The Secret Wireless Part 11

Henry jammed his brake on so suddenly that it toppled him from the saddle, but neither he nor the machine was injured. He turned the motor-cycle about and headed for the road. And now his hair almost stood on end. In the darkness he could dimly see some great lumber piles, as large as houses. He had all but crashed into them at high speed. Now he understood why the roadster's light had disappeared when the car turned the curve. It had been hidden by these great lumber piles. Rapidly Henry ran back to the road. He knew the motor-car would now be far ahead of him. He should have to hasten to overtake it. He ran along the highway, pushing his machine, and leaped to the saddle when the engine began to explode regularly. Then he turned the curve and peered ahead into the darkness. The road seemed to lie straight before him, but the motor-car had utterly vanished.

For a moment Henry rode on, almost bewildered. Then he looked rapidly about him. No farmhouse was in sight to which the motorcar might have gone. No light gleamed anywhere. But he could dimly see trees here and there. And he made out a wooden fence lining the left side of the road.

"Lucky I didn't shoot in that direction when I met that team," muttered Henry. "I'd have gone clear through that fence." He dismounted, set his machine up, and took out his pocket torch. Holding it close to the road, he began to examine the highway. "There are the marks of his rear tires," he muttered.

And thankful indeed was the puzzled scout that he had learned so well at Camp Brady to observe carefully. He mounted his wheel and rode a few hundred yards further. Then he examined the road again. He found the tracks he was searching for. He rode on and dismounting, found in two places the telltale marks. But the third time he examined the highway there were no marks of the roadster's tires visible.

"He left the road between this point and the last stop," murmured Henry.

He went back a hundred feet and searched. There were no tire marks.

Another hundred feet showed no prints in the dust. But the third hundred revealed the wheel marks. "Ah!" said Henry, "he turned off close by."

He set his wheel against the fence and went forward, following the prints with his light, which he shaded carefully and held close to the road. Within fifty feet the marks turned straight off to the left.

The car had pa.s.sed from the highway through a gap in the fence, into an open field. What the field was like Henry could only conjecture. He dared not flash his light around to see.

He ran back and got his machine, then followed the wheel prints into the field. They did not show readily on the gra.s.sy surface, and soon he had lost them altogether. At first a sense of fear clutched at his heart. He recalled his leader's words as to the dangerous nature of this duty. Here he was in exactly the lonely situation his captain had foreseen, by himself, and with no means of defense. The enemy he was trailing had disappeared. He might be a mile distant or he might be waiting for his pursuer, behind the nearest tree. Henry shivered with fear and stood irresolute. But the feeling pa.s.sed when he realized that he had lost the trail, that his quarry had escaped him, that he had failed his captain. A wave of remorse swept over him. The sense of fear left him entirely, and he bent all his energies to the task of finding the motor-car. He hid his wheel in a thicket that he might work faster, pausing only to s.n.a.t.c.h from it the metal cane fastened to the frame.

Cautiously he glided forward, crouching as he moved, and taking advantage of every rock and bush he could see to screen himself. He held his breath and listened. Now he crept forward a foot at a time.

Now he advanced swiftly for yards. He worked his way to the right and the left. But nowhere could he see what he was searching for, and no betraying sound came out of the thick blackness.

"It's no use," he said to himself bitterly, after he had searched for a quarter of an hour. "I have lost him, and if I am not careful I'll lose his message as well."

Near by he could dimly discern a tall stump. He ran over to it and on it laid his map, a pencil, his electric torch, his knife, the wires that he had been carrying in his pocket, and the giant fountain pen.

Grasping the tip of his cane he gave a sharp tug and an inner lining slid outward. From this he drew out a third length, and from that a fourth. His metal cane was in reality an extension rod, not unlike a telescoping fishing-rod. It was fully ten feet long. In its curved handle was a small opening, like a keyhole. Into this Henry jammed the bayonet connection that terminated one of the wires. The other end of the wire he thrust into a like opening in the side of his big fountain pen. Into the opposite side of his pen he fastened one end of his second wire, attaching the other end of this wire to his knife, which he thrust deep into the earth. Then, raising the extended cane aloft with his left hand, he put the point of his fountain pen to his right ear and listened. The mysterious articles that the secret service had supplied const.i.tuted a complete wireless receiving set. He could catch any message sent from a point within six or eight miles.

He was not a moment too soon. Hardly had he gotten the fountain pen adjusted before there came a crackling in his ear. He rested his cane, upright, against the stump, and began to tune his instrument by sliding the cap of the fountain pen in and out. In a second he had tuned it perfectly. The sounds came to him with startling clearness.

"He's near at hand," muttered Henry.

He seized his pencil and wrote down on his map the letters that were sounding in his ear. Then with frantic haste he disconnected his instrument, telescoped his extension cane, and gathered up the different articles and thrust them into his pockets. As rapidly as he could pick his way, he went back to his hidden machine. He fastened the metal cane in place, and got everything ready for a quick start.

Suddenly a faint purring noise came to his ears. "Ah!" muttered Henry, "he's started his motor. He's off in that direction. What shall I do?"

His first impulse was to run at speed toward the purring motor, and to try to locate exactly the position of the hidden wireless station. But discretion showed him that was not wise. The spy might turn his lights on at any moment and Henry would be caught. Then everything was lost.

"I must make sure I can find the place in the daytime," muttered Henry.

Carefully he gauged the sound, deciding whence it came. "He's right off there," he said. And with his heel he made a long mark in the turf, pointing straight toward the sound.

Almost before he finished, the sound grew louder and Henry knew the car was advancing. He shrank back into the thicket, dragging his motor-cycle with him. An instant later the roadster rolled softly past, not more than fifty feet distant. In a moment more the car had reached the fence and turned into the highway. Its lights suddenly flashed out and the car went bowling down the road toward Brooklyn.

Henry leaped from the thicket and ran toward the highway, pushing his motor-cycle before him. He paused at the opening in the fence, and with his knife smoothed a s.p.a.ce on one of the posts and marked a cross on it with his pencil. Then he ran to the highway, started his motor, and was soon flying down the road in pursuit of the roadster. And as he had come, so he returned, with lights out, until Brooklyn was reached and the streets were once more alive with traffic.

At a safe distance he followed the unsuspecting motorist and saw him turn into a private yard in Flatbush. Instantly Henry dismounted, thrust his wheel behind a hedge that fenced a private residence, and gained a position where he could watch the spy's house. He saw the spy close and lock his garage and enter the house. Stealthily Henry approached and noted the house number. At the corner he got the name of the street. Then he hurried back to his hidden motor-cycle and was soon flying back to his comrades at the eagle's nest.

CHAPTER XI

AN UNSUCCESSFUL SEARCH

It was characteristic of Henry that he should tell the worst about himself first. In his own manly way he was willing to accept the blame for his failure.

"He got away from me," he began, so chagrined that he could hardly repress the tears. "I didn't find the hidden wireless and I have failed in my task."

Before his captain he stood with downcast eyes and tortured heart. His experience at Camp Brady had taught him that the wireless patrol expected every member to do his duty--and he had failed.

Captain Hardy looked at his lieutenant for a moment without answering.

He had not the slightest idea of what had occurred, but he recognized instantly the manliness of Henry's report. The latter was offering no excuses, making no attempt to shield himself from the consequences of his failure.

"Suppose you tell us just what happened," said the leader gently, "and we can judge better how badly you have failed."

Gratefully Henry looked up. He had not expected a scolding. That was not Captain Hardy's way of disciplining his boys. But he had felt sure his leader would show how deeply he was disappointed, for Captain Hardy was terribly in earnest in this quest for spies. So once again Henry's heart went out to his captain. Rapidly he related what had befallen him. As he proceeded with his story, his leader's face lost its look of grave concern, his eyes began to flash with interest, his cheeks to burn with eagerness. When Henry's narrative had reached the point where the motor-car had disappeared in the field and Henry was searching for it. Captain Hardy held up his hand.

"Stop a moment," he interrupted. "You were in no wise to blame for what happened, and instead of being condemned for failure you are to be commended for your success. Many a boy would never have found where that car went. And even though you did not learn exactly where the car was, you have located the field and you may be sure that driver never went very far in a field. We shall find the place easily enough. Go on."

Henry looked at his leader gratefully and a happy light came into his eyes. "Do you really think I didn't fail?" he asked eagerly.

"a.s.suredly," insisted Captain Hardy. "I think that you have learned enough to enable us to locate this hidden station. Go on."

Henry proceeded with the story of his search in the dark, of his uncertainty as to what he should do, of his fear of missing the message as well as the car, and of how he had intercepted that message, marked the fence post, and located the home of the automobile driver.

"Why, Henry," cried Captain Hardy, when the recital was ended, "whatever put it into your head that you had failed? You have done well--exceedingly well."

"But I didn't find the hidden station, and you said that was so important."

"That is a mere detail, Henry. We shall find it easily enough. We have our experience at Elk City to direct us."

"That's just why I felt so bad," said Henry. "If these Germans have concealed their wireless plant as skilfully as the dynamiters did at Elk City, we may never find where it is."

"We'll try before we give up hope," said the captain smiling. "And even if we never find it, we now know something more important than the location of one of their several wireless plants. We know where another member of the gang lives. That is excellent, Henry, excellent!

The Chief will be more than pleased. I know he is a great deal more concerned about this wireless situation than he permits us to think.

The public is clamoring for protection for the troops and the Chief simply cannot accomplish one-fourth of what is demanded of him. If we uncover this gang for him, we shall do a very real service to America, boys."

"We'll do it," cried Willie vehemently. "We'll do it. We'll get 'em just as sure as we got the dynamiters."

"I believe we shall," smiled the captain. "And if that's the way you all feel about it, I know we shall. We're closing in on them fast.

To-morrow we'll go out to that field Henry has marked and see what we can find in the daylight."

So it happened that the succeeding forenoon found the five members of the wireless patrol rolling rapidly toward the point of investigation, in a motor-car furnished by the secret service and driven by one of its agents. Henry sat beside the driver and pointed out the way, while the others crowded into the rear of the car.

With his map on his knees Henry traced the way. Speedily they pa.s.sed through the built-up portion of Brooklyn and came shortly to the spa.r.s.ely settled district through which their road ran. Henry scanned the way with curious interest. He had been over the road but he knew nothing of what he had pa.s.sed. Occasionally they whirled by a tree close to the road that Henry thought he had glimpsed in the darkness.

So they flew forward until Henry, looking eagerly ahead, cried out, "There are the lumber piles."

The driver slowed his car almost to a walk and they looked in the dust for telltale marks. Few teams had pa.s.sed since Henry's adventure, and in the dust could still plainly be seen the marks of Henry's wheel as he had turned sharply into the field, and the narrow tracks of the vehicle that had almost run him down.

But Henry was more interested in marks of another sort. "There!" he cried suddenly. "See those tracks? They're the marks of the spy's roadster." And he pointed to parallel tread marks, one made by a chain tread tire and one by a diamond tread.