America First

voice.

  It suddenly came to Danny that he would give more to merit that newconfidence on Biddie's part than to break down the taunts of the others.And yet he could not. He could no more command his shaking nerves tocarry him to that unhallowed, ghostly spot than he could command theunwilling nerves of another. His will-power had deserted him.

  "I _dare_ you to go!" badgered L. C.

  Danny's spirit flamed for one brief moment. But in the very next hishead dropped, and he turned away.

  "This is going too far," the wretched little fellow heard BiddieBurton exclaim sharply.

  "What is 'going too far'?" a new voice asked out of the darkness, andWillard McKenzie advanced into the group. "What is 'going too far'?" herepeated, glancing from one to another. No answer being volunteered, hiskeen glance quickly singled out the shamed tenderfoot.

  "What have they been up to, Danny?" he asked.

  Danny turned and faced him.

  "Nothing that makes any difference," he said.

  It was generous in him not to "peach," and so Biddie Burton's friendlyglance assured him.

  The incident passed with that, for McKenzie was full of somethingrepressed, and, seeing it, the boys gathered close about him in eagerquestioning--all except Danny.

  All except Danny! His brief career--his career that only an hour agohad promised so much--had ended, and in disgrace. He had taken adare! Nothing would ever matter to him again--Danny told his achingheart--the boys despised him, all except Biddie Burton, and, somehow,Biddie's pity was harder to bear than despite.

  "I went to the gap and wired Mr. Gordon," McKenzie was saying now,"and he told me I could put you to it at once. He's had an accident tohis car and may not get here for some time."

  "What's up?" It was Roger who asked the question.

  "Something serious," answered McKenzie, "but Mr. Gordon didn't saywhat. Have you had supper?"

  They replied in concert, eager to receive orders.

  "Well," continued McKenzie, "we've got to cover the mountain here, forsigns of--anything unusual. You'll have to be careful not to run intotrouble yourselves, but you must know your ground. There'll be a goodmoon if the clouds break."

  "Glory be!" Danny heard Elsie Whitman breathe in expectant ecstasy,and he would have given the world to have felt with him that eagerjoy. But Danny had taken a dare!

  The others were chattering now, as eager as Whitman to be off on thetrail of adventure.

  McKenzie was giving orders:

  "Whitman, you can take the north trail, and bear down over themountain. Ham will strike out down the creek to the left there, andwork around to your territory. There's an old cabin hidden byscrub-oaks and rocks about a quarter below the bridge there, Ham. Knowit for what it is, but don't you run your long neck into danger."

  In spite of his hurt Danny was getting interested. He crept up on theouter edge of the group and listened, wide-eyed, as the other boyseagerly accepted their several commissions.

  "Roger and Ed," their leader was continuing, "bear south till you getbelow the drop of the cliff, and then separate and work thatterritory between you"--with a sweeping gesture. "Alex and Biddie--letme see--you two go over the mountain to the right of Elsie--No,there's the Death Head trail--" He paused a moment in thoughtfulsurvey of them, and the boys looked at each other apprehensively. Notone of them was anxious to work the trail of evil name. Suddenly,however, McKenzie's eyes lighted on Danny Harding, and an inspirationseemed to come to him.

  "Say," he exclaimed, "I'll give the new recruit a chance at that. Comehere, scout." And he laid a kind hand on Danny's shoulder and drew himinto the circle.

  Somebody on the outskirts of the group laughed.

  "Now you are going to do your first service for your country,"McKenzie said to the tenderfoot; "but whatever you do, be wary,because----"

  Somebody else laughed, and McKenzie looked about sharply. "What's thejoke?" he asked.

  "Danny's afraid," the mocker explained; "that's where the dead manswings."

  Biddie strolled forward. "Alex will be enough to work Elsie's right,"he said to McKenzie. "Give me the Death Head trail. You'll need Danhere about the camp."

  But Danny raised his head quickly. It is true that his face wasdead-white, but his head was up.

  "I'll go to the Death Head," he said to McKenzie.

  The crowd was dumb-struck.

  "But you got white-livered and backed down--" L. C. began, after thefirst shock of his surprise.

  "I wouldn't go when you dared me to," said the tenderfoot, "but thisis--different." And he added in his heart: "This is for _my country_."

  "But he _is_ afraid," put in Roger. "Look at him!"

  McKenzie took a long, straight look into Danny's white face anddetermined eyes, and then turned to Roger.

  "All the gamer of him," he said, "to go in spite of beingafraid--that's the stuff that Pershing is looking for. And Mr. Gordonsays that a boy who 'isn't afraid of anything' hasn't sense enough tobe trusted with a commission. "Kid," he continued, turning to Danny,"you find out all that there is to be known about the Death Headvicinity before you show up in camp again."

  "All right," said Danny.

  There was a gasp of surprise among them at the tenderfoot's finalacceptance of the commission, but not one of them--not evenBiddie--believed that he would be able to carry it through. And thesensitive, high-strung Danny went out from among them burdened withthe feeling that they did not look for him to succeed.

  McKenzie walked a little way with him--big-brother fashion, with anarm over his shoulder--and gave him careful directions as to how toproceed. There would be a moon if the clouds broke, his leader warnedhim, and he was to keep to the shadows.

  "I'll be leaving camp myself," said McKenzie, "and will not show upagain for a couple of hours. You will probably get back before therest of us, so just roll up in your blanket and lie close under thatledge yonder--you will be perfectly safe there." A little farther upthe mountain trail and McKenzie paused.

  "Never mind about the dead man, scout," he admonished finally, "butkeep your eye peeled for the live one, and--'the best of luck!'"

  "'The best of luck!'" That was what the men at the front said to afellow when he was going over the top of the shielding trench into thedangerous unknown.

  At the familiar phrase in parting, Danny drew a quick, deep breath.Yes, he was going "over the top"--and he was going _alone_!

  Then McKenzie slipped quietly back, and Danny started forward up thelong, dark trail alone. The ghost of a moon showed dimly through theblack cloud-rack, now and again, and fitfully relieved the envelopingdarkness.

  Only once did Danny look back. That was when he came to the first turnin the mountain trail which his leader had carefully explained to him.Beyond that turn, and it would be good-by to the last cheering,reassuring gleam of their camp-fire, to the last faint sound ofcomforting voices.

  Danny paused and looked back. Only two remained in the bright circletoward which his rapidly chilling spirit was reaching back. Herecognized at once the tall, slim form of McKenzie, but---- Yes, thatchunky one was Biddie Burton. The two of them were standing closetogether, talking earnestly. And now Danny caught, by a sudden leap ofthe firelight, the fact that they were looking toward him. Biddie wasnodding.

  It was so bright, so safe back there where they had laughed andfeasted and wrangled together. Then suddenly Danny thought of theyoung crucifer in the little Church of the Holy Innocents.

  "Onward, Christian Soldiers!"

  The next moment Danny was groping, feeling his trembling way, but thatway was _onward_. The heart in his breast beat an alarm to every nervein his body, but he kept his face toward the dim, dark trail. A lumprose in his throat and threatened to choke him. He gulped it down, andcrept forward.

  McKenzie had told him that a scout must keep his head. That was thehardest part. A fellow could force himself to go blindly to a hauntedspot at night, but to think, to plan, to watch as he went----!

  But he was a scout, and a scou
t must "be prepared." Danny forcedhimself to think as he went. He was not following that gruesome trailin response to Whitman's dare--he was scouting old Death Head in theservice of his country.

  Danny found that he could follow McKenzie's directions better than hehad hoped. Now that his eyes were thoroughly accustomed to the dark,he could descry the blacker landmarks for which his leader hadprepared him. After the turn in the mountain trail, an abrupt andjagged cliff ahead beckoned the way. The shadow of the cliff won,Danny waited for another appearance of the pale, cold moon by the helpof whose light he