CHAPTER III
THE SCOUTING AUTO
Reveille sounded at five o'clock. There was plenty to be done before thewar game actually began. There were plans to be laid, codes to bedetermined, umpires to be consulted as to vague and indefinite rules,and all sorts of little things that in a real war would have adjustedthemselves. But the Scouts were well out of the excitement. They strucktheir tents and handed them over, neatly arranged, with all theirbedding, to the men from the commissary department.
"Sleeping bags for us, after to-day," explained Durland. "That is, if wehave to sleep in the open. Sometimes we'll get a barn or a hayrick, oreven a bed in a farmhouse. We won't worry about all that. But we're notgoing to sit still, and we can't scout and carry tents and dunnage ofthat sort along. So I said I'd turn it all in."
Then the Troop waited, quietly, for the orders that seemed so slow incoming. But they came at last. A young officer rode up on a horse thatwas dripping wet.
"General Harkness's compliments, Captain," he said, saluting Durland,"and you will take your Troop at once to Bremerton, on the State line.You will make your headquarters there, where a field telegraph stationhas been established. Please hold your Scouts for the stroke of twelve,when they may cross the line. The line for five miles on each side ofBremerton is in your territory."
"My compliments to General Harkness, and we will start at once," repliedDurland.
And a moment later they were on the hike. There was plenty of time,since Bremerton was less than three miles away, and it was scarcelyseven o'clock, but it was cooler then than it would be later, andDurland was glad to get his Troop away from the bustle and apparentconfusion of the camp where the Red army was beginning to move.
"Where are the divisional headquarters to be to-day?" Durland asked ahurrying staff officer who passed just then.
"Hardport--across the line," the staff man replied, as he paused amoment. A wide grin illuminated his features. "That's nerve for you, eh?The old man's pretty foxy. He's going to start us moving so that we'llbegin crossing the State line on the stroke of twelve, and he'll fling abrigade into Hardport before two o'clock."
Durland whistled.
"That's fine, if it works," he remarked to Dick Crawford, later. "ButHardport practically is the key to the railroad situation, and it isn'tconceivable that the Blues will leave it unguarded. I'm inclined to be awee bit dubious about that."
However, as he reflected, it was really none of his business. He wasresponsible for his own Troop, not for the conduct of the campaign, andthat let him out.
It was a hot, hazy day, when the sun was fully up, and the Scoutsmarched into Bremerton, to find it a sleepy, lazy, old-fashioned littletown. Above a building in the center the national flag was floating, andnext to it a Red standard. Durland turned the Troop over to DickCrawford, with instructions to make a bivouac near the centre of thelittle place, and then walked over to the building where the flag wasflying.
As he surmised, it had become unexpectedly brigade headquarters for thefourth brigade of the Red army, which had left Guernsey before thebreakfast call had been sounded for most of the army, and had arrivedtoo soon.
"Where is your brigade, Tomlinson?" he asked a young officer, who almostran into him as he came out.
"Oh, hello, Durland!" said the officer, wheeling briskly to shake handswith the Scout-Master. "Why, we're hidden in the woods. Old Beansy'sfuming and fretting because he's here too soon. The men are lying backthere, but he's moved up here for brigade headquarters because it's afield telegraph station and he can talk as much as he likes with GeneralHarkness."
"Your brigade commander is Beansy, I take it?" said Durland, with agrin.
"You're right, he is! General Beverly Bean, bless him! He'll want to seeyou, too, now that you've blundered into his territory. Go on up--thirddoor to the left!"
Durland stopped to report his arrival to division headquarters and thenwent on, getting into the presence of General Bean after a few minutes'delay.
"Glad to see you sir," said the testy old officer, who was a realsoldier. "Suppose you know we're intended to get into Hardport just assoon after this war begins as we can get there."
"How soon will that be?" asked Durland.
"About two hours, if we're not cut to pieces on the way. I want yourhelp here, Captain. Can you send some of your Scouts over there toinvestigate? I've an idea that getting into Hardport may be easier thangetting out again. If Bliss knows his business, he will be regardingthat as a pretty important place."
"I've orders to cover five miles each side of Bremerton," said Durland."I can spare two Scouts for any duty you may wish done, General. Couldthey have a car?"
"Do they know how to run one?"
The question was asked in evident surprise, but Durland repliedconfidently.
"Yes, General," said he. "I've got two Scouts, at least, who areperfectly capable of handling an automobile under any conditions. I'dtrust myself to them, no matter how hard the road might be."
"I'm glad to hear it," said the general, rather dryly. "I've got two ofthose new-fangled scout duty cars, with an armored hood and those newnon-explosive tires, that can't be stopped by a bullet aimed at thewheels. But they didn't send me anyone to run them. There may be somechauffeurs in my brigade, but I'm not too anxious to take any men fromtheir regiments. Here--I'll give you an order for one of the cars. Letyour Scouts make the best use they can of it."
Durland had heard of the new scouting cars, but had never seen one. Hewent now, since there was plenty of time, to look it over, and found aheavy but high-powered and fast machine of a most unusual type.
The hood was armored, so that no stray bullets could reach the engine,as would be easy enough in the ordinary car. Similar protection wasafforded to the big gasoline tank in the rear of the car, and the seats,intended for two men, were covered by a shield, also of bullet-proofarmor, that was so pierced with small holes that the road ahead could beseen.
But the most extraordinary feature of the car was the new type of wheel.There were no tires in the ordinary sense at all. Instead, there was atough, but springy steel substitute, and Durland spent an hour inlooking the queer contrivance over, having first satisfied himself thatthe car was not sufficiently different from the ordinary automobile tomake it impossible for Jack Danby to operate it. For it was Jack Danbyhe had had in mind when he asked for the use of the machine.
His friend Lieutenant Tomlinson came up while he was looking it over.
"Queer lookin' critter, isn't it?" said Tomlinson. He seemed quiteenthusiastic. "I tell you what," he went on, "if that thing works outall right, it's going to revolutionize certain things in warfare. Andit's perfect, theoretically. Tires are the things that have barredautomobiles from use in warfare so far. Ping!--a bullet hits a tire, andthe car is stalled. Or suppose the chauffeur wants to leave the road andgo 'cross country? His tires again. He's afraid to."
"And this has tires that won't be afraid of bullets or rocks, either,eh?"
"I should say they wouldn't! Bullets wouldn't have a chance against thatstuff. And the man who drives it is protected, too. That bullet-proofshield makes him as safe as if he were at home. And the blooming thingis good for sixty miles an hour over a half-way decent road--though itcan be slowed down to just about two miles an hour, and still be readyfor a quick jump."
"They're being used in both armies, aren't they?"
"Yes. There are about a dozen of them altogether. They're evenlydivided, and both armies are under orders to try them out prettythoroughly. If they make good, there will be a lot of them put in use bythe regular army. They're making their own tests, but tests under actualservice conditions count for more than any number of trials when all theconditions are made to order for the people who are trying to put thecars over."
It was Tomlinson's busy day, and he didn't have time to dally long intalk. So he went off, and Durland sent Tom Binns, who was acting as hisorderly for the day, to bring Jack Danby to him.
Durland carried
in his pockets a number of large scale maps of thesections all around the State line, in both of the States. The scale wastwo inches to the mile, so it took a considerable number of the maps toshow at all adequately the theatre of the imaginary war. But so full ofdetail, thanks to the large scale, were the maps, that they showed everyhouse in the territory they covered, and every grade. He spread three ofthese maps out, side by side, as he waited for Jack, and traced a courseover them with a pencil.
Jack appeared in due time, and saluted--not with the Scout salute ofthumb and little finger bent, with the three other fingers held straightup, but with the military salute.
"Danby," said Durland, "I'm going to entrust you with a piece of workthat is so important that the whole result of the maneuvers may dependupon it. Do you think you can run that car?"
Jack, who had a positive genius for mechanical matters of all sorts,looked the strange looking car over carefully before he answered.
"It looks straight enough, sir," he said. "Self starter, I guess. Andyou ought to be able to go anywhere you like with those wheels. What isit that I am to do, sir?"
"I can explain better with these maps," said Durland. "Come close here,and I will show you what I mean."
Jack bent over the maps with the Scout-Master, and Durland began tracinga line with a sharp pencil.
"Here we are, in Bremerton," he said. "Now, about four miles across theState line is Hardport. You can see the smoke from its factories, andthe railroad yards there, because it's quite an important little city.Now, there is a straight road from here that leads there--thecontinuation of this very road we are on now. What I want you to do isto circle around"--he pointed on the map--"and strike into Hardport fromthe other side. Find out, if possible, what troops of the Blue army arein the neighborhood, and particularly along this main road. If theyoccupy it in force, report as quickly as possible. If they advanceimmediately after war is declared, return, but try to see if there isnot some way in which our own troops can get behind them."
"Am I to go into Hardport itself, sir?"
"Yes. And you need not stop, if challenged. Your car is regarded asbullet proof, and the only way in which they can legitimately captureyou is by stretching a rope or providing some sort of an obstructionthat enables two of them to get a foot on your running board. Rememberyour rights, and don't surrender to a mere challenge from a sentry. Andkeep your hood well down, so that they won't recognize you."
"I understand, sir. What time am I to start from here?"
"Start as soon as you like. You'd better get off and circle prettywidely, so as to get used to the car. But don't cross the State line,whatever you do, before twelve o'clock. That is strictly againstorders."
There was a lot of good-natured talk among the Scouts when they heard ofthe great chance to distinguish himself that had come to the AssistantPatrol Leader of the Crows.
"Gee, Jack's lucky!" said one member of the Whip-poor-will Patrol.
"He is not!" defended Pete Stubbs, loyally. "He's a hard worker. He'sspent a lot of his own time in the last year learnin' all about anautomobile. He knows how to run one, and he knows how to fix it, too, ifit goes wrong on a trip. That isn't luck, and don't you call it luck!"
"I didn't mean anything against Jack when I said he was lucky, Pete. Nocall to get so mad about it!"
"I'm not so mad, but it does get my goat to hear people say thateverything that happens to Jack Danby that's good comes because he'slucky. I guess he isn't any luckier than any of the rest of us, but hesticks to the job harder."
No amount of coaxing, of course, would have induced Jack to tell whathis orders were; and as a matter of fact, only one or two of the Scoutstried to find out. Durland had not even thought it necessary to warnJack to be quiet, for he knew that Jack was on his honor as a Scout, andthat nothing more was necessary to lead him to maintain a resolutesilence on the subject of the strange scouting trip into the enemy'scountry which he was soon to begin.
"Good luck," cried the Scout-Master, finally, as Jack started off. "Youknow your orders--now make good!"