The Boy Scouts on Belgian Battlefields Part 15

"Then the scouts over in your country are also taught to be ready for any emergency, the same as the boys are in Belgium?" he asked Rob, as he watched the latter's nimble fingers, with considerable dexterity into the bargain, draw the bandage tightly into place.

"Oh! yes," replied the boy, only too pleased to say a good word for the thousands upon thousands of comrades in khaki whom he represented. "You see, most of us camp out a good deal, and all sorts of accidents happen.

I've known a boy to cut himself so badly with an ax when he was chopping wood that he would have bled to death long before they could get him to a doctor, but it was easy for his mates to stop the flow of blood, and do the right thing."

"It is grand, this teaching boys to be able to save human life,"

declared the middle-aged officer, who perhaps had sons of his own in the army, "and yet it never came to me before that even in America they were practicing these n.o.ble avocations. I have seen them in England, yes, in France also, but in America--it is superb to think of it. And there are other ways in which boys in camp could be injured, you are telling me?"

He had become so deeply interested that Rob only too willingly proceeded to explain at greater length.

"Why, sometimes a boy is taken with a cramp when in swimming, and of course he is saved by those who know just how to get him without being pulled down themselves."

"And," continued the Belgian lieutenant, "if the poor fellow should be nearly gone, what then? I myself once had a narrow escape that way, and to this day it gives me a cold feeling every time I remember it."

"Oh! every scout, even when he's a tenderfoot, is supposed to learn how to resuscitate a comrade who has swallowed lots of water, and come near drowning. Unless he was pulled out too late, he will be brought back every time. Then there are the bites from poisonous snakes and insects that may happen; we are taught how best to counteract the effect of poison, so as to save the victim."

"I am delighted to know all this," the officer told them. "It has been quite a pleasure to have met you, although under peculiar conditions, I admit. And the more I see of you, young messieurs, the more I am convinced that you can look out for yourselves. At first I considered it was a shame that three tender boys were allowed to travel over this dangerous country. I no longer feel that way. If anybody should know how to take care of themselves, I surely believe you know, and are equal to do it. I am proud to shake hands with you, and wish you all a successful journey."

Which operation he proceeded to immediately put into execution; though Tubby, having had one previous experience with a hearty Belgian hand-grip, was mighty careful just how he allowed the other to take hold of his plump digits.

Rob was quite satisfied now that they had done the right thing in coming forward and joining the party. At least it had been the means of easing the pain of those who were wounded, and stopping the flow of blood sensibly.

The German had actually broken his silence to thank the boys when they finished their work. It was evident, however, that he was not caring very much what happened to him, since he knew the probable penalty for allowing himself to be captured in the act of delivering important plans of fortifications--death.

None of the boys so much as mentioned the fact that they believed the Taube machine might have been injured, and even fallen a short distance away. If the Belgians did not see fit to investigate conditions, it was no part of the scouts' business to put them on the track. The dashing aviator deserved to get away, Rob thought, and it would hardly be fair for outsiders, who had really no interest in the matter, to betray him to his enemies.

So they left the soldiers still waiting for their comrades to come along with a superior officer in charge. The lieutenant had taken quite a sudden fancy for Rob and his two chums; but then that was not strange, Tubby told himself, since the patrol leader always had a knack of making friends wherever he went.

They soon arrived at the stone wall, and to Tubby's satisfaction found a break where they could actually pa.s.s to the road without once more climbing the barrier.

The last they saw of the field was when the lighted lantern was being waved in a way that looked as though the lieutenant might be signaling to others. In the opposite quarter only darkness was to be seen. Rob wondered what had become of the operator of the Taube aeroplane; whether he had indeed come crashing to the earth, or managed to sail away to safety. But they were never fated to know.

CHAPTER XV.

CHASING A JACK-O'-LANTERN.

"I wish you could tell me we were nearly at that old village, Rob. Seems to me we've been trudging along for hours, and I own up to feeling just a little bit tired."

Tubby had a beseeching way about him that was hard to resist; and so Rob really felt sorry that he could give him no joyful news.

"I would like to be able to tell in the worst way, Tubby," he told him, "but you see we're making this turn only on hearsay. None of us knows a single thing about it. There must be some sort of a place ahead of us, because several times I've heard dogs barking, and I even thought I could hear people calling."

"It's all right, Tubby," chimed in Merritt, "because there's a light, yes,--two, three of the same kind. We'll soon be there, and I hope we'll find some sort of a bunk, even if we have to drop in the hay."

"That's what I say," the fat scout declared energetically, bracing up, now that it seemed the haven might be in sight. "I could sleep standing up, I believe, if only you braced me on the sides."

"I believe you," remarked Merritt; and Tubby hardly knew whether he ought to demand an explanation of that insinuation or not; he finally concluded to change the subject.

They soon found they had arrived at another of those frequent little Belgian hamlets where, in the past, thrift had held sway, but which were rapidly becoming demoralized under the pressure of the war fever. Most of the men were serving the colors, of course, those remaining being the very aged or crippled, the women, and always the flocks of children.

"Seems to me they're carrying on kind of queer here, as if something might be going on," Merritt hazarded while they were approaching the border of the place.

"Gingersnaps and popguns!" exclaimed Tubby, "I hope there isn't a bunch of those terrible Uhlans in town, smashing things, and threatening to burn every house unless the wine and the ransom money are brought out!"

"Let's go slow till we can make sure about that," suggested Rob.

Their recent unpleasant experience was so fresh in their minds that they did not care to have it duplicated. The next time they might not be so fortunate about escaping from a burning inn, or avoiding capture at the hands of raiding Uhlans.

"I don't seem to glimpse any cavalrymen around, do you, Rob?" Merritt questioned, as they hovered on the outskirts of the place, ready to melt away in the darkness should any peril arise.

"No, and it's safe for us to push on," the patrol leader announced.

"But there are a raft of people around," ventured the cautious Tubby, who had been closely observing each and every soul, as though he suspected that crafty Uhlans might be hidden under peasants' garb, or in the clothes of the stout Belgian dames.

"Well, a lot of them are fugitives, the same as those we've been seeing on the roads all day long," Rob explained. "Some of them have been burned out of house and home; but in the main they're people who have believed all these awful fairy stories about the terrible Germans, and think that if they stay they'll be eaten up."

"This place must have escaped a visit from the Germans so far," Merritt suggested, "and they are coming to believe it's a lucky town, which would account for so many stopping here in their rush to get away."

"That's bad!" muttered Tubby.

"Why is it?" demanded Merritt.

"All the spare beds will be taken, you see," explained the other dejectedly, "and those who come late, like we are doing, must sit up all night, or else sleep in the dog kennel or the pigsty or the barn. Well, I said before and I mean it, if I can have some hay under me to keep my bones from the floor, I won't complain, or make a single kick. I'm easily satisfied, you all know."

"That must be the village inn, over yonder, Rob," Merritt remarked, pointing as he spoke. "Judging from the crowd in front we've got a poor show to get beds for to-night."

"Everybody stares at us as if they thought we might be some kind of wild animal," Tubby complained.

"Well, I can see that they've had some sort of circus here lately because the s...o...b..lls are still posted on the fences," Merritt observed with a chuckle, "and can you blame them for thinking that the side shows have bust up, with the freaks hiking all through the country, unable to ride on the railroads, which are all taken over by the Government to haul cannon, horses and soldiers? I'll pa.s.s for the Living Skeleton, while you could stand for the Fat Boy, Tubby!"

Tubby was so used to having his friends joke at him on account of his chubby build that as a rule he let such reminders pa.s.s by without showing any ill feeling. In this instance he hardly noticed what Merritt was saying, because so many other events were happening around them.

Being satisfied at last that they were in no apparent danger from concealed Uhlans, Tubby felt his spirits rise once more.

At the inn Rob entered into a brief conversation with the proprietor. As this worthy knew very little French, and Rob next to nothing of Flemish, the "confab," as Tubby called it, had to be conducted mostly through a series of shrugs and gestures.

"What luck, Rob?" asked Tubby, when the other chum turned to them again.

"He's cram full of sleepers to-night, and couldn't give us even a cot,"

explained Rob. "When I said we'd put up with the hay, he gave me to understand we could pick out any place found unoccupied."

"Gee whiz! 'unoccupied,' you said, didn't you, Rob?" cried Tubby hastily. "Now, does that mean the place is apt to be _swarming_ with these peasant women and children, and shall we have to listen to babies bawling all night long, not to speak of roosters crowing, dogs barking, horses neighing, pigs grunting and cows mooing?"

"'Beggars should never be choosers,' they say," Merritt warned him.