The Boy Scouts In Russia

by John Blaine

  "Tell them that von Hindenburg has only a masking force here with very few first line troops," he said. "Most of the Germans are far to the south. Their plan is to join the Austrians in an advance from Cracow. Here they hope to hold the lakes with a few troops. They expect our army to advance. They will give up Johannisberg and Ortelsburg. They will make no stand at all until we come to Allenstein. The whole movement here is a trick. They hope to lead us on here and then drive a great wedge into the heart of Poland, until they can strike at Warsaw."

  Fred made no comment. He sent the message, then asked his own questions.

  "You know of the raid last night?"

  "I heard something of it-and that the old fox Hindenburg escaped. Tell me the rest."

  "I'll be off," he said, when they had done. "Half a mile away I have a cache. There is a motorcycle and the uniform of a German soldier-a man of the cycle corps. I shall follow General Suvaroff."

  "Can you catch them?" asked Boris, doubtfully. "They ride fast."

  "Not so fast," said Ivan. "There may be fighting to do as well as running, and for fighting you need horses that are not too tired. It would be foolish to save an hour or two by hard riding and lose everything at the end for lack of the power to break through. And a motorcycle can do better than the fastest horse."

  "But how did you get one?" asked Fred. "And the German uniform?"

  Ivan smiled significantly.

  "I met a man of about my size," he said. "I was walking. And I was tired. I took his cycle and his uniform away from him."

  There was something about his tone and the look in his eyes that made Fred refrain from asking any more questions. He admired Ivan greatly, but he was a little afraid of him, too. In him he could see what lay behind the general belief that Russia was still a barbarous, partially civilized state, the underlying truth of the old saying: "Scratch a Russian, and you will find a Tartar beneath." He was glad that Ivan was on his side, and was bound to him, moreover, by his loyalty to the name of Suvaroff.

  "Listen, now," said Ivan. "Here it is very dangerous. Stay as long as you can, but never let yourselves be caught in the house by any Germans. Do not let the villagers see you. Take to the tunnel without hesitation if there is an attack upon the house, or a search. I think you will be safe as long as you are watchful, but you cannot be off your guard for even a moment. The Germans will think that you went back with the Cossacks but they will try to make sure."

  "We will be careful," said Boris. "You are sure of what you have learned? There will be no more than two army corps in this region?"

  "That is certain. I have scouted for twenty miles to the west and I have been along the railway lines. If there were more troops coming, I should have discovered it. I am sure of that."

  "And now you are going back toward our lines?"

  "Yes. I may be of service to your father. And, in any case, I shall be of more use if I am with the German advanced position than if I stayed here, far in the rear. Good-bye!"

  He departed through the tunnel. And then for Fred and Boris began a task almost harder than any that could have been set. They had to wait. There was nothing for them to do except sit in the little turret room. Below, Vladimir and the others kept a sort of guard, but there seemed little reason even for that.

  From the turret, whence the wireless waves were sent pulsing out through the air, a fine view of the surrounding country for a good many miles was to be had. For the most part this was a level section, slightly undulating, but with very few high spots. From their vantage point the roads stretched out like ribbons or like lines on a map. Fred opened the wireless and amused himself by listening. At first he could hear only a confused jumble through the receivers that were clamped to his ear. Then he changed his wave length, experimenting until he got a clear series of dots and dashes.

  "I think I'll take this down," he said to Boris. "It'll be like Greek to us, of course, but it's all German wireless talk, and it all means something. Perhaps if we're lucky, we'll stumble on to the key of the code they're using, and that might be useful."

  After a time Boris, who could receive well enough but was an inexpert sender, relieved him, and Fred, taking the field glass, began to search the horizon. Soon something caught his eye and held his attention. At first he thought he saw troops moving, coming from the east. It seemed strange that German troops should be in retreat so soon, but in a moment he understood. He did not see soldiers moving along the road, but a company of civilians, with carts that were drawn by men and women. At first the sight puzzled him, but then he understood, and he called to Boris to look.

  "They're clearing out the villages toward the border," he said.

  Boris only glanced through the glass.

  "Yes. They were doing it the day after the war began, too," he said. "It's better for them, of course. If civilians are about where there is fighting, they are in danger from both sides. The Germans wouldn't stop a minute at shelling one of their own villages if we were holding it. Fred, I think they must be going to send our little lot away, too. There are soldiers coming along the road-Uhlans."

  Fred looked down and saw a picket of lancers approaching, headed by an officer. And in a few minutes there were signs of great activity in the village. Soon the exodus began. And then the Uhlans turned at the road leading up to the great house, and began to climb.

  "Coming to warn our people, I suppose," said Boris. "We'll make ourselves scarce, Fred. Vladimir can talk to them when they arrive."

  But Fred did not go without one more sweeping look about him. And it showed him something that surprised him.

  "I've got a curious feeling," he told Boris, when they had slipped into the secret passage. "I've got what we call a hunch in America-a feeling that Ivan has been fooled. You didn't see what I did just now. I'm perfectly certain I saw troops marching on two roads that aren't very far apart, to the north."

  "Marching east or west?"

  "East. I think a real trap is being prepared, Boris. And-I'm going to try to find out the truth!"

  "How?"

  "I'd better not tell you, Boris. Go back and listen-see what you can hear at the thin wall. I'm afraid that if we both go we might be heard, if they are near there. I want to know where those Uhlans come from."

  "All right," said Boris, wondering a little. He went off, and Fred, as soon as he had disappeared, began to make his way very quietly, almost stealthily, indeed, toward the other end of the tunnel-the one that gave to the open air.

  "He'd never have let me go if I had told him," he said to himself, feeling the need of justifying what looked like treachery, since his own conscience was accusing him. "And I didn't lie to him. I didn't say that I would be there when he came back. I only hope I get out before he finds I've gone!"

  When he reached the opening he felt safe, and there he stopped and wrote a note to Boris, telling him what he meant to do and why he had not taken him into his confidence before.

  "He's sure to find that," said Fred to himself. "He'll come down here looking for me, and I suppose he'd go out, too, no matter how dangerous it might be, if I didn't leave this note."

  As he swung the door that let him out, Fred felt the little thrill that always came to him when he opened the way thus to the outer air. Ever since he had come upon the German soldier here the first time, he had had this feeling. This time, however, the way was clear, and he slipped out and made his way swiftly toward the parsonage. He took advantage of every bit of cover for he had no wish to be seen, at least as yet. Soon he reached the vantage spot he sought. From it he commanded a view of the village, and of the entrance to the great Suvaroff house on the hill as well.

  The dismal procession from the village had already begun. The place, in fact, was already almost entirely deserted. Orders from the army evidently counted for a good deal here. Fred wondered what Americans would have done in a like case. But the departure of the villagers, who knew him, and might have recognized him even in his German guise, relieved him immensely. Befor
e the house on the hill he could see a mounted Uhlan on guard over the horses. The rest had gone inside. There were only five of them altogether, which made him feel confident that none would be left behind. There were too few for that.

  As time passed, he wondered why they stayed inside so long. In a way, it was to his liking that they should, but it made him nervous. He was afraid that a real search was being made; afraid that, by some stroke of misfortune, Boris's hiding-place had been revealed. But at last he saw the solitary horseman outside the house stiffen to rigid attention. Then the others came out, and he almost shouted in his relief when he saw that they brought no one with them. The officer swung to his saddle and in a minute more the little command was cantering down the hill. Fred looked at the village searchingly now. There was no one left. A quarter of a mile away the rear end of the wretched procession of refugees straggled along the road, going west. They were not looking back.

  Now it was time to put his plan to the test. The chances of full success, as he understood perfectly, were most remote. And the danger was great. He had not seen these Uhlans; there might well be someone even in that small party who would recognize him. And he knew what would happen then, if he were caught. But his plan compelled him to run that risk, and he emerged from his shelter, and struck out boldly along the road the Uhlans had taken to come to the village. He walked northeast, and he knew that that in itself would be suspicious, but it was all part of his plan.

  He had not long to wait for the plan to begin, or at least to work out according to his calculations. Behind him he heard a shout, but, affecting not to hear it, he did not turn. And in a few moments he heard the sound of galloping hoofs behind him. Even then he did not turn until a Uhlan had ridden past him.

  "Stop!" cried the soldier. "Where are you going?"

  Fred looked at him blankly.

  "Stop!" said the German again, for Fred, after having looked at him, had moved on. Still Fred paid no attention, and the man rode up to him and leaned over, dropping a heavy hand on his shoulder and shaking him in no gentle way.

  "Where are you going, I say? Answer!" roared the Uhlan.

  But Fred only smiled and pointed first to his ears and then to his mouth. By pantomime he pretended to be deaf and dumb. And when the officer came up, Fred was still smiling-and silent. He knew he had never seen this officer before. CHAPTER XIII

  THE ESCAPE

  "What's the matter with him, Schmidt!" asked the officer.

  Fred knew enough of German uniforms by this time to place him as a lieutenant of the lowest grade, and was thankful that he did not have an experienced man to deal with.

  "Deaf and dumb, I think, Herr Lieutenant," said the man. "I rode up behind him, calling to him and making a good deal of noise, but he did not even know I was coming until I was on top of him."

  "Well, he can't go this way!" said the lieutenant. "How are we to make him understand that?"

  "If I dismounted and turned him about, he might perhaps understand," said the soldier.

  "Try it!"

  Fred had hard work to conceal his amusement but he managed it. The soldier solemnly turned him about and pushed him in the direction whence he had come. But Fred immediately turned around, walked a couple of paces as he had been going, and then stopped, smiling broadly. Then he turned around, shook his head violently, and turned back.

  "He's trying to tell us he wants to keep on the way he was going," said the lieutenant.

  The two Germans seemed to be puzzled, but then the officer got an idea. He produced paper and pencil and wrote hurriedly.

  "Who are you? Where are you going?" he wrote. Then he handed the paper to Fred. Fred hesitated for a moment. He understood German and could talk it very well. But he was a little nervous about writing it, especially in the German script. He could write it, but he was not sure that he could write it so well that it would seem like the work of a German. However, he took the chance.

  "My name is Gebhardt," he wrote. "I come from Munich, and I am visiting my uncle and aunt here at Gumbinnen. My uncle sent me to Insterberg and then I found I could not go back by train. Soldiers have made me turn around so many times that it has taken me all this time to get here. Why can I not go to Gumbinnen?"

  The officer took the paper and, when he had read it, told the soldier. They seemed to find Fred's explanation plausible, and his writing had passed muster.

  "Here is a fine mess!" said the lieutenant. "Poor boy! I feel sorry for one with such an affliction! And is he not between the devil and the deep blue sea? In Gumbinnen there will be Russian cavalry by to-morrow-and at Insterberg, I suppose, the first real battle will be fought!"

  Fred caught his breath. He was getting what he wanted now, certainly! If only he did not betray himself! If the officer would only go on and tell him a little more! And he did go on, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

  "If his people have any sense, they will have cleared out of Gumbinnen before this. He knows someone at Insterberg, perhaps, but if it is the plan to let the Russians come so far without fighting and then strike while they are there, the population will have been ordered out. And they have been unloading troop trains at Insterberg, too-so that the Russians would not find out how many men we had here. Eh-take him up behind you, Schmidt! We can't abandon him. Perhaps the hospital people or the cooks can make some use of him."

  Fred heard this with a start of dismay. It was decidedly more than he had bargained for, because now that he had the information he had come to get, he wanted to get back to the wireless as quickly as possible. It did him no good to know the German plan, or to have a hint of what it was, unless he could pass on his knowledge to those who could make some use of it. But he could not protest when the officer wrote down an explanation of what was to be done with him, telling him that the road to Gumbinnen was not safe, but that he would see to it that Fred should get to a safe place.

  So when the soldier Schmidt patted his horse's back and indicated that Fred should climb up, Fred had no choice but to obey. He had plenty to think of, too, as they rode along. For one thing, while he had taken his chance and won, since this officer had not seen him before, there was every prospect that he would be recognized if he were now taken to headquarters. He supposed that that was where they were going, and he knew that a number of the officers who had left the parsonage with General von Hindenburg on the night of the Cossack raid would be present. It would be strange, indeed, if none of them knew him. And it took no imagination to guess what recognition would mean.

  There was just one thing in his favor now. It was beginning to get dark. He did not know how far they had to ride, but he hoped it was a long way. Ordinarily, he would not have wanted the ride to be prolonged because his position was highly uncomfortable. Fred could ride well himself, but riding alone on a horse and sitting behind a man who fills his own saddle with very little to spare are two different things.

  Try as he would, Fred could not think of a means of getting away. To escape from five mounted men by slipping off the horse and running for it was manifestly impossible. He gave up that idea before he even elaborated upon it. But soon the glimmering dawn of an idea did come to him. The pace slackened, and he noticed that he and Schmidt were falling behind. The lieutenant called out sharply, and Schmidt, growling to himself beneath his breath, used his spur and brought his horse up into alignment with the others again. But only for a hundred yards or so. Then the horse faltered and fell behind again. Now the lieutenant reproved Schmidt sharply.

  "I'm sorry, Herr Lieutenant," said Schmidt. "My poor beast is very tired, and he is carrying an extra burden. He has had more work to do to-day than any of the others. If you would permit me to drop behind and come in alone-it is not so far now?"

  "Very well," said the lieutenant. "We'll never get there if we hang back waiting for you." And he gave the word to ride on.

  Schmidt at once began to take things more easily. Fred heard him grunting to himself.

  "Those verdamter young officer
s!" he grumbled. "Just because they have a pair of shoulder straps, they think they know it all! I would like to put some of them across my knee!"

  Fred knew enough of German discipline to be vastly amused by this. But he had no time now to think of trifling things. His whole energy was devoted to finding some way to turn this new circumstance to his own advantage. It seemed to him that there ought to be some way of managing it. And in a moment he got the idea. Schmidt was as tired as his horse, or even more so, and by this time he was swaying in his saddle and half asleep, as a trained horseman often does. Fred leaned forward and very quietly cut the saddle girth almost through. He knew that the slightest strain would finish the work. Schmidt was utterly unconscious of what was going on. Fred could tell, from the man's breathing, just what his condition was. He would snore a little and then, with a start, he would arouse himself, breathing normally for a minute. Then the snoring would start again. He was trusting himself entirely to his horse.

  Dusk had fallen now, and Fred decided that it was time to see if his plan was feasible. He took a handkerchief from his pocket, rolled it into a ball, and flung it straight ahead, so that it fell, unrolling, right before the horse's eyes. The effect was inevitable. The frightened horse reared. At the strain the severed girth gave, and the saddle, rolling, spilled both Schmidt and Fred into the road, while the horse bolted. Fred lay still, watching Schmidt, who rose, cursing fluently, and stood for a moment staring stupidly after his horse. Then he began to call, and broke into the awkward, lumbering run of the cavalryman.

  Fred might have slipped away then, but he was sure that Schmidt would catch the horse, which must, he thought, be trained to stop even after a momentary panic. And it was not his plan to seize a chance that might after all not be as good as it looked. He wanted to make as sure as possible of getting away. And now, as soon as Schmidt had started after the horse, he crawled over to the saddle, which lay where it had fallen. He took the heavy revolver from the holster and was duly grateful for one thing he had noticed-these Uhlans carried no carbines. Their only weapons, seemingly, were their lances and the revolvers in their holsters.