Chapter II
The Search Begun
"Impossible!" said the Professor. "Impossible, Warren! It surprises methat you should harbor such wild and impracticable ideas."
"It makes sound sense, dad," said Warren sadly. "Europe has been full ofbeggars from the beginning of time. And soon, after the war is over,there will be thousands of sightseers flooding the continent. What couldbe more practical from the standpoint of such people as the onesdescribed by Ivan than to secure two beautiful little children like ourElinor and the strange child that wandered to our doors? They wouldindeed mean 'drink and money and fire.'" He stopped and for a momentlooked reproachfully at his father. "Oh, father, father," he cried, "seewhat your dreadful forgetfulness has done! How will you ever forgiveyourself when you think of the misery and suffering you have brought onyour darling! I can scarcely forgive you."
Professor Morris sat with bowed head.
"My son," he said brokenly, "I can not forgive myself. I do not knowwhat to do. I confess I did indeed leave the children. I thought of mybook. I thought they were safe--and my book--Warren, surely you do notblame me for getting my book?" He spoke tenderly, even lovingly, andclasped the bulky parcel to his breast.
"No, I do not blame you for anything, father, knowing you as well as Ido. It is a terrible thing, but we will find her, our precious darling,if we spend our lives hunting." He turned to his sister and brother."Won't we?" he said.
They did not reply, but gazed at him with looks that were more thanpromises.
"Well," he continued, "I guess my boyhood is over now. My work is cutout for me. Come on, Ivan, come Jack, let's get going!"
"What do you think you are going to do, Ivanovich?" asked the woundedsoldier. Like all his class, generations of submission made him ignoreas much as possible all save the one noble. All his attention was givento Ivan, the young Prince.
"Be careful, Ivanovich," he urged. "It is not possible for you to goforth in the clothes you wear. There is danger lurking abroad for thehigh born."
Ivan shrugged his fearless shoulders. "They would not dare to harm me,"he answered.
"He's right. Those clothes won't do," said Warren decidedly. "We don'tknow where we are going, nor whom we may meet. Where can we findsomething rough for you to wear?"
"Down below are the workmen's extra blouses," said the soldier. "When Iworked here, the room was kept locked, but you might perhaps force thedoor. There are blouses and rough shoes there. But I tremble; Itremble!" He suddenly lapsed into Polish. "Let these Americans go,Prince," he begged. "Harm never come to them. They go always as thoughthey wore a charm. Poland shall yet rise, my Prince. From these ashesshe shall arise more beautiful than ever. She will need you then."
Ivan listened with flashing eyes. "I shall be here," he said simply. "Ishall be here, I shall answer when she calls, but in the meantime shallit be said that in Poland, even in her darkest hour, children werestolen for such evil purposes? Never, never!" He turned to Warren. "Fora year now," he said, "we have been organizing these Boy Scouts that youhave so many of in America. Let us pass the word to them. If littleElinor and the stranger are to be found, surely they will find them. Myrank has always hampered me, but even then I know that boys will gowhere no others can penetrate. What do you think?"
"It's the dandiest idea I ever heard!" exclaimed Warren, his facelighting. "We will have to depend on passing the word to them as we findthem here and there, but it's the only thing to do, so let's go to it."
"First the workman's clothes," said Ivan.
"Assuredly!" exclaimed the Professor. "Let us disguise ourselves and goforth. I know that we will find the dear children playing near thecorner."
"Father, you must stay here," said Warren, determination in his voice.
"Of course not; of course not!" said the Professor. "Do you expect me tosit idly here while my youngest child needs my protection?"
A smile as sad as tears crossed Evelyn's pale face. "You must stay here,father," she said. "You would certainly get lost, and then we would haveto hunt for you. It has happened so before, you know."
"That was very different," said the Professor. "A man uses all hispowers of concentration at times, and if it has happened that I haveoccasionally been so intent on my studies of Warsaw's past history thatI have for the time forgotten my surroundings, it is scarcely to bewondered at. The present occasion is different. You will need a man,with a man's wisdom, and a man's ability to act quickly. I must go; I amready."
Warren, knowing his father's stubbornness, hesitated. Catching hissister's eye, she shook her head slightly. Professor Morris wasscrambling to his feet, still clasping his book.
Warren led his father around the narrow aisle that ran between the greatmachines, until they were alone. Then he spoke.
"Father," he said, "you cannot go. Today has made a man of me. I amsorry, father, but we children are the ones who are always the victimsof your forgetfulness, and we have suffered many times before today.This is the worst of all. Perhaps we shall never see our little Elinoragain; and I am the one who promised mother when she died that I wouldalways look out for her. It is my fault that she is lost. I should haveknown better than to have left her with you, but I meant to see theothers safely here, and get back before you started.
"I know you, father; you mean to do the right thing by us always, but Icertainly don't know what would happen if we did not look out for you aswell as ourselves." His voice trembled. "I know this does not sound likeproper talk from a boy to his father; but I've got to say it for once. Ipromise that I'll never speak so to you again, but I'm going to get itout of my system this time. Since I can remember we have been lookingout for you. We have had to take care of you and help you remember yourmeal times, and your rubbers, and your hat, and overcoat and gloves andnecktie. We have had to see that you went to bed, and ate and got up andeverything else. And all because of books. It makes you sore at mebecause I hate them. I ought to hate them! Your writing and reading andstudying have been the curse of our lives. I tell you, father, it hasbeen just as bad as any other bad habit or appetite. Why, when you arereading up for some article or digging into some musty old work, you aredead to everything else. And we have had to suffer for it. Do you thinkany other man you know would have left those children a minute in a timelike this?"
He paused and once more pressed a hand carefully on the red stain acrosshis fair hair.
"Oh, you must forgive me for talking so, dad, but I'm pretty sore.Little Elinor--" He turned sharply, and hurried away to Ivan. The threeboys hurried down the steep stairs and disappeared. Professor Morris fora moment, a long, dazed moment, stood looking blankly at the darkdoorway through which his son had disappeared. Then he sank weakly downon a bench.
As a boy and as a man, he had been noted for his ability to memorizeremarks.
In college the worst of the lectures, no matter how dry, had been allimprinted on his mind. Now as he sat thinking, he could fairly see hisson's accusing words like large print before his eyes.
For once in his life Benjamin Morris had heard the plain truth from thelips of his favorite son. Yet he did not realize the seriousness of hisson's charge. He had heard the words, but their real meaning did notseem to pierce his brain, so filled with knowledge that there was noroom there for any interest in the living, or any thought that thepresent, the passing moment in which we make our little life history, ismore precious to each of us then the great moments of the past, nomatter how filled they may be with heroic figures.
Benjamin Morris had been long years ago an infant Prodigy. Perhaps youfellows who read this have never known one; and if so, you are lucky. Aninfant Prodigy shows an unnatural amount of intelligence at a very earlyage. So far it is all right; and if he belongs to a sensible family, heis urged into athletics, and sleeps out of door and manages to grow upso he will pass in a crowd. But sometimes there are proud parents whoread too many books on how to train a child, and pay too littleattention to the child himself; and there are aunts, perhaps
, as well;and they all take the poor little genius and proceed to train him allout of shape. He rattles off all sorts of pieces, Horatio at the Bridge,and Casabianca, and Anthony's Oration Over Caesar, are easy as pancakesand syrup to him. Then he skips whole grades in school and plows throughcollege like a mole under a rose bush, enjoying himself immensely, nodoubt, down there in the dark, but missing all the benefit of the lightand air and sunshine. So the infant Prodigy gets to be a grown Prodigy,and presently an old Prodigy, never once suspecting that knowledge,hurtfully taken and wrongfully used, can be almost as great a sin asignorance.
Certainly Professor Morris, whose sins of learning were heavy ones andbore cruelly on those who loved him in spite of his strange ways, wouldnever have believed any of this. At home, as a boy, when Benny studied,the house was kept so still that incautious mice sometimes came out oftheir holes and nibbled in broad daylight. At college his queerness,forgetfulness and oddity was excused because of his wonderfulrecitations and amazing marks. You just couldn't rag a fellow who madeone hundred right along. When he married, he found a lovely, gentlegirl, who believed him the greatest of all men and held his position asProfessor of Ancient History in Princeton as the highest of all earthlypositions. But when Elinor was a year old, the little wife died, quiteworn out from looking after Professor Benjamin Mollingfort Morris, whohad proved to be her most helpless and troublesome child.
Mrs. Morris died warning her older children to look out for the father,and so passed her burden on to them. But some way or other, there wasdifferent stuff in the children. They did look after their father, andtook good care of the old Prodigy, but the task did not wear them out.Young Jack was indeed so bright that it rather worried Evelyn andWarren, who were always on the alert to overcome any symptoms of geniusin themselves or the other children; but owing to their caution, heseemed to be developing well. And Professor Morris, blind to it all,forever digging in the dust of ages, knew nothing of the fact that hewas the father of four wonderful children who were successfully carryingon the difficult business of growing up, managing a house, taking careof a parent, and looking after money matters as well.
Warren was the soul of honor. He hated school, but went without a skip,because it was right. And that's a hard thing to do. He looked clean,and was clean, and thought clean. And that's hard, too.
Professor Morris, sitting in his study feverishly seeking factsconcerning the table manners of Noah's second cousin twice removed, wasdeaf and dumb and blind. Yet when he occasionally "came up for air" asWarren put it, the children thought him the finest and funniest andkindest of fathers. It was at one of these times that he came home withthe news that he had been given a vacation for three years with fullpay. This was to make it possible for him to go to Warsaw, and write anaccount of some parts of the city's history of which rather little wasknown.
Warren and Evelyn, who had read "Thaddeus of Warsaw" were wild withdelight. It was a glorious journey and, on shipboard at least, it waseasy to keep track of the Professor, who had found a very learnedEnglishman who disagreed with him on every known point. The two old menhurried to find each other each morning, and were dragged apart atnight; and the children had time to enjoy the voyage and make manyfriends. In Warsaw, which they reached safely, they took a house nearthe magnificent Casimr Palace which now houses the University. ProfessorMorris did find time to secure fine teachers for the children, andreliable servants for the house. Warren, who always boiled withactivity, soon made scores of pals, and immediately introduced the BoyScouts to Poland.
The young Polish and Russian boys took up the work with the greatestenthusiasm, and time slipped happily away, until war swept thecontinent. Professor Morris refused to believe in its nearness until itwas too late to escape, and they were forced to remain until the daywhen Warsaw fell. Now Warsaw, beautiful and proud, Warsaw the brilliantlay in ruins. Professor Morris, sitting humped over on the rude bench,thought of the wonderful chance that had brought him where history,tragic and important, was being made. He did not worry greatly over thedisappearance of Elinor. He remembered several times in Princeton whenshe had disappeared. Once they found her under a bed. He wonderedwhether anyone had looked under the beds in the forsaken house. Theterrible idea that his baby girl might be actually lost in the terribledisaster of Warsaw's defeat never once occurred to him. He was annoyed alittle at the disturbance she had caused, and resolved to speak veryseverely to her.
He determined also to reprove Warren for his words; but reflecting onthe terrors and excitement and peril of the past hours, he decided totreat it as a little boyish impatience, and overlook the whole thing.
As for his going back to find Elinor, he supposed it would really be awaste of time. Warren would be perfectly able to find her; so he pushedthe bench against the wall, snapped a pad from his pocket, was soon lostin pages and pages of notes on the events of the week.
But down in the clothes room while Ivan hastily took off his richgarments and fitted himself with rough work clothes from the shelves,Warren Morris walked the floor and groaned.
"Don't' take it like that, Warren," said Ivan, pausing to place asympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder.
"It is awful!" groaned Warren. "She is so little, and so easilyfrightened. I believe it will kill her."
"No, it won't," said Ivan. "There is no coward's blood in Elinor.Wherever she is, she will know we will find her sooner or later. Shewill be looking out for us every minute. And no one will hurt her. Youknow people don't take the trouble to drag children off just to killthem. If the three I saw took those girls, they will be careful enoughof them, you may be sure. I would rather have them there than withsoldiers. The only thing I am hoping is that we can trace them beforethey leave the city. But I don't believe anyone, even with the bestcredentials, can get away for the next few days."
"If we had anything for a clue," said Warren. "Can't you even rememberwhat they looked like?"
"Not particularly," said Ivan regretfully. "I would know them if Ishould see them again. One of the men had a very peculiar walk, but Icouldn't describe it to you. It wasn't a limp; just a queer way of usinghis feet. I don't know whether I would know the woman or not. She lookedlike hundreds of the sort I have seen down in the open markets, some ofthem looking a little more so and some less."
"How more so?" asked Warren.
"Why, perhaps fatter, or thinner, or dirtier, but all lawless and noaccount. I tell you, Warren," he said earnestly, "when I get to be aman, if our house is still in power then, I shall spend my time cleaningup the streets and people of Warsaw. Those old holes and rookeries downby the river, and the streets leading to the wharves have got to becleaned out or wiped out."
"Better not let my father hear you," said Warren. "He would tell youthat all that section is historic, and therefore valuable."
"Perhaps it has been," said Ivan. "But we can always refer to yourfather's great book on Warsaw, and what the world needs now is light andspace and air."
"Well," sighed Warren, "perhaps the book will help some college grind,but if he had let the old thing slide, he would never have lost mysister."
"I do think that we ought to look at it a little from your father'sstandpoint," said Ivan gently. "You know the children were in the houseand the door shut. They were playing contentedly, and he thought itwould only take a minute to go upstairs and get the parcel. No doubt hewas a good deal longer than he thought he would be, but he thoughteverything was as safe as it could be. I think we would have done thesame thing. Be fair, Warren. Don't you think so?"
"I suppose so," said Warren. "Only now it seems as though it was notsafe to leave them a second."
"That's how it has come out," said Ivan, buttoning his blouse, "butthat's just the sort of thing no one could foresee. One thing seemscertain, if we find them near, or in the house, well and good. If theyare not around there somewhere, I believe Evelyn has solved the thing.It doesn't seem possible, though, that anyone could have opened thedoor, and walked in, and dragged the children right in
the house,without the least sound of disturbance reaching your father upstairs.Myself, I don't believe the door was close latched, and it may be thechildren went out themselves. If they did we will find them soon."
"Elinor has been told a million times never to leave the house," saidWarren hopefully.
"And you know she minds," said Ivan. "I think we will find them allright, and Evelyn just imagines things. The woman probably meant justwhat she said. She doubtless had candles from some church, and clothesand food in the bags. She had enough to last some time, judging from thesize and weight."
"I hope so, anyway," said Warren. "Are you nearly ready? If we couldonly run for it!"
"We can't," said Ivan. "The moment they see you run, you are in dangerof being shot down. It won't take long, even if we do have to goslowly."
"Well, let's make a start, if you are ready," said Warren restlessly.
They opened the door and found Evelyn waiting for them. She looked paleand weak, but greeted them quietly.
"Don't be any longer than you can, will you, boys?" she begged. "If sheis hurt one of you stay with her, and the other come for me. Don't tryto bring her here."
"They won't be hurt," said Warren courageously. "But we won't bring themhere at all. We will stay with them, one of us, and come back to tellyou. You know they will be together."
"How wicked I am!" said Evelyn. "I forgot little Rika. She has been withus so short a time. I am so thankful she is with Elinor. They will notbe so badly frightened."
"Of course not," said Warren. "You go to father, Evvy. We will comesoon."
Boy Scouts in Front of Warsaw; Or, In the Wake of War Page 2
