Boy Scouts on Motorcycles Part 9

The officer pointed to the north, indicating a low-roofed hut half hidden in the corn shocks.

"We are to remain there," he said, "until you receive your instructions from Washington."

"But why were they not given me before?" demanded Ned.

"Because the man in charge of this matter for the Secret Service department doubted your ability to make the trip to Tientsin. That is the truth of it. If you had failed back there at Taku, I should have taken the message from the office and mailed it, unopened, back to Washington. You have made good, so you get it yourself."

"They never put me to such a test before," grumbled Ned.

The officer turned, gave a short order to his men, and pa.s.sed his machine over to one of them.

"I am going into the city with Mr. Nestor," he said; "see that none of these youngsters gets away during my absence."

"I'm goin' to get away right now," Jimmie exclaimed. "I'm goin' with Ned to the city. I guess I'm not visiting China to live in a cornfield.

I want to see the wheels go round!"

The officer glanced at Ned questioningly, while the little fellow made a face back.

"Let him come along," Ned said. "He'll come anyway, whether we give him permission or not. How far must we walk?"

"Walk?" repeated Jimmie. "I'm goin' to take my motorcycle."

"That may be a good idea," admitted the officer. "I had not thought of that."

"We may have to make a run for it, judging from the experiences we had at Taku," Ned suggested.

"Nothing of the kind here," the other said. "You are as safe in this city as you would be in New York, under the same conditions, of course.

You know there are sections of New York which strangers do well to keep out of at night."

So, mounting their cycles again, the three set off for the foreign section of Tientsin. At first the streets were very bad, but in time they came to smoother running and good time was made.

It was now approaching midnight, but the city, was still awake and stirring. The streets were well filled with pedestrians, and many of the small shops were open.

Naturally the three motorcycles, speeding through the streets of the ancient city, attracted no little attention. Here and there little groups blocked the way for an instant, but on the whole fair progress was made.

Jimmie, by no means as anxious as were his companions, enjoyed every moment of the dash. He was thinking of the stories he would have to tell when he returned to the Bowery again!

It is quite possible that the way would have been more difficult for the riders only for the uniform of the officer. Foreigners are not given much consideration by the street crowds in China--especially by such crowds as enliven the thoroughfares at night--but, since the march of the allied armies to Peking, uniforms have been held in great awe.

At last the telegraph office was reached, and Ned was glad to see that lights still burned within. His night ride would at least prove of avail. He would receive instructions directly from Washington, and that would be more to the purpose than traveling along like a blind mole in the earth, receiving his information by bits from underlings in the Secret Service.

Besides, the boy was wet and cold, for the night was growing more disagreeable every moment, and he would now have an opportunity to warm himself by a blaze such as foreigners ordinarily insist on in the cold months in China.

The man at the desk bowed courteously as the three entered the office.

He was evidently a native of China but seemed to have profited by a foreign education.

When Ned gave his name and asked for a message, the operator, who appeared to be the sole employee there, coolly surveyed him critically from head to foot. Then he turned questioning eyes to the marine.

"It is all right," the officer said. "This is the person brought here by the flying squadron."

"A boy!" cried the operator. "Only a boy!"

"Aw, cut that out!" cried Jimmie, always ready to resent any seeming discourtesy to his chum.

The operator scowled at the little fellow and turned to the officer with the remark that he should be obliged to consult with his superior.

"All right," was the officer's reply. "Only make haste."

The operator entered a back room and presently returned with a boy who evidently served as messenger during the daytime. After receiving whispered instructions, the lad pa.s.sed out of the office, with a furtive glance over his shoulder at Jimmie.

Then the operator went back to his desk, while the officer and Ned stood waiting. There was no fire in the outer office, but a wave of warm air came from the rear room.

"We have been riding in the rain," the officer said, seeing that they were not to be invited into the heated apartment. "May we go back to the fire?"

The operator scowled, but the uniform won the day, and the three were ushered into a small room where an American oil stove was sending forth a generous heat. Then the grouchy operator slammed the door and left his guests to their own reflections.

"Say," Jimmie whispered, in a moment, "I don't believe that chump is on the level!"

"Well," Ned replied, "he's got to give me the dispatch. He can't get out of doing that."

"Perhaps he knows what the message contains," the officer suggested, "and is not inclined to deliver it."

"I hardly think he knows what it contains," Ned answered, "for it is undoubtedly in cipher."

"And you have the Secret Service code?" asked the officer, amazement showing on his face.

"Certainly."

"Well, they have a lot of confidence in you, then," said the other.

At the end of half an hour a man said to be the a.s.sistant in charge of the station entered the room and eyed all three occupants keenly. His glances were met frankly by Ned and the officer, but Jimmie could not resist an inclination to wrinkle his nose at him.

"Which is Ned Nestor?" the man asked, addressing the officer.

The marine pointed toward Ned.

"Do you know him to be Ned Nestor?" was the next question, and Ned thought he felt a hostile spirit in the tone.

"Certainly I do, else I would not be here with him."

"This is important business of state," suggested the other, "and I have to be cautious."

"Your conduct seems more like curiosity than caution," the officer declared. "Have you the message with you?"

"Yes, but I can't deliver it except in the presence of the manager."

"Is it in the code of the Secret Service?" asked Ned.

"It is in some code unknown to me."