John Blaine - The Boy Scouts In Russia
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John Blaine >> The Boy Scouts In Russia
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9 THE BOY SCOUTS IN RUSSIA
_by_
CAPTAIN JOHN BLAINE
_Illustrated by_
E.A. FURMAN
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
Chicago AKRON, OHIO New York
Copyright, 1916
by
Saalfield Publishing Company
[Illustration: "Go! Hurry! Get this coat and helmet off me!"]
CONTENTS
Chapter Page
I The Border 11
II Under Arrest 25
III A Strange Meeting 37
IV Cousins 49
V The Germans 61
VI The Tunnel 73
VII A Daring Ruse 85
VIII Within the Enemy's Lines 99
IX "There's Many a Slip--" 111
X Sentenced 125
XI The Cossacks 137
XII The Trick 151
XIII The Escape 165
XIV Altered Plans 179
XV A Dash Through the Night 193
XVI Between the Grindstones 205
XVII An Old Enemy 217
XVIII The Great White Czar 229
In Russian Trenches
CHAPTER I
THE BORDER
A train had just come to a stop in the border station of Virballen. Half
of the platform of that station is in Russia; half of it in East
Prussia, the easternmost province of the German empire. All trains that
pass from one country to the other stop there. There are customs men,
soldiers, policemen, Prussian and Russian, who form a gauntlet all
travelers must run. Here passports must be shown, trunks opened. Getting
in or out of Russia is not a simple business, even in the twentieth
century. All sorts of people can't come in while a good many who try to
get out are turned back, and may have to make a long journey to Siberia
if they cannot account for themselves properly.
This train had stopped in the dead of night. But, dark and late as it
was, there was the usual bustle and stir. Everyone had to wake up and
submit to the questioning of police and customs men. About the only
people who can escape such inquisition at Virballen or any other Russian
border station are royalties and ambassadors. Most of the passengers,
however, didn't have to come out on the platform. In this case, indeed,
only two descended. One of these was treated by the police officials
with marked respect. He was the sort of man to inspire both respect and
fear. Very tall, he was heavily bearded, but not so heavily as to
prevent the flashing of his teeth in a grim and unpleasant smile. Nor
were his eyes hidden as the rays of the station lights fell upon them.
He was called "Excellency" by the policemen who spoke to him, but he
ignored these men, save for a short, quick nod with which he
acknowledged their respectful greetings. His whole attention was devoted
to the boy by his side, who was looking up at him defiantly. This boy
won a tribute of curious looks from all who saw him, and some glances
of admiration when it became increasingly plain that he did not share
the universal feeling of awe for the man by his side. This was accounted
for, partly at least, it might be supposed, by the fact that he wasn't a
Russian. The Americans in the train, had they been out on the platform,
would have recognized him at once for he was sturdily and obviously
American.
The train began to move. With a shrill shriek from the engine, and the
banging of doors, it glided out of the station. Soon its tail lights
were swinging out of sight. But the Russian and the American boy
remained, while the train, with its load of free and cheerful
passengers, went on toward Berlin.
"You wouldn't let me take the train. Well, what are you going to do with
me now?" asked the boy.
His tone was as defiant as his look and if he was afraid, he didn't show
it. He wasn't afraid, as a matter of fact. He was angry.
The Russian considered him for a moment, saying not a word. Then he
called in a low, hushed tone, and three or four policemen came running
up.
"You see this boy?" he asked.
"Yes, excellency."
"It has pleased His Majesty the Czar, acting through the administration
of the police of St. Petersburg, to expel him from his dominions. He is
honored by my personal attention. I in person am executing the order of
His Majesty. I shall now conduct him to the exact border line and see to
it that he is placed on German soil. His name is Frederick Waring. On no
pretext is he to be allowed to return to Russian soil. Should he succeed
in doing so, he is to be arrested, denied the privilege of communication
with any friend, or with the consul or ambassador of any foreign nation,
and delivered to me in Petersburg. You will receive this order in due
form to-night. Understood?"
"Yes, excellency."
"Photographs will be attached to the official order." He turned again to
the boy, and for just a moment the expressionless mask was swept from
his eyes by a look of fierce hatred. "Now, then, step forward! As soon
as you have passed the line on the platform you will be on German
territory, subject to German law. I give you a word of good advice. Do
not offend against the German authorities. You will find them less
merciful than I."
"I'm not afraid of you," said Fred. He was angry, but his voice was
steady nevertheless. "You've cheated me. You've had my passport and my
money taken from me. What do you think I can do, when you land me in a
strange country in the middle of the night, without a kopeck in my
pocket? But I'll find a way to get back at you. Any man who would treat
me the way you have done is sure to have treated some other people
badly, too. And I'll find them--perhaps they'll be stronger than I."
"Your papers were confiscated in due process," said the Russian. He
smiled very evilly. "As for your threats--pah! Do you think your word
would carry any weight against that of Mikail Suvaroff, a prince of
Russia, a friend of the Grand Duke Nicholas and General of the army?"
"Oh, you're a great man," said Fred. "I know that. But you're not so
great that you don't have to keep straight. You may think I had no
business to come to Russia. Perhaps you are right, but that's no reason
for you to treat me like this. After all, you're my uncle--"
"Silence!" said Suvaroff harshly, startled at the carrying power of the
boy's voice.
Fred stepped nimbly across the line.
"You can't touch me now, by your own word!" he taunted. "I'm in Germany,
and your authority stops at the border! I say, I could forget everything
except the way you've put me down here in the middle of the night,
without a cent to my name or a friend I can call on! You needn't have
done that. I don't suppose you took my money--you don't need it--but you
let your underlings take it."
"I do not know that you ever had the money you say was taken from you,"
said Suvaroff, controlling himself. "It is easy for you to make such a
charge. But the officers who arrested you deny that they found any money
in your possession. There is no reason to take your word against them."
Fred stared at him curiously for a moment.
"Gee! You do hate us--and me!" he said, slowly. "I think you really
believe all you've said about me! Well, I'm glad if that's so. It gives
you a sort of excuse for behaving the way you have to me. And I'd
certainly hate to think that any relative of mine could act like you
unless he thought he was in the right, anyhow!"
Suvaroff strangled with anger for a moment. His cruel eyes became
narrow.
"I have changed my mind!" he cried, suddenly. "Seize him! Bring him
back!"
Fred stood perfectly still as two or three policemen and a couple of
soldiers in the white uniform coats of Russia came toward him. He knew
that it would be useless either to run or to fight. But, as it turned
out, there was no need for him to do either, for from behind him a sharp
order was snapped out by a young man who had been listening with
interest. Quietly a file of German soldiers with spiked helmets stepped
forward.
"Your pardon, excellency," said the German officer. "It is, of course,
quite impossible for us to permit Russian officials or soldiers to make
an arrest on our side of the line!"
"A matter of courtesy--" began Suvaroff.
"Pardon again," said the German, very softly. "Just at this moment
courtesy must be suspended. With a general mobilization in effect upon
both sides--"
Suvaroff suppressed the angry exclamation that was on his lips. For a
moment, however, he seemed about to repeat his order, though his men had
halted at the sight of German bayonets.
"I should regret a disturbance," said the German, still speaking in his
quiet voice. "My orders are to permit my men to do nothing that might
bring on a clash, for just now the firing of a single shot would make
war certain. Yet there is nothing in my orders to forbid me to resist an
act of aggression by Russia. We are prepared for war, though we do not
seek it."
Fred, almost losing interest in his own pressing troubles at this sudden
revelation of a state of affairs of which he had known nothing whatever,
looked fixedly at Suvaroff. He saw the Russian bite his lips, hesitate,
and finally take off his hat and make a sweeping bow to the German
officer.
"I agree, mein herr Lieutenant," he said, mockingly. "The time has come,
I think. It may be that the fortunes of war will bring us together.
Meanwhile I wish you joy of him you have saved!"
The German did not answer. He watched the departing Russians and then,
smiling faintly, he turned to Fred.
"I'll have to ask you to give some account of yourself, if you please,"
he said, in excellent English. "I'm Lieutenant Ernst, of the Prussian
army. Sentenced to guard duty here--for my sins. Now will you tell me
what all this means?"
"I had a passport," said Fred directly, and meeting the German's eyes
frankly. "Prince Suvaroff is my uncle, my mother's brother. Her family
refused to recognize my mother after her marriage to my father, and so
Prince Suvaroff does not like me. I had to see him on business and
family matters. I was arrested. My passport and my money were taken away
from me--and you saw what happened. He took me off the train and put me
across the border."
Ernst nodded.
"Things are done so in Russia--sometimes," he said. "Not always, but
they are possible, for a great noble. Well, I have seen things nearly as
bad in my own Prussia! I shall have to see what may be done for you. If
you reach Berlin, your ambassador will be able to help you, yes?"
"I am quite sure of it," said Fred, eagerly. "I don't want to trouble
you, but if you could help me to get there--"
A soldier interrupted him. He stepped up to Ernst, saluted, and,
permission given, spoke in the officer's ear. Ernst started.
"One minute," he said. "I am called away--I will return in one minute."
The minute dragged itself out. In all directions there was a rising
sound, confused, urgent. Fifteen minutes passed. Then a soldier came to
Fred.
"The lieutenant will see you inside," he said, gravely.
Fred followed him. Ernst, his face sober, but with shining eyes, spoke
to him at once.
"War has been declared," he said. "War between Germany and Russia! My
young friend, you are in hard luck! The train from which you were
expelled is the last that will even start for Berlin until the
mobilization is complete."
Outside there was a sudden rattle of rifle fire. Fred stared at the
German officer.
"That is the beginning," he said. "We happen to have the stronger force
here. We are taking possession of the Russian side of the border
station! I wish we might catch Suvaroff--he is a good soldier, that one
at least, and worth a division to the Russians. But there'll be no such
luck. He'll have got away, of course--a fast motor, or some such way.
And they've got more troops close up than we have."
And still Fred stared. He seemed unable to realize that this popping of
rifles, this calm, undemonstrative series of statements by an unexcited
German officer, meant that war had come at last--the European war of
which people even in America had talked for years as sure to come!
"As for you, I meant, of course, to lend you the money and let you go on
to Berlin," said Ernst. "Now I can lend you the money, but there will be
no trains. You can't stay here. The Russians, I think, will advance very
quickly, and it will not be here that we shall try to stop them, but
further back and among the lakes to the south. Even if there is a
concentration, however, foreigners will not be wanted."
"What shall I do?" asked Fred.
"You speak German?"
"Yes."
"Then I shall lend you some money--what I can spare. You can start back
toward Koenigsberg and Danzig. Your consul will be able to help you. You
can walk and the people will gladly sell you food."
"Yes, and thank you for the chance, I'm a Boy Scout; I won't mind a hike
at all."
CHAPTER II
UNDER ARREST
So it was arranged for Fred Waring, thousands of miles from home, to
start from Virballen. The lieutenant who had saved him from Suvaroff
lent him what money he could spare, though all told it was less than a
hundred marks, which is twenty dollars.
"Good-bye, and good luck go with you," said Ernst. "If we do not meet
again it will be a real good-bye. If you can send the money back, let it
go to my mother in Danzig. If you cannot, do not let it worry you! If
any people ask you questions, answer them quickly. If any tell you to
stop, stop! Remember that this is war time and every stranger is
suspected. You will be in no danger if you will remember to answer
questions and obey orders."
"Thank you again--and good-bye," said Fred. He had known this German
officer for only a few minutes, but he felt that he was parting from a
good friend, and, indeed, he was. Not many men would have been so
considerate and so kindly, especially at such a time, to a strange boy
from a foreign land, and one, moreover, who had certainly not come with
the best of recommendations. "I--I hope you'll come through all right."
"That's to be seen," said Ernst, with a shrug of the shoulders. "In war
who can tell? We take our chances, we who live by the sword. If a
Russian is to get me, he will do so, and it will not help to be afraid,
or to think of the chances that I may not see the end of what has been
begun to-night! We have been getting ready for years. Now we shall know
before long if we have done enough. The test has come for us of the
fatherland."
And then Fred said a bold thing.
"I can wish you good luck and a safe return, Lieutenant," he said. "But
I can't wish that your country may be victorious because my mother,
after all, was a Russian."
"I wouldn't ask that of you," said Ernst, with a laugh. "Even though it
is Prince Suvaroff's country, too?"
"There are Germans you do not like, I suppose--who are even your
enemies," said Fred. "Yet now you will forget all that, will you not?"
"God helping us, yes!" said Ernst. "You are right. Your heart must be
with your own. But you don't seem like a Russian, or I would not be
helping you."
Then Fred was off, going on his way into the darkness alone. Ernst had
told him which road to follow, telling him that if he stuck to it he
would not be likely to run into any troop movements.
"Don't see too much. That is a good rule for one who is in a country at
war," he had advised. "If you know nothing, you cannot tell the enemy
anything useful, and there will be less reason for our people to make
trouble for you. Your only real danger lies in being taken for a spy.
And if you are careful not to learn things, that will not be a very
great one."
Fred was not at all afraid, as a matter of fact, as he set out. Before
he had stepped across the mark that stood for the border he had been
hugely depressed. He had been friendless and alone. He had been worse
than friendless, indeed, since the only man for many miles about who
knew him was his bitter enemy. Now he had found that he could still
inspire a man like Ernst with belief in his truthfulness and honesty,
and the knowledge did him a lot of good. And then, of course, he had
another excellent reason for not being afraid. He was entirely ignorant
of the particular dangers that were ahead of him. He had no conception
at all of what lay before him, and it does not require bravery not to
fear a danger the very existence of which one is entirely without
knowledge.
The idea of walking all through the summer night, as Ernst had advised
him to do, did not seem bad to him at all. As a scout at home, he had
taken part in many a hike, and if few of them had been at night, he was
still thoroughly accustomed to being out-of-doors, without even the
shelter of a tent or a lean-to. Nor was he afraid of losing his way, for
as long as the stars shone above, as they did brilliantly now, he had a
sure guide.
Fred wasn't tired, for he had enraged Suvaroff, who had seemingly wanted
him to be frightened, by sleeping during the journey to Virballen
whenever he could. It had been comfortable enough on the train; he had
not been treated as a prisoner, but as a guest. And he had, as a matter
of fact, been aroused only an hour before the train had reached the
frontier.
So he had been able to start out boldly and confidently. In the country
through which he was now tramping the nights are cool in summer, but the
days are very hot. So Fred had made up his mind, as soon as he
understood that he had a good deal of walking before him, to do as much
of his traveling as was possible by night, and to sleep during the day.
In East Prussia, as in some parts of Canada, the summer is short and
hot; the winter long and cold.
There was nothing about the silent countryside, as he tramped along an
excellent road, to make him think of war. The fields about him seemed to
be planted less with grain; they were very largely used for pasture, and
he saw a good many horses. He remembered now that this was the great
horse breeding district of Germany. Here there were great estates with
many acres of rolling land on which great numbers of horses were bred.
It was here, he knew, that the German army, needing great numbers of
horses every year, found its mounts.
"They'll need more than ever now," he thought to himself. "If there's
really to be war, I suppose they'll take every horse that's able to work
at all, whether it's a good looking beast or not. Poor horses! They
don't have much chance, I guess."
He thought of the Cossacks he had seen in Russia, wiry, small men, in
the main, mounted on shaggy, strong, little horses, no bigger in reality
than ponies. He had heard of the prowess of the Cossacks, of course.
They had fought well in the past in a good many wars. But somehow it
seemed rather absurd to match them, with their undersized horses,
against magnificent specimens of men and horseflesh such as the German
cavalry. He had passed a squadron of Uhlans, near Virballen, outlined
against the sky. They had been grim and business-like in appearance. But
then the Cossacks were that, too, though in an entirely different way.
"I wish I had someone along!" he thought, at last.
That was when the dawn was beginning to break. Off to the east the sun
was beginning to rise, and in the grey half light before full day there
was something stark and gaunt about the country. Before him smoke was
rising, probably from a village. But that sign of human habitation, that
certain indication that people were near, somehow only made him feel
lonelier than he had been in the starlit darkness of the night. This
would be good enough fun, if only one of his many friends back home were
along--Jack French, or Steve Vedder. It was with them that he had
shared such adventures in the past. And yet not just such adventures,
either. This was more real than anything his adventures as a Boy Scout
had brought him, though he belonged to a patrol that got in a lot of
outdoor work, and that camped out every summer in a practical way.
Being alone took some of the zest out of what had seemed, once
Lieutenant Ernst's loan had saved him from his most pressing worry,
likely to be a bully adventure. Now it seemed rather flat and stale. But
that was partly because having tramped all night, he was really
beginning to be tired. So he went on to the village, and there he found
a little inn, where he got a good breakfast and a bed, in which, as soon
as he had eaten his meal, he was sound asleep.
Few men were about the village when he went in. He had noticed, however,
the curious little throng, early as it was, about a bulletin ominously
headed, "Kriegzustand!" That meant mobilization and war. The men had
answered the call already, all except those who were too old to spring
to arms at once. Some of the older ones, he knew, would be called out,
too, for garrison duty, so that younger men might go to the front.
In his sleep he had many dreams, but the most insistent one was made up
of the tramp of heavy feet and the blowing of bugles and the rattling of
horses' feet. And this wasn't a dream at all, for when he awoke it was
to find a soldier shaking him roughly by the shoulders, and ordering him
to get up. And outside were all the sounds of his dream. The sun was
high for he had been asleep for several hours. So he got up willingly
enough, and hurried his dressing because he remembered what Ernst had
told him. Then he followed the soldier downstairs, and found himself the
prisoner in an impromptu sort of court-martial.
Really, it wasn't as bad as that. Considering that he had no passports
and nothing, in fact, to show who he was, and that no responsible person
could vouch for him, he was very lucky. It was because he was a boy, and
obviously an American boy, that he got off so easily. For after he had
answered a few questions, a major explained the situation to him very
punctiliously.
"You must be detained here for two or three days," said the major. "This
is an important concentration district, and many things will happen that
no foreigner can be allowed to see. We believe absolutely that you are
not unfriendly, and that you have no intention of reporting anything you
might chance to learn to an enemy. But in time of war we may not take
any risks, and you will, therefore, be required to remain in this
village under observation.
"Within the village limits you will be as free as if you were at home,
in your own country. You will not be allowed to pass them, however, and
if you try to do so a sentry will shoot you. As soon as certain
movements are completed, you will be at liberty to pass on, on your way
to Koenigsberg. I will add to Lieutenant Ernst's advice. When you reach
Koenigsberg, after you have reported yourself to the police, wait there
until a train can take you to Berlin. It will mean only a few days of
waiting, for at Koenigsberg there are already many refugees, and the
authorities want to get them to Berlin as soon as the movements of troop
trains allow the railway to be reopened for passenger traffic."
Fred agreed to all this. There was nothing else for him to do, for one
thing, and, for another, he was by no means unwilling to see whatever
there might be to be seen here. He could guess by this time that without
any design he had stumbled on a spot that was reckoned rather important
by the Germans, for the time being at least, and he had heard enough
about the wonderful efficiency of the German army to be anxious to see
that mighty machine in the act of getting ready to move.
He did see a good deal, as a matter of fact, that day and the next. It
was on the famous Saturday night of the first of August that he had left
Virballen. Sunday brought news of a clash with France, far away on the
western border, and of the German invasion of Belgium. Monday brought
word of a definite declaration of war between Germany and France, and
of the growing danger that England, too, might be involved.
And all of Sunday and all of Monday supplies of all sorts poured through
the little village in an unceasing stream. Motor cars and trucks were to
be seen in abundance, and Fred caught his first glimpse, which was not
to be his last, of the wonderful German field kitchens, in the mighty
ovens of which huge loaves of bread were being baked even while the
whole clumsy looking apparatus was on the move. But it only looked
clumsy. Like everything else about the German army, this was a practical
and efficient, well tried device.
Then suddenly, early on Tuesday, he was told that he was free to go, or
would be by nightfall. And that day all signs of the German army, save a
small force of Uhlans, vanished from the village. That evening,
refreshed and ready for the road again, Fred set out. And that same
evening, though he did not know it until the next day, England entered
the war against Germany.
CHAPTER III
A STRANGE MEETING
As he walked west Fred noticed, even in the night, a change in the
country. It was not that he passed once in a while a solitary soldier
guarding a culvert, as he neared a railway, or a patrol, with its
twinkling fire, watching this spot or that that needed special guarding.
That was part of war, the part of war that he had been able to foresee.
It wasn't anything due to the war that made an impression on his mind so
much as a sort of thickening of the country. Though he had traveled so
short a distance from the Russian border, there seemed to be more people
about.
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