarding the doorway. He looked vicious enough with his disheveled hair
+and sooty face and the dirty jumper such as the under engineers wore.
+Tom wondered when he had come east and how he had fallen in with his old
+patron, Adolf Schmitt.
+
+And this was his own brother! Evidently William had been in the German
+spy service for some time, for he had learned the rule of absolute
+silence when discovered and he had even acquired some of that lowering
+sullenness which sets the Teuton apart from all other beings.
+
+[Illustration: "THERE--_THERE_ IT IS," TOM ALMOST SHOUTED.]
+
+Presently there came the steady footfalls of soldiers in formation and
+a sudden fear seized upon Tom.
+
+"They--they ain't going to arrest me, are they?" he asked, with alarm in
+every line of his ordinarily expressionless face.
+
+"Put you both in the guardhouse," said the captain briefly.[2]
+
+"Didn't you--didn't you--believe me?" Tom pleaded simply and not without
+some effect.
+
+"You and your brother get your jobs together?" the captain asked.
+
+"Mr. Conne, who's in the Secret Service, got me mine," Tom said.
+
+"Who did he recommend you to?" asked the detective.
+
+Tom hesitated a moment. "To Mr. Wessel, the steward," he said.
+
+"Humph! Too bad Mr. Wessel died. You'll both have to go to the
+guardhouse."
+
+Tom saw there was no hope for him. For a moment he struggled, drawing a
+long breath in pitiful little gulps. If he had followed Mr. Conne's
+advice he would not be in this predicament. But where then might the
+great transport be? Who but he, captain's mess boy, had saved the ship
+and showed these people how the light----
+
+"It makes me feel like----" he began. "Can't I--please--can't I not be
+arrested--please?"
+
+Neither man answered him. Presently the door opened and four soldiers
+entered. One of them was "Pickles," who had nicknamed Tom "Tombstone,"
+because he was so sober. But he was not Pickles now; he was just one of
+a squad of four, and though he looked surprised he neither smiled nor
+spoke.
+
+"Pickles," said Tom. "I ain't--_You_ don't believe----"
+
+But Pickles had been too long in training camp to forget duty and
+discipline so readily and the only answer Tom got was the dull thud of
+Pickles' rifle butt on the floor as the officer uttered some word or
+other.
+
+That thud was a good thing for Tom. It seemed to settle him into his
+old stolid composure, which had so amused the boys in khaki.
+
+Side by side with his brother, whom so long ago he could not bear to see
+"licked," he marched out and along the passage, a soldier in front, one
+behind and one at either side. How strange the whole thing seemed!
+
+His brother who had gone out to Arizona when Tom was just a bad,
+troublesome little hoodlum! And here they were now, marching silently
+side by side, on one of Uncle Sam's big transports, with four soldiers
+escorting them! Both, the nephews of Uncle Job Slade who had died in the
+Soldiers' Home and had been buried with the Stars and Stripes draped
+over his coffin.
+
+Two things stood out in Tom Slade's memory, clearest of all, showing how
+unreasonable and contrary he was. Two lickings. One that made him mad
+and one that made him glad--and that he was proud of. The licking that
+his brother had got, when he could, as he had told honest Pete Connigan,
+"feel the madness way down in his fingers." And the licking his father
+had given _him_ for not hanging out the flag.
+
+"_Zey must be all fine people to haf' such a boy_," Frenchy had said.
+He hoped he would not see Frenchy now.
+
+But he was to be spared nothing. The second cabin saloon was filled with
+soldiers and they stared in amazement as the little group marched
+through, the steady thud, thud, of the guards' heavy shoes emphasized by
+the wondering stillness. Tom shuffled along with his usual clumsy gait,
+looking neither to right nor left. Up the main saloon stairway they
+went, and here, upon the top carpeted step sat Frenchy chatting with
+another soldier. He was such a hand to get off into odd corners for
+little chats! He stared, uttered an exclamation, then remembered that he
+was a soldier and caught himself. But he turned and following the little
+procession with astonished eyes until they disappeared.
+
+The guardhouse was the little smoking-room where Tom and Frenchy had sat
+upon the sill and talked and Frenchy had given him the iron button. Into
+the blank darkness of this place he and his brother were marched, and
+all through that long, dreadful night Tom could hear a soldier pacing
+back and forth, back and forth, on the deck just outside the door.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[2] The custom of putting arrested persons in the "brig" on liners and
+transports was discontinued by reason of the danger of their losing
+their lives without chance of rescue, in the event of torpedoing. The
+present rule is that the guardhouse must be above decks and a living
+guard must always be at hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+HE DOES MOST OF THE TALKING AND TAKES ALL THE BLAME
+
+
+Tramp, tramp, tramp--all through the endless, wakeful hours he heard
+that soldier marching back and forth, back and forth, outside the door.
+Every sound of those steady footfalls was like a blow, stinging afresh
+the cruel wound which had been opened in his impassive nature. He was
+under arrest and under guard. If he should try to get out that soldier
+would order him to halt, and if he didn't halt the soldier would shoot
+him. He wondered if the guard were Pickles.
+
+He did not think at all about his deductive triumph now. And he did not
+care much about what they would do with him. He wondered a little what
+the soldiers would say--particularly Frenchy. But if only his brother
+would talk to him and ask about their mother he could bear everything
+else--the dashing of his triumph, the danger he was in, the shame. The
+shame, most of all.
+
+He did not care so much now about being Sherlock Nobody Holmes--he had
+had enough of that. And no matter what they thought of "Yankee Doodle
+Whitey," _he_ knew that he was loyal. Let them think that all his talk
+of Uncle Job and the flag and his father's patriotism was just
+bluff--let Frenchy think he had been just deceiving him--he could stand
+anything, if only his brother would be like a brother to him now that
+they were alone together.
+
+It was a strange, unreasonable feeling.
+
+Once, only once, in the long night, he tried to make his brother
+understand.
+
+"Maybe you won't believe me, but I'm sorry," he said; "if you ain't
+asleep I wish you'd listen--Bill. Now that I told 'em I feel kind of
+different--I _had_ to tell 'em. I had to decide quick--and I didn't
+have nobody--anybody--to help me. Maybe you think I was crazy---- Are
+you listenin'?"
+
+There was no response, but he knew his brother was not asleep.
+
+"It ain't because I wanted 'em to think I was smart--Bill--if you think
+it was that, you're wrong. And anyway, it didn't show I was so
+smart--you was smarter, anyway, if it comes to that. I got to admit it.
+'Cause you thought about it first--about using the dish. It served me
+right for thinking I could deduce, and all like that, anyway. You ain't
+asleep, are you?"
+
+"Aw, shut up!" his brother grunted. "You could 'a' kept me out o' this
+by keepin' yer mouth shut. But you had to jabber it out, you----. And
+they'll plug me full of lead."
+
+A cold shudder ran through Tom.
+
+"I got to admit I'm a kind of a (he was going to say _traitor_, but for
+his brother's sake he avoided the word). I got to admit I wasn't loyal,
+too. I wasn't loyal to you, anyway. But I had to decide quick, Bill. And
+I saw I _had_ to tell 'em. You got to be loyal to Uncle Sam first of
+all. But--but---- Are you listening, Bill? I ain't mad, anyway. 'Cause
+Adolf Schmitt's most to blame. It ain't--it ain't 'cause I want to get
+let off free either, it ain't. I wouldn't care so much now what they did
+to me, anyway. 'Cause everything is kind of spoiled now about all of
+us--our family--being so kind of patriotic----"
+
+His brother, goaded out of his sullenness, turned upon him with a tirade
+of profane abuse, leaving the boy shamed and silent.
+
+And all the rest of that night Tom Slade, whose hand had extinguished
+the guiding light, perhaps, to some lurking submarine; who had had to
+"think quick and all by himself," and had decided for his Uncle Sam
+against his brother Bill, sat there upon the leather settee, feeling
+guilty and ashamed. He knew that he had done right, but his generous
+heart could not feel the black, shameless treason of his brother because
+his own smaller treason stood in the way. He could not see the full
+guilt of that wretched brother because he felt mean and contemptible
+himself. Truly, the soldier had hit the nail on the head when he said,
+"You're all right, Whitey!"
+
+And now, suspected, shamed, sworn at and denounced, even now, as his
+generous nature groped for some extenuation for this traitor whose
+scheme he had discovered and exposed, he found it comforting to lay the
+whole blame and responsibility upon the missing Adolf Schmitt.
+
+"Anyway, he tempted you," he said, though he knew his brother would
+neither listen nor respond. "Maybe you think I don't know that. He's
+worse than anybody--he is."
+
+_You're all right, Whitey!_
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+HE SEES A LITTLE AND HEARS MUCH
+
+
+Toward morning, he fell asleep, and when he awoke the vibration of the
+engines had ceased, and he heard outside the door of his prison a most
+uproarious clatter which almost drowned the regular footfalls of the
+soldier.
+
+He had heard linotype machines in operation--which are not exactly what
+you would call quiet; he had listened to the outlandish voice of a
+suction-dredge and the tumultuous clamor of a threshing machine. But
+this earsplitting clatter was like nothing he had ever heard before.
+
+The door opened and he was thankful to see that the soldier outside was
+not one of his particular friends. He was silently escorted to the wash
+room, in the doorway of which the guard waited while Tom refreshed
+himself after his sleepless night with a grateful bath.
+
+The vessel, as he could see, was moored parallel with the abrupt brick
+shore of a very narrow canal, with somber, uninviting houses close on
+either hand. It was as if a ship were tied up along the curb of a
+street. Up and down the gang planks and back and forth upon the deck
+hurried men in blouses with great, clumsy wooden shoes upon their feet
+and now Tom saw the cause of that earsplitting clatter; and he knew that
+he had reached "over there."
+
+Down on the brick street below the ship, a multitude of children, all in
+wooden shoes, danced and clattered about, in honor of the ship's
+arrival, and the windows were full of people waving the Stars and
+Stripes, calling "Vive l'Amerique!" and trying, with occasional success,
+to throw loose flowers and little round potatoes with French and
+American flags stuck in them, onto the deck.
+
+All of the houses looked very dingy and old, and the men in blouses who
+pushed their clods about on this or that errand upon the troopship, were
+old, too, and had sad, worn faces. Only the children were joyful.
+
+As Tom went back along the deck, he glanced through a street which
+seemed to run almost perpendicularly up the side of a thickly built-up
+hill, and caught a passing glimpse of the open country beyond. France!
+He wondered whether the "front" were in that direction and how long it
+would take to get there, and what it looked like. It could not be so
+very far. Presently he heard a more orderly clatter of wooden shoes and
+he saw several of the soldiers, who had not yet gone ashore, hurry to
+the rail.
+
+He did not dare to do that himself, but as he walked he ventured to
+verge a little toward the vessel's side, and saw below several men in
+tattered, almost colorless uniforms, marching in line along the brick
+street, each with a wheelbarrow.
+
+He heard a woman call something from a window in French.
+
+"There's discipline for you, all right," a soldier said.
+
+"You said it," replied another; "it's second nature with 'em."
+
+He gathered that the little procession of laborers were German
+prisoners, and that the long ingrained habit of marching in step had
+become so much a part of their natures that they did it now
+instinctively.
+
+Then he realized that he himself was a prisoner and was in a worse
+plight than they.
+
+He spent the morning wondering what they would do with him and his
+brother. Of course they believed him to be the accomplice of his
+brother. They probably thought he had weakened and told in terror and in
+hope of clemency. He wondered if they had gone through his brother's
+luggage yet and whether they had found any papers.
+
+He realized that it seemed almost too much of a coincidence that he and
+his brother should have happened on the same ship--and in the same
+stateroom, all by accident. And he knew that his coming down from the
+deck just after the signal from the destroyer, looked bad. He knew that
+back home in America Germans had gone to Ellis Island upon less
+suspicious circumstances than that. But what would they do with an
+American? In the case of an American it was just plain treason and the
+punishment for treason is----
+
+A feeling almost of nausea overcame him and he tried to put the dreadful
+thought away from him.
+
+"Anyway, the whole business is a kind of a mix-up," he told himself; "it
+don't make any difference what you do--you get in trouble. But I don't
+blame them so much, 'cause they judge by looks, and that's the only way
+you can do. Anyway, you got to die some time. I'm glad I found it out
+and told 'em, 'cause anyway it don't make any difference if they think I
+confessed or just found it out--as long as they know it. That's the main
+thing."
+
+With this consoling thought he withdrew into his old stolid self, and
+was ready to stand up and be shot if that was what they intended to do
+with him. He did not blame anybody "because it was all a mix-up." If he
+had chosen to save his brother he might have saved himself. The great
+ship, with all her brave boys, would have gone down, perhaps, and his
+brother would have seen to it that they two were saved.
+
+Well, the ship had _not_ gone down, the brave boys who had jollied the
+life out of him were on their way across country now to die if need be,
+and who was he, Tom Slade, that he should be concerning himself as to
+just how or when _he_ should die, or whether he got any credit or not,
+so long as he had decided right and done what he ought to do?
+
+He would rather have died honorably in the trenches, but if doing Uncle
+Sam a good turn meant that he must die in disgrace, why then he would
+die in disgrace, that was all.
+
+The point was the _good_ turn. Once a scout, always a scout.
+
+No one spoke to him all through the day--not even his brother. He heard
+the hurried comings and goings on the deck, the creaking of the big
+winches as bag after bag of wheat, bale after bale of cotton, was swung
+over and lowered upon the brick quay. The little French children who
+made the neighborhood a bedlam with their gibberish and the outlandish
+clatter of their wooden shoes; the women who sat in their windows
+watching these good things being unloaded, as Santa Claus might unload
+his pack in the bosom of some poor family; the United States officers
+who were in authority at the port, and all the clamoring rabble which
+made the ship's vicinity a picnic ground, did not know, of course, that
+it was because the captain's mess boy had made a discovery and "decided
+right" that these precious stores were not at the bottom of the ocean.
+
+And the captain's mess boy, whose uncle had fought at Gettysburg, and
+whose brother was a traitor, could not see the things which were going
+to help win the war because he was locked up in a little dim room on
+board, called the guardhouse. He was sitting on the leather settee, his
+fingers intertwined nervously, gulping painfully now and then, but for
+the most part, quiet and brave. He did not try to talk with his brother
+now. He wished he could know the worst right away--what they were going
+to do with him. Then he would not care so much.
+
+Outside, upon the deck and quay, he could hear much, and he listened
+with a dull interest. He knew that old Uncle Sam was out there with his
+sleeves rolled up, making himself mightily at home, chucking wheat and
+wool and cotton and sugar and stuff out of the hold, slewing it,
+hoisting it, and letting it down plunk onto France! The boys in khaki
+were on trains already. He could hear the silly, piping screech of the
+French locomotives. His mind was half numbed, but he hoped that all this
+would encourage those French people and remind them that before Uncle
+Sam rolled down his sleeves again, he intended to bat out a home run.
+
+Sometimes he became frightened, but he tried not to think of what lay
+before him. He believed that his brother would drag him down to his own
+shameful punishment, but he told himself that he didn't care.
+
+"Anyway, I did my bit. I wish--I kinder wish I could have seen Frenchy
+again. But I ain't scared. I just as soon--stand--up--and be---- 'Cause
+I ain't much, anyway----. And it ain't--it ain't for me to decide how I
+ought to die."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+HE AWAITS THE WORST AND RECEIVES A SURPRISE
+
+
+After a while the monotony was broken by two soldiers coming to take his
+brother away. Tom did not know where they were taking him; it might be
+to court martial and death. He knew nothing about court martial, whether
+it was a matter of minutes or hours or days, only he knew that
+everything in military administration was quick, severe and thorough. He
+wanted to speak to his brother, but he did not dare, and after the grim
+little procession was gone he listened to the steady, ominous footfalls,
+as they receded along the deck.
+
+Soon they would come for _him_, and he made up his mind that he would be
+master of himself and at the last minute he would hold his head up and
+look straight at them, just like the statue of Nathan Hale which he had
+seen....
+
+He realized fully now that he had been caught in the meshes of his
+brother's intrigue, and that there was no hope for him. To have saved
+himself he would have had to spare his brother and allow the intriguing
+to go on. Well, it made no difference--here he was. "And it ain't so
+much, anyway," he said, "if one boy like me does get misjudged, as long
+as the ship is saved and those papers about the motor were found."
+
+So he tried to comfort himself, sitting there alone, twisting his
+fingers and gulping now and then. All his fine, patriotic memories of
+the Slades were knocked in the head, but even in these lonely hours he
+was stanch for Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam might make a mistake--a terrible
+mistake, as he presently would do--"but anyway he's more important than
+I am," he said.
+
+Occasionally he listened wistfully to the sounds outside and they made
+him wish he could see as well as hear. He heard the creaking of the busy
+pulleys, the men calling "Yo-o-ho!" as they handled the winch-ropes, the
+dull thud of the heavy bales upon the quay, the cheerful, lusty calls of
+the workers, the loud voices of the French people, and that incessant
+accompaniment of all, the clatter, clatter, clatter, of wooden shoes.
+
+Sometimes he would lose his mastery of himself and regain it only to
+listen again, wistfully, longingly. He hoped those German prisoners who
+walked as if they were wound up with a key, noticed all this hurry and
+bustle. They would soon see what it meant for Uncle Sam.
+
+There were voices outside and Tom's heart beat like a hammer. Could it
+be over so soon? The door opened a little and he could see that someone
+was holding the knob, talking to a soldier. He breathed heavily, his
+fingers were cold, but he stood up and looked straight before him,
+bravely. They had come to get him.
+
+Then the door opened wider and a familiar voice greeted him.
+
+"H'lo, Tommy. Well, well! Adventures never cease, huh?"
+
+Tom stood gaping. Through dimmed eyes he saw a cigar (it seemed like the
+same cigar) cocked up in the corner of Mr. Conne's mouth and that queer,
+whimsical look on Mr. Conne's face.
+
+"Mr. Conne----" he stammered. "I didn't know--you was--here. _You_ don't
+believe it, do you?"
+
+Mr. Conne worked his cigar leisurely over to the other side of his
+mouth.
+
+"Believe what?"
+
+"That--I'm--a--a spy and--and a traitor." He almost whispered the
+words.
+
+Mr. Conne smiled exasperatingly and hit him a rap on the shoulder.
+"Anybody accuse you of being that?"
+
+"That's what they think," said Tom.
+
+"Oh, no, they don't, Tommy. But they've got to be careful. Don't you
+know they have?"
+
+"I got to go and--get shot--maybe."
+
+"So? Fancy that! Sit down here and tell me the whole business, Tommy.
+What's it all about?"
+
+"I--got to admit it looks bad----"
+
+"They wouldn't have done anything with you till they saw me, Tommy. Even
+if they had to take you back to New York. Trouble was, Wessel's dying.
+How could they prove what you said about me getting you the job?"
+
+He put his arm over Tom's shoulder as they sat down upon the leather
+settee, and the effect of all the dread and humiliation and injustice
+and shame welled up in the boy now under that friendly touch and he went
+to pieces entirely.
+
+"Did you think I didn't know what I was doing when I picked you, Tommy?"
+
+Tom could not answer, but sat there with his breast heaving, his hand
+on Mr. Conne's knee.
+
+"Did you just find your brother there by accident, Tom?"
+
+"I--I got to be--ashamed----"
+
+"Yes," Mr. Conne said kindly; "you've got to be ashamed of _him_. But
+you see, I haven't got to be ashamed of you, have I? How'd you find out
+about it? Tell me the whole thing, Tom."
+
+And so, sitting there with this shrewd man who had befriended him, Tom
+told the whole story as he could not have told it to anyone else. He
+went away back into the old Barrel Alley days, when he had "swiped"
+apples from Adolf Schmitt and his brother Bill had worked in Schmitt's
+grocery store. He told how it used to make him mad when his brother "got
+licked unfair," as he said, and he did not know why Mr. Conne screwed up
+his face at that. He told about how he "had to decide quick, kind of,"
+when the officers confronted him in his brother's stateroom, and how the
+thought about Uncle Sam being his uncle had decided him. He told how he
+had had to keep his face turned away from his brother so that he
+"wouldn't feel so mean, like." And here again Mr. Conne gave his face
+another screw and Tom did not understand why. That was one trouble with
+Tom Slade--he was so thick that he could not understand a lot of things
+that were perfectly plain to other people.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+HE TALKS WITH MR. CONNE AND SEES THE BOYS START FOR THE FRONT
+
+
+"What--what do you think they'll do with him?"
+
+It was the question uppermost in Tom's mind, but he could not bring
+himself to ask it until his visitor was about to leave.
+
+"Why, that's hard to say, Tommy," Mr. Conne answered kindly but
+cautiously; then after a moment's silence he added, "I'll strain a point
+and tell you something because--well, because you're entitled to know.
+But you must keep it very quiet. They hope to learn much more from him
+than he has told, but they found in his luggage a lot of plans and
+specifications of the 'Liberty Motor.'"
+
+"I'm glad," said Tom simply.
+
+"Of course, we suspected from the letters sent to Schmitt that somebody
+had such plans, but we had no clue as to who it was. You grabbed more
+than the dish when you put your hand through that transom, Tommy. You
+got hold of the plans of the 'Liberty Motor' too."
+
+"I didn't take your advice," said Tom ruefully; "I got a good lesson."
+
+"That's all right, my boy. You've got a brain in your head and you did a
+good job. It'll all go to your credit, and the other part won't be
+remembered. So _you_ try not to think of it."
+
+"They won't kill him, will they?"
+
+"They won't do anything just at present, my boy. Now put your mind on
+your work and don't think of anything else----"
+
+"Have I got my job yet?"
+
+"Why, certainly," Mr. Conne laughed; "I'll see you again, Tommy.
+Good-by."
+
+                 *       *       *       *       *
+
+And Tom tried this time to follow his advice. He was soon released and
+the officer, whom he had so feared, was good enough to say, "You did
+well and you've had a pretty tough experience." The captain spoke kindly
+to him, too, and all the ship's people seemed to understand. The few
+soldiers who had not yet been sent forward to billets near the front,
+did not jolly him or even refer to his detective propensities. They did
+not even mimic him when he said "kind of," as they had done before.
+
+He had little to do during the ship's brief stay in port and Mr. Conne,
+who was there on some mysterious business, showed him about the quaint
+old French town and treated him more familiarly than he had ever done
+before. For Tom Slade had received his first wound in the great war and
+though it was long in healing, it yielded to kindness and sympathy, and
+these everyone showed him.
+
+And so there came a day when he and Mr. Conne stood upon the platform
+amid a throng of French people and watched the last contingent of the
+boys as they called back cheerily from the queer-looking freight cars
+which were to bear them up through the French country to that mysterious
+"somewhere"--the most famous place in France.
+
+"So long, Whitey!" they called. "See you later."
+
+"Good-by, Tommy, old boy; hope the tin fish don't get you going back!"
+
+"Hurry up back and bring some more over, Whitey!"
+
+"_Bon voyage!_"
+
+"_Au revoir!_"
+
+"Give my regards to Broadway, Whitey."
+
+"Cheer up, Whitey, old pal. Kaiser Bill'll be worse off than you are
+when _we_ get at him."
+
+"_N'importe_, Whitey."
+
+"I'll be there," called Tom.
+
+"_Venez donc!_" some one answered, amid much laughter.
+
+The last he saw of them they were waving their hats to him and making
+fun of each other's French. He watched the train wistfully until it
+passed out of sight.
+
+"They seem to like you, Tommy," Mr. Conne smiled. "Is that a new name,
+Whitey?"
+
+"Everybody kinder always seems to give me nicknames," said Tom. "I've
+had a lot of people jolly me, but never anybody so much as those
+soldiers--not even the scouts. I'll miss 'em going back."
+
+"The next lot you bring over will be just the same, Tom. They'll jolly
+you, too."
+
+"I don't mind it," said Tom. "But one thing I was thinking----"
+
+Mr. Conne rested his hand on Tom's shoulder and smiled very pleasantly
+at him. He seemed to be going out of his way these days to befriend him
+and to understand him.
+
+"It's about how you get to know people and get to like them, kind of,
+and then don't see them any more. That feller, Archibald Archer, that
+worked on the other ship I was on--I'd like to know where he is if he's
+alive. I liked that feller."
+
+"It's a big world, Tom."
+
+"Maybe I might see him again some time--same as I met my--my brother."
+
+"Perhaps," said Mr. Conne, cheerily. "It's always the unexpected that
+happens, you know."
+
+"I saw _you_ again, anyway."
+
+"Yes, you can't get away from me."
+
+"And Frenchy--maybe I'll never see him any more. He's got people that
+live in Alsace; he told me all about them. He hasn't heard from them
+since the war first began.--Gee, I hope Germany has to give Alsace back
+to France--just for his sake!"
+
+Mr. Conne laughed.
+
+"Most of the people there stick up for France in their hearts, only they
+dasn't show it. He gave me this button; it's made out of a cannon, and
+it means the French people there got to help you."
+
+"Hmm--hang on to it."
+
+"You bet I'm going to. But maybe he wouldn't like now, even if I met him
+again--after what he knows----"
+
+"Look here, Tom. You'll be sailing in a day or so and when you come back
+I'll probably be in Washington. Perhaps you'll wish to enlist over here
+soon. I'm going to give you a little button, _kind of_, as you would
+say--to keep in your head. And this is it. Remember, there's only one
+person in the world who can disgrace Tom Slade, and that is Tom Slade
+himself."
+
+He slapped Tom on the shoulder, and they strolled up the dingy, crooked
+street, past the jumble of old brown houses, until it petered out in a
+plain where there was a little cemetery, filled with wooden crosses.
+
+"Those poor fellows all did their bit," said Mr. Conne.
+
+Tom looked silently at the straight rows of graves. He seemed to be
+getting nearer and nearer to the war.
+
+"How far is the front?" he asked.
+
+"Not as far as from New York to Boston, Tom. Straight over that way is
+Paris. When you get past Paris you begin to see the villages all in
+ruins,--between the old front and the new front."
+
+"I've hiked as far as that."
+
+"Yes, it isn't far."
+
+"Do you know where our boys are--what part of it?"
+
+"Yes, I know, but I'm not going to tell you," Mr. Conne laughed. "You'd
+like to be there, I suppose."
+
+For a few moments Tom did not answer. Then he said in his old dull way,
+"I got a right to go now. I got a right to be a soldier, to make up
+for--_him_. The next time I get back here I'm going to join. If we don't
+get back for six weeks, then I'll be eighteen. I made up my mind now."
+
+Mr. Conne laughed approvingly and Tom gazed, with a kind of fascination,
+across the pleasant, undulating country.
+
+"I could even hike it," he repeated; "it seems funny to be so near."
+
+But when finally he did reach the front, it was over the back fence, as
+one might say, and after such an experience as he had never dreamed of.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+HE IS CAST AWAY AND IS IN GREAT PERIL
+
+
+"They're more likely to spill the cup when it's empty," said the deck
+steward, who was a sort of walking encyclopedia to Tom.
+
+"I suppose that's because we haven't got such a good convoy going back,"
+Tom said.
+
+"That and high visibility. You see, the less there is in the ship, the
+higher she sets up in the water, and the higher she sets the better they
+can see her. We're in ballast and floating like a balloon. They get
+better tips about westbound ships, too. All the French ports are full of
+German agents. They come through Switzerland."
+
+The first day out on the voyage homeward was very rough. At about dusk
+Tom was descending the steps from the bridge with a large tray when he
+saw several of the ship's people (whose time was pretty much their own
+on the westward trip) hurrying to the rail. One of them called to him,
+"We're in for it;" but Tom was not alarmed, for by this time he was too
+experienced a "salt" to be easily excited.
+
+"You can see the wake!" someone shouted.
+
+There was a sudden order on the bridge, somebody rushed past him and
+then the tray, with all its contents, went crashing upon the steps and
+Tom staggered against the stair-rail and clung to it.
+
+The ship was struck--struck as if by a bolt out of the sky.
+
+He had been through this sort of thing before and he was not scared. He
+was shocked at the suddenness of it, but he kept his head and started
+across the deck for his emergency post, aft. Everyone seemed to be
+running in that direction.
+
+He knew that however serious the damage, there was but small danger to
+life, since the convoy was at hand and since there were so very few
+people upon the ship; there were life-boats enough, without crowding,
+for all on board.
+
+But the impact, throwing him down the steps, as it did, had caused him
+to twist his foot and he limped over to the rail for its assistance in
+walking. Men were now appearing in life-preservers, and hovering
+impatiently in the vicinity of the lifeboat davits, but he heard no
+orders for manning the boats and he was distinctly aware of the engines
+still going.
+
+[Illustration: TOM WAS STANDING, OR TRYING TO STAND, ON A GERMAN
+SUBMARINE.]
+
+He hobbled along, holding the rail, intent upon reaching the davits
+astern, where the third officer would give him orders, when suddenly
+there was a splitting sound, the rail gave way, he struggled to regain
+his balance and went headlong over the side, still clutching the piece
+of rail which he had been leaning on.
+
+He had the presence of mind to keep hold of it and to swim quickly away
+from the vessel, trying to shout as he swam; but the sudden ducking had
+filled his mouth with water and he could do little more than splutter.
+
+He could see as he looked up that one of the upright stanchions which at
+once strengthened the rail and supported the deck above, was in
+splinters and it was this that had weakened the rail so that it gave
+way. Vaguely he remembered reading of a submarine which, after
+despatching a torpedo, had tried by gunfire to disable the steering
+apparatus of a ship, and he wondered if that was the cause of the
+shattered stanchion.
+
+He would not have believed that one could be carried out of hearing so
+rapidly, but before he realized it, he was thrown down into the abysmal
+depths of a great sea with only a towering wall of black water to be
+seen, and when he was borne up on the crest of another great roller he
+saw the ship and her convoy at what seemed a great distance from him.
+
+The vessels had seemed far apart from his viewpoint on deck, but now, so
+great was his distance from them, that they seemed to form a very
+compact flotilla and the hurried activities on the stricken vessel were
+not visible at all.
+
+He shouted lustily through the gathering dusk, but without result. Again
+and again he called, till his head throbbed from the exertion. He could
+see the smoke now, from his own vessel he thought, and he feared that
+she was under way, headed back to France.
+
+Later, when he was able to think connectedly at all, it was a matter of
+wonder to him that he could have been carried so far in so short a time,
+for he was not familiar with the fact known to all sailors that each
+roller means a third of a mile and that a person may be carried out of
+sight on the ocean in five minutes.
+
+He could discover no sign now of the flotilla except several little
+columns of smoke and he realized that the damage to the _Montauk_ could
+not be serious and that they were probably making for the nearest French
+port.
+
+Tom was an expert swimmer, but this accomplishment was, of course, of no
+avail now. He was nearly exhausted and his helplessness encouraged the
+fatal spirit of surrender. With a desperate impulse he all but cast the
+broken rail from him, resigned to struggle no more with its uncertain
+buoyancy, which yielded to his weight and submerged him with every other
+motion which he made.
+
+Then he had an idea. Dragging from the wood was part of the rope network
+which had been the under part of the ship's rail. It was stiff with
+paint. Grasping it firmly in his mouth he managed to get his duck jacket
+off and this he spread across the stiff network, floating the whole
+business, jacket underneath, so that the painted rope netting acted as a
+frame to hold the jacket spread out.
+
+To his delight, he found this very buoyant, and with the strip of wood
+which he lashed across it with his scarf and belt it was almost as good
+as a life-preserver. He had to be careful to keep it flat upon the
+water, for as soon as one edge went under the whole thing acted like the
+horizontal rudders of a submarine. But he soon got the hang of managing
+it and it was not half bad.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+HE IS TAKEN ABOARD THE "TIN FISH" AND QUESTIONED
+
+
+And then he saw it. Whether it had been near him all the time he did not
+know. It was in the same wave-valley with himself and seemed to be
+looking at him. Even before there was any sign of human life upon it, it
+seemed to be standing off there just looking at him, and there was
+something uncanny about it. It looked like the little flat cupola of the
+town hall at home, only it was darker, and on top of it two long things
+stood up like flagpoles. And it bobbed and moved and just stood
+there--looking at him.
+
+A life boat might have a name instead of a number but it could not look
+at him like that.
+
+Then he saw that it was nearer to him, although he could not exactly see
+it move. On top of it were two persons, one of whom appeared to be
+looking at him through a long glass. Tom wished that he could see the
+rest of it--the part underneath--for then it would not seem so
+unnatural.
+
+Then one of the men called to him through a megaphone and he was
+possessed by an odd feeling that it was the thing itself speaking and
+not the man upon it.
+
+"Speak German?"
+
+"No," Tom called, "I'm American."
+
+He waited, thinking they would either shoot him or else go away and
+leave him. Then the man called, "Lift up your feet!"
+
+This strange mandate made the whole thing seem more unreal, and he would
+not have been surprised to be told next to stand on his head. But he was
+not going to take any chances with a Teuton and he raised his feet as
+best he could, while the little tower came closer--closer, until it was
+almost upon him.
+
+Suddenly his feet caught in something, throwing him completely over, and
+as he frantically tried to regain his position his feet encountered
+something hard but slippery.
+
+"Vell, vot did I tell you, huh?" the man roared down at him.
+
+Tom was almost directly beneath him now, walking, slipping, and
+scrambling to his feet again, while this grim personage looked down at
+him like Humpty Dumpty from his wall. The whole business was so utterly
+strange that he could hardly realize that he was standing, or trying to
+stand, waist deep, at the conning tower of a German submarine. By all
+the rules of the newspapers and the story books, his approach should
+have been dramatic, but it was simply a sprawling, silly progress.
+
+Of course, he knew how it was now. The U-boat was only very slightly
+submerged, and evidently the removable hand rail had not been stowed and
+it was that on which his feet had caught and which had caused his
+inglorious aquatic somersault. He had walked, or stumbled, over the
+submerged deck and now stood, a drenched and astonished figure, beneath
+his rescuers--or his captors.
+
+The man lowered a rope which had something like a horse's stirrup
+hanging to it and into this Tom put his foot, at the same time grasping
+the rope, and was helped up somewhat roughly.
+
+Upon the top was a little hatch in which the man was standing, like a
+jack in the box, and now he went down an iron ladder with Tom after him.
+
+"You off der _Montauk_, huh?" he said.
+
+"Yes, sir," said Tom, "I fell off."
+
+"Vell, you haf' good loock."
+
+Tom did not know whether to consider himself lucky or not, but it
+occurred to him that the domineering manner of his captors might not be
+an indication of their temper. And the realization of this was to prove
+useful to him afterward for he found that with the Germans a not
+unkindly intention was often expressed with glowering severity. He made
+up his mind that he would not be afraid of him.
+
+The iron ladder descended into a compartment where there was much
+electrical apparatus, innumerable switches, etc., and two steering
+gears. In front of each of these was a thing to look into, having much
+the appearance of a penny in the slot machine, in which one sees
+changing views. These he knew for the lower ends of the two periscopes.
+There was an odor in the place which made him think of a motorcycle.
+
+A door in the middle of this apartment, forward, led into a tiny,
+immaculate galley, with utensils which fitted into each other for
+economy in space, like a camping outfit. Here a parrot hung in a
+cage--strange home for a bird of the air!
+
+Another door, midway in the opposite side of the galley, opened into a
+narrow aisle which ran forward through the center of the boat, with
+berths on either side, like the arrangement of a sleeping-car. In one of
+these squatted two men, in jumpers, playing a card game.
+
+The length of this aisle seemed to Tom about half the length of a
+railroad car. Through it his rescuer led him to a door which opened into
+a tiny compartment, furnished with linoleum, a flat desk, three
+stationary swivel chairs and a leather settee. It was very hot and
+stuffy, with an oily smell, but cosy and spotlessly clean.
+
+Directly across this compartment was another central door with something
+printed in German above it. The man knocked, opened this door, spoke to
+someone, then came back and went away in the direction from which they
+had come.
+
+Tom stood in the little compartment, not daring to sit down. He seemed
+to be in a strange world, like that of the Arabian Nights. He did not
+know whether the boat had descended or was still awash, or had come
+boldly up to the surface. He knew that the tower through the hatch of
+which he had descended was about in the middle, and that he had been
+taken from that point almost to the bow. He thought this cosy little
+room must be the commander's own private lair, and that probably the
+commander's sleeping quarters lay beyond that door. Forward of that must
+be the torpedo compartments. As to what lay astern, he supposed the
+engines were there and the stern torpedo tubes, but the Teutons were so
+impolite that they never showed him and all Tom ever really saw of the
+interior of a German U-boat was the part of it which he had just
+traversed, and which in a general sort of way reminded him of a
+sleeping-car with the odor of a motorcycle.
+
+Presently, the forward door opened, and a young man with a very sallow
+complexion entered. He wore a kind of dark blue jumper, the only
+semblance of which to a uniform was that its few buttons were of brass.
+He was twirling his mustache and looked at Tom with very keen eyes.
+
+"Vell, we are not so pad, huh? Ve don'd kill you!"
+
+Tom did not know exactly what to say, so he said, "I got to thank you."
+
+The man motioned to the settee and Tom sat down while he seated himself
+in one of the swivel chairs.
+
+"Vell, vot's der matter?" he said, seeing Tom shiver.
+
+"I'm wet," said Tom; adding, "but I don't mind it."
+
+The man continued to look at him sharply. His questions were peremptory,
+short, crisp.
+
+"You had a vite jacket?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I made a kind of a life preserver out of it."
+
+Tom suspected that they had seen him long before he had seen them and
+that they had watched his struggles in the water.
+
+"Steward's poy, huh?"
+
+"I was captain's mess boy. The railing was broke and I never noticed it,
+so I fell overboard. I don't think anybody else got hurt," he added.
+
+The man twirled his mustache, still with his keen eyes fixed on Tom.
+
+"You bring ofer a lot of droops?" It was a question, but he did not keep
+his voice raised at the end, as one asking a question usually does. In
+this sense a German never asks a question. He seemed to be making an
+announcement and expecting Tom to confirm it.
+
+"Quite a lot," said Tom.
+
+"Two thousand, huh?"
+
+"I couldn't count them, there were so many."
+
+"How many trips you make?"
+
+"This was my first on a transport," said Tom.
+
+"Huh. You make Brest? Vere?"
+
+"It wasn't Brest," said Tom, "and I ain't supposed to tell you."
+
+"Vell, I ain't supposed to rescue you neither."
+
+"If you'd asked me before you rescued me, even then I wouldn't of told
+you," said Tom simply.
+
+"Huh. You talk beeg. Look out!"
+
+And still he twirled his mustache.
+
+"Dey catch a spy, huh?"
+
+"Yes, they did," said Tom, feeling very much ashamed and wondering how
+his questioner knew. Then it occurred to him that this very U-boat had
+perhaps been watching for the signal light, and it gave him fresh
+satisfaction to remember that _he_ had perhaps foiled this man who sat
+there twirling his mustache.
+
+The commander did not pursue this line of inquiry, supposing, perhaps,
+that a mess boy would not be informed as to such matters, but he
+catechised Tom about everything else, foiled at every other question by
+the stolid answer, "I ain't supposed to tell you." And he could not
+frighten or browbeat or shake anything out of him.
+
+At length, he desisted, summoned a subordinate and poured a torrent of
+German gibberish at him, the result of which was that Tom's wet clothes
+were taken from him and he was ushered to one of the berths along the
+aisle, presumably there to wait until they dried.
+
+He was sorry that they would not let him accompany his wet clothing aft
+where the engines were, but he was relieved to find that he was
+evidently not going to be thrown back into the ocean.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+HE IS MADE A PRISONER AND MAKES A NEW FRIEND
+
+
+It was just another German mistake in diplomacy or strategy or
+browbeatery, or whatever you may call it. Tom had been rescued for the
+information which he might give, and he gave none. It was not that he
+was so clever, either. A fellow like Frenchy could have squeezed a whole
+lot out of him without his realizing it, but Captain von
+Something-or-other didn't know how to do it. And having failed, perhaps
+it was to his credit that he did not have Tom thrown back into the
+ocean.
+
+Tom would have liked to know whether the boat was still awash or
+completely submerged. Above all, he was anxious to know what they
+intended to do with him. The fact that the boat did not pitch or roll at
+all made him think that it must be far below these surface disturbances,
+but he did not dare to ask.
+
+When his clothes were returned to him he was given a piece of rye bread
+and a cup of coffee, which greatly refreshed him, and he lay in one of
+the bunks along the long aisle watching two of the Germans who were
+playing cribbage. Once the commander came through like a conductor and
+as he passed Tom he said, "Vell, you haf' more room soon."
+
+He said it in his usual gruff, decisive tone, but Tom felt that he had
+intended to be agreeable and he wondered what he meant.
+
+After a while he fell asleep and slept the sleep of utter exhaustion.
+When he awoke there was no one about, but he heard voices outside,
+talking in German. Presently a soldier in one of the familiar German
+helmets came in and beckoned to him.
+
+Tom followed him up the iron ladder, out through the hatch and down
+another little ladder which was leaning against the outside of the
+conning tower. The deck was quite free of the water and already it was
+cluttered with tanks and cases ready to be stowed aboard. On either
+side, ranged sideways in a long row, as if they were ready to start on a
+race, were other U-boats, as many as thirty Tom thought, their low decks
+the scene of much activity.
+
+On the wharf was a long line of hand trucks, each bearing what he
+supposed to be a torpedo, and these looked exactly like miniature
+submarines, minus the conning tower.
+
+These things he saw in one hurried, bewildered glance, for he was
+allowed no opportunity for observation. Scarcely had he stepped off the
+deck when two lame soldiers took him in hand. Another soldier, who was
+not lame, stepped in front of him and he was directed by an officer who
+managed the affair and spoke very good English, to keep his eyes upon
+the little spire of that soldier's helmet. What he saw thereafter, he
+saw only through the corners of his eyes, and these things consisted
+chiefly of German signs on buildings.
+
+In this formation, with Tom's eyes fixed upon the little shiny spire
+before him, a lame soldier limping on either side and an officer in
+attendance, they marched to a stone building not far distant. Here he
+was ushered into a room where two men in sailor suits and three or four
+in oilskins sat about on benches. Two crippled soldiers guarded the door
+and another, who stood by an inner door, wore a bandage about his head.
+
+[Illustration: TOM WAS DIRECTED TO KEEP HIS EYES UPON THE SOLDIER'S
+HELMET.]
+
+"Blimy, I thought I was 'avin' me eyes tested," said one of the
+sailors. "It's a bloomin' wonder they don't clap a pair o' blinders on
+yer and be done with it!"
+
+Tom had not expected to hear any English spoken and it had never sounded
+so good to him before. The sailor did not seem to be at all awed by the
+grim surroundings, and his freedom from restraint was comforting to Tom
+who had felt very apprehensive. He was soon to learn that the most
+conspicuous and attractive thing about a British sailor or soldier is
+his disposition to take things as he finds them and not to be greatly
+concerned about anything.
+
+"Hi, Fritzie," he added, addressing one of the soldiers, "are we for
+Wittenberg or carn't yer s'y?" The guard paid no attention.
+
+"It's no difference," said one of the men in oilskins.
+
+"It's a bloomin' lot o' difference," said the sailor, "whether you're
+civilian or not, I can jolly well tell you! It's a short course in
+Wittenberg--there and Slopsgotten, or wotever they calls it. And the
+Spanish Ambassador, 'e calls to inquire arfter yer 'ealth every d'y. Hi
+there, Fritzie, 'ave we long to wite, old pal?"
+
+As there seemed to be no objection to this freedom of speech, Tom
+ventured a question.
+
+"Is this Germany?"
+
+"Germany? No, it's the Cannibal Islands," said the sailor, and everyone
+except the guard laughed.
+
+"You're not from Blighty,[3] eh?" the sailor asked.
+
+"I'm American," said Tom; "I was ship's boy on a transport and I fell
+off and a U-boat picked me up."
+
+"You're in Willlamshaven," the sailor told him, expressing no surprise
+at his experience.
+
+"He's civilian," said one of the men in oilskins. "He's safe."
+
+"Mybe, and mybe not," said the sailor; "'ow old are yer?"
+
+"Seventeen," said Tom.
+
+"Transports aren't civilian," said the sailor.
+
+"Ship's boys are not naval in American service."
+
+"It's the ige of yer as does it," the sailor answered. "I'll wiger you
+me first package from 'ome 'e goes to Slopsgotten."
+
+"What is Slopsgotten?" Tom asked.
+
+"It's the ship's boys' 'eaven."
+
+"I guess it ain't so good," said the man.
+
+"It's a grite big rice track," said the sailor. "Me cousin was there
+afore the Yanks came in. Mr. Gerard 'e got him exchinged. They got a
+'ole army o' Yanks there now--all civilian."
+
+"Is it a prison camp?" said Tom.
+
+"A bloomin' sailors' 'ome."
+
+"Were you captured?" Tom asked.
+
+"We're off a bloomin' mine l'yer," the sailor answered, including his
+companion; "nabbed in the channel--'i, Freddie?"
+
+"An' I 'ad tickets in me pocket to tike me girl to the pl'y in
+Piccadilly that night. Mybe she's witing yet," responded Freddie.
+
+"Let 'er wite. Hi, Fritzie, we're a-goin' to add four shillins' to the
+bloomin' indemnity, to p'y fer the tickets!"
+
+Further conversation with this blithesome pair elicited the information
+that they had been taken by a German destroyer while in a small boat in
+the act of mine inspecting, and that the men in oilskins (the one who
+had spoken being an American) were captives taken from a sunken British
+trawler.
+
+One by one these prisoners were passed into an inner room where each
+remained for about five minutes. When the sailor came out, he held up a
+brass tag which had been fastened with a piece of wire to his
+buttonhole.
+
+"I got me bloomin' iron cross," he said, "and I'm a-goin' to mike me
+'ome in Slops! Kipe yer fingers crossed w'en yer go in there, Yank; tike
+me advice!"
+
+"I hope I go there too if you're going," said Tom, "'cause you make it
+seem not so bad, kind of, bein' a prisoner."
+
+"Hi, Fritzie!" the sailor called. "I got me reward for 'eroism!"
+
+But apparently the German soldier could not appreciate these frivolous
+references to the sacred iron cross, for he glowered upon the young
+Englishman, and turned away with a black look.
+
+"Hi, Fritzie, cawrn't yer tike a joke?" the sailor persisted.
+
+Tom thought it must be much better fun to be an English soldier than a
+German soldier. And he thought this good-natured prisoner would be able
+to hold his own even against a great Yankee drive--of jollying.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[3] England.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+HE LEARNS WHERE HE IS GOING AND FINDS A RAY OF HOPE
+
+
+It seemed to Tom that the two German officials who sat behind a table
+examining him, asked him every question which could possibly be framed
+in connection with himself. And when they had finished, and the answers
+had been written down, they made a few informal inquiries about American
+troops and transports, which he was thankful that he could not answer.
+When he returned to the ante-room he had fastened to his buttonhole a
+brass disk with a number stamped upon it and a German word which was not
+"Slopsgotten," though it looked as if it might be something like it.
+
+"Let's see," said the sailor; "didn't I jolly well tell yer?
+Congratulations!"
+
+"Does it mean I go to Slopsgotten?" Tom asked.
+
+"They'll keep us there till the war's over, too," said the one called
+Freddie. "We'll never get a good whack at Fritzie now."
+
+Tom's heart fell.
+
+"We'll be wittling souveneers out o' wood," Freddie concluded.
+
+"We'll have plenty o' wood," said his comrade. "The old Black Forest's
+down that w'y."
+
+"It's just north of Alsice," Freddie said.
+
+"A pair o' wire nippers and a bit o' French----"
+
+"Shh," cautioned Freddie.
+
+"We m'y be ible to s'y 'Owdy' to General 'Aig yet."
+
+"Shh! We aren't even there yet."
+
+Tom listened eagerly to this talk and thought much about it afterward.
+For one whole year he had longed to get into the war. He had waited for
+his eighteenth birthday as a child waits for Christmas. He had gone on
+the transport with the one thought of its bringing him nearer to
+military service. He was going to fight like two soldiers because his
+brother was--was not a soldier.
+
+And now it appeared that his part in the great war, his way of doing his
+bit, was to lie in a prison camp until the whole thing was over. That
+was worse than boring sticks in Bridgeboro and distributing badges. Tom
+had never quarreled with Fate, he had even been reconciled to the
+thought of dying as a spy; but he rebelled at this prospect.
+
+Instinctively, as he and his two philosophical companions were placed
+aboard the train, he reached down into his trousers pocket and found the
+little iron button which Frenchy had given him. He clutched it as if it
+were a life preserver, until his hand was warm and sweaty from holding
+it.
+
+It seemed his last forlorn hope now.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+HE MAKES A HIGH RESOLVE AND LOSES A FAVORITE WORD
+
+
+Miss Margaret Ellison, the stenographer in the Temple Camp office, had
+once pronounced judgment on Tom. It was that if he made up his mind to
+do a thing he would do it. There was something about his big mouth and
+his dogged scowl which made this prophecy seem likely of fulfilment.
+
+And now, silently, he threw his challenge down before Fate, before
+Germany, before barbed wire entanglements--before everything and
+everybody. He did not know whether they ever paroled ordinary prisoners,
+but he hoped they would not parole him, because then he would be bound
+by honor. And he did not want to be bound by honor. He kept his hand in
+his pocket, grasping his precious button, and it was well that the
+German officials did not know what was in his mind.
+
+"I ain't goin' to be cheated out of it now," he said to himself; "I
+don't care what."
+
+All day long they journeyed in the box car, but Tom could see nothing of
+Germany save an occasional glimpse now and then when the sliding door
+was opened at the stations, usually to admit more prisoners. Whatever
+became of the men from the British trawler he never knew, but his
+jack-tar companions were with him still and helped to keep up his
+spirits. He never knew them by any other names than Freddie and
+Tennert--the first name of one and the last name of the other--but so
+great was his liking for them that it included the whole of sturdy,
+plodding, indomitable old England into the bargain. They never talked
+patriotism, and seemed to regard the war merely as a sort of a job that
+had to be done--just like any other job. Early in the day before the car
+filled up, Tom talked a good deal with them and as there was no guard
+inside, the conversation was free.
+
+"When you said, 'Shh'," said Tom at one time, "I knew what you was
+thinkin' about. I was never in a war," he added innocently, "so I don't
+know much about it. But if I was sent to jail for--say, for stealing--I
+wouldn't think I had a right to escape."
+
+"You'd be a pretty honorable sort of a thief," said Freddie.
+
+"But, anyway," said Tom, "I was going to ask you about escapin' from a
+military prison. That ain't dishonorable, is it?"
+
+"No, strike me blind, it ain't! But it's jolly 'ard!" said Tennert.
+
+"It's fer them to keep yer and fer you to grease off, if you can," said
+Freddie. "If you give your parole, it's like a treaty----"
+
+"A bloomin' scrap o' piper," interrupted Tennert. "They wouldn't put you
+on yer honor because they don't know what honor is. It ain't in
+Fritzie's old dictionary."
+
+Tom was glad to think of it in this way. _It's for them to keep you and
+for you to grease off_ (which evidently meant "get away"). He had great
+respect for the opinions of these two Britishers and his mind dwelt upon
+this only hope even before he had so much as a glimpse of his prison.
+
+He meant to fight with the American forces, in spite of Fate and in
+spite of Germany. Germany had armed guards and barbed wire
+entanglements. Tom, on his side, had an iron button, a big mouth, a
+look of dogged determination, a sense of having been grossly cheated
+after he had made a considerable investment in time and a good deal of
+scout pluck and Yankee resource. The only thing that had stood in the
+way was the question of honor, and that was now settled on the high
+authority of the British navy! Who but sturdy old John Bull had come
+forward when Belgium was being violated? And now a couple of John Bull's
+jack-tars had told him that it was for Germany to keep him and for him
+to get away if he could.
+
+He was on the point of telling them of his double reason for wanting to
+escape; that he had to fight for two--himself and his brother. Then he
+thought he wouldn't for fear they might not understand.
+
+But he made up his mind that henceforth all his efforts and activities
+should be of double strength--to make up. He would think twice as hard,
+work twice as hard, fight twice as hard. Above all he would try twice as
+hard as he otherwise would have done, to get out of this predicament and
+get to the battlefront. He was glad of his scout training which he
+thought might help him a great deal now. And he would put every quality
+he had to the supreme test.
+
+"Do you believe," he asked, after a considerable silence, "that a feller
+can do more, kind of, if he's doing his own work and--I mean if he
+thinks he's got to do two people's work--for a special reason?"
+
+Freddie did not seem quite to "get" him, but Tennert answered readily,
+"You jolly well can! Look at Kippers wot cime 'ome fer orspital
+treatment arfter Verdoon. 'E lived in Chelsea. 'Is pal got sniped an'
+Fritzie took 'is shoes. They're awrful short o' shoes. Kippers, 'e s'ys,
+'I'll not l'y down me rifle till I plunk[4] a German and get 'is shoes.'
+Two d'ys arfter 'e comes crawlin' back through No Man's Land and the
+color sergeant arsks 'im did 'e carry out 'is resolootion. 'Yes,' s'ys
+'e, 'but blimy, I 'ad to plunk seven Germans before I could get a pair
+o' clods to fit me.' 'E was usin' 'is pal's strength too besides 'is
+own. Any Tommy'll tell yer a lad wot's dyin' on the field can leave 'is
+fightin' spunk to anyone 'e pleases."
+
+Tom stared open-eyed. He found it easy to believe this superstition of
+Tommy Atkins'. And he made up his mind anew that he would square matters
+with Uncle Sam by doing the work of two.
+
+                 *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the afternoon this pleasant chatting was made impossible by the
+numbers of military prisoners who were herded into the rough box car.
+They had come far enough south to be abreast of Belgium now and there
+must lately have been a successful German raid along the Flanders front,
+for both British and Belgian soldiers were driven aboard by the score.
+All of the British seemed exactly like Tennert and Freddie, cheerful,
+philosophical, chatting about Fritzie and the war as if the whole thing
+were a huge cricket game. Some of these were taken off farther down the
+line, to be sent to different camps, Tom supposed.
+
+At last, after an all day's ride, they reached their destination. But
+alas, there was no such place as Slopsgotten! Tom was sorry for this for
+he liked the name. It sounded funny when his English friends said it.
+Schlaabgaurtn, was the way he read it on the railroad station. He felt
+disappointed and aggrieved. He was by no means sure of the letters, and
+pronunciation was out of the question. He liked Slopsgotten. In
+Tennert's mouth he had almost come to love it.
+
+It was the only thing about Germany that he liked, and now he had to
+give it up!
+
+Slopsgotten!
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[4] Kill.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+HE GOES TO THE CIVILIAN CAMP AND DOESN'T LIKE IT
+
+
+"'Ere we are in bloomin' old Slops! Not 'arf bad, wot? Another inch and
+we'd bunk our noses plunk into Alsice! Wot d'ye s'y, Freddie?"
+
+"I s'y it's the back o' the old front. The only thing in the w'y is the
+mountains. Hi, Yankee! You see 'em? It's the ole mountains out of the
+song."
+
+Tom looked at a distant range of blue-gray heights. Crossing those
+somewhere was the battle line--the long, sweeping line which began far
+off at the Belgian coast. How lonesome and romantic it must be for the
+soldiers up in those wild hills. Somewhere through there years ago
+Frenchy had fled from German tyranny and pursuit, away from his beloved
+ancestral home. Funny, thought Tom, that he should see both the eastern
+and western extremities of France without ever crossing it.
+
+He was much nearer the front than he had been when he talked with Mr.
+Conne in the little French cemetery. Yet how much farther away! A
+prisoner in Germany, with a glowering, sullen Prussian guard at his very
+elbow!
+
+"We used to sing about them when I went to school," he said. "'The Blue
+Alsatian Mountains.'"
+
+"I'd jolly well like to be on the other side o' them," said Freddie.
+
+Tom clutched the little iron button in his pocket. Something prompted
+him to pull a button off his trousers and to work his little talisman
+into the torn place so that it would look like a suspender button. Then
+he turned again to gaze at the fair country which he supposed to be one
+of France's lost provinces--the home of Frenchy.
+
+"There ain't much trouble crossing mountains," said he; "all you need is
+a compass. I don't know if they have tree-toads here, but I could find
+out which is north and south that way if they have."
+
+"Blimy, if we don't listen and see if we can 'ear 'em s'ying 'polly voo
+Fransay' in the trees!" said Tennert.
+
+"But a feller could never get into France that way," said Tom. "'Cause
+he'd have to cross the battle line. The only way would be to go down
+around through Switzerland--around the end of the line, kind of."
+
+"Down through Alsice," grunted Tennert.
+
+"'E'd 'ave a 'underd miles of it," said Freddie.
+
+"Unless Fritzie offered 'im a carriage. Hi, Fritzie, w'en do we have
+tea?"
+
+They made no secret of this dangerous topic--perhaps because they knew
+the idea of escape from the clutches of Germany was so preposterous. In
+any event, "Fritzie" did not seem greatly interested.
+
+They were grouped at the station, a woebegone looking lot, despite their
+blithe demeanor. There were a dozen or more of them, in every variety of
+military and naval rags and tatters. Tom was coatless and the rest of
+his clothing was very much the worse for salt water. The sailor suits of
+his two companions were faded and torn, and Freddie suffered the
+handicap of a lost shoe. The rest were all young. Tom thought they might
+be drummer boys or despatch riders, or something like that. Several of
+them were slightly wounded, but none seriously, for Germany does not
+bother with prisoners who require much care. They were the residue of
+many who had come and gone in that long monotonous trip. Some had been
+taken off for the big camps at Wittenberg and Goettingen. As well as he
+could judge, he had to thank his non-combatant character as well as his
+youth for the advantages of "Slopsgotten."
+
+When the hapless prisoners had been examined and searched and relieved
+of their few possessions, they were marched to the neighboring camp--a
+civilian camp it was called, although it was hardly limited to that.
+They made a sad little procession as they passed through the street of
+the quaint old town. Some jeered at them, but for the most part the
+people watched silently as they went by. Either they had not the spirit
+for ridicule, or they were too accustomed to such sights to be moved to
+comment.
+
+Tom thought he had never in his life seen so many cripples; and instead
+of feeling sorry for himself his pity was aroused for these maimed young
+fellows, hanging on crutches and with armless coat sleeves, hollow-eyed
+and sallow, who braved the law to see the little cavalcade go by. For
+later he learned that a heavy fine was imposed on these poor wretches if
+they showed themselves before enemy prisoners, and he wondered where
+they got the money to pay the fines.
+
+The prison camp was in the form of a great oval and looked as if it
+might formerly have been a "rice track," as the all-knowing Tennert had
+said. It was entirely surrounded by a high barbed wire fence, the
+vicious wire interwoven this way and that into a mesh, the very sight of
+which must have been forbidding to the ambitious fugitive. It was not,
+however, electrified as in the strictly military prisons and on the
+frontiers. Tom was told that this was because it was chiefly a civilian
+camp, but he later learned that it was because of a shortage of coal.
+
+The buildings which had formerly been stables and open stalls had been
+converted into living quarters, and odds and ends of lumber gathered
+from the neighboring town had been used to throw up rough shacks for
+additional quarters.
+
+Straw was the only bedding and such food as the authorities supplied was
+dumped onto rusty tin dishes held out by the hungry prisoners. Some of
+these dishes had big holes in them and when such a plate became unusable
+it behooved its possessor to make friends with someone whose dish was
+not so far gone and share it with him. Some of the men carved wooden
+dishes, for there was nothing much to do with one's time, until their
+knives were taken from them. The life was one of grinding monotony and
+utter squalor, and the time which Tom spent there was the nightmare of
+his life.
+
+Occasionally someone from the Spanish Embassy in Berlin would visit the
+camp in the interest of the Americans, the effect of these visits
+usually being to greatly anger the retired old German officer who was
+commandant. He had a face like the sun at noon-day, a voice like a
+cannon, and the mere asking of a question set him into a rage.
+
+Many of the prisoners, of whom not a few were young Americans, received
+packages from home, through neutral sources--food, games, tobacco--which
+were always shared with their comrades. But Tom was slow in getting
+acquainted and before he had reached the stage of intimacy with anyone,
+something happened. He still retained his companionable status with
+Tennert and Freddie, but they fell in with their own set from good old
+"Blighty" and Tom saw little of them.
+
+There was absolutely no rule of life in the prison camp. They were
+simply kept from getting away. Besides conferring this favor upon them,
+about the only thing which the German government did was to send a
+doctor around occasionally to look down their throats and inspect their
+tongues. If a prisoner became ill, it behooved him to find another
+prisoner who had studied medicine and then wait until old General
+Griffenhaus was in a sufficiently good humor to give him medicines.
+General Griffenhaus was not cruel; perhaps he would have been pleasant
+if he had known how.
+
+As fast as Tom learned the custom, he adapted himself to the lazy,
+go-as-you-please kind of life. He scared up a rusty tin plate, made
+himself a straw bed in a boarded-in box stall, got hold of an old burlap
+bag which he wore as a kind of tunic while washing his clothes, and
+idled about listening to the war experiences of others. He had thought
+his own experiences rather remarkable, but now they seemed so tame that
+he did not venture to tell them. Fights with German raiders, rescues
+after days spent on the ocean, chats about the drive for Paris, the
+"try" at Verdun, the adventures of captured aviators--these things and
+many more, were familiarly discussed in the little sprawling groups
+among which he came to be a silent listener. In a way, it reminded him
+of camping and campfire yarns, except for the squalor and disorder.
+
+Of course, there was general work to be done, but the officials did not
+concern themselves about this until it became absolutely necessary. No
+one could say that the German discipline was strict. When the prisoners
+discovered that one or other of their number was good at this or that
+sort of work they elected him to attend to those matters--whether it was
+sweeping, settling quarrels, cooking, writing letters, petitioning "Old
+Griff," shaving, pulling teeth, or what not. Each prisoner contributed
+his knowledge and experience to make life bearable for all. The camp was
+a _democracy_, but Germany didn't seem to object. If the prisoners
+wished to dig a drain trench or a refuse pit, they asked for shovels.
+And sometimes they got them. Prisoners, ragged and forlorn, came to be
+known by the most dignified titles. There was the "consulting
+architect," the "sanitary inspector," the "secretary of state," the
+"chairman of the committee on kicks," etc.
+
+And one momentous day Tom met the "chief engineer."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+HE VISITS THE OLD PUMP AND RECEIVES A SHOCK
+
+
+"It's all happy-go-lucky here," said a young American from somewhere in
+Kansas, who had been raked in with a haul of prisoners from a torpedoed
+liner. "We used the water at the pump as long as the engines worked;
+then we shouldered our buckets and began going down to the brook. When
+the buckets went to pieces, we made a few out of canvas and they're not
+half bad."
+
+Tom had inquired why they went down to the end of the oval to get water
+when there was a pump up in the middle of the grounds.
+
+"So there you are," concluded his informer.
+
+"Is the engine supposed to pump water up from the brook?" Tom asked.
+
+"It isn't supposed to do anything," said the other, "it used to be
+supposed to, but it's retired."
+
+"I thought Germany was so efficient," said Tom. "I should think they'd
+fix it. Can't it be fixed?"
+
+"Not by anyone here, it seems. You see, they won't let us have any
+tools--wrenches, or files or anything. If you mention a file to Old
+Griff, he throws a couple of fits. Thinks you want to cut the barbed
+wire."
+
+"Then why don't _they_ fix it?"
+
+"Ah, a question. I suppose they think the exercise of trotting down to
+the brook will do us good. I dare say if the chief engineer could get
+hold of a file he could fix it; seems to think he could, anyway. But gas
+engines are funny things."
+
+"You're right they are," said Tom, thinking of the troop's motor boat
+away home in Bridgeboro. "Of course, _I_ don't mind the walk down
+there," he added, "only it seemed kind of funny----"
+
+"It's tragic for some of these lame fellows."
+
+"Who _is_ the chief engineer," Tom asked.
+
+"Oh, he's a kid that was a despatch rider, I think. Anyway, he's wise to
+motorcycles. He's had several consulting engineers on the job--Belgian,
+French, and British talent--but nothin' doing. He's gradually losing his
+head."
+
+"You couldn't exactly blame them for not letting him have a file," Tom
+said, reasonably enough, "or a wrench either for that matter, unless
+they watched him all the time."
+
+"Nah!" laughed his companion. "Nobody could file through that fence wire
+without the sentries hearing him; it's as thick as a slate pencil,
+almost."
+
+"Just the same you can't blame General Griffenhaus for not being willing
+to give files to prisoners. That's the way prisoners always get away--in
+stories."
+
+About dusk of the same day Tom wandered to the pump, which was not far
+from the center of the vast oval. On the earth beside it a ragged figure
+sat, its back toward Tom, evidently investigating the obstreperous
+engine. Tom had never taken particular notice of this disused pump or of
+the little engine which, in happy days of yore, had brought the water up
+from the brook and made it available for the pump in a well below.
+
+"Trying to dope it out?" he asked, by way of being sociable.
+
+The "chief engineer," who had half turned before Tom spoke, jumped to
+his feet as if frightened and stared blankly at Tom, who stood stark
+still gaping at him.
+
+"Well--I'll--be----" began the "chief engineer."
+
+Tom was grinning all over his face.
+
+"Hello, Archer!"
+
+"Chrr-is-to-pherr _Crrinkums_!" said Archer, with that familiar up-state
+roll to his R's. "Where in all _get-out_ did _you_ blow in from? I
+thought you was dead!"
+
+"You didn't think I was any deader than I thought you was," said Tom,
+with something of his old dull manner.
+
+"Cr-a-ab apples and custarrd pies!" Archer exclaimed, still hardly able
+to believe his eyes. "I sure did think you was at the bottom of the
+ocean!"
+
+"I didn't ever think I'd see _you_ again, either," said Tom.
+
+So the "chief engineer" proved to be none other than Archibald
+Archer--whose far-off home in the good old Catskills was almost within a
+stone's throw of Temple Camp--Archibald Archer, steward's boy on the
+poor old liner on which he had gotten Tom a job the year before.
+
+"I might of known nothing would kill _you_," Tom said. "Mr. Conne
+always said you'd land right side up. Do you eat apples as much as you
+used to?"
+
+"More," said Archer, "when I can get 'em."
+
+The poor old gas engine had to wait now while the two boys who had been
+such close friends sat down beside the disused pump in this German
+prison camp, and told each other of their escape from that torpedoed
+liner and of all that had befallen them since. And Tom felt that the war
+was not so bad, nor the squalid prison community either, since it had
+brought himself and Archibald Archer together again.
+
+But Archer's tale alone would have filled a book. He was just finishing
+an apple, so he said, and was about to shy the core at the second purser
+when the torpedo hit the ship. He was sorry he hadn't thrown the core a
+little quicker.
+
+He jumped for a life boat, missed it, swam to another, drifted with its
+famished occupants to the coast of Ireland, made his way to London, got
+a job on a channel steamer carrying troops, guyed the troops and became
+a torment and a nuisance generally, collected souvenirs with his old
+tenacity, and wound up in France, where, on the strength of being able
+to shrug his shoulders and say, _Oui_, _oui_, he got along famously.
+
+He had managed to wriggle into military service without the customary
+delays, and in the capacity of messenger he had ridden a motorcycle
+between various headquarters and the front until he had been caught by
+the Germans in a raid while he was engaged in giving an imitation of
+Charlie Chaplin in the French trenches. He spoke of General Haig as
+"Haigy;" of General Byng as "Bing Bang;" and his French was a circus all
+by itself. According to his account, he had been a prime favorite with
+all the high dignitaries of the war, and he attributed this to the fact
+that he was not afraid of them. In short, it was the same old flippant,
+boastful, R-rolling Archibald Archer who had won many a laugh from sober
+Tom Slade. And here he was again as large as life--larger, in fact.
+
+It was a long time before they got down to the subject of the engine,
+but when they did they discussed it for the greater part of the night,
+for, of course, they bunked together.
+
+"First I thought it was the triphammer," said Archer; "then I thought it
+was the mixing valve; then I thought it was bronchitis on account of the
+noise it made, and after that I decided it was German measles. Blamed
+if I know what's the matter with it. It's got the pip, I guess. I was
+going to file a nick in the make-and-break business but they're too foxy
+to give me a file. Now I wish I had a hammer and I'd knock the whole
+blamed business to smithereens."
+
+"Have a heart," laughed Tom. "And keep still, I want to go asleep. We'll
+look at it in the morning."
+
+"Did I tell you how we made a hand grenade full of old tomatoes near
+Rheims?"
+
+"No, but I want to go to sleep now," said Tom.
+
+"It landed plunk on a German officer's bun; Charlie Waite saw it from
+his plane."
+
+"Good night," laughed Tom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+HE HAS AN IDEA WHICH SUGGESTS ANOTHER
+
+
+In the morning, after grub line-up, they lost no time in going to the
+pump. Here, at least, was something to occupy Tom's mind and afford
+Archer fresh material for banter.
+
+"D'I tell you how I was kiddin' the niggerr we had in the life
+boat--when it was leakin'?"
+
+"No," said Tom, ready for anything.
+
+"Told him to bore anotherr hole so the waterr could get out again. Did I
+tell you 'bout----"
+
+"Here we are, let's take a look at the engine," said Tom.
+
+It was one of those one-cylinder kickers, about two horse power, and had
+an independent disposition.
+
+"Know what I think would be the best thing for it?" said the chief
+engineer. "Dynamite. D'I tell you 'bout the sharrk eatin' a bomb?"
+
+"Is there any gas in the tank?" said Tom.
+
+"Sure is, but I dunno what kind it is. Mebbe it's poison gas, for all
+_I_ know. There was a fellow in Ireland when we----"
+
+Tom ignored him, and making a guess adjustment of the mixing valve,
+opened the gas and threw the wheel over. "No batteries--magneto, huh?"
+
+"Yes, but it don't magnete. I'd ruther have a couple o' batteries that
+would _bat_."
+
+A few crankings and the little engine started, missing frightfully.
+
+"She'll stop in a minute," said Archer, and so she did. "We've all taken
+a crack at the carbureter and the timer," he added, "but nothin' doin'.
+It's cussedness, _I_ say."
+
+Tom started it again, listening as it missed, went faster, slowed down,
+stopped. It was getting gas and getting air and the bearings did not
+bind. He tried it again. It ran lamely and stopped, but started all
+right again whenever he cranked it, provided he waited a minute or two
+between each trial.
+
+"Can you beat that?" said Archer.
+
+"There's water getting into the cylinder," Tom said.
+
+"Cylinder's lucky. _We_ poor guys got to go way down the other end of
+the earth to get water."
+
+"Maybe the water in the water jacket froze last winter and cracked the
+cylinder wall and the crack didn't let any through at first, most
+likely. You can't get your explosions right if there's water. That's why
+it starts first off and keeps going till the water works through.
+'Tisn't much of a crack, I guess. A file wouldn't be any more use than a
+teaspoon."
+
+"A _what_? Believe _me_, I wouldn't know a teaspoon if I saw one," said
+Archer.
+
+"If we had a wrench to get the cylinder head off," said Tom, "I could
+show you."
+
+"It's the end of that engine," said Archer.
+
+"Depends on how bad it is. If it's only a little crack sometimes you can
+fix it with a chemical--sal ammoniac. It kind of--_corrodes_, I think
+they call it--right where the crack is and it'll work all right for
+quite a while. We had a cracked cylinder on our scout boat one time."
+
+Archer was generously pleased at Tom's sagacity and showed no
+professional jealousy. Before that day was over every prisoner in the
+camp knew that the rusty, dilapidated engine which languished near the
+pump was good for another season of usefulness. If Archer was not a
+good engineer he was at least a good promoter, and he started a grand
+drive for a rejuvenated pump. The R's rolled out of his busy mouth as
+the water had not flowed from the pump in many a day.
+
+A petition a yard long was passed about and everybody signed it with
+lukewarm interest. It besought General von Griffenhaus either to have
+the cylinder head of the engine removed or a wrench loaned to Tom Slade
+for that purpose.
+
+The prisoners did not lose any sleep over this enterprise, for both Tom
+and Archer were young and Archer at least was regarded as an
+irresponsible soul, whose mission on earth was to cause trifling
+annoyance and much amusement. Tom, sober, silent and new among them, was
+an unknown quantity.
+
+"Doncher care," said Archer. "Robert Fulton had a lot o' trouble and
+nobuddy b'lieved him, and all that."
+
+Tom was ready to stand upon his pronouncement of a cracked water jacket
+and, that established, he believed a little bottle of sal ammoniac would
+be easy to procure. When the pump was running again they would all be
+glad to use it and meanwhile they might laugh and call him the
+"consulting engineer" if they wanted to.
+
+At last Archer, having boosted this laggard campaign with amazing
+energy, elected himself the one to present the imposing petition to
+General von Griffenhaus, because, as he said, he was never rattled in
+the presence of greatness, which was quite true. He caught the general
+on inspection tour and prayed for a monkey wrench with the humility but
+determination of the old barons before King John.
+
+When he returned to their box-stall abode he triumphantly announced that
+"Old Griff" had surrendered with the one portentous sentence, "Ach! I
+vill see aboud this!" He found Tom sitting back against the board
+partition, arms about his drawn-up knees, sober and thoughtful.
+
+"Ain't gettin' cold feet, are you?" Archer asked.
+
+Tom looked at him, but did not speak.
+
+"You ain't afraid there's something else the matter with the engine,
+after all, are you?" Archer asked, anxiously. "I don't want this whole
+bunch guyin' me--afterr the petition, and all."
+
+"It's the way I said," said Tom dully.
+
+"Not sore 'cause they've been kiddin' us, are you? You can't blame 'em
+fer that; they've got nothin' else to do. Look at Columbus, how they
+guyed him--and all. But they were thankful afterward all right, all
+right--those greasy Spaniards. D'I tell you 'bout the way I----"
+
+"I don't mind their kiddin'," Tom interrupted; "I had a lot of that on
+the ship. And I know they'll be glad when the pump's running. I was
+thinkin' about something else. Come on, let's go out and hike." He
+always called those little restricted walks about the enclosure, hiking.
+He could not forget the good scout word.
+
+When they had walked for some little way Tom looked about to see if
+there was anyone near. The safest place for secrets and confidences is
+out in the open. He hesitated, made a couple of false starts, then
+began:
+
+"There's somethin' I've always thought about ever since I came here. I
+don't know if you've ever thought about it--I know you like adventures,
+but you're kind of----" He meant irresponsible and rattle-brained, but
+he did not want to say so. "And I wouldn't want to see you get in any
+trouble on account of me. You're different from me. You see, for a
+special reason I got to go and fight. Whatever you do, will you promise
+not to say anything to anybody?"
+
+Archer, somewhat bewildered, promised.
+
+"I'm going to get away," said Tom simply.
+
+"You must be crazy," Archer said, staring at him in astonishment. "How
+are you going to do it? Didn't I tell you, you couldn't even get a
+file?"
+
+Tom went on seriously.
+
+"I'd like to have you go with me only I don't know if you'd want to take
+a chance the same as I would."
+
+"Sure, I'd take a chance, but----"
+
+"_You_ don't _have_ to go and I do," Tom interrupted. "That's what I
+mean. If the war should end and I didn't fight, I'd be a kind of a---- I
+mean I got to fight for two people. I _got_ to. So it ain't a question
+of whether I take a chance or not. And it ain't a question of whether
+it's fair to try and escape. 'Cause I got that all settled."
+
+Archer said nothing, but looked at Tom just as he had first looked at
+him a year ago, and tried to dope him out. For a few paces they walked
+in silence.
+
+"If you take a chance, I take a chance with you," Archer said.
+
+"If anybody should discover us and call for us to halt, I'm not going
+to halt," said Tom.
+
+"Believe _me_, I'll sprint," said Archer, "but that part's a cinch
+anyway----"
+
+"It ain't a cinch," said Tom, "but I got to do it. I got a little button
+a French soldier gave me that'll help me get through Alsace. His people
+live there--in Leture--I mean Dundgardt."
+
+"That's only six miles down," said Archer.
+
+"That's so much the better," said Tom; "if I can once get that far----"
+
+"Don't say _I_--say _we_."
+
+"We'll be all right," finished Tom.
+
+"But what's the use talking about it, when we got that tangle of wire
+out there in front of us all the way round?"
+
+"You know where it runs through the bushes at the other end?" said Tom.
+
+"Yes, and if you made a sound down there you'd be heard! Besides, where
+you goin' to get the file?"
+
+"I'm hoping to have that to-morrow."
+
+"You got your work cut out for you, gettin' it."
+
+"If that stuff will corrode a cylinder wall it'll corrode wire," said
+Tom, after a few moments' silence. "It might take a few days, but after
+that you could break the wire with your fingers. It wouldn't make any
+noise. That ain't what I wanted to ask you about--'cause I know about
+that. The thing is, are you with me? You got to judge for yourself,
+'cause it's risky."
+
+Archer hit him a rap on the shoulder, then put his arm in friendly
+fashion about his neck.
+
+"Slady, I'm with you strong as mustarrd," said he; "did I tell you 'bout
+the feller I met in France that escaped from Siberia----"
+
+"And keep your mouth shut," said Tom. "First we got to fix the engine."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+HE PLANS A DESPERATE GAME AND DOES A GOOD JOB
+
+
+Archer was thoroughly game, Tom knew that, but he did not want to
+involve him in his own peril unless his friend fully realized what it
+meant. With himself, as he had said, it was different. But he might have
+saved himself any worry about his friend. Archer was not only game; he
+was delighted.
+
+Needless to say, they slept little that night. In the morning they were
+given a wrench with which they removed the cylinder head amid the gibes
+of a group of spectators. And there, sure enough, after the piston was
+disconnected and removed, they found a little, thin crack in the inner
+cylinder wall.
+
+"Feel o' that," said Archer, triumphantly rubbing his finger nail across
+it, for it was more easily felt than seen, "and then go away back and
+sit down, the whole bunch of you. We got a _regularr_ chief engineer
+here now," he added generously, "and you better treat him decent while
+he's here."
+
+Tom shuddered for fear he would say too much.
+
+"He might get exchanged any time," said Archer.
+
+"_Some_ boys," remarked one of the prisoners.
+
+"But findin's ain't fixin's," said a British soldier.
+
+"Oh, ain't they though!" said Archer. "We'll have it fixed in---- How
+long'll it take to fix it, Slady?"
+
+"Maybe a couple of days," said Tom.
+
+"Mybe a couple o' weeks," said the Britisher.
+
+"Mybe it won't, yer jolly good bloomin' ole London fag, you!" mimicked
+Archer. "It's as good as fixed already."
+
+"Better knock wood, Archie."
+
+"I'll knock something thickerr'n wood if you don't get out o' the way!"
+said Archer.
+
+One by one they strolled away laughing.
+
+"I'll give that bunch one parting shot, all right!" said Archer.
+
+"Shh!" said Tom, "look out what you're saying."
+
+Whether it was because the grim authorities who presided over
+this unfortunate community believed that the renewed activity of
+the pump would be advantageous to themselves, or whether it was
+just out of the goodness of their hearts that they supplied the
+small quantity of sal ammoniac, it would be difficult to say, but
+in the afternoon a small bottle was forthcoming with the label of
+Herman Schlossen-something-or-other, chemist, of the neighboring
+town.
+
+The boys smeared some of it on the crack and then poured some into a
+little vial which had contained toothache drops.
+
+"Things are so bad in Gerrmany they have to use sal ammoniac for files,"
+said Archer. "If the warr keeps up much longer the poor people'll be
+usin' witch hazel for screw drivers."
+
+"Shhh!" said Tom. It was about all he ever said now.
+
+After dark, with fast beating hearts, they went down to the place which
+Tom had selected for their operations. It was near the extreme end of
+the grounds, at a place where the wire ran through some thick shrubbery.
+Even a file might have been used here, if a file had been procurable,
+for one might work fully concealed though always in danger of the
+sentry's hearing the sound. But no file could ever get inside of that
+camp. They were not even obtainable in the stores of the neighboring
+town, except upon government order and every letter and package that
+came to the camp was scrutinized with German thoroughness. Since the
+recent army reorganization in which the number of sentries at camps all
+through the Empire had been reduced, and since the discontinuance of
+electrified wiring at this particular camp, the little file was watched
+for with greater suspicion than ever before, so that the prisoners had
+regarded it as a joke when Archer expressed the wish for one. The very
+thought of a file on the premises was preposterous. And what other way
+was there to get out?
+
+It was necessary, however, to watch for the sentry outside and here was
+where the team work came in. Archer spotted the gleam of his rifle at
+some distance up near the provision gate, and he scurried in that
+direction to hold him with his usual engaging banter, for even glowering
+"Fritzie" was not altogether proof against young Archer's wiles and his
+extraordinary German.
+
+Meanwhile, Tom, first looking in every direction, slipped under the
+bushes and felt carefully of the wiring. It was not simple flat fencing
+ranged in orderly strands, but somewhat like the entanglements before
+the trenches. As best he could, in the dim light, he selected seven
+places where, if the wiring were parted, he believed it would be
+possible to get through. The seven points involved four wires. He had to
+use his brain and calculate, as one does when seeking for the
+"combination" of a knotted rope, and his old scout habit of studying
+jungle bush before parting it when on scout hikes, served him in good
+stead here. He was nothing if not methodical, and neither the danger nor
+his high hopes interfered with his plodding thoroughness.
+
+Having selected the places, he poured a little of the liquid on the
+wiring at each spot and hid the bottle in the bushes. Then he rejoined
+Archer, the first step taken in their risky program.
+
+"How'll I know the places if I go there?" Archer inquired.
+
+"You won't go there," said Tom. "I'll be the one to do that."
+
+"I'm the entertainment committee, hey?"
+
+There was no sleep that night either--nothing but silent thoughtfulness
+and high expectation and dreadful suspense; for, notwithstanding
+Archer's loquacity, Tom refused positively to talk in their box stall
+for fear some one outside might hear.
+
+In the morning they gave the crack in the cylinder another dose (but
+oh, how prosy and unimportant seemed this business now), and at evening
+they screwed down the cylinder head, and with a gibing audience about
+them, wrestled with the mixing valve, slammed the timer this way and
+that, until the dilapidated old engine began to go--and kept on going.
+
+"There you are," said Archer blithely, as if the glory were all his.
+"Who're the public benefactors now? Every time you get a drink at that
+pump you'll think of Slady and me. Hey, Slady?"
+
+The engine kept on going until they stopped it. And the Philistines put
+aside their unholy mirth and did not stint their praise and gratitude.
+
+"Two plaguy clever American chaps," said a ragged British wireless
+operator.
+
+"Slade and Archer, Consulting Engineers," said Archer.
+
+It was a great triumph--one of the greatest of the world war, and the
+only reason that mankind has not heard more about it is probably because
+of the grudging German censor.
+
+"I'm glad it went," said Archer confidentially. "I was shaking in my
+shoes."
+
+"There wasn't any reason to shake," said Tom. "I knew it would go."
+
+"Same as we will."
+
+"Hush," said Tom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+HE DISAPPEARS--FOR THE TIME BEING
+
+
+Tom was too sensible to make his trip to the bushes each night. For one
+thing he wanted to give the mildly corrosive process a chance to weaken
+the wires. It was a case for small doses. Also he could not afford to
+attract attention. His hardest job was keeping Archer patient and quiet.
+
+When he did manage a second trip he was gratified to see that the spots
+he had "treated" were white and salty, like the bar in a battery. He
+gave them another dose and crawled out cautiously.
+
+Archer, in his excitement, had supposed the whole thing would be a
+matter of a day or two and his impatience greatly disturbed Tom.
+
+"Don't you see, if I try to break the wires before they're ready, we'll
+be worse off than ever?" he said. "Leave it to me."
+
+At last there came a dark night when Tom announced in a whisper that he
+had used the last of the sal ammoniac.
+
+"The wires are all white," he said, "and you can scrape into them with
+your finger-nails. It's good and dark to-night. If you want to back out
+you can. I won't be sore about it. Only tell me again about the road to
+Dundgardt."
+
+"Didn't I tell you I was with you strong as mustarrd? I don't want to
+back out."
+
+A while after dark Tom went down to the bushes. It was understood that
+Archer should follow him, timing his coming according to the sentry's
+rounds. Meanwhile Tom, not without some misgivings, bent the thick wire
+in one of the weakened spots and it broke. He paused and listened. Then
+he broke another strand, trembling lest even the breaking might cause a
+slight sound. The life had been eaten out of the wires and they parted
+easily.
+
+By the time Archer arrived he had opened a way through the thick
+entanglement large enough to crawl through. His nerves were on edge as
+he wriggled far enough through to peer about in the dark outside.
+
+"Anyway, your head has escaped," said Archer.
+
+"Shh," whispered Tom.
+
+Far down the side of the long fence he could see a little glint bobbing
+in the darkness.
+
+"Shh," he whispered. "I don't know which way he's going. Keep your feet
+still."
+
+For a few seconds more he waited, his heart in his mouth and every nerve
+tense.
+
+The tiny bobbing glint disappeared.
+
+"Is he there?" Archer whispered.
+
+"Shh! No, he's gone around the end."
+
+"He won't go all the way round; he'll turn back when he gets to the
+gate. Go on, make a break----"
+
+"Shh!" said Tom, straining his eyes in all directions.
+
+For one moment of awful suspense he waited, his thumping heart almost
+choking him. Then he moved silently out into the night, and paused
+again, holding a deterring hand up to keep his companion back until he
+knew the way was clear.
+
+Then he moved his hand.
+
+"Come on," he whispered, his whole frame trembling with suspense. "Let's
+get away from the fence. Don't speak."
+
+There was something of the old stalking and trailing stealth about his
+movements now as he hurried across the field adjacent to the camp.
+"Follow me," he whispered, "and do just what I do. What's that you've
+got in your hand?"
+
+"Nothin'. Where you goin'? The road ain't over there."
+
+"Shhh!"
+
+Silently Tom stole across the field.
+
+"You're goin' out of your way," whispered Archer again.
+
+"I don't want the road, I only want to know where it is," Tom answered;
+"I know what I'm doing."
+
+He had never dreamed that his tracking and trailing lore would one day
+serve him in far-off Germany and help him in so desperate a flight.
+Never before had he such need of all his wit--and such an incentive.
+
+Archer followed silently. Presently Tom paused and listened.
+
+"Anybody comin'?"
+
+"No, I was listenin' for--it's down there."
+
+He turned suddenly and grabbing Archer around the waist, lifted him off
+his feet and ran swiftly down a little slope and into the brook which in
+its meanderings crossed an end of the prison grounds. Then he let Archer
+down.
+
+"They'll never track us here," he panted, and felt for his precious
+button to make sure that Archer's body had not pulled it off. "They'll
+think only one came this way, maybe, and they won't know which way to
+go--Shh!"
+
+Archer held his breath. There was no sound except that of the water
+rippling at their feet.
+
+"Is that upstream?" Tom asked. "It ought to be shallow all the way. Keep
+in the water."
+
+"Step on that shore and you're in Alsace," said Archer.
+
+"Don't step on it," said Tom. "Shores are tell-tales. Which is the
+hill?"
+
+"That one with the windmill on it."
+
+"That black thing?"
+
+"The road runs around that," said Archer, "the other side."
+
+"We'll follow the road," said Tom, "but we'll keep in the brook till we
+get about a couple of hundred feet from the road. Come on."
+
+"You heading for Dundgardt?" Archer whispered.
+
+"Don't talk so loud. Yes--I got to find some people there named
+Leture--I can't pronounce it just right. That's nothin' but a tree----"
+
+"I thought it was a man," said Archer.
+
+"We ought to be there in an hour," and again Tom felt for his precious
+button. "If they'll keep us till to-morrow night we can get a good start
+for the Swiss border; I--I got some--some good ideas."
+
+"For traveling?"
+
+"Yes--at night. They'll do--anything after I tell 'em about Frenchy.
+Quiet. Bend your toes over the pebbles like I do."
+
+                 *       *       *       *       *
+
+But did they ever reach Dundgardt--once Leteur? Did they make their way
+through fair Alsace, under the shadow of the Blue Alsatian Mountains, to
+the Swiss border? Did Tom's "good ideas" pan out? Was the scout of the
+Acorn and the Indian head, to triumph still in the solitude of the Black
+Forest, even as he had triumphed in the rugged Catskills roundabout his
+beloved Temple Camp?
+
+Was he indeed permitted to carry out his determination to fight for two?
+
+Ah, that is another story.
+
+But one little hint may be given now, which perhaps throws some light
+upon his future history. Some months after this momentous night Mrs.
+Silas Archer, whose husband had a farm with a big apple orchard in the
+vicinity of Temple Camp, received a small box containing a little piece
+of junk and a letter in a sprawling hand. And this is what the letter
+said:
+
+     Dear Old Mudgie:
+
+     "Wish I was home to get in the fall russets. They don't have any
+     decent apples over here at all. Stand this piece of wire on the
+     whatnot in the sitting room and show it to the minister when he
+     comes. It's part of a German barbed wire fence. I kept it for a
+     souvenir when I escaped from Slops prison. You won't find that name
+     on the map, but nobody can pronounce the real name. You don't say
+     it--you have to sneeze it. I had a bully time in the prison camp
+     and met a feller that used to go to Temple Camp. We escaped
+     together.
+
+     "Send your letters to the War Department for we're with Pershing's
+     boys now and they'll be forwarded. Can't tell you much on account
+     of the censor. But don't worry, I'll be home for next Christmas.
+     Give my love to dad. And don't use all the sour apples when you're
+     making cider.
+
+     "Down with the Kaiser! Lots of love.
+                                                            "ARCHIE."
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+THIS ISN'T ALL!
+
+Would you like to know what became of the good friends you have made in
+this book?
+
+Would you like to read other stories continuing their adventures and
+experiences, or other books quite as entertaining by the same author?
+
+On the _reverse side_ of the wrapper which comes with this book, you
+will find a wonderful list of stories which you can buy at the same
+store where you got this book.
+
+_Don't throw away the Wrapper_
+
+_Use it as a handy catalog of the books you want some day to have. But
+in case you do mislay it, write to the Publishers for a complete
+catalog._
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+THE TOM SLADE BOOKS
+
+By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
+Author of "Roy Blakeley," "Pee-wee Harris," "Westy Martin," Etc.
+
+Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Colors. Every Volume
+Complete in Itself.
+
+"Let your boy grow up with Tom Slade," is a suggestion which thousands
+of parents have followed during the past, with the result that the TOM
+SLADE BOOKS are the most popular boys' books published today. They take
+Tom Slade through a series of typical boy adventures through his
+tenderfoot days as a scout, through his gallant days as an American
+doughboy in France, back to his old patrol and the old camp ground at
+Black Lake, and so on.
+
+TOM SLADE, BOY SCOUT
+TOM SLADE AT TEMPLE CAMP
+TOM SLADE ON THE RIVER
+TOM SLADE WITH THE COLORS
+TOM SLADE ON A TRANSPORT
+TOM SLADE WITH THE BOYS OVER THERE
+TOM SLADE, MOTORCYCLE DISPATCH BEARER
+TOM SLADE WITH THE FLYING CORPS
+TOM SLADE AT BLACK LAKE
+TOM SLADE ON MYSTERY TRAIL
+TOM SLADE'S DOUBLE DARE
+TOM SLADE ON OVERLOOK MOUNTAIN
+TOM SLADE PICKS A WINNER
+TOM SLADE AT BEAR MOUNTAIN
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+THE ROY BLAKELEY BOOKS
+
+By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
+
+Author of "Tom Slade," "Pee-wee Harris," "Westy Martin," Etc.
+
+Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Color. Every Volume Complete
+in Itself.
+
+In the character and adventures of Roy Blakeley are typified the very
+essence of Boy life. He is a real boy, as real as Huck Finn and Tom
+Sawyer. He is the moving spirit of the troop of Scouts of which he is a
+member, and the average boy has to go only a little way in the first
+book before Roy is the best friend he ever had, and he is willing to
+part with his best treasure to get the next book in the series.
+
+ROY BLAKELEY
+ROY BLAKELEY'S ADVENTURES IN CAMP
+ROY BLAKELEY, PATHFINDER
+ROY BLAKELEY'S CAMP ON WHEELS
+ROY BLAKELEY'S SILVER FOX PATROL
+ROY BLAKELEY'S MOTOR CARAVAN
+ROY BLAKELEY, LOST, STRAYED OR STOLEN
+ROY BLAKELEY'S BEE-LINE HIKE
+ROY BLAKELEY AT THE HAUNTED CAMP
+ROY BLAKELEY'S FUNNY BONE HIKE
+ROY BLAKELEY'S TANGLED TRAIL
+ROY BLAKELEY ON THE MOHAWK TRAIL
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+THE PEE-WEE HARRIS BOOKS
+
+By PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH
+
+Author of "Tom Slade," "Roy Blakeley," "Westy Martin," Etc.
+
+Illustrated. Individual Picture Wrappers in Color. Every Volume Complete
+in Itself.
+
+All readers of the Tom Slade and the Roy Blakeley books are acquainted
+with Pee-wee Harris. These stories record the true facts concerning his
+size (what there is of it) and his heroism (such as it is), his voice,
+his clothes, his appetite, his friends, his enemies, his victims.
+Together with the thrilling narrative of how he foiled, baffled,
+circumvented and triumphed over everything and everybody (except where
+he failed) and how even when he failed he succeeded. The whole recorded
+in a series of screams and told with neither muffler nor cut-out.
+
+PEE-WEE HARRIS
+PEE-WEE HARRIS ON THE TRAIL
+PEE-WEE HARRIS IN CAMP
+PEE-WEE HARRIS IN LUCK
+PEE-WEE HARRIS ADRIFT
+PEE-WEE HARRIS F. O. B. BRIDGEBORO
+PEE-WEE HARRIS FIXER
+PEE-WEE HARRIS: AS GOOD AS HIS WORD
+
+Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Tom Slade on a Transport, by Percy Keese Fitzhugh
+
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