“Perhaps they’d forgotten something, and were returning to get it?” suggested the scout master, in order to draw the other out.
“Not much,” was Ralph’s vigorous protest, “they acted too suspicious for that, I tell you, Hugh. If they had wanted to get something in an open and aboveboard way why wouldn’t they walk straight up to the gate and send word to the sheriff?”
“It does look a little that way,” admitted Hugh thoughtfully.
“If you asked me straight from the shoulder what those sneaks were meaning to do,” continued the active scout, “I’d say they expected to steal something they knew was in the plant—something worth while at that. For all we know they may be crooks who took up with the offer of big wages when Mr. Campertown’s manager sent word to the agency he wanted guards.”
“Perhaps break into the safe of the company, which they think may hold enough money to pay them for their trouble; that’s what you mean, is it, Ralph?”
“Something along those lines,” came the answer.
“It may turn out that way,” Hugh told him a little dubiously.
“Sounds as if you didn’t take any too much stock in my guess, Hugh?”
“Well,” remarked the scout master, “when you stop to consider that the sheriff of the county is in charge of the plant now, and has his posse standing guard with orders to shoot any trespasser on sight, it doesn’t strike me as reasonable.”
“But what would you think might be the reason for their coming back, then?” demanded Ralph, somewhat disappointed because the scout leader had failed to back him up in his theory.
“I can only give a guess at it,” mused Hugh. “It seems to me as if the explanation might be connected with the disgust and anger of these guards at losing their fat job. They may have talked it over, and sent these three back to prowl around to see if something couldn’t be done to start trouble between the posse and the strikers.”
“Whew! I didn’t think of that!” exclaimed Ralph. “If such a thing happened it would sort of gloss over their own crazy act in firing on men when their backs were turned, wouldn’t it? If the sheriff had to fight to hold his own after discharging them, it might make the public excuse their terrible blunder. Hugh, there may be a whole lot in what you say.”
“You didn’t try to follow those three guards, of course, Ralph?”
“Well, hardly,” grinned the other scout. “It was broad daylight, and, while I’m a fair hand at dodging after any fellow, I knew they’d get on to me right away. I just lay there in the bushes and watched ’em go along. But, Hugh, they sheered away from the plant before they got out of my sight, so I’m sure they never walked up to the gate and made any request.”
“There’s one thing I can do to try and keep the peace,” ventured Hugh, as though his own suggestion might still be in his mind.
“What might that be?” inquired the other, curiously.
“Try and have a talk with the old padrone,” the scout master informed him. “You know he can understand English all right, and he speaks it after a fashion. If he were put on his guard I think he would warn his men that they must not under any conditions be drawn into a dispute with armed parties pretending to be members of the sheriff’s posse, for these men may try and play that smart game, you know.”
“Here comes Dr. Richter, Hugh, and he’s got some pleasant news for you, if that smile on his face stands for anything.”
The Red Cross surgeon quickly joined the two chums.
“Things are already beginning to take a turn for the better,” he announced.
“Do you mean that the ones who are so badly wounded will have a fair show to recover?” asked Hugh, feeling as though the burden that had been weighing so heavily on his own heart was being lifted.
“Well, that was hardly what I meant,” admitted the other, “though so far as I can say just now there’s a fighting chance for them all, and with reasonably good luck we’ll pull them through. But I’ve just had a few lines from Mr. Campertown over at the plant.”
“Something about the wounded men, I venture?” remarked Ralph.
“Just what it was,” the surgeon acceded. “It must be that the sight of them lying here on these old faded blankets stirred him more or less, especially when he remembered that they had once been his faithful workers, and that it was through the agency of men hired with his money that they came to get these severe injuries.”
“Then he had a proposal to make, sir?” asked Hugh, guessing as much from the way in which Surgeon Richter spoke.
“He mentioned in his brief note that he would like me to have some of you boys come over to the works; that there were a number of good cots we could have, together with all the clean sheets and blankets needed to give the wounded comfortable beds while they were in our temporary hospital. I sent word back that I was going to gratefully accept his offer, and thanked him for it.”
“Mr. Campertown is getting his eyes opened,” observed Ralph, dryly. “Seeing such terrible things is going to make him think a whole lot different from what he’s been doing.”
“I only hope it does,” said Hugh, sincerely.
“If such a thing comes about,” remarked the surgeon, with a positive ring to his voice, “you Boy Scouts will have had a whole lot to do with the industrial rebellion. He was highly pleased with what he heard about your carryings-on here. The sheriff told me that when I saw him last. I really think he wants to have a chance to talk with you, Hugh, and so if I were you I’d be one of those to go over after these things.”
“Thank you, Dr. Richter, I will,” replied the scout master, who naturally felt a little thrill of elation when he heard these words of sincere praise from the lips of one he thought so highly of as the Red Cross surgeon. “Ralph, will you pick out half a dozen of the fellows to accompany us, while I hunt up the padrone? While I’ve got that other thing in my mind I’d better put the padrone on his guard.”
“All right, Hugh; meet you a little later at this tree. I’ll pick out a husky lot, so they can carry the cots if they happen to be heavy. It was right decent of old Campertown to make this offer, I take it. He’s seeing a light, all right; and if things keep on working as they seem now, better times are coming for these poor dagoes.”
Ten minutes later Hugh joined the impatient group that was waiting for him under the tree in question. They immediately started toward the plant, and quickly arrived at the gate.
Here they found a man on guard, who had evidently received orders to admit any of the wearers of the khaki who might appear, for he stepped aside and waved them inside the stockade.
Besides Ralph and Hugh there were Billy Worth, Tom Sherwood, Jack Dunham, Bud Morgan, Blake Merton and a boy who went by the name of “Whistling Smith.” The last mentioned had not been in camp at the time Hugh and his five chums hurried in the direction of the scene of battle; he and another scout, Monkey Stallings by name, a fellow who delighted in doing all sorts of acrobatic feats, had arrived later in the morning, having hiked all the way from Oakvale since early dawn.
To enter the works they had to pass through the office. Here they found Mr. Campertown, and seated on a chair was the merry-faced little chap, whose smile had already captivated most of the boys who had seen him. Reuben Campertown, Hugh had learned, was the only child of the rich man’s dead son, and evidently the apple of his grandfather’s eye.
The millionaire greeted them with a smile. Hugh realized that at such a time Mr. Campertown looked vastly different from what he had believed him to be before, when that gloomy and even stern expression had marked his face.
“I’m glad you came, boys,” he told them, and his eyes rested longest on Hugh, as though he had somehow learned that much of the credit which the Red Cross surgeon had given to the scouts for their knowledge of “first aid to the injured” was to be credited to their efficient leader.
Mr. Campertown himself proceeded to show them where the supplies he had mentioned in his note to Dr. Richter could be found; and the cheery-looking little curly-headed chap held fast to his hand all the while.
“Take what cots you think you can use, boys,” the owner of the works told them. “Take also this pile of sheets and blankets. Tell the surgeon I do not expect them back again. It is as little as I can do to try and repair some of the mistakes that have occurred in connection with this unfortunate business.”
The boys started to carry off the cots needed first. Hugh had found out that in all they required four, with the necessary sheets and blankets.
“The padrone will open his eyes when he sees all this coming in,” remarked Billy Worth, who had loaded himself down with a cot and some of the other things.
“By the way,” Mr. Campertown said, turning to Hugh, and looking a little confused. “I find that my manager laid in enough provisions for a long siege. Now that things have taken on a new look, I’d like to get rid of some of this unnecessary food. There’s a heap of supplies you boys can take over to the Red Cross surgeon with my compliments. He may find something in the lot he can make use of for his patients. I hope so, at any rate.”
Hugh felt like giving a hurrah, though he resisted this impulse and only smiled as he thanked the other. According to his way of thinking this wealthy man was having something of a revolution come about within him. All his ideas in connection with the abyss that should exist between an employer and those who worked for him for wages were in danger of being transformed.
“It must have been that pitiful sight of those wounded men that did it,” Hugh was telling himself; “that and the dark looks on the faces of the men and women in the crowd. He never dreamed what was going to happen to him this day when he started out with his little grandson for a ride in his car. I hope it’s going to be a red letter day for Mr. Campertown, that’s all.”
As the boys could not carry all the cots, supplies of bedding, and the heap of groceries as well, they gladly promised to come back for a second load. Hugh was about to also pack some of the hams and other things over to the settlement when Mr. Campertown laid a detaining hand on his arm.
“Please stay here with me while your comrades are gone,” he said pleasantly. “I want to ask you some questions about your organization. Tell me what you have done in the past? This is not the first time you boys have managed to stretch out a helping hand to those who needed assistance?”
Thrilled by this request, Hugh was only too happy to obey. He knew he could relate a number of things connected with Oakvale Troop of Boy Scouts that would prove interesting to Mr. Campertown. And all the while he hoped to be able to work in a few words that might serve to make the rich man consider the wisdom of bridging the chasm that lay between himself and his former employees.
The boys returned and carried away the rest of the stuff. Still Hugh and Mr. Campertown sat there in the office and talked. The little boy had gone to sleep in his grandfather’s arms, with his curly head resting on that protecting shoulder. Every time the owner of the plant looked down at his rosy face a tender expression could be seen on his own usually stern countenance.
“The sun rises and sets for him in that child,” was what Hugh told himself. He wondered what it might mean to Mr. Campertown if anything happened to deprive him of this one consolation in his declining years, since the boy’s parents were both dead, he had told Hugh.
The scout master in that hour of time had told the master of the works a great many things in connection with what he and his chums had done in times past. His narrative was extremely modest, and to listen one would be inclined to think Hugh had no more to do with these exploits than the lowest scout in the troop; but Mr. Campertown could read between the lines.
Hugh was thinking of taking his leave when the gentleman startled him by asking a question.
“Would you mind telling me, Hugh, who the Red Cross nurse is I noticed assisting Dr. Richter; the one with the color in her cheeks? I had just a glimpse of her face, and somehow it seemed strangely familiar, though I don’t seem able to place it. What is her name, my son?”
When the owner of the plant asked Hugh that strange question it flashed upon the scout master that his comrades had noticed the Red Cross nurse acting in a peculiar fashion at the time Mr. Campertown sat there in the big touring car in which the sheriff and some of his hastily summoned posse had come on the scene.
Yes, he remembered how Alec, acting as spokesman for the others, had mentioned the fact of her seeming to shrink back as though to avoid being particularly noticed by the millionaire. She had stared very hard at the little boy, too, and Alec had, in his impetuous way, even gone so far as to characterize her look as a hungry one, as though she could eat the child.
He knew that Mr. Campertown was looking at him as he waited to hear his reply; and so the boy hastened to collect his thoughts.
“Why, I never saw them before they came in the ambulance, sir,” he commenced to say. “There were two nurses with Dr. Richter, both of them connected with the Red Cross hospital in Farmingdale, sir.”
“Yes, I understand, Hugh; but it was the younger nurse to whom I was referring,” the other hastened to tell the scout master.
“Her name is Nurse Jones,” Hugh replied; “that’s all I know about her, except that she’s got a natural gift along the line of nursing people. When she comes along they seem to forget all their troubles in her sunny smile. I watched this happen more than a few times, sir.”
He could see that Mr. Campertown looked disappointed. Evidently something in connection with Nurse Jones had caused the rich man to want to know more about her.
Hugh told himself that it was none of his business, and he had better forget all about it; but at the same time he was going to find this a difficult thing to do, especially when his boyish curiosity was bound to be piqued continually.
After he left Mr. Campertown, Hugh walked back to the foreign settlement. Here he found the padrone watching the changes that were taking place inside that little frame schoolhouse, under the supervision of the surgeon and the nurse.
Hugh looked more closely at the latter than he had up to then allowed himself to do. He noted that she was an uncommonly fine-looking young woman, with a healthy color, bright eyes, and just the cheery expression on her face that would act like a tonic upon any sufferer who might chance to fall under her care.
Once Hugh started and held his breath. It was when the thought struck him that a certain expression about Nurse Jones’ face when she looked sad reminded him of Mr. Campertown himself! That was a startling idea, and set the boy’s brain to doing all sorts of acrobatic feats in trying to figure out what it might mean.
“Hugh,” whispered Alec in his ear just about that time, “you should have been here to watch Nurse Jones when she learned what the crusty old millionaire owner of the plant had opened his heart to do. She listened as though her breath had almost been taken away. Then I saw such a heavenly smile creep over her face! Say, it reminded me of that cherub we used to see in the window of Decker’s art store in Oakland.”
“Come, you’re beginning to get poetical, I’m afraid, Alec,” urged Hugh, though the intelligence had really affected him more or less. “Of course, as a hospital nurse she felt pleased to see these nice cots and sheets and sweet blankets coming in, to take the place of that riff-raff the old padrone supplied. It must have been a sore trial to a Red Cross nurse to ever have to handle such stuff.”
“Mebbe so, Hugh,” added Alec, evidently still unconvinced; “but it’s my opinion Nurse Jones was thinking more about the change in him than anything connected with clean hospital supplies.”
When everything had been attended to the result was most impressive. Clean, white bedclothing and blankets, with cots for the patients, added a thousand per cent. to the attractiveness of the temporary hospital.
“Look at the padrone, how his black eyes glisten,” said Ralph Kenyon to Hugh, as they stood there and surveyed the interior of the little schoolhouse.
“Yes; he’s pleased over the way his people are being taken care of,” the scout master replied. “This is going a great ways toward checking the bitter feeling of hostility these hot-blooded foreigners were beginning to show for Mr. Campertown, their former employer.”
“Huh!” grunted Billy Worth. “If you asked me now I’d say that the padrone’s got that smile that won’t come off on his phiz on account of the fine pile of grub over yonder that the gentleman sent to the surgeon. Every time he looks that way I c’n see his lips work, as though they were watering at the thought of feasts to come.”
“Oh! Billy,” exclaimed Alec Sands, “that’s hardly fair for you to judge everybody by your own standard of thinking. We all know your weakness, and how many a time you’ve confessed to dreaming of big feasts. There goes Hugh over to talk with the padrone again. I wonder what he’s telling him now.”
The scout master had considered it a good time to sow some seed in the mind of the man whose will swayed the strikers. That was always present with Hugh. He knew these poor foreigners would soon be in a pitiful condition unless they had a chance to take up their former work again.
“You see, padrone,” he said to the old man, as he reached his side, “things are looking brighter already. Mr. Campertown is beginning to repent having acted as he did. These wounded people may be the means of starting up the works again, with all the old employees at their former wages.”
“Eet would be goot eef that could be so,” remarked the padrone, with an anxious look on his face. “He do not understand how it cost so much to lif for us all. He never cut the wage down eef he know that. I haf think it all was over when my people they be shot down like animals; but like you say, young sigñor, it may come to the good turn yet.”
“You see how generously he has acted,” continued Hugh—“sending over not only the cots and bedding, but food as well. That shows he is sorry for what happened. If only you can keep the hotheads among your men quiet for a little while, padrone, something tells me it is all going to turn out right for you.”
“I promise you eet shall be so,” the old man said solemnly. “My word eet ees the law with my people. They be guided by what I say.”
Hugh felt easier in his mind after what he had said to the padrone. If those three meddling former guards did attempt to stir up trouble between the strikers and the sheriff’s posse, he believed the firm hand of the padrone would be able to check the mischief in its beginning.
“I want you to come over to our camp just before dark,” Hugh continued, “and take supper with us all. Have you ever met with any Boy Scouts over in your country, for they are to be found all over the world these days, even in Japan, and out in the Philippines, I understand?”
The padrone was bright enough to grasp what Hugh meant; but he shook his head in the negative.
“I haf not seen any, but my people they write to me their boys they be scouts and wear the uniform,” the old man replied proudly, as he even ventured to let his hand fall with a certain amount of respect on the khaki sleeve of Hugh’s coat, and then turned his eyes curiously upon the several badges the boy had been given the right to wear.
“Yes, lots of big changes have taken place in Italy since you came away, I suppose,” Hugh told him. “In Europe boys become scouts with the idea of serving their country as soldiers later on. Over here, in America, we never hold that notion up before our recruits, because our motto is to help those in trouble, and avoid all fighting, when we can do it with credit to ourselves.”
The doctor and Nurse Jones also promised to join the scouts again at supper time, so Billy Worth and a corps of assistants hurried off to start preparations for the evening meal.
“We’ll try and make the poor old padrone forget all about his troubles for once,” the good-natured Billy had said when he heard who was coming. “Somehow, I kind of like that chap; there’s a deal of humor in him, once you get it on tap. And I reckon he hasn’t slept any too sound ever since this trouble came up between his people and their employer. Yes, we’ll treat him to a good square meal, such as he hasn’t had for many a day.”
The afternoon was wearing away, and night would soon be coming along. Hugh found himself wondering whether darkness would bring about any change in the relations existing between the workmen and their former boss. He was thinking about the suspicious actions of those three discharged guards when he fell into this train of speculation.
Just as he was about to leave for the camp of the scouts, one of the sheriff’s posse came to the emergency hospital with a package, saying that Mr. Campertown wished Dr. Richter and Nurse Jones to please accept the trifling addition to their supplies, as he feared they would lack some of their customary food while compelled to remain in the foreign settlement.
When the surgeon, with a smile of appreciation, opened the package—the nurse standing by with a look of wonder on her pink face—Hugh saw it contained a number of things that the head man of the guards must have laid in for his own entertainment, and was unable to take away with him: dainties, such as sardines, canned lobsters, condensed milk, tea, chocolate, and the like—and even a box of fine candy, which the gallant surgeon immediately placed in the hands of Nurse Jones.
“This makes me think of some of the bully times we’ve had in days gone by,” Billy Worth was saying at the moment Hugh entered the new camp, “and we expected company from town, and were spreading ourselves to show folks what fine cooks scouts can be when they try real hard.”
There was indeed considerable bustle in evidence. Being “chief cook and bottle-washer,” for the occasion, as he termed it, Billy had set a number of the fellows to doing different tasks. Harold Tremaine and Ned Twyford sat with their backs against a tree, peeling potatoes; Tom Sherwood, who often boasted of his strong eyes, had been delegated to prepare a big mess of onions, and, though bravely sticking to the job, despite the smarting, was already crying over his job.
Others were chopping wood and carrying the kindlings to where the cook could lay his hand upon them as needed. As usual, Monkey Stallings swung head-downward from the limb of an adjacent tree; those who had given him such a suggestive nickname certainly knew what they were about, for the agile boy always seemed happier carrying on his remarkable gymnastics than when soberly standing on his feet.
Taken all in all, it was a bustling picture upon which the scout master looked as he stood there smiling. Billy quickly observed his coming, and called him over.
“Have you got a job for me, Billy?” asked Hugh, as though he meant every word of it, and would be only too willing to do his part in the great preparations going on.
“‘Too many cooks spoil the broth,’ Mr. Scout Master,” replied Billy. “I guess I’ve got as many to see after as I can well manage, as it is. But I did want your valued advice as to whether we ought to cook a pot of rice, with all those potatoes and onions the fellows are preparing.”
“Suit yourself, Billy. It takes considerable to fill fourteen mouths, and we expect three for company besides. If you’re meaning to have several fires going, it would be no harm to put on a kettle. Boiled rice is always a favorite of mine, hot or cold, so it isn’t apt to go to waste.”
“Some of the same’ll go to my waist if the other grub gives out, you hear me!” declared Bud Morgan, who was giving the finishing touches to a third cooking fire that Billy had thought they might need.
So the good work went on, and as the sun sank out of sight behind the western horizon, supper was within hailing distance, to judge from the way some of those always hungry boys went about sniffing the delightful odors that filled the air. That is the time when the minutes drag as if they had leaden weights, and it seems as though someone must have surely imitated Joshua of old, and made the declining sun apparently stand still.
The padrone made his appearance in good time, and was given a seat of honor on one of the several logs that had been rolled up in a circle to serve the diners. His dark face was a mass of wrinkles now, for he was smiling all the time.
Perhaps it might be the padrone felt the great honor that had been thrust on him when he was thus invited to eat with the uniformed scouts. Perhaps he was even thinking of how he could make boasts when next he wrote a letter to the old country, and narrated how he had rubbed elbows with the “real thing” in the shape of Boy Scouts.
The chances were, however, that those fine smells in the air had considerable to do with the expression of happiness on the padrone’s face. He looked toward the cooking fires frequently, it might be noticed; and when Bud Morgan came near dropping one of the big frying-pans that was heaped with a mess of potatoes and onions, the padrone was seen to clasp his hands and look terribly frightened, as if he feared that after all he might be fated to lose his anticipated feast.
Then came Dr. Richter and Nurse Jones. The boys all got up and saluted upon their arrival. Billy had told them that was the sort of thing to do when they had a lady come to dine with them. Nurse Jones laughed quite merrily as she tried to return their salutation with a nod of her head.
Hugh believed she looked prettier than ever when she did that. He also wondered what Mr. Campertown would think if he could only see her now. Would the cobwebs in his confused brain be swept aside, so that he could remember who she put him in mind of?
That supper was one none of those who took part in would soon forget. The boys were brimful of frolicsome humor, as was usually the case. They cracked jokes, and made humorous remarks as they served their guests and then themselves. This crackling exchange of badinage was like the sauce for the meal—it livened matters, and kept everybody in jolly spirits.
Indeed, Dr. Richter told them he could not remember when he had enjoyed a meal as he had that one. As a doctor connected with a hospital he may have been used to picking up his dinners at all hours, and also under some queer conditions; but it hardly fell to his lot to sit before a crackling campfire, with a dozen or more lively scouts in uniform, and tasting genuine camp fare, cooked by one who prided himself on having mastered all the wrinkles of the art.
Then again, no doubt, the atmosphere surrounding them had something to do with their enjoyment. They were far enough away from the settlement not to hear the cries of the children or the barking of the many dogs. Hugh had made sure that the camp was located where the prevailing wind would blow toward, not from the village, which fact was calculated to make things more pleasant for the campers.
Nurse Jones also seemed to enjoy her dinner very much. She had to decline ever so many times when the generous hosts tried to keep the contents of her pannikin from diminishing or the coffee in her tin cup from lowering.
China and cut-glass may do all very well when there is a snowy damask tablecloth and silver to keep them company; but about the campfire nothing equals plain honest tinware, unless it may be the more expensive aluminum ware, that some campers prefer to take with them, owing to its many good qualities, such as extreme lightness in weight, and the fact that no grease is needed in frying flapjacks for breakfast.
As before, the doctor continued to ask many questions connected with scoutcraft. He was deeply interested in the movement and all that it stood for. Until recently he had paid little attention to the activities of such boys whom he may have been accustomed to seeing, clad in khaki, on the streets of his native town; but after making the discovery that these lads had it in them to accomplish great good in dozens of ways, he wanted to know all about their plans and aspirations, as well as their history.
So it came about he heard accounts of many episodes of the past, such as have been faithfully related in preceding books of this series. Each scout took occasion to modestly recount some incident connected with their many experiences.
Some of them had been with the State Militia on one of their annual training trips, serving in the mock battle that had occurred, as a Signal Corps detachment, and winning high praise from the general in command because of their knowledge of the game and the valuable assistance afforded the army to which they were attached.
In other fields of scout activities the boys had played their part with credit to themselves and the organization to which they belonged. There had been those among them who had visited the Florida coast, and assisted the lifesavers in their work when a wreck was driven on the reefs during a storm. On another occasion they had accompanied the Naval Reserve aboard a war vessel placed at their disposal by the United States Government; and while there had picked up a fund of useful information concerning such means of defense against a possible foreign enemy.
So they had also gone off with the Government Geological Survey; and after a fashion proved themselves worthy helpers to the members of Uncle Sam’s Flying Squadron upon a certain occasion, when the chance was given them to see something along such lines.
All these interesting things and many more were touched upon by those ready talkers, as they sat there and enjoyed the cheery fire.
Looking around at those bright youthful faces, the Red Cross surgeon felt that he had been amply repaid for taking this hurry call trip out to the scene of the riot, when that message asking for help had come to them in Farmingdale.
But for that he would have missed a great treat, for he might never again have met with such a splendid opportunity to make the acquaintance of these sterling fellows, and while seated at their campfire hear scores of interesting things connected with the ambitions and yearnings of a true Boy Scout.
And Nurse Jones also seemed glad she was there. She had just partaken of her first real camp dinner, and enjoyed it very much indeed. Now she was listening to all that was being said with the deepest interest.
Many times Hugh had noticed a smile on her face, as though her thoughts were of a pleasant nature. Then she would suddenly remember something, for he could see her shut lips firmly together.
Hugh wondered if her thoughts could be wandering in the direction of the stern millionaire who, with his little grandson, expected to sleep on cots over in the offices of the cement works.
Whistling Smith was called upon for an exhibition of his specialty, for he had a remarkable talent in his line, and could give astonishing imitations of the warble of every known species of bird, as well as some imaginary ones in the bargain. Then he could whistle all the latest popular songs with variations that always called out vociferous applause on the part of the listeners.
Monkey Stallings expected that when they had tired Whistling Smith out they would be calling on him to perform. He even went so far as to lay his plan of campaign, and meant to keep his greatest “stunt” until the very last, so that it was apt to leave a pleasant taste in the mouth; for Monkey was as artful as the frisky animal after which he had been nicknamed.
It happened, however, that the call for him to help amuse the invited guests never got beyond that expectation in the mind of the intended performer. Something came about that effectually banished all thoughts of humorous antics from everybody’s mind.
Dr. Richter was perhaps beginning to think it high time he and the Red Cross nurse were tearing themselves away from this genial company, for he was observed to be secretly glancing at his watch when he thought none of the boys would be noticing him. Of course, it was not that he had grown weary of their company, for that would be next to impossible; but before long their several patients would be needing attention, since those left in charge could not know what to do in case of necessity.
It was just at this time they heard the sound of coming footfalls. Alec Sands, who possessed very keen hearing, caught the patter first, and he leaned over to call the attention of the scout master to the fact.
“Somebody coming, Hugh, and in a bit of a hurry, too!” he remarked. “Yes, and, unless I’m away off in my guess, there are a pair of them, in the bargain.”
Ten seconds later and it was shown that Alec had been absolutely right in his figuring, for two forms were seen bearing hastily down on the campfire.
“Why, Hugh,” exclaimed Bud Morgan, “it’s the sheriff, and that’s Mr. Campertown along with him. The old gent looks all broken up over something, let me tell you. I wonder what’s gone wrong over at the plant now?”
Hugh noticed that the first thing Mr. Campertown did was to look eagerly around the circle, and an expression of bitter disappointment took the place of the hope that had been so manifest in his face.
The sheriff addressed himself directly to Hugh, and at his first words “the cat was out of the bag,” as Alec afterward remarked.
“Have any of you seen the little chap, Reuben Campertown?” asked the sheriff. “He has wandered off, and for the last half hour we’ve found no trace of him. A sudden hope that he might have come this way brought us over, but it seems to be blind guess after all.”
If a bomb had been dropped into the camp, it could hardly have created more of a shock, so far as Hugh, Dr. Richter, Nurse Jones, Alec Sands, and perhaps Ralph Kenyon were concerned.
For the first few seconds it seemed to Hugh that his heart must have stopped still with dread. He could see that the face of Mr. Campertown was haggard and drawn. He had apparently aged ten years in the few hours since the scout master last saw him. That was a pretty good index of the way the millionaire loved and almost worshiped his pretty little grandson.
Nurse Jones had turned very white, and put her hand to her throat, as though she felt herself choking. Hugh, however, forgot her in the excitement of the moment.
“Do you mean to tell us, Mr. Sheriff,” he asked, as soon as he could command his voice, “that the boy is lost?”
“Either strayed away, or else he’s been kidnapped for a purpose!”
As the sheriff said this very sternly he fastened his accusing eyes on the old padrone. There could be no mistaking his meaning. He had dealt many times with some of these foreigners, and he knew only too well that they often had strange and un-American ways of accomplishing their purposes.
Just as Hugh and some of the boys had said in generally talking things over, carrying people off and holding them for a ransom has long been a custom in various lands of Europe. Evidently the officer believed these angry strikers, feeling they could not win their case in the ordinary way, had determined to resort to such a miserable game as this abduction of the child would be.
The affection felt by Mr. Campertown for his grandson must have been evident to every member of that crowd standing by at the time the sheriff and his posse had stopped for a minute or two on the way to oust the hired guards. It would not be unreasonable to suppose that some of the wilder spirits among the men rendered furious by a contemplation of their supposed wrongs, and the presence of those wounded comrades, should plan to hit back at the rich man in his only vulnerable spot.
Hugh turned his eyes on the padrone. He felt a sudden chill in the region of his heart. Could the wily old man be guilty? Hugh had somehow come to rather like the padrone who had such singular power over his people that he usually could sway them to his way of thinking.
He felt it was almost impossible that the old leader should have consented to sit there at their campfire and partake of their food, if he were guilty of such a terrible thing.
Hugh immediately felt reassured as soon as he looked at the other. The swarthy face of the padrone was drawn, and Hugh thought there was an expression of injured pride upon it. His eyes flashed fire, and, as he drew himself up, he tried to express his feelings in his crude way.
“Eet ees that you believe some of my people they haf been take the kid away to hold heem ofer the head of the gentlemans. You do us great wrong. We haf not yet been brought to the point that we make the war on children! And, eef ees be done, sure I must know of that same. I gif you my word not.”
The sheriff was watching him with his keen eye. He had become accustomed to reading faces long ago, though doubtless some of these foreign ones were apt to give him more or less trouble.
“I have heard good reports of you, padrone,” he said, slowly. “As a rule you have tried to guide your people along the road that led to their best interest. Perhaps you had nothing to do with this ill-advised strike. Let that pass. There is only one thing that engages our attention now, and that is the safe return of the boy. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“Si, excellency, it is plain to me,” replied the old man, still looking hurt, as though he bitterly resented the accusation.
“Mr. Campertown will pay five thousand dollars for the safe return of his grandson,” said the sheriff. “It is a shame that such a thing should happen, and as a rule I am utterly opposed to this blackmail business; but he insists on making the offer, and there is nothing else for us to do but try and compromise a felony. Five thousand dollars is a big sum, padrone!”
“Eet ees a fortune to families that be very near starving,” replied the padrone; “but I tell you that eef you find that any of my people haf take the child, even eef he be return safe and unharm, not one dollar shall be claim!”
“That’s the stuff, padrone!” burst out Bud Morgan, unable to contain himself any longer.
The sheriff nodded his head, while still watching the padrone closely.
“I like the way you say that, padrone,” he remarked. “It sounds honest. Perhaps this thing may have been done by some of the hotheads without your knowledge. They may have guessed that you would not stand for such a game. How about that, padrone?”
“That I do not belief,” came the prompt reply. “All I can say ees that when I tell my people how eet ees, and that a thief haf taken a child to strike at the heart of Mr. Campertown, efery one will join me to hunt for eet. They do not haf much reason to lof Mr. Campertown this day of sorrow; but there was time when they take off hats and cheer him when he come here to works.”
“A mighty fair offer, I should say!” Billy Worth muttered.
The sheriff turned to Mr. Campertown and talked with him in low tones. Hugh believed the millionaire had been much impressed with the dignified words spoken by the old padrone. Perhaps they cut him to the quick, and made him realize that he had not been treating these employees of his of late as he should. Hugh hoped deep down in his boyish heart that great and lasting good was going to spring from all this trouble.
Presently the sheriff turned again. This time his eyes were on Hugh, and he beckoned to the scout master to join him, which the other did with promptness, scenting something in the line of action.
It turned out exactly that way, for the first thing the officer did was to lay a patronizing hand on Hugh’s shoulder and say: