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diff --git a/36726-h/36726-h.htm b/36726-h/36726-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e2715d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/36726-h/36726-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4394 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of America First, by Frances Nimmo Greene. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +p.cen { + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; + letter-spacing: 8em; + margin-left: 8em; +} + +hr { + margin: 3em auto 3em auto; + height: 0px; + border-width: 1px 0 0 0; + border-style: solid; + border-color: #dcdcdc; + width: 500px; + clear: both; +} + +hr.hr2 { + width: 250px; + margin: 3em auto 3em auto; +} + +table.toc { + margin: auto; + width: 60%; + border-collapse:collapse; +} + +td.c1 { + text-align: left; + padding-left: 1em; +} + +td.c3 { + text-align: right; + padding-left: 1em; +} + +td { padding: 0em 1em; } +th { padding: 0em 1em; } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: #999; +} /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ + .figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + + .bord img { + padding: 1px; + border: 1px solid black; +} + +p.caption { + margin-top: 0; + font-size: 70%; + text-align: left; +} + +p.caption2 { + margin-top: 0; + font-size: 70%; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Transcriber Notes */ +div.tn { + background-color: #EEE; + border: dashed 1px; + color: #000; + margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + margin-top: 5em; + margin-bottom: 5em; + padding: 1em; +} + +ul.corrections { + list-style-type: circle; +} + +/* Poetry */ + .poem { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + text-align: left; +} + + .poem br { display: none; } + + .poem .stanza { margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; } + + .poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of America First, by Frances Nimmo Greene + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: America First + +Author: Frances Nimmo Greene + +Illustrator: T. de Thulstrup + +Release Date: July 14, 2011 [EBook #36726] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICA FIRST *** + + + + +Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Archives and Special +Collections, University Libraries, Ball State University +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 500px;"> + <a name="cover.jpg" id="cover.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" height="773" alt="Book Cover" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h1>AMERICA FIRST</h1> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 500px;"> + <a name="front" id="front"></a> + <a name="frontis.jpg" id="frontis.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="500" height="749" alt="The execution" title="" /> + <p class="caption">"I wouldn't go when you dared me to," said the tenderfoot, "but +this is—different." And he added in his heart: +"This is for <i>my country</i>." [<a href="#Page_23"><i>Page 23.</i></a>]</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h1>AMERICA FIRST</h1> + +<p> </p> + +<h4>BY</h4> +<h2>FRANCES NIMMO GREENE</h2> + +<p> </p> + +<h5>ILLUSTRATED BY</h5> +<h3>T. DE THULSTRUP</h3> + +<p> </p> + +<h3>CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS</h3> +<h5>NEW YORK CHICAGO BOSTON</h5> + +<hr /> + +<h6><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1918, by</span></h6> +<h5>CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS</h5> + +<hr /> + +<h4>TO MY MOTHER'S NAMESAKE</h4> +<h4>AND MY OWN</h4> +<h3>VIRGINIA OWEN GREENE AND</h3> +<h3>FRANCES NIMMO GREENE</h3> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table class="toc" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td class="c1"> </td><td class="c3"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1"><span class="smcap">Called to the Colors</span></td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1"><span class="smcap">Under the Flag</span></td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1"><span class="smcap">America First</span></td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr> +</table> + + +<hr /> +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<table class="toc" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td class="c1">"I wouldn't go when you dared me to," said the tenderfoot, + "but this is—different." And he added + in his heart: "This is for <i>my country</i>"</td><td class="c3"><a href="#front"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1"> </td><td class="c3"><small>FACING PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">A man was sitting over some sort of instrument</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">"You can't touch Rudolph!" she cried. "He's under + the flag!"</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="c1">"Riego Yañez," he said, "I am proud to shake hands + with an American hero!"</td><td class="c3"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> +</table> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2>CALLED TO THE COLORS</h2> + +<p>This is the story of a "tenderfoot"—of a +pink-cheeked, petted lad, and of his +first service as a Boy Scout.</p> + +<p>Danny Harding was what his mother's +friends termed "wonderfully fortunate," but +Danny himself took quite another view of +his life's circumstances as he hurried home +from school one afternoon, an hour before +the regular time for dismissal.</p> + +<p>The day was golden with sunshine, but the +boy's spirit was dark. There was singing in +the air and singing in the tree tops, but in +the heart which pounded against his immaculate +jacket were silent rage and despair.</p> + +<p>The Whippoorwill Patrol had been called +to the colors, and he the untried, the untested +tenderfoot would have to remain at +home in luxurious security, while the huskier, +browner, less-sheltered lads answered their +country's call. It was beyond the power of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +a boy's heart to endure—the mortification—the +wild despair of it! They would call him +a slacker, a <i>coward</i>! But, worse still, his +country needed him, and he could not answer!</p> + +<p>Danny brushed away the tears which +threatened to blind him, and stumbled on.</p> + +<p>The call had come through a telegram +from the Scout Master to the boys while +they were yet at school, and the teacher had +promptly dismissed them to service. The +Whippoorwills were to leave immediately +upon an expedition to the mountains, but just +what duty they were called to perform was +not stated in the brief message. All they +knew was that they were to leave at once for +a certain distant mountain-top, there pitch +tents and await orders for serious service.</p> + +<p>On receipt of the news the other boys had +rushed off noisily with eager joy to don their +khaki uniforms and make ready, but Danny +had slipped down a by-street—a wounded, a +hurt thing, trying to hide his anguish away +from mortal sight. He would not be allowed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +to go—he knew it—for he was the only son +of a widowed mother who loved him all too +well. He was her all, her idol, and her days +had been spent in pampering and shielding +him.</p> + +<p>Only a week before, the scouts had gone on +a hike together and she had refused absolutely +to allow Danny to accompany them—the +sun would be too hot, he might get +poisoned with wild ivy, he would be sure to +imbibe fever germs from the mountain spring!</p> + +<p>No, thought the miserable boy, she would +be doubly fearful, doubly unwilling, now that +the Whippoorwills were to do serious scout +duty on Death Head Mountain.</p> + +<p>Danny's soul raged against his soft fate as +he stumbled up the side steps of his handsome +home and entered his mother's presence.</p> + +<p>He did not fly to her arms as he was wont +to do, but, instead, flung himself into the +first convenient chair with a frown. He +could not trust himself to speak.</p> + +<p>But even in that moment of stress Danny<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +realized that his mother had not hurried to +him for the usual kiss. She was struggling +with some sort of bundle, and she only looked +up with a quick smile.</p> + +<p>The next instant, however, the smile of +welcome died out of her face, and she stopped +suddenly and regarded him with a startled +question in her eyes.</p> + +<p>Danny frowned more darkly, and moved +uneasily under her searching gaze. He looked +away in a vain attempt to hide the tears +which had sprung to his eyes.</p> + +<p>And then came the unexpected:</p> + +<p>"Danny," said his mother, in a voice that +sounded new to him, "I received a long-distance +phone message from the Scout +Master, and—he said he had wired to the +school——"</p> + +<p>She paused a moment, and then asked: +"Didn't you get the message?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the boy doggedly.</p> + +<p>There was a pause, and then his mother +deliberately put down the bundle she had +been working with, and approached. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +came and stood before him, with her back to +the table as if for support. Danny did not +look up into her face, though he saw her +white, jewelled hands grasping the edge of +the table, and they were strained and tense.</p> + +<p>"My son," she said, "what is the matter +with you?"</p> + +<p>He was too full to answer.</p> + +<p>"Danny," she began again presently and +in that new voice, "you won't <i>do</i> this way—you +<i>will not</i>!" And then suddenly a white, +jewelled hand was struck fiercely upon the +table, and the new voice exclaimed passionately:</p> + +<p>"Daniel Harding, if you sit around and +cry like a baby when you are called to the +service of your country, I'll—I'll <i>disown</i> you, +sir!"</p> + +<p>"Mother!" And Danny sprang to her +arms.</p> + +<p>There were a few moments of sobbing, +laughing confession from Danny, and then +his mother explained to him her unexpected +change of attitude toward scouting. Danger?—yes, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +of course she knew that this might involve +danger to him, but this call was for no +frolic—it was to the service of his country! +He <i>was</i> her all, everything in the world to +her, but the one thing which she could not, +would not bear would be to see him turn +"slacker" and coward when other mothers' +boys—not ten years older than Danny—were +already on the firing-line in France!</p> + +<p>"Our part in this war is the old fight of +'76, Danny"—she said to him—"<i>nothing less +than that</i>! The Colonists fought to win independence +for America. We are fighting +now to save that independence won. And +if it takes every man in America—every boy +in America—if it takes <i>you</i>, Danny—there is +just one answer for an American to give."</p> + +<p>And then the two of them hurriedly finished +tying up the bundle she had put aside. +It was his kit for the expedition!</p> + +<p>It was a newer, bigger ideal of patriotism +which Danny Harding took with him into +his service on Death Head Mountain. His +mother, who loved him all too well, had yet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +sent him from her with nothing short of her +positive orders to do his duty like a man.</p> + +<p class="cen">*****</p> + +<p>The Whippoorwill Patrol had answered the +call to service, and the growing dusk found +its members arranging their camp for a night's +bivouac in a lonely stretch of woods "somewhere" +on the crest of the Blue Ridge Mountains.</p> + +<p>The Scout Master had not come, but his +orders had, and the Whippoorwills were busily +engaged in executing them.</p> + +<p>"Camp in Mica Cove, conceal your fires, +and wait for me," the Scout Master had telegraphed. +"You are called to service."</p> + +<p>So here they were in Mica Cove, hardily +preparing for whatever service to their country +it might be theirs to perform, and excitedly +guessing at what ominous circumstance +had necessitated their sudden calling +out.</p> + +<p>Of course, everybody knew that old "Death +Head" must have come into some added +evil repute, and would have to be taken in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +hand. And that they would shortly be +scouting over all its lonely trails nobody had +any doubt whatever.</p> + +<p>There were eight of them, for the whole +patrol was present. Youngest and happiest +of them all was the pink-cheeked, petted +tenderfoot, Danny Harding. He was no +"slacker," no "coward"! He was here with +the others to play a manly part in serving +his country, and his mother had sent him +from her with a smile!</p> + +<p>Besides Danny, there were in the ranks L. +C. Whitman, nicknamed "Elsie," Ham and +Roger Gayle, Alex Batré, Ed Rowell, and +Biddie Burton—as husky and jolly a bunch +as could well be got together. All these were +older than Danny, and, as all were more or +less seasoned to scouting, they were quite +disposed to have their fun out of the new +recruit.</p> + +<p>Danny took their teasing in good spirit, +however, for he felt that it was part of his +initiation into their envied circle. They were +big boys—brown like the woods of which they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +had become a part, panther-footed, eagle-eyed, +efficient. Danny felt that he would be +willing to suffer much to become as they.</p> + +<p>The tenderfoot watched them all to see +just how a scout was supposed to act, but it +was to Willard McKenzie, the resourceful +leader of the patrol, that his eyes turned +oftenest in frank admiration.</p> + +<p>McKenzie was the oldest of the bunch—quite +seventeen—and five years of scouting +had stamped him a man as Nature meant +him to be. He knew and could answer every +bird-call, could follow a wood-trail unerringly, +could find himself in any emergency by the +chart of the stars above him. He was the +trusted friend of every wild thing about him, +and brother to every wind that blew. The +tenderfoot watched the graceful movements +of the leader's Indianlike figure, studied his +genius for quiet command, and decided +promptly to be, one day, a second Willard +McKenzie.</p> + +<p>In obedience to McKenzie's orders, the +boys built their camp-fire within the cove,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +where it would be hidden on three sides by +peaks which towered above, and on the +fourth by a dense thicket.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon, the Scout Master, had not +come, nor did they know when to expect +him. But they knew enough to obey their +leader, and this they were proceeding to do.</p> + +<p>It was a simple matter—getting the camp +ready—and the boys thoroughly enjoyed it. +As they were to sleep on the ground, rolled +in their blankets, they had merely to clear +the space about them of underbrush and +fallen timber, and build the fire for cooking.</p> + +<p>Of course they talked of war as they worked, +for they were scouts in khaki, preparing for +action.</p> + +<p>Ed Rowell claimed for cousin one of the +American engineers who fought their way +out of German captivity with their bare +fists. Batré's older brother was right then +cleaving his winged way through clouds of +battle in the service of the La Fayette Escadrille. +Whitman knew a man who knew a +man who was in the 167th Infantry Regiment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +when it made with others that now historic +march, knee-deep in French snows.</p> + +<p>Danny said nothing, for he was a quiet, +thoughtful lad. But he had vividly in mind +a handsome fellow of only eighteen who, +until America's declaration of war, had Sunday +after Sunday carried the golden cross up +the aisle of the little Church of the Holy +Innocents to "Onward, Christian Soldiers." +Danny had heard his mother say that it +was that song which had sent the young +crucifer bearing the Red Cross of Mercy +right up to the German guns.</p> + +<p>But their talk was not all serious. They +were brimming over with life, and they +laughed and scrapped and worked together +with a zest which made even bramble-cutting +enjoyable.</p> + +<p>It was when the big fire was glowing red +and they set about preparing their evening +meal that the best part of the fun began. +Whoever has not broiled great slices of bacon +or toasted cold biscuits on sharpened sticks +before a cheery camp-fire, who has not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +roasted sweet potatoes and green corn in +glowing ashes, who has not inhaled the aroma +from an old tin coffee-pot, spitting and sputtering +on a hot rock, should join the Boy +Scouts and hike back to the heart of nature.</p> + +<p>Oh, but it was fun! All except the holding +in check of savage appetites till the mess +should be cooked. Ed Rowell had been detailed +to toast the biscuits, and repeatedly +threatened to "eat 'em alive" if they didn't +brown faster.</p> + +<p>Danny, who, with Alex Batré, had been +directed to broil the bacon, couldn't for the +life of him keep from pinching off a crisp +edge now and then to nibble. And yet only +yesterday Danny Harding would have turned +up his nose at bacon. The stimulating fresh +air and the hard work of camp life had begun +to get in their good work on him.</p> + +<p>On the other side of the fire from Danny, +Ham and Roger Gayle were roasting corn +and sweet potatoes in the ashes, and a little +beyond, Elsie Whitman was filling the water-cans +from a trickling mountain spring—while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +Biddie Burton was busily engaged in getting +under everybody else's feet and teasing +whomever he could.</p> + +<p>McKenzie, their leader, was momentarily +absent, having gone down to the road below +the cliff on which they were encamped to see +if their fire could be sighted from that point +through the screening thicket.</p> + +<p>The boys had from the first been instructed +by McKenzie to keep their voices lowered. +They were there for serious service, he had +told them. And the necessity for stealth and +the promise of adventure had for a time +keyed them up to the highest pitch of excitement.</p> + +<p>But when the interest of cooking supper +became uppermost—especially when the scent +of the bacon and coffee began to fill the air—thoughts +of adventure withdrew a little to a +distance and whispered merriment became the +order of the hour.</p> + +<p>As was natural, they turned on the tenderfoot +their battery of teasing, and the tenderfoot +bore it as best he could.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> + "Its mother washes 'em," averred Biddie +Burton, coming up behind Danny and carefully +examining his ears as he knelt at his work.</p> + +<p>"Sure she does," laughed Ham across the +fire, "and they say that a sore tooth in its +little mouth aches everybody in the family +connection."</p> + +<p>"Look out there, something's burning!" +broke in Ed Rowell suddenly. And the next +moment Ham and Roger were busy rescuing +from the fire the scorching potatoes.</p> + +<p>"I declare," scolded Biddie, lounging up, +"I could beat you fellows cooking, with both +hands tied behind me."</p> + +<p>"Why haven't you ever done it, then?" +snapped the elder Gayle, sore over his partial +failure.</p> + +<p>"Why, nobody has ever tied my hands +behind me," came in seemingly hurt explanation +from Biddie, and the crowd laughed.</p> + +<p>McKenzie had directed them not to wait +for him, and they did not. Another five +minutes found them eating like young wolves +around a languishing fire.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> + Later, when the fire winked lower, and the +meal was finished—when the screech-owls +began to send their blood-chilling, shivering +screams through the forest—they drew closer +together and began to talk of weird and +haunting things.</p> + +<p>"Over yonder, on the real 'Death Head,'" +began Roger, bringing the interest down to +the spot, "is the haunted tree where——"</p> + +<p>"Look out," broke in young Rowell, "a +little more of that and friend Danny over +here will cut for home and mother."</p> + +<p>"I'll do nothing of the kind; I'm not a +baby!" exclaimed Danny indignantly. But +all the same, his heart was already in his +mouth, for Danny had never been distinguished +for signal bravery.</p> + +<p>"No, you are not 'a baby,'" put in the unquenchable +Biddie, "but before we get out +of these woods you are going to wish you +<i>were</i> a baby, and a <i>girl</i> baby at that!"</p> + +<p>Danny did not reply to this. He only sat +very still, wishing that Willard McKenzie +would return from his prolonged trip, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +thinking of the mother who was looking to +him to play the man.</p> + +<p>The scene lost its glow. The surrounding +forest grew darker, taller, and began stealing +up closer about them.</p> + +<p>"If you cry like a baby—!" Danny's +mother was whispering to his sinking heart.</p> + +<p>The others had fallen into an argument +about the exact location of the haunted tree, +but presently Ed Rowell asked impatiently:</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it about the place, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"Haunted!" exclaimed Ham. "A murderer, +hunted with dogs through the mountains, +hanged himself on——"</p> + +<p>"And the old tree died in the night," assisted +his brother. "And it stands there now, +naked and stark and dead. At night——"</p> + +<p>Danny's heart stood still to hear.</p> + +<p>"At night," broke in Whitman, "if you +creep up close, you can see the dead man +swinging in the wind!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Listen!</i>" exclaimed Biddie under his +breath.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> + It will have to be recorded that they all +jumped violently at the exclamation.</p> + +<p>"What?" demanded L. C.</p> + +<p>"And hear old Danny being quiet!" +finished the teasing scamp.</p> + +<p>"You bet you, and he'd better be quiet—" +began Roger.</p> + +<p>But Whitman interrupted:</p> + +<p>"Danny's afraid of ghosts, anyway," he +declared, "I tried to leave him in the graveyard +once, but he was home in his mama's +lap before I started running."</p> + +<p>"I'm not any more afraid of ghosts than +you are," Danny protested hotly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>aren't</i> you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not!"</p> + +<p>"All right, then," the big boy taunted; +"I've been to the haunted tree by myself at +night—these fellows all know I have—now +suppose <i>you</i> go."</p> + +<p>"Sure, tenderfoot," put in young Rowell; +"here's a perfectly good chance to show your +nerve."</p> + +<p>"He hasn't any," sneered Alex Batré.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> + But Danny drew back, aghast at the proposition—go +alone to a spot like that, and at night!</p> + +<p>"Go to it, kid," was suddenly spoken +quietly in his ear.</p> + +<p>Danny turned to see whose was the kindly +voice that advised, and looked into Biddie +Burton's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Don't let 'em make you take a dare," +came in another whisper. "<i>Go.</i>" Biddie was +not smiling now, and there was a note of +serious friendliness in his voice.</p> + +<p>It suddenly came to Danny that he would +give more to merit that new confidence 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 +to carry him to that unhallowed, ghostly +spot than he could command the unwilling +nerves of another. His will-power had deserted +him.</p> + +<p>"I <i>dare</i> you to go!" badgered L. C.</p> + +<p>Danny's spirit flamed for one brief moment. +But in the very next his head dropped, and +he turned away.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> + "This is going too far," the wretched little +fellow heard Biddie Burton exclaim sharply.</p> + +<p>"What is 'going too far'?" a new voice +asked out of the darkness, and Willard +McKenzie advanced into the group. "What +is 'going too far'?" he repeated, glancing +from one to another. No answer being volunteered, +his keen glance quickly singled out +the shamed tenderfoot.</p> + +<p>"What have they been up to, Danny?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>Danny turned and faced him.</p> + +<p>"Nothing that makes any difference," he +said.</p> + +<p>It was generous in him not to "peach," and +so Biddie Burton's friendly glance assured +him.</p> + +<p>The incident passed with that, for McKenzie +was full of something repressed, and, +seeing it, the boys gathered close about him +in eager questioning—all except Danny.</p> + +<p>All except Danny! His brief career—his +career that only an hour ago had promised +so much—had ended, and in disgrace. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +had taken a dare! Nothing would ever matter +to him again—Danny told his aching heart—the +boys despised him, all except Biddie +Burton, and, somehow, Biddie's pity was +harder to bear than despite.</p> + +<p>"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 to his car and may not get +here for some time."</p> + +<p>"What's up?" It was Roger who asked +the question.</p> + +<p>"Something serious," answered McKenzie, +"but Mr. Gordon didn't say what. +Have you had supper?"</p> + +<p>They replied in concert, eager to receive +orders.</p> + +<p>"Well," continued McKenzie, "we've got +to cover the mountain here, for signs of—anything +unusual. You'll have to be careful +not to run into trouble yourselves, but you +must know your ground. There'll be a good +moon if the clouds break."</p> + +<p>"Glory be!" Danny heard Elsie Whitman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +breathe in expectant ecstasy, and he would +have given the world to have felt with him +that eager joy. But Danny had taken a +dare!</p> + +<p>The others were chattering now, as eager +as Whitman to be off on the trail of adventure.</p> + +<p>McKenzie was giving orders:</p> + +<p>"Whitman, you can take the north trail, +and bear down over the mountain. Ham +will strike out down the creek to the left +there, and work around to your territory. +There's an old cabin hidden by scrub-oaks +and rocks about a quarter below the bridge +there, Ham. Know it for what it is, but +don't you run your long neck into danger."</p> + +<p>In spite of his hurt Danny was getting interested. +He crept up on the outer edge of +the group and listened, wide-eyed, as the +other boys eagerly accepted their several +commissions.</p> + +<p>"Roger and Ed," their leader was continuing, +"bear south till you get below the drop +of the cliff, and then separate and work that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +territory between you"—with a sweeping +gesture. "Alex and Biddie—let me see—you +two go over the mountain to the right of +Elsie—No, there's the Death Head trail—" +He paused a moment in thoughtful survey of +them, and the boys looked at each other apprehensively. +Not one of them was anxious +to work the trail of evil name. Suddenly, +however, McKenzie's eyes lighted on Danny +Harding, and an inspiration seemed to come +to him.</p> + +<p>"Say," he exclaimed, "I'll give the new +recruit a chance at that. Come here, scout." +And he laid a kind hand on Danny's shoulder +and drew him into the circle.</p> + +<p>Somebody on the outskirts of the group +laughed.</p> + +<p>"Now you are going to do your first service +for your country," McKenzie said to the +tenderfoot; "but whatever you do, be wary, +because——"</p> + +<p>Somebody else laughed, and McKenzie +looked about sharply. "What's the joke?" +he asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> + "Danny's afraid," the mocker explained; +"that's where the dead man swings."</p> + +<p>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 Dan here about the camp."</p> + +<p>But Danny raised his head quickly. It is +true that his face was dead-white, but his +head was up.</p> + +<p>"I'll go to the Death Head," he said to +McKenzie.</p> + +<p>The crowd was dumb-struck.</p> + +<p>"But you got white-livered and backed +down—" L. C. began, after the first shock of +his surprise.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't go when you dared me to," +said the tenderfoot, "but this is—different." +And he added in his heart: "This is for <i>my +country</i>."</p> + +<p>"But he <i>is</i> afraid," put in Roger. "Look +at him!"</p> + +<p>McKenzie took a long, straight look into +Danny's white face and determined eyes, and +then turned to Roger.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> + "All the gamer of him," he said, "to go in +spite of being afraid—that's the stuff that +Pershing is looking for. And Mr. Gordon +says that a boy who 'isn't afraid of anything' +hasn't sense enough to be trusted with a +commission. "Kid," he continued, turning +to Danny, "you find out all that there is to +be known about the Death Head vicinity before +you show up in camp again."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Danny.</p> + +<p>There was a gasp of surprise among them +at the tenderfoot's final acceptance of the +commission, but not one of them—not even +Biddie—believed that he would be able to +carry it through. And the sensitive, high-strung +Danny went out from among them +burdened with the feeling that they did not +look for him to succeed.</p> + +<p>McKenzie walked a little way with him—big-brother +fashion, with an arm over his +shoulder—and gave him careful directions as +to how to proceed. There would be a moon +if the clouds broke, his leader warned him, +and he was to keep to the shadows.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> + "I'll be leaving camp myself," said McKenzie, +"and will not show up again for a couple +of hours. You will probably get back before +the rest of us, so just roll up in your +blanket and lie close under that ledge yonder—you +will be perfectly safe there." A little +farther up the mountain trail and McKenzie +paused.</p> + +<p>"Never mind about the dead man, scout," +he admonished finally, "but keep your eye +peeled for the live one, and—'the best of +luck!'"</p> + +<p>"'The best of luck!'" That was what +the men at the front said to a fellow when he +was going over the top of the shielding trench +into the dangerous unknown.</p> + +<p>At the familiar phrase in parting, Danny +drew a quick, deep breath. Yes, he was +going "over the top"—and he was going +<i>alone</i>!</p> + +<p>Then McKenzie slipped quietly back, and +Danny started forward up the long, dark +trail alone. The ghost of a moon showed +dimly through the black cloud-rack, now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +and again, and fitfully relieved the enveloping +darkness.</p> + +<p>Only once did Danny look back. That +was when he came to the first turn in 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 of comforting voices.</p> + +<p>Danny paused and looked back. Only +two remained in the bright circle toward +which his rapidly chilling spirit was reaching +back. He recognized at once the tall, +slim form of McKenzie, but—— Yes, that +chunky one was Biddie Burton. The two +of them were standing close together, talking +earnestly. And now Danny caught, by a +sudden leap of the firelight, the fact that they +were looking toward him. Biddie was nodding.</p> + +<p>It was so bright, so safe back there where +they had laughed and feasted and wrangled +together. Then suddenly Danny thought of +the young crucifer in the little Church of the +Holy Innocents.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>"Onward, Christian Soldiers!"</p> + +<p>The next moment Danny was groping, feeling +his trembling way, but that way was +<i>onward</i>. The heart in his breast beat an +alarm to every nerve in his body, but he kept +his face toward the dim, dark trail. A lump +rose in his throat and threatened to choke +him. He gulped it down, and crept forward.</p> + +<p>McKenzie had told him that a scout must +keep his head. That was the hardest part. +A fellow could force himself to go blindly to +a haunted spot at night, but to think, to +plan, to watch as he went——!</p> + +<p>But he was a scout, and a scout must "be +prepared." Danny forced himself to think +as he went. He was not following that gruesome +trail in response to Whitman's dare—he +was scouting old Death Head in the service +of his country.</p> + +<p>Danny found that he could follow McKenzie's +directions better than he had hoped. +Now that his eyes were thoroughly accustomed +to the dark, he could descry the blacker +landmarks for which his leader had prepared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +him. After the turn in the mountain trail, +an abrupt and jagged cliff ahead beckoned the +way. The shadow of the cliff won, Danny +waited for another appearance of the pale, +cold moon by the help of whose light he +hoped to locate the three giant pines—his +next objective. From the pines, McKenzie +had told him, old Death Head could be +sighted plainly enough, for from that point +it was silhouetted, black and unmistakable, +against the sky, and its summit was +marked by the stark, white, blasted tree of +evil fame.</p> + +<p>"That's where the dead man swings!" +echoed in Danny's memory. And for a moment +it seemed that he <i>must</i> give up and fly +back to safety. But something said: "I'll +disown you, sir!" And Danny again turned +his face in the direction of his duty.</p> + +<p>The moon looked out of the drifting clouds. +Danny located the three giant pines in the +distance, and for one blessed moment saw a +reasonably clear path, skirting along the +mountainside.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> + Darkness again! But Danny took the +skirting path to the pine giants.</p> + +<p>Once he nearly lost his nerve altogether, +for suddenly there was behind him a sound +as if some human foot had stumbled. The +tenderfoot dropped warily to the long grass +at one side of the path, and listened. A long, +long time he listened, but not another sound +did he hear. At length he told himself that +the step was that of some wild creature which +he had disturbed.</p> + +<p>Then forward again! Creeping, panther-footed.</p> + +<p>Danny reached the pines at last—and sure +enough, old Death Head rose all too plainly +before him. He saw, or thought he saw, a +tall white something on its summit.</p> + +<p>In thinking it over afterward, Danny was +never quite sure just what happened between +the pines and the haunted tree. He had a +vague recollection of imagining that step behind +again, and he recalled at one point the +almost welcome pain of a stubbed toe. But for +the rest, he was too frightened to take it all in.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> + By the time the tenderfoot reached the +summit of old Death Head and stood within +fifty feet of the haunted tree, he was too +frightened to move, and he almost <i>expected</i> +to see the thing which he most feared. The +sky was overcast again, but a dim white +something towered before him—the haunted +tree—and—and——!</p> + +<p>But just at that moment the clouds broke, +and the full moon, now all unveiled, flooded +the scene with light.</p> + +<p>Naked, stark, ghostly, the blasted pine-tree +rose before him. With a sudden spasm +at his heart Danny looked for the swinging +dead man. But if anything unearthly hung +from those bare white branches, his mortal +eyes were spared the vision. And presently +his awakening reason began to urge: "There +are no such things as 'ghosts.'"</p> + +<p>The next moment the young scout came +fully to himself, and withdrew quickly from +the all-revealing flood of moonlight to the +friendly shadow of a low shrub. He began +to peer sharply about. The growth around<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +was ragged, with great spaces between. If +there was anything here that a scout ought +to note, the opportunity was ideal.</p> + +<p>He must perform the duty for which he +was here! His leader had told him to +know the spot before he showed up in camp +again.</p> + +<p>Danny began skirting about in the shadows, +getting every angle he could on the scene, +and exploring adjacent wood lanes. It is +true that he kept well away from the haunted +tree, but he came back to its vicinity every +now and then. And each time as he came +he managed to force himself to approach it +closer.</p> + +<p>Nearer and nearer he got to it, and then, +suddenly, he heard issue from somewhere in +its branches a low, sighing moan. Danny +thought he would drop in his tracks, but he +did not. Instead, he stood as still as death +and listened.</p> + +<p>That moan again! Every time a gust of +wind came, the dim, weird sound trembled +along the night.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> + The moon was shining brilliantly now. +Danny stood staring at the haunted tree.</p> + +<p>All at once he crept forward, sharply intent +on something.</p> + +<p>What was that straight black line against +the sky? Where did it come from?—that +haunted tree?</p> + +<p>Another moment and Danny was at the +foot of the ghostly pine-tree, staring upward +at the crisscross of its naked branches.</p> + +<p>There was no swinging dead man there, +but there was <i>something</i>—at the top!</p> + +<p>Danny dropped to the ground and retreated +a little on all fours for a better view-point. +'Way up, two parallel black bars rose against +the sky.</p> + +<p>A scout must keep his head!</p> + +<p>Now, no boughs of a tree ever grew that +straight! And what were those orderly black +lines which extended from one bar to the +other?</p> + +<p>That moan again!—or—or was it the sound +of a wire, played upon by the wind?</p> + +<p>Danny shifted his position again.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> + Yes, that black line across the sky connected +directly with the queer something in +the tree top.</p> + +<p>"<i>Wireless!</i>" said the scout's head to him.</p> + +<p>Danny stood up. All childish fear of a +swinging ghost had dropped away from him. +He had not the slightest inclination now to +cry like a baby about anything.</p> + +<p>He was a scout on duty!</p> + +<p>Another moment and he was creeping, +velvet-footed, through the woods, following +that black line as it led away from the haunted +tree. At the other end of it must be a receiving-station!</p> + +<p>And it was no easy task which his duty set +him. Over sharp rocks and through tangled +briers that black line led him on. Sometimes +the moon would desert him and he would lose +the clue for a while. Sometimes he would +be forced to abandon his clue to skirt around +an insuperable barrier. But he always came +back to it, always pressed on.</p> + +<p>On and on! And then, suddenly, the line +disappeared. It ended, or seemed to end in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +large pile of boulders which clung to the mountainside. +The undergrowth was dense here.</p> + +<p>Danny circled about the spot. Yes, the +wire stopped here. He began creeping through +the underbrush—feeling his way along the +side of a great boulder.</p> + +<p>Suddenly his hand touched—<i>nothing</i>!</p> + +<p>The scout stopped and thought. There +was some sort of break in the rock here.</p> + +<p>Danny had a flashlight in his pocket which +he had been too cautious to use. He thought +of it now, and hesitated. Then he slipped +it out and pressed the spring.</p> + +<p>Before him was what seemed the door of a +cave. He looked closer. Yes, the wire led +into the cave. Darkness, again, for he was +afraid to use his light any longer.</p> + +<p>Danny dropped to his all-fours and crept +into the black hole. A floor of soft sand +helped him to advance noiselessly. After a +few yards the scout reached a turn in the +rocky passageway, and——</p> + +<p>His eye caught a big, black-hooded shadow +humped over a point of light!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> + Danny withdrew quickly behind the sheltering +turn in the wall, and crouched in the +sand, dead-still. But his blood was up. He +took a second look.</p> + +<p>A man was sitting over some sort of instrument, +and over his ears were cups, something +like Danny had seen worn by the girl at the +telephone central station. The one point of +light in the big dark recess was turned on a +note-book under the man's hand.</p> + +<p>The young scout drew back, and crept +silently out of the cavern.</p> + +<p>Out under the stars again, and this time +with his blood on fire! A spy, a German +spy sat in that cave and sent messages——!</p> + +<p>Only yesterday a fleet of transports had +slipped out of the harbor, with thousands of +American soldiers on board—submarines—sea-raiders!</p> + +<p>But a scout must keep his head.</p> + +<p>Help? Which way could help be found? +The boys were scattered, McKenzie would +not be in camp. Nobody knew when to expect +Mr. Gordon.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> + Which way? Which way? Oh, yes, down +over the drop of the cliff to the south yonder +was the mountain wagon road by which their +scouting party had ascended that afternoon. +If he could get to the road he could find +somebody somewhere—surely, there were a +few inhabitants hereabouts!</p> + +<p>That German was sending wireless messages +right this minute—— Yes, the shortest way +to the road was the only way for a fellow to +take now! And Danny took it.</p> + +<p>When he reached the cliff, spent and sore, +a new difficulty presented itself. A sheer +fifty-foot drop still separated him from the +road. He crept along the edge searching for +a footing by which to descend, and presently +found one that looked possible. There were +broken, shelving places here, and tufts of +growing things down the face of the dizzy +wall.</p> + +<p>Danny began to climb down. But he +found it harder than he had thought, and at +times he was a mere human fly clinging to a +rock wall.</p> + +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 500px;"> + <a name="p0036a-illus.jpg" id="p0036a-illus.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/p0036a-illus.jpg" width="500" height="769" alt="A spy sending messages" title="" /> + <p class="caption2">A man was sitting over some sort of instrument.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> + Nearly down—only about fifteen feet more! +But at that moment the human fly's hold +crumbled under his clinging fingers, and he +dropped. It ought not to have been a bad +fall, but the trouble was a loosened rock followed, +and came down on one arm as its +owner lay prostrate on the ground.</p> + +<p>Danny lay very still for a few moments, +looking at the stars and thinking of—nothing!</p> + +<p>Then presently the sound of human voices +came to him from somewhere out of the night. +With an effort he raised up a little to push +off the stone from his arm, but he dropped +back again.</p> + +<p>The stars began to swim at that, and the +voices to grow fantastic.</p> + +<p>But a scout—must—keep—his head!</p> + +<p>Those voices sounded familiar! Danny +summoned all his strength, and sent the wavering +call of a wounded whippoorwill along +the night.</p> + +<p>Silence, and then a whippoorwill answered +sharply from out the forest.</p> + +<p>Danny called again.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> + Shortly after that came low voices and the +sound of hurrying feet. Then Mr. Gordon, +the Scout Master, McKenzie, their leader, +and jolly old Biddie Burton were hovering +over him.</p> + +<p>"Are you hurt?" they asked in one breath.</p> + +<p>But Danny cried out feverishly: "There's +a German spy sending wireless messages from +old Death Head, and our transports have put +to sea!" And he told them, brokenly, the +story of his find.</p> + +<p>There was consternation among them for +one brief moment, and then everybody woke +to action.</p> + +<p>They must get the man at once—but <i>which +way</i> to go?</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon spoke quickly:</p> + +<p>"You stay with Danny, Burton; McKenzie +and I will go back to the Death Head and +follow the clue from there." And even as he +spoke he and McKenzie were hurriedly, but +tenderly, binding up the wounded arm, while +Biddie improvised a comforting sling for it.</p> + +<p>But Danny knew that the route by way of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +old Death Head was long and circuitous. +And he knew also that the shortest way is +the only way to take when one's duty to +one's country calls.</p> + +<p>He got to his feet.</p> + +<p>"I'll show you the shortest way," he said.</p> + +<p class="cen">*****</p> + +<p>How they found means of scaling the cliff, +how they accomplished their stealthy journey +back to the hidden wireless station, +piloted by the wounded tenderfoot whom +they supported at every step, is too long a +story to tell.</p> + +<p>But they reached the mouth of the dark +cave. The two boys were left outside, and +very shortly thereafter Mr. Gordon and +McKenzie brought out between them a big +shadowy figure with its hands bound together.</p> + +<p class="cen">*****</p> + +<p>That night, the east-bound passenger was +flagged at the little station in the valley, +and there boarded it a squad of boy scouts +with their leaders, who guarded between them +a captured German spy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> + "Gordon, how did you manage it?" called +a voice, from some distance down the long +coach as they entered.</p> + +<p>For answer, Mr. Gordon took hold of a little +boy who wore his left arm in a sling and, +pushing him gently forward, said before that +whole car full of curious, excited people:</p> + +<p>"We had an American on guard to-night."</p> + +<p class="cen">*****</p> + +<p>The Probate Judge's office in the old courthouse +on the square was, the next morning, +the scene of a most unusual gathering.</p> + +<p>Danny and his mother had been asked by +the Scout Master to meet him there at ten +o'clock. Mr. Gordon had sent his request +in the form of a brief note which explained +that the Boy Scout Court of Honor was to +be in session that morning, and said that he +wished his youngest scout to be present.</p> + +<p>Danny's mother was strangely elated over +the request, but Danny did not know why. +He was so young in the business of scouting +that some details of the system had not yet +become definitely his.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> + He ventured one surmise when the note +was read—something in connection with +the taking of that German spy, of course. +Maybe the Whippoorwills were to be commended +for delivering the goods. And +Danny's mind's eye recalled again the stirring +scene—McKenzie and Mr. Gordon marshalling +to the station between them the big +German whom they had captured and bound, +and he and the other scouts trudging along +in excited escort. It was a wonderful thing +to be a man, Danny thought wistfully—to +be big and strong enough to lay a compelling +hand on the enemy in our midst and say:</p> + +<p>"I want you!"</p> + +<p>But it will have to be recorded that +Danny's mother acted a little queerly on +receipt of the note. When Danny said that +perhaps the Whippoorwills were to be commended +for "delivering the goods," his +mother looked up at him quickly, as if in +surprise. Then she laughed a little and cried +a little, and then she dashed off for her hat +and wraps like a girl.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> + At ten o'clock sharp, Danny and his mother +presented themselves at Judge Sledge's door. +As they paused to knock, a voice came to +them through the closed door—a familiar +voice, and it sounded very earnest. Then +the door was opened in response to their +knock.</p> + +<p>They hesitated a moment while they took +in the quiet, dignified scene within. Portly +old Judge Sledge was sitting well forward +in his office chair with his spectacles pushed +back upon his bald head, while Doctor Cranfield +and several gentlemen whom Danny +knew only by sight were grouped about him. +All were in the attitude of listening intently to +a man who stood before them—Mr. Gordon.</p> + +<p>Danny's quick glance took in all this, including +the background of khaki-clad Whippoorwills, +plastered against the wall beyond.</p> + +<p>The gentlemen rose, on the entrance of +Mrs. Harding, and the scouts crowded forward +to whisper excitedly to Danny.</p> + +<p>But Danny did not have time to listen to +them, for Doctor Cranfield—taking him by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +his good arm—turned him about, and said +to the company:</p> + +<p>"This is the boy."</p> + +<p>There was an agonizing moment to Danny +in which he realized that everybody in the +room was looking at him. Then he had to +be introduced. It was very, very trying, +for each man to whom Danny gave his hand +in greeting looked him over from head to +foot, and made embarrassingly personal, if +kindly, remarks about him.</p> + +<p>"He was a small chap for the job."</p> + +<p>"He ought to be <i>red-headed</i>."</p> + +<p>"He was his mother's son."</p> + +<p>Danny looked across the group into his +mother's eyes and caught there an expression +which he was never to forget. And she +was smiling—in spite of the tear-mist over +her beautiful eyes—she was smiling.</p> + +<p>When they resumed their seats, there returned +upon the group the touch of ceremonial +quiet and earnestness which the entrance +of the newcomers had for the moment +dispelled.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> + Mr. Gordon took a chair behind Mrs. +Harding and explained to her and Danny in +a low tone that the session was nearly over. +Judge Sledge had been compelled to convene +the court earlier than the appointed hour.</p> + +<p>The other men were talking apart. Presently, +one of them turned to the Scout +Master and said:</p> + +<p>"Following what you have just related, +Mr. Gordon—do you think that it was quite +wise in your patrol leader to send out a mere +tenderfoot on a really dangerous commission?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon was about to reply, when +McKenzie stepped forward and saluted. +"May I answer that?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The court assented, and all turned to hear.</p> + +<p>"Our private advices had been," began +McKenzie, with his Indianlike figure drawn +up to its full height, "that it was Camelback +Mountain which was under suspicion. We +located our camp on a parallel range, and +miles from the suspected vicinity. Mr. Gordon +and I and several of the older boys were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +later to take in hand the serious work of +Camelback, but we thought it well to give +the others a little experience. I had not intended +to employ the tenderfoot till I overheard +the boys teasing him. I sent him to +the Death Head to redeem himself in his +own eyes and in theirs."</p> + +<p>"Please, may I speak?" Biddie Burton +had come forward eagerly.</p> + +<p>With the permission of the judge, Biddie +hurried on:</p> + +<p>"Without letting the other boys know, +McKenzie told me to follow Danny in case +his courage should give out completely. But +he gave me my orders to keep well in the +rear. He wanted Dan to go to the haunted +tree by himself, if he would—to win his spurs, +you see."</p> + +<p>"Did you follow Harding all the way?" +someone interrupted.</p> + +<p>"All the way to the haunted tree? Yes, +sir, and he <i>did</i> go! He went right up to it +and circled all about it. Then the earth +seemed to open and swallow him up. I looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +and looked for him. Then I ran back for +help. I found McKenzie and Mr. Gordon, +and we all three started out after Dan. You +have heard the rest."</p> + +<p>This seemed satisfactory, and the judge +turned to Danny.</p> + +<p>"Come here, Daniel," he said, "and tell +the court now how you captured your wireless +operator."</p> + +<p>Danny started.</p> + +<p>"I didn't do it, sir," he said in embarrassment. +"Mr. Gordon and Willard McKenzie +captured the man. I only showed them +where he was."</p> + +<p>The men exchanged glances.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the judge, again, "come here +and tell us what you <i>did do</i>."</p> + +<p>Danny came forward.</p> + +<p>"Salute!" he heard Biddie whisper.</p> + +<p>Danny saluted.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the judge, "tell these gentlemen +here what—what you told <i>your mother</i> +when you got back from the mountains last +night."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> + Danny looked at his mother. Her eyes +were misty again, but she was nodding to +him to do as the judge directed.</p> + +<p>The tenderfoot stood embarrassed before +them and told the story exactly as he had +related it to his mother. He didn't like to +do this, for he was very much ashamed of +having to tell how frightened he had been, +and how he had had to force himself to go +forward.</p> + +<p>The men listened intently. Once in a +while one would interrupt to ask a question.</p> + +<p>When Danny got to the point in his story +of his acceptance of McKenzie's commission +to cover old Death Head, a dark-eyed, quiet +man on the judge's right leaned forward.</p> + +<p>"One moment, Harding," he said. "McKenzie +told us before you entered that you +were afraid to go when the boys dared you, +but that when he told you to go on the scouting +trip, you said, 'this is different.' What +did you mean by its being 'different'?"</p> + +<p>Danny looked up from his nervous fingering +of the judge's paper-weight.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> + "I meant that it was for my country," +he answered simply.</p> + +<p>The dark-eyed man glanced at the others.</p> + +<p>"<i>Beat that</i>," he said in a low tone to +them.</p> + +<p>Judge Sledge took down his spectacles +from his bald head, adjusted them on his +nose, and looked hard at the boy.</p> + +<p>"Proceed," he commanded, after a moment.</p> + +<p>Danny proceeded.</p> + +<p>"Weren't you afraid to crawl into that +cave?" one of them asked in the course of +the story.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Danny.</p> + +<p>Later, another interrupted with:</p> + +<p>"But if your arm was broken and paining +you, why didn't you stay with Burton, there, +and let the others go by the way of Death +Head, and take up the clue you had followed?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you see," answered Danny, "we +had to get to the man quickly to stop his +telegraphing. I knew a short route to him."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> + "Exactly," said the judge, nodding, then +he turned to the men about him.</p> + +<p>"All right, gentlemen?" he asked.</p> + +<p>There was a whispered conference of a +few moments, and then, to Danny's surprise, +they all turned to him.</p> + +<p>"Daniel," said the judge, "do you know +why this Court of Honor has been called +into session?"</p> + +<p>Danny's glance swept the khaki-clad +figures against the wall—he looked at Mr. +Gordon.</p> + +<p>"I hope," he answered to the judge, "that +you like what we did."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the judge, smiling this time, +"yes, the Whippoorwills are quite in our +good graces, and we commend the promptness +and efficiency of Mr. Gordon and your +leader, McKenzie. However, this court has +been called together to sit in judgment on +<i>your</i> part in last night's performance. Daniel, +do you realize that you have done bravely +and well?"</p> + +<p>Danny stood for one moment, stunned by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +the dawning realization of what this meant. +Then he looked across at his mother. Life +holds for a boy no higher, happier moment +than that in which he realizes he has made +his mother proud of him.</p> + +<p>Without waiting for him to reply, the judge +was continuing:</p> + +<p>"This court finds, Danny, that in spite +of very human, very natural fears, and at +the cost of suffering to yourself, you performed +a service to your country which may +be more far-reaching than any of us dream. +And if there is anything braver than the +conquering of fear, anything more manly +than the voluntary endurance of pain for +a high cause, or any earthly motive of action +higher than one's duty to one's country, we +have never found it.</p> + +<p>"Now, Son, it is not within the power of +this, our local court, to confer upon you what +we think you deserve. It is ours, however, +to recommend to the Boy Scout National +Court of Honor that you be awarded the +Honor Medal. This we are going to do because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +we believe you have saved more than +life by your prompt action, and we know +that you did it at the cost of suffering to +yourself and at the risk of your own life."</p> + +<p class="cen">*****</p> + +<p>When, a few weeks later, the Honor Medal +did arrive and was pinned upon Danny's +breast, the young scout found it necessary +to take his little mother in hand.</p> + +<p>"'If you cry like a baby,'" he whispered +laughingly but with his arms about her, +"'I'll <i>disown</i> you!'"</p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 52]<br />[Pg 53]</a></span></p> +<h2>UNDER THE FLAG</h2> + +<p>"<i>Louise!</i>"</p> + +<p>The little girl came to a halt suddenly +and nearly dropped her book-satchel. +Somebody had called her name—some startling, +mysterious voice had called her!</p> + +<p>She looked hurriedly about, but there was +nobody in sight—nobody but a saucy squirrel +perched upon a park bench, and a redbird flitting +along the open between the enclosing +hawthorns.</p> + +<p>Which one had called?</p> + +<p>"<i>Louise!</i>"</p> + +<p>The little girl started back, too frightened +to scream—it was the hawthorn!</p> + +<p>But the next moment a boyish bullet-head +appeared between parted boughs.</p> + +<p>"Come here!" exclaimed its owner in suppressed +excitement. "We've got something +to tell you!"</p> + +<p>Down went the book-satchel, but not in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +fear this time. Billy Hastings had called—called +excitedly—and Billy was known to furnish +nearly all the third-grade thrills there +were. So the next moment Louise was stooping +her way under the hawthorn boughs in +answer to her playfellow's summons.</p> + +<p>Billy was not alone in the green grotto in +which Louise presently found herself, for +nearly half the third-grade members were +there. There was wide-eyed Tinsie Willis, +with her little frilly skirts bristling with excitement, +with Mamie Moore swallowing to +keep back hysterical tears, and Sadie and +Lallie Raiford, with their backs to each other +for safe-keeping. And there were boys, a +whole mob of boys!</p> + +<p>The children were huddled together in suppressed +excitement, and were whispering all at +the same time. It was plain that something +terrible, something menacing, had happened.</p> + +<p>"You know that new boy that came to +school this morning—?" began one.</p> + +<p>"That 'Rudolph Kreisler'?" put in another.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> + "Sh-h-h!" interrupted a third wildly.</p> + +<p>But Billy Hastings thrust his red, round +face close to Louise's and announced in a +blood-curdling whisper:</p> + +<p>"<i>Rudolph Kreisler is a German spy!</i>"</p> + +<p>Louise's legs crumpled under her, and she +sat down in a heap.</p> + +<p>Again they were all talking at the same +time, and this time at her.</p> + +<p>"He's got his trousers' pockets just <i>full</i> of +something!" exclaimed Pete Laslie.</p> + +<p>"And he's watching, <i>watching</i>!" put in +another. "Didn't you see him sitting off +there by himself looking at us while we played +ball?"</p> + +<p>"Spying!" hissed Luke Musgrove over +Billy Hastings's shoulder.</p> + +<p>The children started and looked about apprehensively. +Luke's words always carried +weight by reason of the fact that he had been +two years in the third grade and ought to +know what he was talking about if he didn't.</p> + +<p>"Yes," chimed in Billy, coming close to +Louise again and speaking in his most dramatic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +tone. "Just you dare to draw a deep +breath, and he'll tell the Kaiser on you!"</p> + +<p>Louise gasped—a short, a curtailed little +gasp. Never till the Great War should be +over would she breathe from her diaphragm +again!</p> + +<p>"Oh-o-o-o, <i>Louise</i>!" from round-eyed Tinsie +Willis.</p> + +<p>"<i>What?</i>"</p> + +<p>"You've left your book-satchel out there +in the path! Just suppose he were to come +by and see it!"</p> + +<p>There was a moment of consternation, of +wild chattering, in which everybody poked +his head out to see, but nobody would venture +far enough to get the incriminating satchel.</p> + +<p>Then Tommie Warren had an inspiration. +Snatching a crooked-handle umbrella from +Ella Vaiden, he flung himself flat on the grass +and reached for the tell-tale satchel with the +crook.</p> + +<p>"It's a good thing Ella brought that umbrella!" +exclaimed Tinsie. And all looked at +Ella, who stood up very straight in spite of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +the low-dipping boughs. The next moment +Louise had her beloved book-satchel hugged +close to her pounding heart.</p> + +<p>"Sh-h-h!" suddenly came from a self-constituted +sentinel.</p> + +<p>"<i>What?</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>He's coming!</i>"</p> + +<p>The crowd in the bushes stood tiptoe and +breathless as the German spy came down the +hawthorn path.</p> + +<p>He was a small lad—small for the third +grade—with big blue eyes and a shock of +tawny hair. The Kaiser had not equipped +him very well, for there was a suggestion of +poverty about his mended clothes. But, +after all, maybe those carefully darned places +at his knees were only a part of an adroit disguise. +His pockets <i>were</i> bulging, and with +knotty-looking somethings very suggestive of +poorly concealed bombs. He was not whistling, +as a perfectly good American would have +been, but walked slowly and with his head +down. It was very suspicious!</p> + +<p>He passed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> + "Let's get him now!" suggested Luke.</p> + +<p>"Good!" exclaimed Billy. "Get some +rocks!" And instantly all was excitement, +the uncensored noise of which reached the little +German and caused him to take to his heels.</p> + +<p>In the confusion of the next few moments +Louise scarcely realized what they were +about. But when they tore out of the bushes, +snatching up rocks as they went, and rushed +after their flying prey, her heart stood still. +He was such a <i>little</i> boy!</p> + +<p>With the back of her hand pressed tight +against the sobs that would not be stifled, and +with tears raining down her cheeks, the little +girl followed in the wake of the howling mob.</p> + +<p>Then somebody rounded a hawthorn bush +and came bang up against her. It was Jimmie +Fisher, a big, red-headed rock of strength, +who could carry lightly the heaviest book-satchels +there were.</p> + +<p>"What are you crying about?" he asked, +after his first quick survey of her.</p> + +<p>"They—they are killing Rudolph Kreisler!" +sobbed Louise.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> + "No," assured Jimmie, "he'll get home +free. He lives just across there. Are these +your books?"</p> + +<p class="cen">*****</p> + +<p>The next day matters only grew worse.</p> + +<p>The whole atmosphere of the third grade +had become electric with suspicion of a certain +little boy who, looking neither to right +nor to left, kept his wistful blue eyes bent on +the task before him. When Rudolph stood +up at the singing of the Star-Spangled Banner, +Luke growled out that he was "just pretending." +And when, from his seat near the +door, the German lad answered the knock of +a visitor, Ella Vaiden whispered audibly:</p> + +<p>"See <i>that</i>? He wants to see <i>who's there</i>!"</p> + +<p>In recitation Rudolph answered the questions +put to him with despicable German efficiency, +but Luke missed with conspicuous +patriotism and went noisily foot.</p> + +<p>But through it all Louise was doing her +own thinking. She was a loyal little citizen +and loved her country with all her heart; but +there flowed through her veins the blood of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +a long line of Americans who had been just +and fair. The little girl was afraid of German +spies—afraid for her country—and Rudolph +Kreisler's pockets did bulge ominously. +If Rudolph Kreisler <i>was</i> a German spy, why +he would have to be dealt with, of course.</p> + +<p>But if he wasn't——?</p> + +<p>Louise wished with all her heart that Miss +Barclay, the teacher, would suspect this terrible +smothered tragedy that was being enacted +within her class. Of course one's +teacher, like one's mother, could solve every +problem; and Miss Barclay in particular could +command the storms of childhood to be still. +If only Miss Barclay knew!</p> + +<p>But in third-grade ethics it was "dishonorable" +to "tattle," so Louise was compelled +to hold her peace and think fast. There were +recesses ahead in which covertly cruel things +might happen, and an after-school walk +through a lonely park from which a real <i>little</i> +boy might not get home free. Something +must be done.</p> + +<p>At first recess the boys and girls were, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +usual, separated in their play, but Louise—observing +from afar—saw that the little German +sat by himself on the steps, and watched +the spirited ball-play of the others with keen +alertness. Yes, it was very suspicious.</p> + +<p>Big recess brought with it an unusual privilege +that day. The third-grade boys and +girls were to be allowed to mingle together +and on the front lawn, in order to keep them +from under the feet of certain workmen who +were making excavations through the school-grounds.</p> + +<p>This was all very thrilling, for it was from +a tall staff on the front lawn that their +beautiful new flag was floating, and to-day +they would be able to see it close—to touch +the pole with their very hands! Then, too, +it would be so remarkable to play with +<i>boys</i>.</p> + +<p>Louise pondered it all as the third-grade +girls filed down to their lunch-room. Rudolph +Kreisler was not there, of course, but Rudolph +would be with them among the other boys at +play-time. She would then be able to watch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +him narrowly—to keep an eye on those bulging +pockets.</p> + +<p>All the other girls were chattering over +their lunch, but Louise drank her milk and +ate her sandwich in thoughtful silence.</p> + +<p>Presently a hand was laid upon her heavy +curls and she looked up with a start. The +principal was smiling down at her.</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking of, little tragedy +queen?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Louise blushed and tried vainly to reply.</p> + +<p>The teacher serving the sandwiches answered +the principal.</p> + +<p>"Of 'the impossibility of all things,'" she +said with a curious sidewise smile.</p> + +<p>The principal put his hand under Louise's +chin and, tilting her head back, looked deep +into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"You must run and play a great deal," he +said, and passed on.</p> + +<p>Then, when the last sandwich had gone the +way of all good sandwiches, they repaired to +the front lawn.</p> + +<p>It was all so wonderful—so green and cool + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +and stately-looking. And there, sure enough, +was the great new flag, curling and uncurling +in the fitful wind—'way up against the +sky!</p> + +<p>The boys were already out on the green +when the little girls were marched down the +steps and disbanded among them to enjoy +the most unusual privilege of joining in their +games. Then, all suddenly a great awkwardness +came down upon the girls. How was one +to play with boys at recess? Of course <i>after +school</i> it came natural enough to mingle with +them, but this was not "after school"! It +was most embarrassing.</p> + +<p>Louise found herself timid in the chaperoned +recess-presence of Jimmie and Billy and +Luke, and began to back away toward the +steps.</p> + +<p>"Look out!" shouted Billy suddenly.</p> + +<p>Louise jumped to "look out." Behind her, +on the bottom step, sat the German spy. +She had nearly backed into him!</p> + +<p>In the face of danger, embarrassment +dropped away. The next moment Louise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +had fled back to her countrymen and was listening, +excited, to their eager whispers.</p> + +<p>"Rudolph Kreisler sits by himself—always +by himself. Isn't that funny?"</p> + +<p>"Just look at him <i>now</i>!"</p> + +<p>"See him watching the flag?"</p> + +<p>"Get that gleam in his eye? Look, quick!"</p> + +<p>"Old rascal! He got home free yesterday—but +just you wait!"</p> + +<p>And so they stood apart from him and +whispered.</p> + +<p>The German spy dug his toes in the sand +a little longer, then rose and moved a few +steps farther up.</p> + +<p>Then Ella Vaiden declared that they were +wasting time, and proposed that they begin +a game.</p> + +<p>But nobody knew what to play.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you!" exclaimed Louise. "Let's +play 'Under the Flag.'"</p> + +<p>"What's that?" asked several.</p> + +<p>"Why—why—" began Louise, inventing +the game as she proceeded, "it's this way: +you go stand under the flag and look up at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +it till the wind blows it out straight—and—and +then you make a wish. If the flag floats +wide till you have finished, your wish will +come true."</p> + +<p>All were interested at once, and the game +began. The fitful, boisterous wind took an +active part and the play became spirited.</p> + +<p>Tinsie Willis was the first to come "under +the flag," but she was so excited she forgot +to wish till the broadly floating banner had +wrapped itself about its staff and her opportunity +was gone.</p> + +<p>Then everybody began talking at once, +and Mamie Moore piped up: "I'm going to +wish for a pair of shiny-bug slippers!"</p> + +<p>Louise was shocked, and quickly explained +that when one wished under the flag it must +be for something serious and from the very +depths of one's heart.</p> + +<p>"Sure," supported Jimmie of the red head. +"You can wish for shiny-bug slippers under +an umbrella!"</p> + +<p>But Mamie couldn't then think of anything +more serious than the need of gilt slippers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +and was promptly ruled out till her +imagination should come to her assistance.</p> + +<p>Several boys took turns next, but they +were so noisy and boisterous that they came +near spoiling everything.</p> + +<p>Then Flora Archer took her place. Flora +was a thoughtful little girl who carried around +in her eyes a deep, deep something people +never understood. With her lips close to +the flagpole, she whispered her message to +it, and all the while the beautiful banner +streamed out to its farthest length.</p> + +<p>Flora came back without speaking, and the +children looked at her in curious silence. +But when the others were noisily choosing +times again, Flora slipped her hand into +Louise's and whispered:</p> + +<p>"I wished for our soldiers to win in the war, +but for them not to be cruel when they do."</p> + +<p>"Yours, Louise!" exclaimed somebody.</p> + +<p>And before Louise had time to examine the +depths of her heart to see what it was she +most desired, a half-dozen pair of friendly +hands pushed her forward. It was no time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +to hold back—to spoil the game. Louise +mounted the green knoll from which the +great flagpole rose.</p> + +<p>But she did not at once look up. Her +glance had accidentally lighted on the lonely +figure on the steps, and was resting there +for a moment in startled contemplation.</p> + +<p>He was such a <i>little</i> boy, and he seemed so—apart! +But one must make no mistakes +where one's country was involved. <i>Were</i> his +blue eyes "gleaming" with vengeful purpose? +Or were they only full—of shining tears?</p> + +<p>"Look up! Look up!" the children called.</p> + +<p>Louise threw back her head—threw it back +so far that the familiar scene about her became +lost to her view and she beheld nothing +but the vision above. Amid the battling +tree tops and against a threatening sky the +flag of freedom streamed out in all its rippling +glory—red for the courage of American +hearts, white for the purity of purpose they +should harbor, and blue for truth, like that +higher, farther heaven above the gathering +clouds. Now rippling, now curling, wreathing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +snapping, and now—straight out, fronting +the coming storm!</p> + +<p>"Quick! Quick!" the children shouted, as +Old Glory floated free.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the child stretched up her hands. +It was not a wish, but a prayer, that her +young heart sent up to her country's flag.</p> + +<p>"Help me to—play fair!" she whispered.</p> + +<p>Louise saw her comrades only mistily when +she came down the green knoll again toward +them.</p> + +<p>Then all became babel again.</p> + +<p>"It's my time next!" exclaimed Luke +Musgrove, shouldering forward.</p> + +<p>"Who said so?" demanded another.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> said so," answered the big boy rudely, +and he strode to his place against the flagpole. +"I wish," he began in a loud, strident +voice, and without waiting for the wind to +come hurtling across the green, "I wish <i>to +wring the neck of that German spy</i>!"</p> + +<p>All eyes were quickly turned from the flag +to where a little wide-eyed boy shrank back +in terror against the steps.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> + "Glory be!" shouted Billy Hastings. +"Teacher's gone in—let's drag Rudolph under +the flag!"</p> + +<p>Instantly the flame of persecution swept +them, and they started after the alien lad.</p> + +<p>But at the foot of the steps somebody +blocked the way. Louise Carey had flung +herself between.</p> + +<p>"It's not fair, and you <i>shan't</i>!" she cried.</p> + +<p>The astonished mob wavered in indecision.</p> + +<p>"'Not <i>fair</i>?'" echoed Luke with a jeer.</p> + +<p>"No," stormed Louise. "We didn't <i>ask</i> +him to come under the flag, and you shan't +<i>make</i> him do it!"</p> + +<p>"We'll see about that—" began Luke.</p> + +<p>"<i>That we will!</i>" put in Jimmie Fisher, but +it was not to Louise that he spoke. He was +talking to Luke, and he planted himself protectingly +in front of Louise and the little +German, and faced the third-grade bully. +Never before in her life had Louise realized +how beautiful was a shock of bristling red hair.</p> + +<p>The third-grade bully was growling now, +but in a decidedly lower key.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> + "Now, then"—Jimmie was speaking to +Louise this time—"you are bossing this game. +Say what you want done with that—that—" +and he looked at the frightened Rudolph.</p> + +<p>Louise glanced up at the flag. It was floating +now—broad and free enough to cover all +who might come.</p> + +<p>"I am going to <i>invite</i> Rudolph to come +under our flag," she said.</p> + +<p>The children gasped as Louise held out +her hand to the little alien.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come and be American with +us?" she asked kindly.</p> + +<p>The boy drew back a moment while his blue +eyes searched her face for whatever hidden +cruelty might lurk beneath its seeming sweetness. +Then he smiled—a timid, but trusting +smile—and rising, took her extended hand.</p> + +<p>But Billy Hastings called jeeringly: "He's +a sneak! He's just doing it to pretend!"</p> + +<p>"He knows I'd drag him if he didn't come!" +exclaimed another.</p> + +<p>"Coward! <i>Coward!</i>" yelled Luke. "You're +afraid to refuse!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> + And then, all suddenly, something in the +German lad flamed up. He snatched his +hand from Louise's. He stood to his full +height with blazing eyes, and cried:</p> + +<p>"It's a lie!"</p> + +<p>The sound of the school-bell broke the +startled quiet which followed the alien's spirited +revolt.</p> + +<p>"<i>Please</i>," pleaded Louise, "don't mind +them! You've time yet to come under the +flag."</p> + +<p>But Rudolph stood indignant, immovable.</p> + +<p>"Get to your lines, children," and the +principal's call-bell was heard tapping above +on the porch.</p> + +<p>A group of boys came suddenly together +into a tight bunch.</p> + +<p>"We'll fix him after school," Louise heard +them threaten. And she knew that Rudolph +heard it, too—knew by the sudden whiteness +which swept over his face.</p> + +<p>The next minute the boys and girls were +drawn up in parallel lines ready to march into +the schoolhouse. Louise was at the end of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +line and Rudolph Kreisler was the last on the +boys' row. They were opposite each other.</p> + +<p>"Eyes front—march!" came the command, +and the lines moved forward with one impulse.</p> + +<p>"Eyes front!" But to save her life Louise +could not help stealing a sidelong glance at +Rudolph.</p> + +<p>To her horror she saw the little alien slip +quietly behind a rose-bush and drop out of +sight into the bricked-up area which furnished +window-space for the basement.</p> + +<p>With a flash Louise remembered that those +windows communicated directly with the engine-room, +and that the engine-room was +directly under the third grade.</p> + +<p>"Pay attention, Louise," came from the +porch, and Louise's startled, dark eyes were +turned to the front again.</p> + +<p>When the children were seated in their +room it developed that Miss Barclay had +been temporarily called away, and that a +scared-looking girl from the teacher training-class +was in charge of the third grade.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> + The new teacher did not miss Rudolph, +but the children did, and there was smothered +excitement in consequence.</p> + +<p>Louise, who had not breathed a word of +what she knew, sat grasping her desk with +both hands. Rudolph Kreisler had refused +to come under the flag! Of course they had +taunted him, but the stark fact remained +that he <i>had</i> refused. And then no human +being had ever seen inside those bulging pockets. +Rudolph Kreisler, bulging pockets and +all, was in the engine-room, right under their +feet!</p> + +<p>And then a new fear suddenly laid its grip +upon her heart. Suppose that German boy +should do something to the flag! She tried +to shift her position so that she could see out +of the window, but found it impossible.</p> + +<p>"Oh-o-o, teacher!" Louise jumped at the +sound of excitement in the voice from behind +her, but quieted somewhat when she realized +that it was Tinsie Willis who spoke. "Louise +has left her hat on the front lawn!"</p> + +<p>"Louise, go and get your hat," said the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +substitute, looking all about the room to see +which one of the many little girls might be +the one reported.</p> + +<p>Louise rose from her seat with fear and +trembling and left the room.</p> + +<p>But the first glimpse of the out-of-doors +dispelled her great new fear—her flag was +still there!</p> + +<p>The stately lawn looked vast and awe-inspiring +now that one had to face its darkly +waving greens all alone, but Duty called. +She had left her hat by the flagpole, and she +now went timidly up to get it. She mounted +the green knoll. She looked up.</p> + +<p>To play fair—to play fair! And yet, one +must be loyal. One couldn't let German +spies go around with their pockets—Rudolph +Kreisler was in the engine-room right +now!</p> + +<p>Louise's grandfather and his father's father +had died for their country—would they know, +'way up yonder in heaven, if she of their own +blood were to turn coward at the test?</p> + +<p>It was too poignant a risk. Louise took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +hep young life in her hands. Down the green +knoll and around the rose-bush, and she +dropped into the brick area right by the window +which opened from the engine-room. It +was raised.</p> + +<p>The little girl peeped in, with her heart +swelling till she thought she would smother. +There was black dust on the floor and black +soot on the walls. And there in the centre +rose the huge black demon engine. But no +crouching enemy was to be seen anywhere—he +was hiding, of course!</p> + +<p>She slipped through the window, past the +great silent engine, and came face to face +with Rudolph Kreisler.</p> + +<p>The die was cast now.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," demanded Louise, choking with +excitement and fear, "are you a—a <i>German +spy</i>?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the astonished boy, "<i>no</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Well, what <i>are</i> you, then?" There was +no backing down now; she was going to have +it out with him.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to be—American," he said, his + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +lips threatening to quiver. "I—I thought I +was." And he looked away.</p> + +<p>One must know the truth when one's country +was at stake. Louise drew a quick breath.</p> + +<p>"Well, what are you doing with your +pockets full of bombs, then?" she forced +herself to bring out.</p> + +<p>The little boy turned toward her again, +and began slowly to draw out the contents +of those suspicious pockets. A mitt, a top, +two balls, a kite-string, a chicken-foot, a gopher, +nails of various lengths, some tobacco +tags, and a grimy stick of candy were laid +one by one on the janitor's tool-bench, and +the German spy stood with his pockets turned +wrong side out.</p> + +<p>But one must have the <i>whole</i> truth.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing with balls and mitts +when you sit on the steps all the time?" the +little girl demanded, but with decidedly less +asperity this time.</p> + +<p>"I thought maybe they'd—let me play, +sometime." Something rolled down his cheek +and splashed on the front of his jacket.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> + "<i>Won't</i> they let you play?" choked Louise, +blinking hard to clear her suddenly clouded +vision.</p> + +<p>The boy shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Well, why doesn't your mamma come +and scold the teacher about it?" she demanded +in indignant sympathy.</p> + +<p>"I haven't any mamma."</p> + +<p>"Oh-o-o! Well, you have a papa, haven't +you? Why doesn't <i>he</i> do something?"</p> + +<p>"Father says those who are born here +don't know how awful it is to have to choose——" +then he stopped.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't your father hate Germany?" +the little girl asked.</p> + +<p>"Why, no," said the boy.</p> + +<p>"Does he love America?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the boy.</p> + +<p>"Well! Well!" exclaimed the little girl. +Then—"Do you know, Rudolph, I'm sorry +for your papa!"</p> + +<p>But Rudolph did not answer this time. +He merely turned aside till his face was hidden.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> + Suddenly a remembered something gripped +Louise.</p> + +<p>"Rudolph," she said, "if you <i>are</i> American, +why did you refuse to come under the flag?"</p> + +<p>"I—I was going to—but they called me a +'coward,' and said I was afraid to refuse," he +answered huskily.</p> + +<p>Louise found herself batting very heavy +lashes again.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad I came to you," she said, +"because I never would have known that you +are not a German spy if you hadn't told me!"</p> + +<p>"Lou-i-i-se!"</p> + +<p>The two started at the call—it was in Tinsie +Willis's high-pitched voice. Evidently she +had been sent to find the truant.</p> + +<p>"Sh-h-h!" exclaimed Louise to Rudolph. +"They are after me for staying out so long. +I must go."</p> + +<p>"Those steps yonder lead to the front +hall," said the boy. "Go up that way."</p> + +<p>"But you must come, too!" Louise exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I can't," replied the miserable child.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +"The boys are fixing to fight me. When +school is over I'll slip out and go home."</p> + +<p>"But why wait? Why don't you go +now?" asked the little girl, a strange uneasiness +coming over her.</p> + +<p>"The police will get me if I go out on the +street during school hours," answered he.</p> + +<p>"Lou-i-i-se!"</p> + +<p>"I'm going," whispered Louise to Rudolph, +"but <i>don't</i> let the boys catch you! Miss +Barclay has gone—and—and—<i>don't</i> let them +catch you, Rudolph!"</p> + +<p>The next moment she glided up the dark +stairway and came out into the big hall.</p> + +<p>Jimmie Fisher was emerging from the third-grade +cloaking-room with his hat and books.</p> + +<p>"Father's leaving for France with a hospital +unit," he explained hurriedly, "and +mother sent for me to tell him good-by." +Then he darted away.</p> + +<p>Miss Barclay gone! And Jimmie gone! +Had God himself deserted the third grade?</p> + +<p class="cen">*****</p> + +<p>When Louise crept back into the schoolroom—ahead + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +of Tinsie Willis, who was still +searching for her—she found things very +troublous indeed. The children were naughty +and restless, and the substitute was—a substitute! +The whole class had been told to +stay in, and Louise was promptly included in +the sentence as soon as her tardy little face +appeared in the doorway.</p> + +<p>But she did not cry or fling herself about, +for she knew she had remained out of the +room overtime. Of course it had been for a +high purpose, but that she could not explain, +so she merely assented courteously and slipped +into her seat. Her grandfather and his +father's father had laid down their lives for +the right—if she did not succeed in living +through that dreadful half-hour of punishment, +she would be but another of her race +to die for a high cause.</p> + +<p>Matters grew worse, and now the wind and +the sky took a hand. The great trees outside +began to battle fiercely together, and +the sky frowned, darker and darker.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Louise—looking out of the window—saw + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +Perkins, the janitor, hauling down +the flag! Was the Houston Street School +surrendering to the Germans?</p> + +<p>For one unworthy moment Louise suspected +Rudolph Kreisler again. But she instantly +afterward reminded herself that he +had told her with his own lips he wished to +be American.</p> + +<p>Then the heavens opened and the floods +came. It was a terrible, terrible afternoon, +but children and substitute managed somehow +to live through it, and after so long a +time the gong sounded for the dismissal of +school.</p> + +<p>The children of the other grades marched +out. Tramp—tramp—it sounded terribly like +a host in retreat!</p> + +<p>Then quiet!—with the third-graders sitting +silent in their seats, trying to calculate how +many thousand years it would take for that +long clock-hand to move half-way round the +dial again.</p> + +<p>Louise began wondering at just what point +Rudolph Kreisler would steal out of his hiding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +and break for home. The rain had +stopped, and she hoped and believed that +the little German would make good his escape +before the third grade had finished serving +sentence.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Luke, raising his hand, asked of +the substitute:</p> + +<p>"May I speak to Billy Hastings on business?"</p> + +<p>The substitute was writing something and +assented without looking up. Louise could +not help hearing the hoarsely whispered +"business."</p> + +<p>"Connie Tipton," said Luke to Billy, "says +that that German spy has been hiding in the +basement but has slipped up-stairs—" The +hoarse whisper dropped lower at this point +and Louise could not catch the words which +followed. She guessed darkly, however, and +clung to her desk tighter and tighter.</p> + +<p>At that fateful moment the substitute +looked up and said:</p> + +<p>"Children, the others have all gone, and +it looks like rain again, so I am going to dismiss + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +you. File out quietly—I don't wish to +have to call you back."</p> + +<p>She did not rise from her seat to marshal +them out, taking care that the last one of +them was out of sight of the schoolhouse +before he slackened his pace. She merely +dropped her eyes to her writing again and +left them practically to their own devices.</p> + +<p>The boys marched through the cloaking-room +first, and they were ominously quiet +about it.</p> + +<p>Then the little girls rose and filed out. +Louise led the girls' line, but though she followed +swiftly in the wake of the boys, they +had disappeared off the face of the earth +when she reached the cloaking-room door +which opened into the hall.</p> + +<p>They had slipped off to hunt for Rudolph +Kreisler, and Louise knew it. She hoped +that Rudolph had left the building, but she +was not sure.</p> + +<p>Something must be done—but <i>what</i>?</p> + +<p>Just then she caught from above the sound +of tiptoeing and whispering.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> + It was dishonorable to "tattle," but it +wasn't dishonorable to fly after a set of lawless +boys and keep them from abusing an innocent +would-be American. Louise deserted +the head of her line and darted up the long +stairs.</p> + +<p>It was like a frightful nightmare—the +stealthy, breathless chase which followed. +She could not stop the boys in their mad +search, could not command their attention a +moment to explain. In and out they darted—fourth-grade, +fifth-grade, sixth-grade, seventh! +Every crack and cranny, every cloaking-room +and teacher's desk was made to +prove its innocence of sheltering the fugitive +spy. The scampering boys were just finishing +their search of the seventh grade when +Louise found herself at the foot of the garret +steps.</p> + +<p>She stopped and surveyed their boxed-up +secretiveness. What if Rudolph had gone +up there?</p> + +<p>From the sounds of disappointment now +issuing from the seventh grade she knew that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +the last schoolroom to be searched had not +yielded up the quarry. Yes, Rudolph must +be in the garret, and of course the boys would +pursue him there!</p> + +<p>Then a sudden idea came to her. If she +could but reach Rudolph first she might help +him to climb out of the garret window.</p> + +<p>Up the dark steps she flew, but, alas! there +were flying feet to follow! The others had +seen, and were coming after.</p> + +<p>They caught up with her before she reached +the top, and she and they burst into the long +garret room together.</p> + +<p>It was big with mystery—that long garret +place—and weirdly frightening with its half-lights +and whole shadows. For one moment +the children stood at pause before its awesome +silence.</p> + +<p>No German spy was in sight.</p> + +<p>Then the boys began searching hurriedly, +and after a quick glance about the open and +lighter space before them, went pushing their +quest farther and farther into the distant +dark of the wings and gables.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> + Louise stood where they had left her, with +the feeling that <i>the end of all things</i> was at +hand, and that there was no use to struggle +further. Presently her mist-dimmed eyes +were attracted to a pile of something over at +a small window near where she stood. The +janitor had thrown their beautiful flag across +an old couch without taking the trouble to +roll it properly.</p> + +<p>The indignant little girl started toward the +couch to straighten out and roll the flag +when her ear caught a sound which caused +her to pause a moment in dim speculation. +There was a step below, a firm, a familiar +step—but no, she must be mistaken!</p> + +<p>She slipped over to the couch, but the next +moment drew back and clapped her hand +over her mouth to repress a startled scream. +A little yellow-haired boy lay asleep upon the +couch, with the big flag nearly covering him!</p> + +<p>Louise leaned over him. Two shining drops +still lay on his cheek. He had sobbed himself +to sleep—he was such a <i>little</i> boy!</p> + +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 500px;"> + <a name="p0086a-illus.jpg" id="p0086a-illus.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/p0086a-illus.jpg" width="500" height="703" alt="Covered by the flag" title="" /> + <p class="caption2">"You can't touch Rudolph!" she tried. "He's under the flag!"</p> +</div> + +<p>A drift of damp air floated in from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +window, and the sleeper shivered and moved +as if to cuddle further under his shelter. +Louise very gently drew the bunting folds +closer about his neck. Somehow she <i>knew</i> +that this was not desecration.</p> + +<p>That steady step from below again and—nearer!</p> + +<p>But just at that moment the boys came +noisily back from the distant wings and +gables.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Louise! What are you doing +there?" Luke Musgrove called.</p> + +<p>Louise started up. She was between them +and the sleeping boy, but she could not screen +him from their astonished eyes.</p> + +<p>"Gee, but there he is!" exclaimed Billy. +"Let's——"</p> + +<p>But the spirit of a long line of just and fair +Americans was facing them. Louise Carey +was descended from ancestors who had bought +freedom and fair play with their blood, so in +that hour—when she faced the unthinking +lawless—there was a something in her eyes +which brought them to a stand before her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> + "You can't touch Rudolph!" she cried. +"He's under the flag!"</p> + +<p>A quiet fell upon them. They looked first +at the sacred, sheltering flag of their country, +and then at each other. And while they yet +paused in awe there came to them the sound +of a steady, familiar step on the garret stair. +The next moment the door opened and there +entered Miss Barclay—the teacher who, by +her wisdom and her justice, could always command +to stillness the tempests of their childish +hearts.</p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> +<h2>AMERICA FIRST</h2> + +<p>Little Riego Yañez was a native of +Mexico—of that unhappy part of Mexico +which is constantly plundered by revolutionary +bands who spend their time in fighting, +and who win their supplies by robbing the +more stable people of the republic.</p> + +<p>Riego's father, Antonio Yañez, had suffered +many times at the hands of the revolutionists. +He was a saddler by trade, and also a small +farmer, so the products of his industry were +just what the warring bandits needed. But +the warring bandits did not pay for what they +needed. They merely took, and rode away!</p> + +<p>So Antonio decided on a desperate step—he +would emigrate to America.</p> + +<p>But Riego's mother objected to removing +to America. Mexico was rife with hatred +and distrust of the "gringos," and many and +dark were the stories told of the country north +of the Great North River. Besides, Riego's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +elder brother, Pascual, an unruly lad of fifteen, +was very bitterly opposed to the change.</p> + +<p>So it was at length decided that Antonio +should dare alone the dangers and hardships +of America. If all was as the revolutionists +said, he could escape back to Chihuahua. If, +by happy chance, he should prosper in the +new country, he would send for wife and +children.</p> + +<p>A year passed. The father's letters—few +and short, for he had had little schooling—were +chiefly concerned with begging them to +come and see for themselves.</p> + +<p>Then, one never-to-be-forgotten day, the +mother and children packed into a hired +wagon the tragic little which the bandits had +left them, and set their faces toward the Rio +Grande. They, too, were bound for that distrusted +country which lay north of the northern +edge of their world. The mother and the +two girls were hopeful, but Pascual was silent +and Riego afraid.</p> + +<p>Not till the night came down did they reach +the dark river which was to flow forever between<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +the old life and the new. To little +ten-year-old Riego this all-pervading darkness +meant "America," for to his drowsy +brain and anxious heart the black clouds +above and the darkly rolling waters below +seemed to typify the spirit of the land into +which he was crossing.</p> + +<p>Another moment, however, and he had +given up the struggle to think it all out and +fallen asleep with his head on his mother's +lap.</p> + +<p>The next morning Riego waked up in a +better land.</p> + +<p>He sat up on his cot and blinked his black +eyes and stared about him at the cosey little +room. A flood of light poured in at the one +tiny window—Then the sun <i>did</i> shine in +this land of the gringos!</p> + +<p>This was very interesting. Riego hurried +into his clothes and started out to see America.</p> + +<p>His route of exploration led through a +cheery kitchen, where he found his two sisters +busy cooking breakfast, and smiling and +chatting at their work. But Riego had no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +time to stop and question, for the green +things in the little garden beyond were beckoning +to him.</p> + +<p>In another minute he was out among them. +It was very green—this "America"—very +green and very sunny, with rows upon rows +of the most wonderful vegetables running out +to meet the morning sun!</p> + +<p>Soon Riego glimpsed his father and mother +beyond a dividing fence at the side, and he +ran at once to his father's arms. After the +first long embrace Riego drew back, the better +to see the father who had dared America +alone for his children's sake.</p> + +<p>Why—his brow was smoother than Riego +remembered!—his eyes clearer!—Did one +grow younger, happier, in America?</p> + +<p>And now Riego's mother was calling his +attention to the snow-white chickens which +fluttered about them. There was a cow, too, +Riego learned—a cow and a pony and pigs +and pigeons—and <i>all theirs</i>!</p> + +<p>Riego shouted for joy. But the next moment +the joy died upon his lips, and he asked:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> + "The revolutionists, father? How long +will they let us have these?"</p> + +<p>"Riego," said his father, "there are no +revolutionists in America. Here, if a man +works, he receives a just reward, and he is +allowed to keep in peace what he earns. Our +only danger is from across the border."</p> + +<p>Then Riego's mother told him that his +father had a fine saddle-shop which the +Americans never raided.</p> + +<p>It was all very, very wonderful!—A man +was paid well for working, and could keep in +peace what he earned!—Was this what was +meant by "<i>America</i>"?</p> + +<p>Riego's father's saddle-shop was the front +room of their little dwelling, and opened immediately +upon a small street in the Mexican +quarter of the village. It was a very interesting +place, indeed, for the wide door and +the hospitable bench just inside invited in +many an entertaining visitor, besides the +men who came to buy saddles or to have +their harness repaired.</p> + +<p>One of these visitors, Alonzo Lorente, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +particularly interesting to Riego and his +brother, though their father always became +moodily quiet when the man came. Lorente +was a big, dashing fellow, full of strange oaths +and of dark insinuations. And somehow, +whenever he entered, the air of the shop +became electric with an indefinable excitement.</p> + +<p>It did not take Riego long to see that, at +such times, his father managed to keep him +and Pascual so busy that they missed most +of their hero's inspiriting talk. Riego was +particularly unfortunate in this respect. He +spent little of his time in the shop where his +father and Pascual plied the saddler's trade, +for it was his duty to help in the market-garden.</p> + +<p>This deprivation of Lorente's society, however, +had its compensations. It was Riego's +especial work to peddle their vegetables at +the khaki tents of the gringo soldiers a few +miles away, and this was very entertaining +and exciting in itself, for the soldiers were +jolly and kind and said nice things to one.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> + And then, one rainy Saturday afternoon, +when the peddling was all done, Riego sat in +his father's shop and listened to Alonzo Lorente. +And Alonzo Lorente startled him +awake with the news that all was not well +with the land of America. He spoke darkly +of "gringos" and of "vengeance."</p> + +<p>Pascual, Riego noticed, crept closer and +closer to the big man, till his fingers forgot +the leather they should have been stretching.</p> + +<p>It was then that the unexpected happened. +The father, usually so quiet and so busy, suddenly +rose from his work-bench and came forward.</p> + +<p>"Lorente," he said, and Pascual and Riego +started at the iron in his tone, "Lorente, it is +not the busy men who have quarrel with +America. It is those who have time to do—much +talking!"</p> + +<p>There was a pause and dead silence, and +then Lorente the magnificent turned on his +heel with a growl and left the shop.</p> + +<p>Then Antonio returned to his work-bench, +with Riego following, but Pascual stole to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +door and gazed at the receding Lorente till his +father called him sharply to his duties.</p> + +<p>One day the father did not open his shop +at all. It was closed in honor of the great +American festival, Riego heard him explain +grimly to a follower of Lorente, who questioned. +And Riego heard the follower of +Lorente laugh scornfully as he strode away.</p> + +<p>There being no work that day, Pascual and +Riego set out together to explore the yet +farther reaches of America.</p> + +<p>But they had not gone far past the square +where loomed the several American stores +when they sighted a crowd in a grove of big +trees, and heard voices shouting and hands +clapping as if in great joy. A number of +gringo soldiers were roving about. Two were +coming leisurely toward them across the +green.</p> + +<p>Riego wanted to press forward to see and +hear, but his brother jerked him by the +sleeve, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"It is the Americans' great feast-day, the +Fourth of July. Come away!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> + "But father says <i>we</i> are Americans now. +Why can't we go and hear what they are +saying?" Riego's voice had risen in his +eagerness.</p> + +<p>The approaching soldiers stopped and +looked at him, and Riego's heart stopped, too.</p> + +<p>But the taller of the soldiers saluted him +in fine fashion, and addressed to him words +of courteous welcome:</p> + +<p>"Don Pedro de Alvarado-Rain-in-the-Face-Sitting-Bull, +for such as thou art is the picnic! +Welcome to our city!"</p> + +<p>Riego understood the gesture of invitation. +He thanked the courtly soldier, and walked +proudly forward, followed by his brother.</p> + +<p>It was a gay scene, but quiet now, for someone +was speaking. The starry banner of +America fluttered everywhere, and smiling, +white-faced señoritas and brown-clad soldiers +were gathered here and there in listening +groups. Under a tree, near the platform, sat +musicians with shining silver horns and a big +drum. A number of children were seated on +the grass in front of the stand. Among them,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +Riego noticed, were many dark faces like his +own.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Riego's courage gave way and he +started to retreat. But a sweet-faced señora +took him by the hand and led him and Pascual +to a place where they could see everything, +whispering as they went:</p> + +<p>"It is our day of freedom."</p> + +<p>At first the boy was dazed by the strangeness +of the scene, and his interest shifted. +But the sound of a sweet, ringing voice soon +compelled his attention and he turned quickly +toward the platform.</p> + +<p>Riego caught his breath. Who was it? +<i>What</i> was it that was speaking to him?</p> + +<p>In the centre of the platform stood a clear-eyed, +white-faced goddess, with the flag of +the new country draped around her slender +form, and the sunlight of this day of freedom +beating down upon her shining head. She +was speaking, but in the difficult new tongue.</p> + +<p>Riego could not take his eyes away, but he +reached out his hand quickly to touch Pascual.</p> + +<p>The sweet-faced señora leaned over him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> + "America," she whispered in explanation.</p> + +<p><i>America!</i> Beautiful America! Riego crept +forward, unconscious now of the crowd +around. Oh, to <i>understand</i> America!</p> + +<p>Then a strange thing happened. The beautiful +goddess suddenly ceased speaking, and +her face became clouded with thought. Her +eyes were focussed on the eager boy who had +crept forward and was standing spellbound +before her—the most conspicuous of the +group of dark-faced, bewildered children.</p> + +<p>Riego did not know that everybody in that +audience had suddenly leaned forward in dead +silence.</p> + +<p>After one tense moment the Beautiful One +advanced to the edge of the platform and descended +the steps till she stood almost among +them.</p> + +<p>And now this strange, new, better country +was speaking to Riego <i>in his own tongue</i>!</p> + +<p>"You didn't <i>understand</i> me, did you?" she +asked in Spanish.</p> + +<p>"Not <i>then</i>, my lady!—but <i>now</i>!" It was +Riego who answered her, but the other dark<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +faces were alight like his own now. The +crowd was leaning forward again.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that is all the trouble!" said the +Beautiful One. "Our new people simply do +not understand America! Do you wish me +to tell you the story in Spanish?"</p> + +<p>There were many who answered this time.</p> + +<p>Then she told them in their own tongue of +the great struggle for a new freedom and a +new peace which had been waged upon this +soil over a hundred years before. And the +breathless children heard how this new ideal +of freedom had passed all bounds of the +country in which it was born, and thrilled all +lands. They heard how the noble La Fayette +of France, Steuben of Prussia, and Kosciuszko +of Poland each had offered his all +that America might be forever a refuge for +the oppressed. They learned how the German +De Kalb had laid down his life at Camden +for the new faith, and how Count Pulaski +had poured out the last drop of his Polish +blood to make the world's great dream of +freedom "come true."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> + Then the Beautiful One told the children +how, throughout the more than one hundred +years since the fight was won, the footsore +and oppressed of many lands have found in +America work and a just reward for working, +the freedom to do anything which does not +harm another, and the great gift of peace!</p> + +<p>"And now," exclaimed the speaker, "which +of you will promise with me to be loyal to +America? Stand up!"</p> + +<p>And they stood up—the dark children, the +white-faced señoritas, the gringo soldiers, and +all!—and repeated after the Beautiful One:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I pledge allegiance to my flag and to the republic for which it stands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>When Riego turned from the inspiring scene +it was to see his brother Pascual walking +away, and in close conversation with Alonzo +Lorente.</p> + +<p class="cen">*****</p> + +<p>The days passed, but Riego still treasured +in his heart his first vision of America. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +knew now that the Beautiful One was only +a charming señorita and daughter of the big +captain who commanded at the American +camp. But he liked to think of her as +"America"—the beneficent goddess who had +smoothed the furrows from his father's brow +and crowned his faithful labors with reward.</p> + +<p>And then, one momentous day, the Beautiful +One stood in the shop-door, asking in Spanish +if she might be allowed to enter. She was all +in white this time—snow-white. To Riego's +fond imagination she was still a shining goddess.</p> + +<p>Riego's father welcomed the señorita and +dusted the bench that she might sit and rest, +for Riego had told him of the great American +festival, and Antonio had learned much besides.</p> + +<p>The señorita had come to speak to the +father about his sons—and her smiling glance +included both the sullen Pascual and Riego, +who stood worshipfully by.</p> + +<p>It seemed that the señorita—Miss Flora +Arden was her name—was to teach a class of + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +"newly made Americans," and again her +glance included the boys. She wanted to +teach them to speak the English language +and to help them to a better understanding +of America. The señorita believed that most +of the trouble which the newly made Americans +encountered was due to the fact that +they did not know how to find and use the +good gifts which their new country had to +offer. And she was certain that most of the +trouble they <i>gave</i> was because they brought +old prejudices with them, and so did not open +their hearts to America.</p> + +<p>Riego understood the spirit of her proposal +better than he did the words of her correct +Spanish. His father listened throughout with +thoughtful, grave attention.</p> + +<p>There were no charges to be made for this +teaching? Then what was the señorita to +gain for so much effort?</p> + +<p>"I?" said the señorita—she was standing +now, ready to depart—"I gain a better country! +My father is a soldier and serves his +country by helping to keep the peace along<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +this troubled border. If I had been a son I +might have done as much. But I am only a +daughter, Antonio! And yet"—and she put +her arm over Riego's shoulders as she spoke—"if +I help to make loyal even <i>one</i> of America's +adopted sons, am not I, too, serving my +country?"</p> + +<p>The father's rare smile assented to her +offer, even before his lips made the promise.</p> + +<p>Riego followed the Beautiful One to the +door.</p> + +<p>Outside, Alonzo Lorente slouched against a +lamp-post. The señorita looked into Lorente's +face and recoiled slightly. Riego saw +the recoil, and an unnamed fear suddenly laid +its hand upon his heart.</p> + +<p class="cen">*****</p> + +<p>Pascual and Riego went to Miss Arden's +class—Pascual sullen and uninterested, Riego +breathlessly eager. But they had not attended +many times—indeed, had just begun +to glimpse something of the bigness and goodness +of their new country—when the stroke +fell that was to change their little world.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +The good father dropped at his work-bench, +speechless and bewildered. The American doctor +said he would be able to work again, but +that his mind would never be quite the same.</p> + +<p>Their wise father thus reduced to childishness, +and their mother ignorant of the new +conditions and the new tongue, the boys were +left to plan for themselves.</p> + +<p>Pascual left Miss Arden's class. He explained +that he would now have to take +charge of his father's shop; but he found time +to make many trips across the dark Rio +Grande and to talk much with Lorente, who +now resumed his old practice of dropping in +at the shop to chat. His younger brother, +however, continued under the señorita's instruction.</p> + +<p>Riego learned at Miss Arden's class that +"freedom" gives one the right to do as he +wishes only in so far as he does not wish to +interfere with the rights of another.</p> + +<p>"There is no 'freedom' except in loyal obedience +to law," she told him one day. "America +is a 'free' country because—though here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +are gathered people from all lands—they join +together in making laws which are kind and +impartial to all, and they stand together in +support of the laws they make."</p> + +<p>"But, señorita, Alonzo Lorente says—" began +the boy, and stopped short.</p> + +<p>"What does Alonzo Lorente say?" the +señorita asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"I—I promised not to tell," stammered the +child.</p> + +<p>There was the blue truth of heaven in the +señorita's eyes as she looked into his own, +and answered: "Riego, it is more than dishonest +in Lorente to accept the blessings +which America affords him and not be true +to her. It is worse than traitorous in him +to help spoil the peace of the country which +is his refuge from oppression. If Alonzo Lorente +likes the old way better than the new, +he should go back to the old country. If he +honestly wishes to change what he finds here, +and thinks he can better things, he has one +man's just share in deciding, for he is a naturalized +citizen and can vote on any question.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +But Alonzo Lorente <i>should speak out +openly or else keep silent</i>!"</p> + +<p>Before Riego left that afternoon Miss Arden +had him repeat with her:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I pledge allegiance to my flag and to the republic for which it stands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."<br /></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>But little Riego did not dream in how short +a time would his loyalty to his new country +be tested. One afternoon—his father was +still lying unconscious—Riego was tending +the shop alone, for Pascual had crossed the +Rio Grande in the early morning and had not +yet returned.</p> + +<p>It was a dull, dull afternoon, for no patrons +came, and the visitors merely glanced in and +passed on. It was hot and still, so the sleepy +Riego decided to rest. He found a cool spot +behind a pile of boxes, and lay down and +closed his eyes.</p> + +<p class="cen">*****</p> + +<p>When Riego opened his eyes again it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +with a start. There were voices—smothered +voices—some men were in the shop! Riego +lay still and listened.</p> + +<p>"We will attack the gringo camp to-night—just +before dawn," a smothered voice was +saying. "Alva has three hundred men and +more. They can easily surprise and destroy +these eighty Americans, and so can seize their +horses and ammunition."</p> + +<p>"But the patrol?" It was Pascual's voice +that whispered the question. Riego's heart +turned sick. He recognized the voice of Lorente +in the terrifying reply:</p> + +<p>"Pacheco and a picked few will knife the +patrol at the ford, then Alva's men will cross, +and approach the camp up the ravine."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow morning?" Pascual's voice +asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, just before dawn."</p> + +<p>There were approaching steps on the street.</p> + +<p>A customer entered. Riego heard Lorente +departing—heard the customer inquire the +price of a saddle, and go out.</p> + +<p>It must be done <i>now</i>—now while Pascual + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +was alone, and he could speak to him! The +next moment Riego stood before his brother.</p> + +<p>"I heard you!" he cried. "Pascual, they +<i>must not</i>!"</p> + +<p>But Pascual laid a fierce hand upon his +breast and pinned him to the wall.</p> + +<p>It was a terrible scene—that which followed—terrible +in the tense quiet of its enactment—terrible +in its outcome!</p> + +<p>With Riego pinned against the wall where +he needs must listen, Pascual poured forth +such a torrent of abuse, of falsehood, against +the "gringos" that at length the old hate +blood leapt in the younger boy's veins and +went beating through his brain.</p> + +<p>The gringos were their enemies—<i>enemies</i>! +The men who were coming down upon them +with the dawn were of their own blood, of +their native country! What if the invaders +<i>were</i> "revolutionists"? Were they not <i>Mexican</i>? +Talk of "loyalty"—one must be loyal +to <i>one's own</i>!</p> + +<p>When Pascual loosed his grip upon the slight +form it was after he had stirred to the very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +dregs all that was passionate, all that was +ignorant and prejudiced and violent, in the +boy's nature.</p> + +<p>That afternoon Riego did not report at +Miss Arden's class, but long after class hour +he was obliged to pass her house on the mission +to deliver a mended harness to a farmer +living near the American camp.</p> + +<p>Miss Arden and her mother, Riego knew, +were the only members of the big captain's +family. They lived in a large house in the +woods, half-way between the town and the +camp. He knew also that the big captain +stayed in camp.</p> + +<p>As Riego emerged from the long stretch of +lonely woods which separated Miss Arden's +house from the town, and as he faced the +other long stretch of woods which lay between +him and the camp, the boy was struck +by the isolation of the señorita's home.</p> + +<p>He reflected, however, that Alva's men +were to attack the gringo soldiers by way of +the ford, and that the ford lay to the right +yonder, far out of connection with the captain's + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +house. He was glad—glad that Alva's +men would not come that way!</p> + +<p>Suddenly he spied the señorita herself. +She was standing on the steps of her father's +home. Riego's heart bounded within him at +sight of her. He pulled down his hat and +hoped to pass unrecognized, but the sweet, +familiar voice called:</p> + +<p>"Riego!"</p> + +<p>He did not answer.</p> + +<p>Then she ran down the steps to him, and +put her gentle hands upon him, turning him +to her against his will.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Riego?" she asked.</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>"You didn't come to class this afternoon."</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," she said, after a moment of +silence in which she looked searchingly into +his face, "because we had an interesting lesson +to-day. It was all about what one ought +to do in case one should be forced to <i>choose +between</i> the old land and the new."</p> + +<p>The boy gave a swift, upward glance at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +her, then dropped his eyes to the ground +again. Miss Arden continued, and her voice +was very serious now:</p> + +<p>"And we decided, Riego, that one ought to +think out carefully which country was really +the better, and be true to that, because there +is a higher duty than that to party or country, +and that is—to the principles of justice +and freedom."</p> + +<p>Riego's head sank lower. The Beautiful +One took one of his brown hands into her +own.</p> + +<p>"And we said"—was she looking into the +dark heart of him?—"that whichever way +one chose, one should choose <i>openly</i>. Now +this little brown hand could never——"</p> + +<p>But the little brown hand was snatched +away, and with a great sob the child fled into +the woods.</p> + +<p>When at last that night Riego did fall +asleep he dreamed that his beautiful America +came to him with her white arms held out in +appeal, and that he slipped a dagger out of +his bosom and stabbed her to the heart.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> + He started, awake, and sat up. It was black +dark.</p> + +<p><i>Had Alva struck already? Or was there yet +time?</i></p> + +<p>Ten feet away was Pascual's cot—he must +not wake Pascual! As still as death he +slipped out of his bed, pulled on his overalls +that he had hung near, and crept out into the +moonless night.</p> + +<p>Riego could not think—it was all so desperate! +He could only respond to the heart +that was in him, and creep forward through +the dark. But his feet knew the road that +he took, though his brain was reeling. He +was going straight to the one who had wakened +the new loyalty in him—his beautiful +America!</p> + +<p>"I pledge allegiance to my flag and to the +republic for which it stands," went surging +through him as he struggled on.</p> + +<p>Riego was not grandly heroic; he was only +a frightened little boy, but determined now +to do his loyal best for the country that had +sheltered him from oppression. And so,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +though the treacherous sands might seek to +drag him down, though the dark chaparral +yonder might hide—any fearsome thing!—Riego +went forward.</p> + +<p>And now the house of the big captain +loomed black before him. Riego stole up +the front steps. He knew behind which of +the long, closed windows the señorita slept, +and he approached and tapped fearfully +upon it.</p> + +<p>It was a frightened voice that called: "Who +is <i>that</i>?"</p> + +<p>Riego was not conscious how he answered, +but he knew that a wave of relief flowed over +him when the blind of the long window +opened and he was drawn into the dark room +by a pair of familiar hands.</p> + +<p>The blind was closed after him and a light +was struck.</p> + +<p>The señorita's eyes were disclosed big and +startled; her face was as white as the long +robe she wore.</p> + +<p>"What <i>is</i> it, Riego?" she gasped.</p> + +<p>"They are coming!" he whispered.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> + "Who?" she exclaimed, catching him by +the shoulders, "<i>Who?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Alva," the boy answered, "and three +hundred with him. They are going to surprise—our +soldiers—and kill them while they +sleep!"</p> + +<p>The señorita sprang to the telephone. She +pulled down the lever many, many times, +then she staggered back against the wall.</p> + +<p>"They have cut the wires!" she cried. +"Riego, you and I must take the warning!"</p> + +<p>"To the camp?" the boy cried in dismay.</p> + +<p>"Yes, there's no one within a mile of here +that could take it but us!"</p> + +<p>"But the Mexicans have spies over there," +the boy moaned. "They will find us in the +dark with their knives!"</p> + +<p>She had flung on a long cloak, and was +hurriedly fastening her shoes.</p> + +<p>"Then you stay here and I'll go," she +said.</p> + +<p>"<i>You?</i>" cried the startled child—then—"It + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +is dark out there, my lady; I'll go with +you."</p> + +<p>They extinguished the light and stole out +together to the stable, but the horses were +gone!</p> + +<p>Desperate now, they started out afoot.</p> + +<p>The treacherous sand again and the black +dark! But they crept along together. Then +suddenly the boy's courage gave way and he +clung to the cloaked figure, sobbing:</p> + +<p>"Señorita! Señorita! I am <i>afraid</i>!"</p> + +<p>The señorita was trembling, too, and her +voice broke as she whispered:</p> + +<p>"You and I don't make very good heroes, +do we?"</p> + +<p>They had come to a standstill and were +clinging together in the dark. Suddenly there +was a sound of something approaching—-the +velvet tread of an unshod pony in the sand!</p> + +<p>The rider passed.</p> + +<p>When they breathed again the señorita took +him strongly by the shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Riego," she whispered—and there was no +break in her voice now—"we must separate. + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +One of us must go straight to the ford and +warn the patrol, the other to camp."</p> + +<p>"But it is near the ford that Pacheco is +hiding," the boy replied.</p> + +<p>"I'll go to the ford," she said simply.</p> + +<p>"No, my lady, <i>I</i> go—you take the news to +camp." And before she could detain him +the boy turned at a sharp angle and plunged +into the deeper blackness of the chaparral.</p> + +<p class="cen">*****</p> + +<p>A long nightmare intervened between their +parting and the time when the half-dead boy +clung to the saddle of the patrol and whispered +to him:</p> + +<p>"Keep to the open, señor; there are men +with knives in the chaparral! Help is coming!"</p> + +<p>Then, somehow, everything was blotted +out for Riego.</p> + +<p>When consciousness came again to the boy, +the cool air of the dawn was choked with +dust clouds till he could not see ten feet before +him and his ears were nearly bursting with +the thunder-beat of frantic hoofs. Dim horses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +were rearing and plunging against the reddening +dawn. There were shouts and cries and +firing! Firing!</p> + +<p>Who was losing? Who was <i>winning</i>?</p> + +<p>Dear God, Alva's men were sweeping back +across the Rio Grande!</p> + +<p>One little frightened boy had saved the +day for the country that had given him +refuge from oppression.</p> + +<p>But what was that? A call for help? +<i>Whose voice was that?</i></p> + +<p>Riego plunged into the thick of the dust +cloud toward the cry, and dropped by Pascual's +side. How could he have known that +his brother would ride that night with the +invaders!</p> + +<p>But Pascual was striving to speak. Riego +leaned over him and caught the whisper:</p> + +<p>"Lorente shot me down to get my horse +and escape!"</p> + +<p>And now the gringos were circling round +the wounded one—they would beat out his +brains with their guns! But—but—why, +they were lifting him up, and <i>tenderly</i>! The + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +Americans were lifting up his wounded +brother!</p> + +<p class="cen">*****</p> + +<p>Many and bewildering were the things +which happened to Riego in the next few +hours. First, he and the all-but-dead Pascual +were carried by the soldiers to the American +camp. Then his brother was taken away from +him and borne into a closed tent.</p> + +<p>The soldiers gathered around Riego and +patted him on the shoulder. They gave him +many things—things to eat and coins and +pocket-knives and tobacco-tags, all the while +challenging him to smile—he whose captured +brother was yonder!</p> + +<p>Later the big captain sent for him and took +him by the hand.</p> + +<p>"Riego Yañez," he said, "I am proud to +shake hands with an American hero!"</p> + +<p>At length a tall soldier came to Riego and +led him to the closed tent. But the tall +soldier did not enter; he merely pushed the +boy inside the tent and dropped the khaki +flap.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> + Riego blinked his eyes. Somebody was +lying stretched out on a cot, and somebody +was fanning him—the Beautiful One and his +brother! Riego crept toward her suddenly +outstretched hands.</p> + +<p>Then he leaned over Pascual. But Pascual's +eyes were closed and on his face was a +yellow pallor.</p> + +<p>"The surgeon has taken out the ball," +whispered the Beautiful One. "He will live, +with good nursing, and I am on the job." +She paused a moment, then asked, as she +looked into his face with concern: "Aren't +you happy, you tragic little soldier? Why +don't you smile at the good news?"</p> + +<p>"How—" began the child—and a strange, +sick feeling swept over him—"how long before +he will be well enough to be stood against +a wall—and——"</p> + +<p>"Why, you poor child!"—and the big tears +sprang to the señorita's eyes—"your brother +will not be stood against a wall and shot for +treason—never—<i>never</i>! And he's not going +to be shut up in prison, either!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter bord" style="width: 500px;"> + <a name="p0120a-illus.jpg" id="p0120a-illus.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/p0120a-illus.jpg" width="500" height="761" alt="A hero congratulated" title="" /> + <p class="caption2">"Riego Yañez," he said. "I am proud to shake hands with an +American hero!"</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> + "But why, señorita? Why? The big captain +knows that he was with Alva's men."</p> + +<p>"He is young—just a boy," and the señorita +laid a tender hand upon the head of the +wounded lad. "He is the son of good parents +and brother to—— Oh, you tragic little soldier, +can't you guess who it is has saved your +brother?"</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i>, señorita?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Yourself</i>, Riego. Because you have been +heroically loyal they are to give your brother +another chance. We Americans, Riego"—and +her white hand closed upon his own to include +him with her—"we Americans are going +to nurse Pascual back to a better life and +teach him how to be free!"</p> + +<p>The sick lad stirred on his cot.</p> + +<p>When the Beautiful One leaned over him +in quick solicitude, he smiled.</p> + + +<hr /> +<h2>The Scribner Series of School Reading</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>A Uniform Series for Supplementary Reading in +Schools. Each, 12mo, <i>net</i>, *$0.50.</p> + +<p>Hero Tales Told in School. By <span class="smcap">James +Baldwin</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>Herakles, the Hero of Thebes, and Other +Heroes of the Myth. By <span class="smcap">Mary E. Burt</span> and +<span class="smcap">Zenaide Ragezin</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>Odysseus: The Hero of Ithaca. By <span class="smcap">Mary +E. Burt</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>The Boy General. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">George A. Custer</span> +and <span class="smcap">Mary E. Burt</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>Don Quixote De La Mancha. By <span class="smcap">Miguel +de Cervantes</span>. From the translations of Duffield +and Shelton. By <span class="smcap">Mary E. Burt</span> and <span class="smcap">Lucy +Leffingwell Cable</span>.</p> + +<p>The Cable Story Book. Selections for School +Reading. By <span class="smcap">George W. Cable</span>. Edited by <span class="smcap">Mary +E. Burt</span> and <span class="smcap">Lucy L. Cable</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>The Hoosier School Boy. By <span class="smcap">Edward +Eggleston</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>The Eugene Field Book. Verses, Stories, and +Letters for School Reading. By <span class="smcap">Eugene Field</span>. +Edited by <span class="smcap">Mary E. Burt</span> and <span class="smcap">Mary L. Cable</span>. +With an Introduction by <span class="smcap">George W. Cable</span>. +Illustrated.</p> + +<p>The Howells Story Book. By <span class="smcap">William Dean +Howells</span>. Selected and arranged by <span class="smcap">Mary E. Burt</span>. +Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Miss Howells</span>.</p> + +<p>The Lanier Book. Selections for School Reading. +By <span class="smcap">Sidney Lanier</span>. Edited and arranged By <span class="smcap">Mary +E. Burt</span>, in co-operation with Mrs. <span class="smcap">Lanier</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>The Page Story Book. Selections for School +Reading by <span class="smcap">Thomas Nelson Page</span>. Edited by +<span class="smcap">Frank E. Spalding</span> and <span class="smcap">Catherine T. Bryce</span>.</p> + +<p>Poems of American Patriotism. Chosen by +<span class="smcap">Brander Matthews</span>.</p> + +<p>Some Merry Adventures of Robin Hood. +By <span class="smcap">Howard Pyle</span>. Illustrated by the Author.</p> + +<p>The Roosevelt Book. Selections from the +writings of Theodore Roosevelt, with an introduction +by <span class="smcap">Robert Bridges</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>A Child's Garden of Verses. By <span class="smcap">Robert +Louis Stevenson</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>Krag and Johnny Bear. Being the Personal +Histories of Krag, Randy, Johnny Bear, and Chink. +By <span class="smcap">Ernest Thompson Seton</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>Lobo, Rag, and Vixen. Selections from "Wild +Animals I Have Known." By <span class="smcap">Ernest Thompson +Seton</span>. With 4 full-page and many other illustrations +from drawings by the Author.</p> + +<p>Twelve Naval Captains. With portraits. By +<span class="smcap">Molly Elliott Seawell</span>.</p> + +<p>Fanciful Tales. By <span class="smcap">Frank R. Stockton</span>. Edited +by <span class="smcap">Julia E. Langworthy</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>Around the World in the Sloop Spray. +By Captain <span class="smcap">Joshua Slocum</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>The van Dyke Book. Selections for School +Reading. By <span class="smcap">Henry van Dyke</span>. Edited and arranged +by Professor <span class="smcap">Edwin Mims</span>, with Biographical +Sketch by <span class="smcap">Miss van Dyke</span>. Illustrated.</p> + +<p>Children's Stories of American Literature, +1660-1860. By <span class="smcap">Henrietta Christian Wright</span>.</p> + +<p>Children's Stories of American Literature, +1860-1896. By <span class="smcap">Henrietta Christian Wright</span>.</p> + +<p>Children's Stories in American History. +By <span class="smcap">Henrietta Christian Wright</span>.</p> + +<p>Children's Stories in American Progress. +By <span class="smcap">Henrietta Christian Wright</span>.</p> +</div> + + +<hr /> +<div class="tn"> +<h4>Transcriber's Note</h4> +<ul class="corrections"> +<li>Punctuation errors have been corrected.</li> +</ul> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of America First, by Frances Nimmo Greene + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICA FIRST *** + +***** This file should be named 36726-h.htm or 36726-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/7/2/36726/ + +Produced by Larry B. 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