CHAPTER VI
WITH THE FLYING SQUADRON
"Go around to the front and come in," a voice said—a voice from the room where the boys were. "I've just got here, and am trying to find a light."
There was a rattle of arms outside, then the heavy tread of men still making some pretense, even in the darkness and the rain, of moving in marching order. The men who had come to the assistance of the Boy Scouts were preparing to enter the house.
How would they be received? This was the question uppermost in the minds of all the boys as they waited.
Would they be greeted with treacherous words, or with a murderous fusillade of bullets and knives stabbing in the darkness? It would seem that the Chinamen would hardly dare attack an American military squad, yet these men were outlaws, and there was no knowing what they might do.
The lads heard the marines, as they supposed the newcomers to be, pass around an angle of the old house and stand for an instant talking in the doorway to which they had been directed by the voice of the man on the inside. Frank was preparing to set up a cry of warning, let the consequences be what they might, when the rattle of arms told him that the marines had surrounded the house, and that every door and window was guarded! The men who were guarding the boys evidently knew what was taking place, for they released their clutches on the lads and moved away.
Next came a struggle at the window, and then a strong electric light swept into the room. Jimmie jumped forward and bumped into Ned, who was clambering over the decayed window sill.
There were several shots exchanged on the outside, followed by shouts of both rage and pain, then three men in the uniform of the United States marine service entered the room. One of them picked up Ned's searchlight, which had fallen to the floor when Jimmie bunted its owner, and turned its rays on the mix-up under the window.
There was a flutter of arms and legs, as Frank and Jack, half choking with laughter at the manner in which tragedy had so suddenly and unexpectedly been changed into comedy, pulled Ned and Jimmie apart. Jimmie sat up, wrinkling his nose until one would think it never would smooth out again, and gazed at Ned with provoking grin.
"Gee!" he cried. "I thought I was mixing it with six Chinks! Wonder you wouldn't knock before entering a private room!"
"I did knock," laughed Ned, rising from the floor and taking the flashlight.
"Yes, you knocked me down," grunted Jimmie.
The three marines, standing in the middle of the room with amused faces, regarded the four boys curiously for a moment and then moved out of range of the window. Also Ned was asked to shut off the light.
"We're not out of it yet," one of them said. "Our men chased the Yellow Faces into a bad part of town, and they are likely to be chased back, not by a few, but by a mob! These Chinks like Americans about as much as brook trout love the desert."
"Perhaps I'd better go out an' see what's comin' off," suggested the little fellow.
"You'll only get captured again," Jack suggested, provokingly.
"I ain't got nothin' on you in getting tied up with ropes," Jimmie retorted. "You looked like one of these mummy things when the light was turned on."
The officer in charge of the marines motioned to Jimmie to remain where he was, but the order came too late. Having been relieved of his bonds by Ned's quick fingers, he fairly dived out of the window into the darkness.
"Now there'll be trouble catching him again," complained the officer. "If he doesn't get a hole bored through him, we'll have to hunt the town over to get him out of the Chinks' hands. Why can't you boys behave yourselves?"
"Ruh!" Jack retorted, annoyed at the tone of superiority adopted by the officer. "I guess we've been doing pretty well, thank you! I reckon you fellows must have followed off a cow path! We've been waiting here for you long enough to walk to Peking on our hands!"
"That's the fact!" the officer replied, speaking in a whisper in the darkness. "We were the first ones to fall into the snares set by the Chinks. Only for Ned, we would still be waiting for you in a house something like this one, in a distant part of the town. How the boy found us I can't make out, but find us he did."
"What are you going to do about that runaway kid?" asked Frank of Ned.
"Shall I go get him?"
It was not necessary for Ned to reply to the question, for at that moment a figure came tumbling through the window and a voice recognized as that of the little fellow cried out:
"Gee!" he said, feeling about in the darkness, "what do you think of my ruinnin' into a sea soldier an' getting chucked through the hole the carpenter left?"
"If you boy will get ready now," a voice said, "we'll be on, our way toward Peking."
"How many of the Chinks did you catch?" asked Ned.
"Not a blooming one," was the disgusted reply. "They ran away like water leaking into the ground."
"If you'd only let me alone," wailed Jimmie, "I'd have got one. I want to soak the man that tied me up."
The marines, a full dozen of them, now gathered in the old house and all made ready for departure. Directly a motorcycle for every man was wheeled up to the door.
"We have been practicing riding while waiting for you," the officer in charge explained, "and the fellows think they can go some!"
"It is a wild night for such a ride," Frank suggested.
"Couldn't have been better for our purpose," said the officer.
"Do you know why we are going on motorcycles?" asked Ned.
"I think I do," was the reply.
"Why don't you out with it, then?" asked Jack.
"You'll learn of the reason soon enough!" replied the other. "Before we go to Peking you may understand why you are going with a flying squadron of Uncle Sam's men!"
"Who directed you to the house where I found you?" asked Ned.
"A chap who called himself Lieutenant Rae," was the reply.
"Japanese-lookin' chap?" asked Jimmie.
"That's the fellow."
"There's one more question," Ned went on. "Are all the men you took from the ship with you?"
"Every one of my men is here," answered the officer, "but there was a fellow, a friend of yours, with us at first who is not with us now. Queer chap he was, too! German, I think, and a master at tangling up the United States language. He came on board the ship, and managed to get off with us when we left. In two days he disappeared."
"That was Hans!" cried Jack.
"Who's Hans?"
"A German Boy Scout we picked up on an island. A member of the Owl
Patrol, of Philadelphia, he said. We left him on the submarine."
"Well, he asked after you boys, and looked disappointed when we did not find you, owing to the misleading statements of that fraud, Rae. He left us without a word of explanation, and is probably looking for you. Did he know where you were going?"
"Yes," admitted Ned, "I told him we were going to Peking by way of
Tientsin. I should not have done that."
"Oh, it can do no harm, and may be for your benefit. If the lad was not killed by the Chinks, he is doubtless on his way to Peking."
"Then you think he knew there was something wrong because we did not meet you?" asked Ned.
"Yes; he acted queerly."
"There are evidences of a struggle in this house," Ned went on, "and we thought the messenger we were waiting for had been attacked, but it may have been Hans after all. I hope he is not in serious trouble."
"I am the only messenger sent to you," the officer said, "so, as you say, it might have been the German who was attacked, though no one knows how he ever found this house, or why, when attacked, he didn't make himself heard."
The rain was now falling heavily, and it was decided to remain under shelter for a time, so the flashlight was brought into use again.
"If your men can keep up with us," Jack said to the officer, "we can get to Peking in six hours, so there is no need of hurrying."
"If you get to Peking in six weeks you'll be doing well," laughed the officer.
"What do you mean by that? Demanded Ned, who was anxious for a start.
"I can't tell you," was the answer. "But it was never believed you could make a quick jump to the capital city. There maybe things to do on the way there. That is why you have to escort. I don't like this diplomacy game, but have to obey orders."
"What I want to know," Jimmie broke in, "is how Ned got away. They had him tied up plenty last time I saw him. And, after he got away, how did he happen to blunder into the company of our escort? China is a land of mystery, all right!"
"They didn't watch me closely," Ned replied, modestly, "after they took you away, and when I did get out of the house I had only to follow one of my captors. Believing that I was safely tied, my captors talked a lot about having the marines waiting in the wrong house while they disposed of the Boy Scouts!"
"This man Rae?" asked the officer. "Was he there with your captors?
That's one of the men we must take."
"Oh, he is the man that caused us to be taken," Jimmie cut in. "I'd like to break his crust for him. I'm gettin' sick of bein' tied up in every case, like the hero in a Bowery play!"
"Was there a Chink who spoke English like a native?" asked Jack.
"There were two."
"Dressed in native costume?"
"Yes, and looking bored and weary."
"Then they're the men that sat with the others in a grinning row up against the wall," Frank exclaimed. "Do you think they are Chinamen?"
"Disguised Englishmen," Ned replied.
"That's my notion," Frank went on. "Oh, we'll get this all ironed out directly! If we could find Hans we might start off with a thorough understanding of how the game was carried out here."
The rain now slacked a little, and here and there stars showed through masses of hurrying clouds. The boys led their steel horses to the door and prepared to mount.
"Plenty of mud," Jack suggested.
In the little pause caused by the marines getting out their machines a dull, monotonous sound came to the ears of the party. It was such a sound as the Boy Scouts had heard on the rivers of South America, when the advance of their motor-boat was blocked, and hundreds of savages were peering out of the thickets.
"What is it?" asked Jack.
"Sounds like the roaring of a mob," answered the officer. "You understand that a word will stir the natives to arms against foreigners. As there is no knowing what this fake Lieutenant Rae and the men we drove away from this house may have said to the Chinks, we may as well be moving. It may be safer out on the road!"
"I should say so!" exclaimed Jack. "We can't fight a whole nation, can we? Look there! That was a rocket, and means trouble."
The distant murmur was fast growing into a roar, and rockets were flecking the clouds with their green, red, and blue lights. Shadowy figures began to show in the darkness, and a group was seen ahead, in the street which led away toward Peking.
"More dangerous than wild beasts!" exclaimed the officer. "Be careful to keep together and in the middle of the road, when we get under way, for if one of us gets pulled down there's an end of all things for him!"
"It is too bad we can't stay long enough to find Hans," Ned said.
"If we remain here five minutes longer," the officer replied, "someone will have to come and find us. Are you ready?"
All were ready, and the next moment sixteen motorcycles shot out into the street and headed northwest for Tientsin, which city lay in the direct path to Peking. The group in the road ahead parted sullenly as the squadron pressed on its outer circle and the company passed through without mishap.
That was as wild a ride as any living being ever engaged in. Nothing but the speed of the motorcycles saved the boys, for enemies sprung up all along the way. Some mysterious system of signaling ahead seemed to be in vogue there.
The sky cleared presently. The road was muddy, but the giant machines made good progress, especially through little towns, through the doors and windows of which curious eyes peered out on the silent company, marching, seemingly, to the music of the spark explosions.
After a run of two hours the officer halted and dismounted.
"Now," he said, "we've got a bit of work cut out for us here. If we make it, we may go on in peace. If we fail, all must keep together and take chances on speed."
CHAPTER VII
THE MIDNIGHT CALL OF AN OWL
Ned glanced about keenly as he left his seat on the machine and stood awaiting further instructions. There was little rain in the air now, but it was still dark except for the faint reflection of a distant group of lights.
"Where are we?" Ned asked.
"Near Tientsin."
"So soon? Why, I thought we'd be a long time on the way."
"I reckon you don't know how fast we have been traveling," said the officer. "Fear led me to take risks. I'll admit that."
"I want to look through the city before I leave the country," Ned remarked.
"You are standing now where the allied armies encamped in 1900," the officer went on. "You doubtless recall the time the allied armies were sent to Peking to rescue the foreign ambassadors during the Boxer uprising? That was an exciting time."
"Hardly," laughed Ned, "although I have read much about that march. I must have been about eight years old at the time."
"Well here is where the American brigade encamped on the night before the start for Peking was made. At that time it was believed that the foreigners at Peking had all been murdered. I was here with the boys in blue."
"Then you ought to know the road to Peking."
"I certainly do."
"What are we halting here for?"
"There is a dispatch from Washington due you here," was the reply.
"Telegrams in China?"
"Certainly. Why, kid, this city has over a million of inhabitants, and thousands of the residents are foreigners. Of course they have telegraph facilities."
"But how am I to get it to-night?"
To the east lay a great cornfield, to the west a broken common upon which were a few houses of the meaner sort. The corn had been cut and was in the shock. In the houses the lights were out. But far over the poverty-stricken abodes of the poor shone the reflections of the high lights of the city.
Tientsin is a squalid Oriental city, its native abodes being of the cheapest kind, but the foreign section is well built up and well lighted. These were the reflections, glancing down from a gentle slope, that the boys saw.
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 passed 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 passed 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 assistant 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."
"If you don't deliver it in five minutes," declared the officer, "I shall call the American consul!"
The official made no reply.
"You can read this code, I suppose?" he asked of Ned.
"Certainly."
"Well, I'll communicate with the manager, and if he says it is all right I'll give you the message and take your receipt for it. Will that answer?"
"It must, I suppose," replied the officer.
The obdurate official left the room.
"Gee, but it's close in here!" Jimmie declared, in a moment. "Seems like a hop joint in Pell street."
"There is opium in the air," the officer said. "See if you can find a window."
Jimmie found a window opening on a large court and lifted the lower sash. Then he called to Ned.
"I don't like the looks of this," he said. "If they should try to hold us here, what?"
"They won't do that."
"Oh, they won't tie us up, I guess," said the little fellow, "but they may delay our departure."
"Go on," smiled Ned.
"An' communicate with the ginks that have been chasing us ever since we left the submarine," concluded the boy.
"In time, Jimmie," Ned answered, "you may even get into the thinking row. I have been wondering ever since we came in here if we were not with enemies instead of friends."
"I can soon find out," declared Jimmie.
"Yes? How, may I ask?"
"I'll rush out into the other room an' try to get to the street. If there's anythin' in the notion we have, they'll turn me back."
"You might try that," smiled Ned, and the officer clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder and declared that he was a "brick."
So Jimmie hustled out into the front office. The listeners heard sharp words, and then a slight scuffling of feet. Then next instant the boy was pushed back through the doorway.
"What is the trouble?" asked the marine of the assistant, whose flushed face showed in the half-open doorway.
"You'll all have to be identified before you can leave here," was the curt reply. "You have asked for important state dispatches, and we want to know what your motive is."
"My motive is to get them," replied Ned, coolly.
"Wait until you prove your right to them," said the other, and the door was slammed shut. Ned stepped back to the window and looked out into the court. The walls were four stories high, and there seemed to be no passage out of the box-like place. The officer suggested that he force his way through the outer office and reach the American consul, but Ned did not approve of this. He thought there must be some other way. Then a hint of that other way came from the court in the call of an owl.
"That's a Boy Scout signal, and not a bird!" almost shouted Jimmie.
CHAPTER VIII
THE MESSAGE FROM WASHINGTON
"Surely," the marine officer said, in answer to the boy's exclamation, "that is a genuine, feathered owl. No boy could make so perfect an imitation."
"It's Dutchy, all right," insisted Jimmie. "I've heard him make that noise before. Now, how did he ever get to Tientsin, and how did he locate us?"
"It doesn't seem possible that it is Hans," Ned said. "How could he make the journey on foot, through a country suspicious of every foreigner? And how comes it that he chanced on this building?"
"Didn't he know that you were expecting instructions from Washington while on the way to Peking?" asked the officer.
"I did not know, myself, that I was to receive instructions while on the way until I met you," Ned replied. "If Hans is indeed here, he has either blundered into his present position or gained pretty accurate information from some one unknown to me."
"If he is here?" repeated Jimmie. "Of course he is here. I'm goin' out in the court an' give him the call of the pack!"
"What does he mean by that?" asked the officer of Ned. "Call of the pack?"
"The call of the Wolf pack," answered Ned. "We both belong to the Wolf
Patrol, of New York."
"And you think Hans, if it is he, will understand?"
"Of course!" scorned Jimmie.
The little fellow was about to step out of the low window to the floor of the court when a mist of light appeared at one of the glazed windows on the opposite side. The three watched the illumination with absorbing interest for a moment.
"Hans must be up there," Ned, muttered, "although I would almost as soon expect to find him up in a balloon."
"I reckon you'll find an owl with wise eyes and feathers up there, if you wait," said the officer, with a smile. "The boy you refer to never could have traveled here alone."
"You just wait," advised Jimmie.
Presently the mist of light centered down to three small flames, apparently coming from three narrow twists of paper, burning in a row in front of a window on the second floor. Jimmie grasped Ned's arm as the three tiny columns of flame showed for an instant and then vanished.
"There!" he said. "Do you know what that means?"
"It is a warning of danger," Ned muttered.
"Say that again," exclaimed the officer. "What kind of a game is this?"
"It is a Boy Scout warning," Ned replied. "In the forest three columns of smoke express the warning. How did this German boy learn all this?" he continued, turning to Jimmie.
"Don't you ever think the Philadelphia Boy Scouts are slow!" answered the boy. "Hans has been out in the forest with them, and knows all about woods work, an' signs, an' signals. Give it up, now?"
"Yes," replied the officer, "I give it up. You boys must have a wonderful organization."
"We certainly have," Ned replied.
The three waited for a moment, but no more signals came from the window. Instead a heavy footfall sounded outside the door and a man they had not seen before stepped into the room.
He was a heavily built man, with broad shoulders, black hair and eyes, and a wicked mouth. His face looked hard and repulsive, like the face of a reckless, intolerant, whisky-drinking captain of police in a graft-ridden district. He closed the door with his back as he entered.
"You are Ned Nestor?" he asked of the officer. The latter pointed toward Ned.
"That child!" exclaimed the newcomer.
Jimmie restrained himself with an effort, for he knew that this was no time to engage in a quarrel. He turned his back to the group and looked out of the window into the court.
There was now no light at the window from which the warning had been given, but there were flickers of uncertain candles at some of the others. The hooting of the owl had undoubtedly attracted the attention of the occupants of the building.
As Jimmie looked, however, the sash of the window he was watching was pushed up and a tousled head appeared. Other sashes were pushed up in an instant, and pigtailed heads and slanting, evil eyes were in view.
"I guess they're keepin' cases on the kid!" Jimmie thought, as he made an almost imperceptible motion toward Hans. "It would be pretty poor, I reckon, if I could get up there," he added, not meaning that it would be "pretty poor" at all, but, on the contrary, a very good move indeed.
While the lad watched the window, from which the tousled head had now disappeared, some of the other windows closed. The natives were evidently in no mood to lose their sleep because of a foreign-devil noise in the middle of the night.
The little fellow was certain that the head he had for a moment seen was that of Hans, the Philadelphia Boy Scout who had been so strangely encountered during the visit of the submarine to an island off the coast of China. He knew, too, that the German understood that something unusual and hostile to his friends was going on below.
He did not stop to consider the means by which Hans had reached the city of Tientsin and that particular building. He accepted it for granted that he was there, and wondered just what steps he, the German, would be apt, or able, to take in the emergency which threatened the failure of the mission to Peking.
Presently the voices of the marine officer, the official who had been summoned by the assistant manager, and Ned reached his ears. The officer was clearly in an angry mood and Ned was trying his persuasive powers on the newcomer.
"Are you an officer of the telegraph company?" the officer asked, in an angry tone.
"I am not," was the equally discourteous rejoinder. "I am a private detective employed, by the manager here. It is my duty to look after just such cases as this."
"Well," Ned said, calmly, "ask any questions you desire and we will answer them frankly. I came to China at the request of the Washington government, and am to receive instructions here. The operator tells me that there is a cablegram here for me, but refuses to deliver it on the ground that I may be an impostor."
"I think he has you sized up right," grated the detective.
"Then we may as well be going," Ned said, still coolly. "There is nothing for us to do now but try to establish our identity before the American consul."
The boy moved toward the door as he spoke, but the brawny detective obstructed his passage to the outer room. Ned drew back with a smile on his face.
"You can't leave here just at present," said the detective. "You will remain in custody until morning."
"Why morning?" asked Ned, with alight laugh.
"Because your accuser will be here then."
"Why didn't you say something of an accuser before?" asked Ned.
"It was not necessary."
"What does the accuser say?"
"He only warns us against delivering important papers to a youth answering your description."
"Now I understand why all this rumpus has been kicked up!" cried the marine officer. "The man who warned you is Lieutenant Rae?"
The detective nodded.
"Then he is causing us to be delayed for purposes of his own," the officer stormed. "He aims to get to Peking in advance of us. We must be permitted to depart immediately."
He moved toward the door, but the detective stood in his way. Without a word he seized the fellow by the shoulder whirled him around, put his beery face to the wall, and passed out of the room. Ned was about to follow him when the strange attitude of the detective caught his attention and he stood waiting while a scuffle on the outside told of a physical complication there.
"Much good that break will do him," said the detective, straightening out his twisted coat collar. "He will find a squad of police at the street door."
"European police?" asked Ned.
"Native police," with a snarl of rage as the commotion in the outer room continued.
Knowing that it would be no trouble at all to secure the release by any American officer taken into custody by Chinese police, Ned turned to the window and looked out on the court. He understood, too, that his own arrest would mean a long delay in prison while his identity was being established. So he thought best to keep out of the squabble the hot-headed officer had engaged in.
How sane this decision was only those foreign citizens who had been arrested and cast into prison in China or Russia can appreciate. While an accredited officer of a foreign power may almost instantly regain his liberty, a plain citizen, such as Ned was forced to appear, might be kept in jail for any number of days, weeks, or months.
The detective stood glaring at the two boys for an instant, as if anxious to inflict physical punishment upon them, but, as they remained at the window and said no more to him, he was obliged to take a different course. After rapping out several insulting observations concerning school children who ought to be spanked and put to bed, he flung himself out of the room.
"You saw Hans?" asked Ned, then.
Jimmie opened his eyes in amazement.
"Did you?" he asked.
"I saw the tousled head you saw," replied Ned.
"I thought you were looking another way," commented the little fellow.
"That was Hans, all right.'
"But why does he remain inactive? He knows there is something doing down here, else he would not have shown the signal of warning. He ought to be out of that window by this time."
"This is a country of hard knots," laughed Jimmie. "They may have tied up his fat little trotters."
In spite of the serious situation, Ned laughed.
"The tying up in this case makes it seem like a cheap drama on the lower
East Side in New York," he said.
"I think I might get up to that window," Jimmie suggested.
"How?" asked Ned.
"By the lower window frames an' castings. If you'll manage to keep the
Chinks off me I'll try."
"It is worth trying," Ned mused.
The other windows opening on the court were now closed. The sleepy natives, possibly doped with opium, had wearied of watching the figures in the rear room of the telegraph office and tumbled back into bed, or back on such miserable heaps of dirty matings as they chose to call beds.
The sounds of conflict had already died out in the front office, and another visit from the evil-faced detective was momentarily expected, so Jimmie was urged to make the proposed attempt to reach Hans at once.
He passed out of the window, crossed the beaten earth floor of the court, and began to climb. Ned was pleased to see that he had little difficulty in ascending to the window. Once there he heard him rap on the pane. There was a pause, and then the boy pushed up the sash and clambered inside.
Ned was glad to see that the boy had the good judgment to draw the sash down, as soon as he was in the room. What he would discover there the watcher had no idea.
He might find Hans there under guard. He might discover, when it was too late, that the German had been, unwillingly, used as a decoy by cunning natives into whose hands he might have fallen.
Still, there were the signals! The natives could not have known of the Boy Scout system of warnings, and Hans would certainly have volunteered nothing in the way of allurement.
He watched the window for what seemed to him to be a very long time.
The pane remained dark.
"If the lad finds the situation favorable," Ned thought, "he may not return here at all. I should have instructed him to leave the room by the main stairway, if possible, and return to the marines. It would look comfortable, just now, to see that file of bluecoats marching into the telegraph office."
However, there was now no help for the omission, and Ned waited with varying emotions for some sign from the window. None came, but presently the door of the rear room was opened and the detective blustered in.
"Where is the other prisoner?" he demanded, looking keenly about the room. "He was here not long ago. Where is he?"
"Didn't you see him crowd out with the marine officer?" asked Ned.
"He was here after that fellow left," was the reply. "But he can't escape from the building," he added, "for every avenue is guarded, and the chap the cablegram belongs to has just asked for it!"
CHAPTER IX
TRICKS THAT WERE VAIN
Ned eyed the bullying detective keenly. He did not believe that the cablegram had been demanded by another. That was only a pretext on the part of his enemies to make their attitude of delay appear more reasonable. If, as was claimed, the message was now claimed by two, the holders would certainly be justified in using great caution in delivering it.
He did not believe, either, that the telegraph officials had been nervy enough to resort to police protection. That would be to bring the matter into the courts, and he did not think those who were opposing him would care for that.
"You are not telling the truth," he said, coolly, to the detective. "No one here could honestly claim the message, because no one in Tientsin, previous to my arrival, knew there was such a message here, if I except the telegraph people and the man who sent it. If a claimant has shown up, he is acting under instructions from you."
"You are deceiving yourself!" snarled the other.
"Where is Captain Martin, of the marines?" asked Ned, not caring to dispute the point. "If you have arrested him, you'll be having his men after you before morning."
"You mean the men you left in the cornfield?"
"Certainly, the United States marines."
"Then you don't know that they have gone back to Taku?"
"No; neither do you," replied Ned. This was too cheap!
"But, they have," insisted the detective. "At least, they have disappeared from the camp in the cornfield."
"You seem pretty well posted as to our doings," said the boy.
"We are pretty well informed as to all crooks who come here," was the reply.
"What are you going to do about delivering the cablegram?" Ned asked, ignoring the insult.
"Wait until morning and deliver it to the American consul."
"In America," Ned said, with a provoking smile, "we elect men of your slant of mind to the Ananias club."
"You'll see," was the reply. "In the meantime, you are in custody."
Where was Jimmie? Had he escaped from the building, or was he detained in the room he had surreptitiously entered? If he had indeed escaped, would he have the good sense to hasten to the camp instead of trying to assist his chum single-handed?
Ned asked himself these questions, but could find no answer. He saw that the detective was not inclined, not yet desperate enough, to march him off to prison, however, and took courage from the fact. If he could secure a short delay all might yet be well.
Directly the assistant manager entered the room, frowning and red of face. Ned saw that something, perhaps something of importance to himself, was in progress on the outside.
"The American consul is out there," he exclaimed, storming about the little room.
"That's fine!" cried Ned. "I presume I can see him?"
The detective glared at the boy and shook his head.
"No, you can't," he declared. "You'll stay here."
"And in the meantime you'll tell him that I have gone away?"
"We'll tell him what we choose."
Ned made a quick dash for the door, tipped the assistant manager over a broken-backed chair which stood in the way, and passed into the outer office. The detective grabbed at him as he sped past, but the boy eluded the ham-like hands which were thrust forward.
There were three persons in the office, when Ned bolted into it. These were the operator, the American consul, and Hans! The German grinned in an apologetic way as Ned hastily greeted him.
The American consul was a pleasant-faced gentleman of middle age. He was dressed in rather sporty clothes, and there was just a hint of a swagger of importance in his walk and manner as he extended his hand to Ned. Dressler-Archibald Hewitt Dressler, to be exact—was a pretty fair sample of the keen, open-hearted corn-belt politician rewarded with a foreign appointment for rounding up the right crowd at the right time.
Ned was glad to see that the consul recognized him as the lad in whose interest he had been pulled out of bed. He took the official's outstretched hand and shook it warmly.
"I never was so glad to see any person in my life!" Ned exclaimed, while
Hans stood by with that bland German smile on his face.
"Oh, we'll have this mess straightened out in no time," the consul said. "These people," with a gesture toward the operator, the assistant manager, and the detective, "are all right. They mean to do the fair and honorable thing, but they have troubles of their own. We'll have this all ironed out in no time."
"This kid is an impostor!" shouted the detective.
"No hard names, please," said the consul. "Let us get at the facts of the case. You claim to be Ned Nestor?" turning to the boy.
"That is my name, sir."
"And you claim a cablegram which is here? A cablegram in cipher—the cipher code of the Secret Service of the United States government?"
"Yes, it would naturally be in cipher."
"You have the key to the code?"
"Certainly."
"Be careful, young man," laughed the consul, "for I was in the Secret
Service department before I came here, and know the code."
"I'm glad you do," replied Ned.
"Hand me the cablegram," ordered the consul, turning to the assistant manager.
The detective stepped forward with a frown on his face. He glared at the consul and at Ned for a moment, and then broke out:
"You can't have it unless you will promise not to reveal its contents to this impostor."
"Can't I?" said the consul, coolly. "Hand me the cablegram."
The operator and the assistant manager drew back. The consul stood for an instant regarding them angrily.
"One, two, three!" he said. "At the word three, pass it over!"
"Goot sphort, dot feller!" whispered Hans.
During the dead silence which followed Ned watched the face of the consul for some sign of weakening, but found none. He knew that he had come upon an official who would stand by his guns, no matter what took place.
There was a little crowd in front of the office, and half a dozen faces were pressed against the windows and the glass panel of the door. Ned thought he saw a face there he had last seen in the old house at Taku where he had been captured. The fellow carried a long cicatrice on his left cheek.
"What do you mean by coming in here and giving orders?" demanded the detective. "I'll put you out if the manager says the word."
Ned, standing close to Hans, felt the muscles of the German's great arm swell under the sleeve. Hans was evidently anticipating trouble.
"Will you deliver the cablegram?" asked the consul.
"I will not."
As the assistant manager spoke the detective reached his hand up to the electric light switch. Ned saw in an instant what his intention was. If the room should be suddenly thrown into darkness, the operator might escape with the cablegram.
The consul, too, saw what was meditated and sprang forward. The detective struck at him, but before his blow reached its intended mark, Hans struck and the detective went down as suddenly as if he had been hit with an ax. Then, from unseen places, from beneath counters and out of closets, came a horde of Chinamen. The room was full of them.
"Soak um!" cried Hans.
The German was about to adopt his own suggestion by passing a blow out to the nearest Chinaman when the consul stepped before him. For an instant the threatening natives stepped back. The attacking of the American consul was a thing to be seriously considered.
"Once more!" warned the consul. "Give me the cablegram."
At a motion from the assistant manager the brown men closed threateningly about the American again. There was malice in their eyes as they pressed closer and closer.
"This looks like another Boxer uprising!" exclaimed the consul. "Mr.
Nestor," he added, "if you will assemble yourself at my back, and our
German friend will stand by, we'll give 'em a run for their white alley.
Hit hard and often."
There is no knowing what might have happened then had not an interruption fell. Ned saw the crowd at the door vanish, and the next instant the friendly popping of motorcycles rang a chorus in the air.
Then came the rattle of guns and sabers, and a line of bluecoats stood before the door. At their head stood Jimmie, wrinkling his freckled nose as if for dear life.
Ned sprang to the door and opened it.
"Quick!" he cried. "Don't let a man now in the room get away."
"Where is Captain Martin, the officer in charge?" asked one of the men.
"The Chinks can tell you," Ned answered. "Close up at the doors," he went on, gazing about excitedly, "so that no one can leave."
This was done instantly. In fact, the natives and the men of the telegraph office were not in a fighting mood now. The guns and sabers of the marines had brought them to a peace-loving state of mind!
They huddled about in the center of the room, the natives milling around like cattle in a storm. The assistant manager pushed out of the press and handed the consul the cablegram.
"Understand that I am doing this under protest," he said. "Your conduct in invading my office with armed men shall be reported."
"I shall welcome any investigation," the consul replied, with a smile, "because I want to know something of your motives in doing what you have done to-night. You know very well that the cablegram is of no importance to any person except the one to whom it is addressed. I can read the code, it is true, but you doubtless overlooked the fact that I have received such dispatches here. So, let us look at the matter in a reasonable light. What inducements were offered you to keep the cablegram away from this young man? Speak up!"
"You are insulting"' gasped the assistant manager.
"Come down to cases!" commanded the consul.
"I don't understand your Bowery slang."
"How much money was offered you to hold this message?"
There was no answer, but the operator glanced slyly in the direction of the consul with a frightened look in his eyes.
"Were you to withhold the message altogether, or were you merely to delay this young man?"
"You are insulting!" repeated the other.
"Who bribed you?" came the next question, snapped out like the crack of a lash.
"You have the message," the assistant manager said. "Get out."
"Only for the marines you'd put me out!" laughed the consul.
"Indeed I would!"
Hans made a threatening gesture toward the fellow and he hastened to the protection of the counter.
"My office is only a short distance away," said the consul, turning to
Ned. "We may as well go there and size this extraordinary situation up.
I hardly know what to make of it."
"There is one thing you, perhaps, do not understand," Ned said, "and that is that Captain Martin, in charge of this squad, has been taken into custody by order of the detective Hans knocked out a moment ago."
The consul's face turned red with anger. He seized the assistant manager by the shoulder and shook him, over the counter, as a dog shakes a rat.
"Where is he?" he demanded. "Tell your hirelings to bring him here, not soon, but now."
"He assaulted me!" complained the manager.
"Produce him! One, two, three. At the third word he comes!"
Obeying a motion from the frightened man, a native opened a door back of the counter and Captain Martin was pushed out into the room, smiling and evidently enjoying the situation.
"I could have butted out at any moment," he said, "for these Chinks are not fighters, but I heard what was going on out here and thought I'd let events shape themselves. If I had been out here a short time ago I am afraid I should have made trouble for myself and for you."
"It is nice to watch a game that you can't lose at," laughed the consul. "Come along, with your men, to my office. This lad wants a chance to read his message."
"Sure," was the reply. "I want to know how that Dutchman come to bring you here, and how my men managed to get here just in time. There are mysteries to explain. What?" he added, with a laugh.
"I guess we'll have to wait for explanations until we know what is in this message," Ned said. "Come along to the office, Mr. Consul, for we have lost a lot of time already."
"I am anxious to know what the message contains," said the consul.
CHAPTER X
THE DARK ROAD TO PEKING
Half an hour later the American consul, Captain Martin, and Ned sat in a private room at the consulate. The marines and Jimmie and Hans were in the large outer room.
The cablegram from Washington lay open on a table with a translation by its side. It read:
"Proceed to Peking immediately and report to the American ambassador. Keep within reach of the flying squadron. Avoid complications with the natives. Look out for plots to delay your party. Important that you should reach Peking at once. Wire conditions."
"Not much news in that," said Ned. "Guess we've met all the trouble the
Washington people anticipated."
"Shall you go on to-night?" asked the Captain.
"Certainly."
"It is a dark, rainy night," the consul warned, "and the highways of China are none too safe, even in daylight, for American messengers who are insufficiently guarded."
"We'll look out for our part of the game," Captain Martin laughed.
"We'll, keep close together," advised the consul. "You will meet trouble on the way. The men who bribed the telegraph people will not get into the discard now. You'll find their hirelings waiting out on the dark road to Peking."
Ned pointed to the dispatch.
"We've got to go," he said. "I can't tell you how thankful I am to have
met a true American here," he added, extending his hand to the consul.
"I shall tell the story of to-night in the State department at
Washington when I get back."
"Well, get it straight," laughed the consul. "Say that a blundering German boy, who said he was a Boy Scout from Philadelphia, nearly dragged me out of bed about midnight and informed me that other Boy Scouts were in trouble at the telegraph office. I knew that Ned was expected here, and so lost no time in getting down. That's all. The marines did the rest."
"Save for that beautiful bluff of yours!" laughed Ned. "But how in the Dickens did Hans ever get to you? How did he know where to go? How did he get to Tientsin, anyway?"
"Give it up!" smiled the consul. "You might as well ask me who got the marines out just in the nick of time."
"Jimmie did that, of course," replied Ned. "I think I know all about it now," he added. "We saw Hans in a room opening on the court. The little fellow burglarized the window and found Hans. I don't know how Hans got there, but Jimmie found him, anyway. Then the kid told his story and Hans went to the consul and Jimmie went after the flying squadron. I have a notion that this is the way it came about."
In this supposition Ned was exactly right, for Jimmie had found Hans in the room off the court and the two had planned their movements just as Ned explained. The only mystery was as to how Hans got to the Tientsin house and the room where he was found.
"We'll learn all about that in time," Ned added. "Now we must be off. By the way, I wonder where Jack and Frank are? I haven't seen them since I left the camp. In the rush of events I quite forgot to ask for them."
"Just wait until I talk with one of the boys out here," the Captain said. "Probably Jimmie is already telling them of his adventures."
But when the door was opened and Jimmie questioned he opened his eyes wide in wonder. The Captain drew him into the private room.
"Say," the boy said, excitement in voice and manner, "didn't you leave
Frank and Jack at the camp when you left?"
"Why, I left when you did," was the reply. "They were there then."
Jimmie sprang to the door and beckoned the second in command into the room. By this time both Ned and the consul were on their feet.
"Where did you leave Frank and Jack?" asked Ned, as the officer entered the apartment.
"They left us," replied the officer, with hesitation. "We made our beds of blankets and tumbled in, leaving one man on guard. When I turned in the boys were in their bunks. When Jimmie awoke us, they were nowhere to be seen. They probably sneaked off to have a look at Tientsin by night—and a beautiful time they will have."
"Didn't you see them when you went back?" asked Ned of Jimmie.
"No; I looked for them, and one of the marines told me they had gone on ahead. I'm goin' out an' dig 'em up!"
"You'll make a sweet fist of digging them up in this man's town, at this hour of the night," the consul declared, anxiety showing on his face. "You'll have to leave them, Mr. Nestor," he went on, "and I'll rake the city with a fine tooth comb but I'll find them."
Ned hesitated. There was the cablegram on the table. A delay of an hour or two might not prove serious, but this search for Frank and Jack might occupy days, if not weeks!
It was inconceivable that the boys, disregarding all instructions from the Captain and all warnings from Ned, should have stolen off into the city for a night ramble. They both knew how much depended on the party keeping together and keeping prepared for action.
"They must have had some reason for leaving the camp," Ned said, after a long pause. "They never would have gone away without some object other than amusement, or love of adventure in their minds."
Captain Martin went to the door and stepped out into the main office, facing the marines.
"Boys," he said, in as matter-of-fact tone as he could assume, "what did
Frank and Jack say when they left the camp?"
Nine of the men looked up in wonder, but the tenth hastened to answer the question.
"Not a word," he said. "I was on guard, and I saw a young chap come into the little bit of light there was about the old house where we were stopping."
"Who was it?" Ned interrupted.
The marine shook his head.
"I didn't ask him who he was," he said. "He asked where the boys were, and said he was a Boy Scout from Boston, and wanted to see some one from home. I knew that the lads would be as glad to see him as he would be glad to see them, and showed him where they had bunked down in a little dog-house of a shack just outside the house."
"And they went away with this fellow?" asked Ned, anxious to get the story in as few words as possible. "Why didn't you notify the officer then in charge of the squad?"
"I didn't think it was necessary," was the reply. "Well, the kid went to the shack where Frank and Jack were, and I saw them talking together there for a few minutes. Then I saw the three of them pass through the circle of light, walking toward the city, and that's all I know about it. I wasn't under orders to tell them when to go, or where to go, or when not to go. It wasn't for me to interfere."
"Bonehead!" exclaimed Jimmie.
The marine glanced up at the little fellow with a frown.
"Don't you go to abusing me," he said. "I won't stand for it. I was raised a pet!" he added, with a smile, as the boy grinned.
"Stop that!" commanded the Captain, sharply. "If you have told all you know about the matter you may go."
"'Wait," Ned said, as the marine moved toward the door, "I would like to ask a question. Would you know this lad you speak of if you should see him again?"
"I don't think so. It was dark, and he didn't look me squarely in the face."
"That's all," Ned said, turning to the consul. "You'll do what you can to find them?" he asked.
"Sure I will!"
"I can't remain and help you," Ned went on, and there was a tremble in his voice. "I've got my work to do."
"I understand."
"And we'll start right away," Ned continued, "if you are ready, Captain.
We ought to be in Peking early in the morning."
"It is a bad road," the consul said, "and you'll find, echoes of the scrap you had here waiting for you along the way. In the language of the cablegram, keep together!"
When all were mounted there were still two vacant cycles—those the missing boys had ridden. Ned pointed to one and spoke to Hans:
"Can you ride?"
"Sure!"
"Then you may take one of the machines and come along with us."
Hans sprang onto one of the motorcycles just as he had observed the others do. Under the impetus of the leap the machine trundled along for a few feet and tipped over, landing Hans on his back with the rear wheel scraping acquaintance with his nose.
"Ouch!" he shouted. "Dake him off! He bites! Vot issit if I hand himone? Vot?"
While the others were laughing at the plight of the German, he made an effort to arise and the machine promptly slid down an incline and sparked and gyrated until Hans' hair fairly stood on end with fright.
"Catch heem!" he shouted. "Catch heem! He runs py the road avay!
Dunner! Vot a streets!"
"You mustn't tickle his ribs with your heels when you get on," advised Jimmie. "That always makes him buck. It is a wonder he didn't tramp you when you were down."
"Holy schmoke!" cried Hans. "Vot a nose I vill haf! Me for the walks to Peeging!"
"I guess you'll have to give up going with us"' laughed Ned. "You may remain with the consul until we return. And help him hunt Frank and Jack, will you?"
Hans willingly agreed to this, and, with many handshakes and well-wishes from the consul, the boys were off for Peking. By this time the streets were rather quiet, although they knew that before they could pass beyond the limits of the great, sprawling town with its million of inhabitants dawn would be showing in the sky.
The swift ride through the city was a revelation to the American boys. All was strange with an atmosphere of age and decay. The habitations, save those occupied by foreigner—and these were grouped together—were mostly old and mean. The streets were in bad condition—worse than usual because of the softening effects of the rain—and the lights were, in places, infrequent.