Boy Scouts on Motorcycles by G. Harvey Ralphson
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G. Harvey Ralphson >> Boy Scouts on Motorcycles
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10 Boy Scouts on Motorcycles
Or
With The Flying Squadron
By G. HARVEY RALPHSON
CHAPTER I
BOY SCOUTS IN A STRANGE LAND
"Fine country, this--to get out of!"
"What's the difficulty, kid?"
Jimmie McGraw, the first speaker, turned back to the interior of the
apartment in which he stood with a look of intense disgust on freckled
face.
"Oh, nothin' much," he replied, wrinkling his nose comically, "only
Broadway an' the Bowery are too far away from this town to ever amount
to anythin'. Say, how would you fellers like a chair in front of the
grate in the little old Black Bear Patrol clubroom, in the village of N.
Y.? What?"
The three boys lying, half covered with empty burlap bags, on the bare
earth at the back of the apartment chuckled softly as Jimmie's face
brightened at the small picture he drew verbally, of the luxurious Boy
Scout clubroom in the City of New York.
"New York is a barren island as compared with this place," one of the
boys, Jack Bosworth by name, declared. "Just think of the odor of the
Orient all around us!"
Jimmie wrinkled his nose in disdain and turned back to the window out of
which he had been looking. The other boys, Ned Nestor, of the Wolf
Patrol, and Jack Bosworth and Frank Shaw, of the Black Bear Patrol, all
of New York, pulled their coarse covering closer under their chins and
grinned at the impatient Jimmie, who was of the Wolf Patrol, and who was
just then on guard.
It wasn't much of a window that the boy looked out of, just an irregular
hole in a bare wall, innocent alike of sash and glass. Away to the east
rolled the restless waters of the Gulf of Pechili, which is little more
than a round bay swinging west from the mystical Yellow Sea.
To the south ran the swift current of the Peiho river, on the opposite
bank of which lay the twin of Taku, Chinese town where Jimmie stood
guard. Tungku, as the twin village is named, looked every bit as forlorn
and disreputable as Taku, where the boys had waited four days for
important information which had been promised by the Secret Service
department at Washington.
The gulf of Pechili and the Peiho river glistened under the October sun,
which seemed to bring little warmth to the atmosphere. Junks of all
sizes and kinds were moving slowly through the waves, and farther out
larger vessels lay at anchor, as if holding surveillance over the mouth
of the stream which led to Tientsin, that famous city of the great
Chinese nation.
"Look at it! Just look at it!"
Jimmie pointed out of the opening, his hand swinging about to include
the river and the gulf, the slowly moving boats and the picturesque
streets.
"'Tis a heathen land!" the boy went on. "They wear their shirts outside
of their trousers an' do their trucking on their shoulders. Say, Ned,"
he added, "why can't we cut it out? I'm sick of it!"
"Cut it out?" laughed Jack Bosworth, "why, kid, we've just got to the
land of promise!"
"Most all promise!" replied Jimmie. "We've got nothin' but promises
since we've been here. Where's that Secret Service feller that was
goin' to set the pace for us?"
"Perhaps he's lost in the jungle," laughed Frank Shaw. "He certainly
ought to have been here three days ago. What about it, Gulf of Pechili
and the Peiho river Ned?" he added, turning to a youth who lay at his
side, almost shivering in spite of his shaggy burlap covering.
Ned Nestor yawned and threw aside his alleged protection from the
growing chill of the October day. The boys, fresh from a submarine in
which they had searched an ocean floor for important documents as well
as millions of dollars in gold, had arrived at Taku five days before
this autumn afternoon.
After concluding the mission on the submarine, Ned had been invited to
undertake a difficult errand to Peking, in the interest of the United
States Secret Service. Even after landing at Taku, he had confessed to
his chums his utter ignorance of the work he was to do.
He had been requested by the Secret Service man who had engaged him for
the duty to wait for instructions at the old house on the water front
which, in company with Frank, Jack, and Jimmie, he now occupied. The
house was old and dilapidated, seemingly having been unoccupied for
years, so the lads were really "camping out" there.
Their provisions were brought to them regularly by a Chinaman who did
not seem to understand a word of English, and, as the boys knowledge of
the Chinese tongue was exceedingly limited, no information had been
gained from him. The Secret Service man had not appeared, and Ned was
becoming uneasy, especially as the curiosity of his neighbors was
becoming annoying.
"I guess this is a stall," Jimmie grumbled, as Ned arose and stood at
his side. "You know how the Moores, father an' son, tried to get us on
the submarine? Well, I'll bet they've got loose, an' that we're bein'
kept here until they can do us up proper without attractin' the
attention of the European population."
Ned laughed at the boy's fears. He had no doubt that the man who had
promised to meet him there had been delayed in some unaccountable
manner, and that the information he was awaiting would be supplied
before another day had passed.
"Anyway," Jimmie insisted, "I don't like the looks of things hereabouts!
There's always some pigtailed Chink watchin' this house from the street.
I woke up last night an' saw a snaky-eyed Celestial peering in at this
window. I guess they've got rid of the man we are waitin' for."
"If we only knew exactly what we were to do in Peking," Frank said,
approaching the little group by the window, "we might jog along and
report to the American legation. I'm like Jimmie. I don't fancy this
long wait here--not a little bit!"
"As I have told you before," Ned replied, "I don't know the first thing
about the work cut out for us by the United States Secret Service
people. There was some talk about following a brace of conspirators to
Peking, the conspirators who tried to discredit the United States in the
matter of the gold shipment but that was only incidental, and I was
ordered to come here and await instructions. So I'm going to wait--
until the moon drops out of the sky, if necessary."
"Oh, we'll stick around!" Frank put in. "Don't think, for a minute,
that any of us thought of quitting the game. Still, I'd just like to
know how much longer we have to remain here, and just what we are to do
when we get to Peking, if we ever do."
"Of course we'll stick!" Jimmie exclaimed. "All I'm kickin' on is the
delay. We might have remained on board the submarine, where we had cozy
quarters an' somethin' to eat besides this Chink stuff."
"Whenever you want to bump Jimmie good and plenty," laughed Jack, "all
you need to do is to tamper with his rations. What's the matter with
this rice, kid, and this meat pie?" he added, as the man who had served
their food since their occupancy of the old house approached with a
large, covered basket on his arm.
Jimmie wrinkled his freckled nose again and laid a hand on his stomach,
as if in sympathy with that organ for the unutterable Chinese
concoctions it had been called upon to assimilate of late.
"Rat pie!" he said, in a tone of disgust.
"I'll bet a dollar to a rap on the nose that it's rat pie! I can hear
the rats squeal nights when I'm tryin' to sleep an' can't."
"Say, Chink," Jack said, seizing the Chinaman by the shoulder and facing
him about so that a good look into his slanty eyes might be had, "what
do you know about this chuck?"
"No chuck! Pie!"
"Of course it's pie!" answered Jack. "It would be pie if it was made of
old shoes, if it had a crust on. What I want to know is, where did you
catch him, and who pays you to bring it to us, and who pays him to pay
you to feed it to us? Where does he live, and is he black, white, or
red? Come on, old top. You know a lot if you could only think of it."
The Chinaman, an evil-looking old fellow with a long cicatrice across
his left cheekbone, shook his head and regarded his questioner craftily.
"No spik English!" he said.
"You spoke it then," Jack retorted. "I'll bet a pan of pickles that you
know what we were saying when you came in here."
"Let him alone," Frank advised. "That head of his is solid bone. He
would think his foot hurt if he had the toothache."
"What a filthy, yellow, toothless, wicked old devil it is!" Jack went
on. "Some day when he comes here with that basket of rats I'm going to
cut his pigtail off close behind his ears."
"I think he's the foulest old geezer I've ever met," Frank went on. "If
I had a dog with a mug like that I'd hire him out to the man who
manufactures nightmares."
The Chinaman stood looking stupidly about for a minute before placing
his basket on the floor, then dropped it with a jar which rattled the
few dishes within and scuffled out of the door. Jimmie followed to see
that he did not loiter around the house listening, and came back with a
mischievous grin on his face.
Long before the appearance of the Chinaman the boys had planned to use
such uncomplimentary language in his presence as would be likely to
excite his anger, if he understood what was being said. They did not
believe he was as ignorant of the English language as he pretended to
be.
"Well," Jimmie asked, of Ned, "did he tumble? What did you see?"
"I saw as evil a look as ever burned out of a human eye," Ned replied.
"Looked to me like he would enjoy feeding Jack and Frank to the rats."
"Then he understood, all right?"
"Of course he did," Jack, answered. "I could see that with one eye.
He's been coming here with his grub for four days, and picking up a word
here and there every time. We ought to have had sense enough to have
been on guard against such treachery."
"What's the answer now?" asked Jimmie, turning to Ned.
"I'm afraid we're in a bad predicament," Ned replied. "This shows me
new light. The messenger we are expecting should have been here long
ago, and I'm now sure that we've just got to do something. I'm getting
afraid to eat the food they bring us, and I lie awake at night,
listening for hostile footsteps."
"That sounds a little more like Manhattan!" Jack cried. "Sounds like
action! We're off in a heathen land, surrounded by enemies, and not
likely to get anything like a fighting chance, but I'm for doing
something right now. I'm not going to lie still here and be poisoned,
like a rat in a sewer!"
"I'm for going on to Peking," Frank said. "We can report to the
American ambassador there, and, at least, get something to eat besides
rat pie and something better than a bare floor to sleep on. If we only
had the Black Bear, the motor boat we cruised with on the Columbia
river, we wouldn't be long on the way."
"Huh!" Jimmie observed, taking out a minute memorandum book, "it is
seventy miles by the river from Taku to Tientsin, and only twenty-seven
by the road."
"And how far to Peking by the road?" asked Jack.
"It is seventy-nine Miles from Tientsin to Peking," was the reply, "and
the roads ought to be good."
"That's more than can be said of the natives!" Jack said.
"The allied armies marched over the road to Peking in 1900," Frank
explained, "and I rather think the inhabitants of strip of country have
a wholesome respect for foreigners. With our high-power motorcycles,
ought to make Peking before daylight, if we start right after dark."
"And don't run across any cutthroats on the way," added Jimmie.
"Let's see," grinned Frank, "we were to have a flying squadron of
marines with us? What? I reckon they're flying so high that they are
out of sight!"
"Suppose we see if the horses are in good shape," Ned said, going to an
adjoining apartment.
He made his appearance again in a minute trundling a magnificent
motorcycle. It was been built expressly for army use, with a long,
powerful stroke 10 h. p. motor. It was as indestructible and as auto
machine as could well be designed. With a perfect muffler, automatic
carburetor and lubrication, it was a machine to cover miles silently and
with little danger of delay.
The open door behind Ned revealed three machines arranged along the
wall, and the boys rushed to the examination of them. In second all
were in the room, bending over their steel pets.
"Say!" Jimmie cried, presently, "we'll get Peking to-night--not! This
machine has been tampered with, and some parts are missing."
"Yes, I reckon the Yellow Peril is on deck!" said Frank.
CHAPTER II
A DISQUIETING DISCOVERY
The four boys regarded each other in silence for a moment. Jack was the
first to speak.
"How badly are the machines damaged?" he asked.
"Mine is all right," Jimmie reported, after a careful examination of his
steel steed, "except that a couple of burrs are missing."
"And mine," Frank hastened to say, "is all right except that the oil
feed is blocked and the electric battery is shut off--that is, it is so
arranged that the machine will spark for a short distance and then buck.
Great doings!"
"And yours, Jack?" asked Ned.
"Just a few burrs gone."
"And mine is o.k.," Ned went on, "except that the carburetor has been
tampered with. I think we'll get off for Peking before long."
"How?" demanded Jimmie. "We can't make burrs out of wood, or patch up
with rat pie, which seems to be about the only thing we have plenty of.
I don't suppose we can get repairs in this yellow hole."
Ned took a handbag from under the burlap. "I am carrying my own repair
shop with me," he said, taking out a box of burrs and a pair of pincers.
"I've got all the small parts right here in duplicate, and some of the
larger ones are in the big suitcase."
"You're a wonder!" Jimmie cried, dancing about his chum and wrinkling
his nose until it looked like that of a comedian in a motion picture.
"I wonder if you haven't got a hunk of Washington pie in that keyster!"
The lads fell to work on their machines, and in a very short time all
were ready for the road. Then Ned put away his handbag and began an
examination of the large suitcase, which contained the larger repairs
for the motorcycles. It had not been molested.
"There's one thing certain," he said, "and that is that the Chinese who
are watching us expect us to make a dash for Peking. They took the
pains to leave our machines in such shape that their tampering with them
would not be suspected. I'd like to know just when this mischief was
accomplished."
"Yes," Frank observed, "they wanted us to get out of Taku and break down
on the road to Tientsin. They would have us at their mercy out there--
or they figured it out that way."
"The work on the machines must have been done sometime during the day--
or last night," Ned replied. "Possibly while we were dozing."
"I don't believe it!" Jimmie insisted. "I've had me eyes open every
minute to-day."
"Well," Ned went on, laughing, "we had a high wind yesterday, didn't we?
A wind that tumbled the dust of the streets in upon us? Well," pointing
to a portion of his machine frame which he had been careful not to
touch, "here is some of the dust which fell upon the motorcycle then.
The person who did the job brushed a lot of the dust away, so, you see,
he must have worked since the dust fell."
"Did he brush it all away?" asked Jimmie.
"No," Ned replied, pointing, "here is a brace which he touched with his
hands but did not wipe off. In a short time I'll tell you just what
sort of a chap it was that did the trick."
The boy got his camera out of the suitcase and took a picture of the
spot on the machine frame where the print of human fingers showed. The
motorcycle owned by, or in charge of, Jimmie also showed a similar mark,
and this, too, was photographed.
This completed, Ned laid the films aside for a time while he made a
circuit of the old house, walking slowly as if out for chest exercise,
but really seeing every square inch of the earth's surface where he
walked. Once he dropped a pocketknife which he carried in his hand and
stooped over to pick it up.
The boys thought he was a long time in securing the knife, although it
was plainly in sight. When he stood up again and continued his circuit
of the house there was a strange, inscrutable smile on his face.
"What is it?" asked Jack, the instant Ned entered the house.
"We've been blind and deaf since we have boon here," Ned answered.
"Hostile influences have been operating all around us. Now," he
continued, as Frank opened his lips to ask a question, "we'll see what
sort of a tale the camera has to tell."
As he looked at the films his face hardened and his eyes snapped. In a
moment he put the telltale sheets away.
"European fingerprints," he said, quietly, "and European footprints out
there. It is not Chinamen that we have to look out for."
"What the Old Harry--"
Jimmie checked himself as a figure darkened the doorway. Ned stepped
forward to greet the newcomer.
The visitor was a youngish man with black hair, growing well down on a
narrow forehead, small black eyes, a straight-lipped mouth, and hard
lines about his deep-set eyes. His manner and carriage was that of a
man trained to military service.
"You are Mr. Nestor?" he asked, extending his hand as Ned approached
him. "I have come a long distance to meet you," he added, before Ned
could answer the question.
"From Washington?" asked Ned.
The visitor nodded; glanced sharply about the apartment, where the
motorcycles were still lying, and then squatted on one of the burlap
bags. Jimmie shook his fist behind the newcomer's back. It was evident
that the boy did not like his appearance.
"I am Lieutenant Rae, of the Secret Service," he said, in a moment. "I
have been delayed on my way here. You were about to start on without
your final instructions?" he asked, lifting a pair of eyebrows which
seemed to make his little black eyes smaller and more inscrutable than
ever.
Ned looked at the man, now lolling back on the burlap, and for a moment
made no reply. Then he lied deliberately--in the interest of Uncle Sam
and human life, as he afterwards explained!
"No," he said, "we were merely overhauling the machines. We are in no
haste to be away."
"I see," grinned the other. "You are taking life easily? Well, that is
not so bad. However, you are to start on your journey early to-morrow
morning."
"I shall be ready," Ned replied. "You have just landed?"
For just a second Lieutenant Rae's eyes sought the ground, then he
lifted them boldly. Ned was watching his every movement.
"No," he said, then, "I came in three days ago, but I was obliged to
await the movements of others before reporting to you."
Jimmie caught Frank by the arm and drew him out of the house. Out in
the deserted garden--which was only a yard or two of hard-packed earth--
he whispered:
"That feller's a liar!"
"What makes you think so?" Frank asked.
"He's no Englishman," Jimmie insisted. "He's a Jap. You bet your last
round iron man that's the truth. Now, what do you think he's doin'
here?"
"Well," Frank replied, "I think you are right. He's not an Englishman.
The nerve of him to put that up to us!"
"Perhaps he's the gazabo that monkeyed with our machines," suggested
Jimmie. "Wish I'd 'a' caught him at it!"
"But Ned says that was an European," Frank said.
"Then they're thick around us," Jimmie went on, "and we're up to our
necks in trouble. I wonder what instructions this Rae person will give
Ned?"
"Suppose we go inside and see," Frank answered.
When the lads reached the interior of the house again Ned and Rae were
bending over a road map of the country between Taku and Peking. The
visitor was indicating a route with his pencil.
"Very well," Ned said, as if fully convinced of the honesty of the
other, "now about the private orders. You understand, of course, that I
know little concerning the work cut out for me."
"You are to receive final instructions at Peking."
Ned smiled, but there was something about the smile which told the boys
that he was of their way of thinking.
"He's on!" Jimmie whispered in Frank's ear.
"You bet he is," was the reply.
"I'll come here in the morning," the visitor said, looking at his watch,
"and go out with you. The chances are that we'll have to make a quick
run. Machines in good order?" with a glance at the motorcycles lying
against the wall.
"We haven't as yet looked them over carefully," Ned lied again, "but
presume they are in good shape. As a matter of fact," he continued,
hardly able to suppress a smile as Jimmie looked reprovingly at him, "as
a matter of fact, we know little about the machines. This is new
business for us."
Lieutenant Rae bowed himself out of the door, and the boys gathered in
an inner room to discuss the situation.
"We may as well face the truth," Ned said, calmly. "The man who was to
meet us here has fallen into the hands of our enemies. We are alone in
China without instructions and surrounded by foes. Now, what shall we
do? We may be able to reach the water front and get off to one of the
British ships in sight."
"And go back?" demanded Jimmie. "Not for me! I'm goin' to stay an' see
this thing out."
"That's me!" Frank said, and Jack echoed his words.
"Well, then," Ned went on, with a smile of satisfaction at the attitude
of the lads, "if we are going on, we've got to get to Peking without
delay. I'll tell you what I think. The conspirators are aware that we
are trying to run them down. If they can stop us before we fully
identify them, their part in the plot against Uncle Sam will never be
known." Rest assured, then, that they will stop us if they can."
"Then it's us for the road to-night!" said Jimmie. "That is fine."
In referring to conspirators, Ned indicated the men who had been
involved in a plot to get the United States into trouble with a foreign
government over a shipment of gold to China. This shipment had gone to
the bottom of the Pacific.
It had been claimed that the gold shipment, which was marked for the
Chinese government, had really been intended for the revolutionary
party, now becoming very strong. It was now insisted that the
revolutionists had been posted as to the shipment, and that it was on
the books for them to seize it the moment it left the protection of the
American flag.
These claims having been made, and believed, in the state department of
a foreign government, none too friendly to the government of the United
States. A ship had been sent out to watch the transfer of the gold. At
least, that was what had been claimed, but this ship, so sent out, had,
by an "accident," rammed and sunk the treasure boat. If the Chinese
government did not get the gold, neither did the leaders of the
revolutionary party.
It had been claimed at Washington that the whole thing was a plot to
discredit the United States government in the eyes of the nations of
Europe, and Ned Nestor and his chums had been sent out to search the
wreck for papers which would disprove the statements made. The papers
had been secured.
The point now was to connect the foreign statesmen who had burned their
fingers in the plot with the affair. Ned knew that the papers would
establish the falsity of the charges, but he wanted to place the blame
for the whole matter where it belonged. He wanted to track the man who
had conferred with known conspirators back to his home. He wanted to be
able to point out the treacherous government which had so sought to
belittle the United States in the eyes of the world.
The boy had no doubt that this was actually the mission upon which he
had been sent when ordered by the Secret Service department to report at
Taku and there await instructions before proceeding to Peking. He did
not understand why he had been instructed to make the trip to Peking on
a motorcycle when there were easier ways, but he was quick to obey
orders. Later on he learned just why this order had been given.
"Yes," Ned replied to Jimmie's remark, "I think we may as well set out
for Peking to-night. If we wait until morning, we may not be at liberty
to start out."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Jack.
"Study it out," smiled Ned, "and you may be able to find an answer."
While the boy was speaking, he bent over and looked keenly at a
footprint on the earthen floor of the room. It was not such a print as
the foot-covering of a Chinese man would leave. It had been made by the
long heel of an European shoe.
When Ned looked closer, he saw that the ground was stained a deep red,
that there were dark crimson spots on the window casing. Then he saw
that a struggle must have taken place in the room, for the few things it
held were in disorder.
"Boys," he said, "perhaps our Secret Service man got here before we
did."
CHAPTER III
A SHOE AND A SURPRISE
"What do you mean by that?" asked Frank. "If he had reached the old
house first, he would have waited here for us, wouldn't he?"
"Look what's here," Ned replied. "There has been a fight in the room.
The combatants fought from the inner wall to the window, then a knife
was used. These stains are by no means fresh, but they tell the story.
And to think that we've been here all these days and never found them!"
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