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The Young Engineers on the Gulf, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 18. The Army "On The Job" |
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_ CHAPTER XVIII. THE ARMY "ON THE JOB" "You, Dick?" gasped Tom, stumbling ruefully to his feet. Then he leaped at his late foe, throwing his arms around him. The two fairly hugged each other, Yes; here was Dick Prescott, not so many weeks a graduate of the Military Academy at West Point, and now, if you please, Second Lieutenant Richard Prescott, United States Army! "Well, of all the strange things that the Illinois Central Railroad brings into Alabama!" grunted Tom, now gripping Dick by the hand and holding on as though he never meant to let go. "If the Illinois Central had built its tracks through to Blixton I probably would have arrived at a civilized hour," laughed Dick. "As it was, I had to come in on a wood-burning, backwoods road and the train was only five hours and a half behind schedule. Then, from a sleepy policeman I got directions that enabled me to find this place after an hour's hard work." To what effect? Only to be pounced upon by you as though you had caught me in the act of stealing all the water in the Gulf of Mexico!" "Stop your roasting," laughed Tom joyfully. "But say, it _does_ seem good to set eyes on you again, after two years." All of our readers who have read the "_High School Boys Series_" and the "_West Point Series_" know all about Dick Prescott, the famous leader of Dick & Co. "What are you now?" Tom asked eagerly. "A general, or only a colonel?" "Nothing but a shavetail," laughed Dick. "Shavetail is the army nickname for a second lieutenant." "I've got to join my regiment, the Thirty-fourth Infantry, out in Colorado very soon," continued Prescott. "But I came down here to spend a few days with you, if you can stand me." "If we can stand you!" chuckled Tom, patting his old high school chum on the back. "Say, where's Greg?" Greg Holmes had been another member of Dick & Co., and Dick's chum and comrade at West Point. "Well, you see," laughed Lieutenant Prescott, "Greg has been falling in love with six girls a year regularly ever since he entered West Point. Now that he's in the army he has started in to increase the yearly average. He's visiting a Miss Deering, who lives near Chicago." "Greg's likely never to marry," wisely remarked Tom. "These fellows who catch a new love fever every few weeks always end up by finding that no girl wants them. But say, Dick you hardly look the soldier." "Why not?" "Well, one would expect to see an army officer in uniform, you know." "An officer rarely travels in uniform, unless on duty with troops," explained Dick. "How did you like West Point?" "Fine!" said Dick, grimly. "It was like four years in prison, only more so. When I look back I shudder at the incessant grind I had to endure there. Yet I'm going to be happy, now I'm through, for I couldn't be happy anywhere except in the United States Army." "What crazy notions some folks have of happiness," murmured Tom, mockingly. "However, old fellow, we're not going to fight, are we? Now, hustle over to the house. Harry is sleeping at the present moment, but I won't let him have a wink more of sleep to-night. It's getting toward daylight, anyway, and too much sleep isn't good for a fellow. But don't talk above a whisper, Dick, when we get near the house. I don't want Harry, by any chance, to catch a sound of your voice until he comes out on the porch and runs into you." Chatting away in low tones the two old-time high school chums gained the porch. "Now, just stay here," whispered Tom, then strode into the house. He entered his partner's room, gripping the slumber-seized Hazelton with a strong clasp. "Oh, quit your fooling!" protested a sleepy voice from the pillow. "Time to get up, you slant-eyed rations stealer!" muttered Tom gruffly. "Come on. You're needed, and there's no time to be lost. Up with you!" Tom dragged his drowsy partner from the bed, seating him on the edge of it. "Now, shed your pajamas and pull on something decent," Reade commanded grimly. "Hustle! There's a conference going on outside, and you're wanted. Hurry! Want me to dump the pitcher of water on you? I'll do it if you give your eyes another rub!" Hazelton was now fully convinced that something important was in the air. If not, he knew that his chum never would have hauled him out of bed in the darkest hours of the night. "If you throw any water I'll shave you with the bread-knife," retorted Harry. "But you can keep on talking to me, so that I won't fall asleep while I'm trying to dress." Slowly, at first, then more rapidly, Hazelton got his clothes on. Pouring water into the basin he sopped a towel in it, then liberally applied it to his face. The water waked him rapidly. "Now, lead me forth to where duty calls," mimicked Harry. "Run along out on to the porch," ordered Tom. "I'll be there in a moment." Still yawning, Hazelton groped his way out into the hall, along the dark passage, and thence out into the night. Some one stood there, and Harry walked curiously toward him. "Howdy, whoever you are," was Hazelton's greeting. "Halloo, Harry, old chum," came Dick Prescott's laughing answer. "Dick Prescott!" gasped Harry delightedly. "I suppose you think I might have waited until daylight," laughed Dick, as their hands met. "I'm heartily glad you didn't wait," said Harry. "How long can you stay with us?" "Not as long as I'd like to, for I'm due at Fort Clowdry in a very few days." "And Greg?" Lieutenant Prescott gave the same explanation he had furnished Tom. "How does it seem to be an army officer?" Harry continued. "I believe it to be the finest career on earth," Prescott answered. "Still, as you can guess, I'm utterly without experience so far. After a few days more I shall have my first day as an officer on duty with troops. But do you and Tom continue to find engineering the grandest career on earth?" "We certainly do," affirmed Hazelton. "It must be very interesting," agreed Dick. "Still, I imagine there is yet enough of the primitive savage in the average man to make him enjoy a real fight once in a while. That's an experience you're denied in your calling, but an army officer may always look forward to the chance of seeing a little fighting." Hazelton glanced humorously at his partner before he replied: "At present there's a very good chance of a fight right here at this camp." "So?" Dick Prescott asked, sitting up with a look of interest. "Not so much chance as there was," said Tom gravely. "The fight came off to-night. Harry, I met the big black---caught him redhanded." "You did?" cried Hazelton, leaping up. "And you never called me?" "There wasn't any chance," Tom assured him. "The meeting and the fight didn't take place on this porch." Tom now had two very interested auditors. For Prescott's benefit Reade first sketched a brief outline of the troubles that had led up to the present, including an account of the wrecking of substantial portions of the retaining wall. Then he came down to the events of the night. "Oh, and I had to miss it," sighed Harry, disappointedly. "I'd have missed a week of sleep just to have been in to-night's doings. And, if I had been with you, Tom, we'd now have Mr. Sambo Ebony in jail." "I think we've blocked the black rascal's game on the wall, anyway," said Tom. "There's just a fair chance that you haven't yet blocked it," remarked the young army officer thoughtfully. "Of course this Sambo of yours merely represents a well-organized gang. This gang may have more ways than one of damaging the property of the Melliston Company. From all I can see, Tom and Harry, you're likely to need to be more vigilant than ever. Whew! But I'm glad that I can be with you a few days. I'm likely to come in for a choice lot of excitement. Also, I may very likely be able to help out a lot." "We wouldn't put you to that trouble, Dick," protested Tom. "You're to be our guest---not our policeman." "Are you going to try to keep me out of all the excitement and fun?" Lieutenant Dick demanded, indignantly. "Sleep? Can't I get enough of that when I go aboard a Pullman again and am riding out to Colorado? Of course I'm going to help---and I'm going to have my share of all the opportunities for excitement here---or else I'm going to cut your acquaintance." "Why, of course we'll be delighted to have your help, Dick, if you want to stand the racket," Reade made haste to say. "It will surely seem like doubling---or trebling---our forces, to have Dick Prescott working hand in hand with us." "Then that's settled," cried Dick, with an air of satisfaction. "You haven't had any sleep lately, have you, Dick?" inquired Tom, after they had chatted a little longer. "No; I haven't." "Then you must turn in and get a few hours," proposed Reade. "I must have a little myself, as I shall have to be up and go into court during the coming forenoon." "I'm wide awake now," said Harry. "So I'll sit right here on the porch and dream of Dick and Greg, and good old Dave Darrin and Danny Dalzell, and the good times we had in old Gridley. What time do you want to be up, Tom?" "Not later than eight," Reade answered. "Trust me," said Harry promptly. Harry went to his own bedroom, pulled his bed apart, remade it with fresh linen, and with a final grip of Dick's hand, he left the army officer to turn in there. At eight o'clock Hazelton called both Tom and Dick. They turned out promptly, to find that Nicolas had laid an appetizing breakfast on the porch. Then Tom had to hurry over to Blixton, Dick going with him, while Hazelton went down to the breakwater to superintend the day's work there. Only a little time had to be spent in the justice's stuffy court. Hawkins and his fellow gamblers and bootleggers were arraigned and held in one thousand dollars' bail each for trial. As none of them had the money the eight men were sent to the county jail pending trial. "That's queer," mused Tom, aloud, as he and Dick walked back to camp. "You'd think that professional gamblers would have money enough to put up small bail." "Not if they're working for other people," suggested Dick. "These men may be merely the agents of some larger crowd." "Meaning that the larger crowd may be a sort of vice trust, operating in many fields at the same time?" queried Reade. "Something of the sort," replied the young army officer. "To-day nearly everything has been capitalized on a large scale of combined capital. Why shouldn't vice be?" "I begin to think you're more than half right in your guess," Tom admitted. "Your explanation is about the only way to account for a fellow like Hawkins not having a thousand at his instant disposal. However, if these fellows represent a vice trust, then I suppose it will be a question of only a little time when the trust sends down money enough to put up the needed bail." "That will undoubtedly happen," nodded Dick. "And then you'll have to look out for that fellow, Hawkins, and all the men he can command. Hawkins looked at you, in court, as though he'd enjoy pulverizing you." "I'm ready, when he is," laughed Tom. "If he'd only fight in the open I wouldn't be at all afraid of him." Tom now led the way down to the retaining wall. Prescott gazed with great interest at the signs of activity. On a closer inspection he was even more interested. He was capable of understanding very fully what was being done here, for every graduate of the United States Military Academy is supposed to be a capable engineer. "You've a difficult task on hand, but your basic principle is sound, and you're doing the work finely and economically," Dick declared with emphasis. Harry came in from the outer end of the wall and joined them. He listened with pride to the praises that the army officer showered on the engineers. "I wish Mr. Bascomb, the president of the company, could hear you," said Harry. "He isn't altogether sure that we know what we're about in anything that we're doing." "Then I've a very good mental picture of Bascomb," declared Dick, bluntly. "Bascomb is something of a chump. By the way, if you want to get square with Mr. Bascomb, why don't you coax him down here to help you look out for the evil-doers who are combined against you?" "He wouldn't be much use," sighed Tom. "He's an impossible sort of chap. He wanted us to stop our crusade against camp vice. Said it was hurting business." "What craft is that?" inquired Dick, looking toward a sailboat that was moving lazily along about a half-mile to the eastward. "I don't know," Tom answered, after a look. "Never saw the boat before. Regular cabin cruiser, isn't she, about forty feet long?" "About that," nodded Dick. "What interested me in her was the fact that a fellow on board has been watching us with a marine glass. I caught the glint of the sun on the lenses." "Why should he want to be watching us?" demanded Hazelton. "That's just what made me curious," replied Prescott. "As an army officer, if this were a fort that I commanded in troublous times, I'd want to look into any strange craft that I caught cruising lazily in the offing and holding a marine glass on us." "I wonder if that boat can be in the service of those who are annoying us?" Tom muttered. "It's an even chance that it is a 'hostile ship,'" Prescott suggested. "You have a motor boat here. I'm inclined to think you ought to use it in overhauling that suspicious craft. Of course you'd have no right unless there was a police officer along. Can you get one?" "The authorities in Blixton would send a policeman on request." "Then send a messenger to request them to send over a policeman in citizen's clothes," proposed Dick. Tom promptly despatched Foreman Dill on that errand. "Now don't let the men on the boat see that you're paying any more attention," Prescott advised. "Leave it to me, and I'll contrive to keep the boat and its people under observation without looking too plainly in their direction." In due time the plain clothes policeman arrived. He, the young engineers and the army lieutenant boarded the "Morton," which put out from the landing as though on a trip of inspection of the wall. "Don't anyone look over at the sloop," Prescott urged. "I'll do the watching. A fellow on that craft is holding the glasses on us right now. Officer, do you demand the assistance of all present in any police duty that may come up?" "I do," replied the Blixton policeman, a man named Carnes, returning Prescott's wink. "All right, then," laughed Dick. "That demand makes policemen of us all. Tom, you can turn, now, when ready, and put on full speed in going after that craft." Reade gave the order for full speed, then took the steering wheel himself. "Guilty conscience!" laughed Prescott. "There's the sloop putting about at once and heading away from us." "They can't get away from us, in this light wind," chuckled the young chief engineer. A few minutes later the "Morton" came up within easy hailing distance of the sloop, aboard which only one man now appeared. "Sloop ahoy!" called the policeman. "What are you doing in these waters?" "Looking for a good fishing ground," answered the dark-faced man at the tiller. "Then you're too far in by some three miles," answered the policeman. "Thank you, cap'n," acknowledged the sailing master of the sloop. "You're welcome," the policeman continued, "but ease off your sheet and lay to. We want to come aboard." "You can't!" flatly retorted the skipper. "You're wrong there," retorted the policeman. "This is a police party, and I tell you that we are coming aboard. Lay to, or we shall have to start a lot of trouble for you." In the policeman's hand suddenly glistened a revolver. Tom ran the motor boat close alongside. With a snarl the man left off his sheet. The policeman and Dick Prescott leaped aboard the craft, Tom and Harry following. "This is a cheeky outrage!" snarled the skipper, scowling at the invaders. "Then keep the change, and welcome," laughed the policeman, taking his stand close to the skipper. Dick Prescott made a dive at the cabin door, which was closed. "Open this door!" he summoned. As the door did not open Dick placed his shoulder against it. "Open the door, or I'll break it down," Dick insisted. There was still no answer. Thereupon Prescott proceeded to put his threat into execution. Harry bounded forward to help. Under their combined assault the door gave way. Lieutenant Prescott was the first to enter the dark little cabin. Poor as the light was his eyes caught sight of something that made him gasp. "This is the big capture of the season!" cried Dick jubilantly. _ |
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