The Boy Scouts for Uncle Sam

"Say, you do know suthin' about ingines, don't yer?" admired Lem, after a few sharp questions had shown him that the queer old man really knew what he was talking about.

A muttered grunt was the only reply. The old man was spinning the fly-wheel over, after making a few adjustments of the gasoline and spark supply. A moment later the motor was sputtering and coughing, and the launch was struggling at her moorings.

Lem cast off and ran the craft about the harbor for a while. At the conclusion of the test he was satisfied that the old man actually did understand the workings of gasoline motors. Returning to the wharf, it only remained for a bargain to be struck, and this was speedily done. But Lem still held out for something more.

"Seein' as I don't know you an' you're takin' ther boat out alone, I ought ter hev a deposit or suthin'," he declared, his eyes narrowing.

"What's your boat worth?" demanded the old man.

"Wa'al, I paid a thousand fer her," rejoined Lem, who had only doubled the actual sum the launch cost him.

"Here you are."

The old man reached into a recess of his black coat and produced a roll of currency, which Lem later declared to his cronies would have "choked a horse." Rapidly peeling off several bills of large denomination, he paid the exorbitant deposit, plus the price agreed upon for the hire of the boat for the night. Lem, too astonished to do more than stutter, pocketed the money without a word.

"One thing more," said the old man; "we shall need a small boat to tow along."

"Oh, then yer goin' ter land some place?"

Lem, having recovered the use of his voice, had also regained his rural curiosity.

The old man regarded him angrily, and then, in his peculiar, snarling voice, he whipped out:

"What's that to you? We've paid you too much for your boat, and you know it. Here's fifty dollars more. That's not to ask any questions and not to answer any."

"Oh, I'll keep mum," Lem assured him, pocketing the extra money with sparkling eyes. "When you're ready to go, I'll have a small boat ready for you, never fear."

"Good. We'll be here at five o'clock sharp."

The old man and his companion sauntered off up the street. Lem watched them till they entered the Bellport Hotel. Then, to himself, he exclaimed in tones that fairly burst out of him:

"Wa'al, what d'ye know about that? Them chaps is either lunatics or millionaires, or both. Wa'al, it's none of my affair, an' there might be things I wouldn't do for fifty dollars, but keepin' my mouth shut for a while ain't one of 'em. What a yarn I'll have ter tell when them two chaps gets out of town! Kain't get over thet old feller, though. Fer all his years, he's spry as a boy; suthin' mighty funny about both on 'em."

With this, Lem resumed his seat on the edge of the wharf and dismissed the matter from his mind as far as was possibly consistent with the knowledge of the – to him – gigantic sum reposing in his blue jeans.

Yet, had he known it, he was letting slip through his fingers the possibility of earning a far larger sum. For the man with the queer eyes was Ivan Karloff, a notorious anarchist, for whom a reward of five thousand dollars was offered, following a bomb outrage in New York, and his companion was Berghoff himself.

What were these two men doing in Bellport? Why did they want a fast boat for a mysterious night trip?

The answers to these questions would have held a burning interest for our friends on the submarine island. Like a vicious snake, Berghoff was preparing to strike what he hoped would be a vital blow at the Peacemaker and her guardians. Crafty and unscrupulous, he had invested in his services Ivan Karloff, whose price for dangerous undertakings was high, but whose skill in his nefarious line of endeavor was supreme.

It was about midnight when Lem Higgins' motor boat crept up to a spot not far from where the Peacemaker lay at anchor. Behind her she towed the promised small boat. Berghoff, as we must now call the old man, was at the engines. His companion was steering.

"Is this near enough?" inquired Karloff, in a low tone, as Berghoff slowed up the engines.

"Yes. We want to run no chances. It would not be pleasant for either of us to be nipped now."

No more words were exchanged till the anchor was noiselessly let drop.

Then Berghoff spoke.

"Have you got everything?"

"Yes; it's all in the bag – the wire, the batteries, and all. Wonder what those farmers would have done if they could have guessed what else we had in there?"

"Gone through the ceiling, I reckon," chuckled Berghoff grimly; "but come on, let's get to work. We may have a long job to find the submarine."

"Yes, and we've no time to lose. After the job's done the quicker we put the Atlantic between us and Uncle Sam, the better," was the reply.

"You're not nervous, are you?"

"Nervous! My friend, I have done more dangerous jobs than this."

Depositing the bag carefully in the small boat, the two men rowed off. They made absolutely no noise as they proceeded, the reason for this being that the oars had been carefully muffled soon after they left Bellport, and felt free from observation.

After ten minutes or so of rowing, Berghoff laid a hand on his companion's arm.

"What is it?" asked Karloff, who was rowing.

"Look right ahead. What's that?"

"The glow of a light. Can that be it?"

"It must be. That light is reflected from the conning tower. There is somebody on board."

"That matters not, if they are not on deck. Even so, we can take care of them."

"You mean to hurl it?"

"Yes; but I'd rather fasten it to the craft itself. It's safer for us and more effective."

A diabolical grin stole over the anarchist's face as he spoke. He resumed his cautious rowing.

"There's no one on deck," declared Berghoff, as they crept closer to the dark outlines of the anchored submarine.

"Good; then we can do our work quickly. Have you everything ready?"

"Yes; we'll be alongside in a minute. Don't make a failure of it."

"I have never failed yet," was the quiet reply, spoken in a voice so menacing and evil that it would have caused a shudder to run through any one less hardened than the man to whom it was addressed.

Rob flashed to the surface after a longer interval than Merritt would have believed it possible for anybody to remain submerged. As he appeared, Merritt rushed to aid him upon the slippery deck of the Peacemaker.

Rob shook his head, as Merritt tried to draw him up. Instead, he choked out:

"A pair of pliers. Quick! Our lives depend upon it."

Merritt, who had been working on the engine, happened to have the required tool in his pocket. Without a word, he handed it to Rob. From his leader's manner he knew that down there under the water the boy had discovered some deadly hidden peril. Breathlessly, he watched for his reappearance, for the instant he received the pliers Rob had dived.

*******

In the rowboat which they had towed out from Bellport, Berghoff and his companion sat bending over some object. Had it been daylight it could have been seen that this object was a battery box.

Also, daylight would have revealed Berghoff's face as being white and drawn under his disguise; but his companion's evil countenance never changed an iota, as his long fingers sought and found the button of the battery box which lay before him on a thwart.

From this box two wires led off into the darkness. When the button was pressed a flash of electricity would pass through those wires and the climax of a fiendishly ingenious plot would be reached. In the tense silence that preceded the pressing of the button, Berghoff's breath could be heard coming gaspingly. His companion, on the other hand, appeared as cool as an icicle.

"Are you certain we are far enough away?" stammered Berghoff.

"Absolutely. I have no desire to be hoisted by my own petard. Now then, if you are ready, say the word."

"I – I – " stammered Berghoff.

"Bah! You are a coward; come, I am all ready."

"I don't mind the submarine, curse it; but it's the thought of the lives on board her."

"My friend, you are too sensitive. Come, are you ready?"

"Ye-es," choked out Berghoff, his teeth chattering, and the sweat pouring off his face. The man was shaking like a leaf, and his breath came raspingly from between his half-opened lips.

"Now!"

He steeled himself to utter the signal firmly, but it was merely a harsh whisper that issued from his dry throat.

The long fingers pressed down. Berghoff, swaying like a stricken thing, placed his hands before his eyes. But the sound that both had been expecting did not come. No roaring explosion followed the pressing of the button, no flash of livid flame and shattering of the wonderful structure of steel they had hoped to destroy. A death-like stillness prevailed.

"You've failed!" choked out Berghoff.

His companion's eyes flashed in the darkness like a cat's. He swallowed convulsively.

"There is only one explanation," he snarled.

"And that is?"

"That they have discovered the mine. My friend, we had better be leaving as soon as possible. It will not be good for us to be found in this vicinity."

At that very moment two boys were standing with horror-stricken eyes on the deck of the submarine. In his hands Rob held a peculiar looking cylinder of steel. From one end of it hung two severed wires. It was so weighted and balanced as to float a distance of about five feet under the surface of the water.

"If I hadn't found those wires and cut them," Rob said, in an awe-stricken voice.

But Merritt did not answer. He could only clasp his companion's hand. The realization of the fearfully narrow limit by which they had escaped death almost overcame him. The night was hot, but both boys shivered as if stricken with the ague. It was some minutes before they could give the alarm to those on shore. Then the rapid blowing of the whistle used by the submarine when on the surface signalled their companions.

Some fifteen minutes later two pale-faced, wild-eyed lads were explaining to an absorbed group the foiling of the diabolical plot against Uncle Sam's diving boat. It was not long after, that the submarine was rushing through the water for the nearest harbor.

"If we can arouse the police along the coast we may yet be able to capture the authors of this outrage," exclaimed the ensign, as at full speed the Peacemaker clove through the waters.

"Yes; it's hardly probable that they had as swift a boat as this," agreed Mr. Barr. "If we can get ashore ahead of them, we can cause a police net to be spread that they can scarcely break through."

But it was decreed that the fate of Berghoff and his companion should be a different one. Suddenly, off to port of the Peacemaker, the night was split by a roar and a red flash of flame.

"Great Scott! What was that?" gasped out Ensign Hargreaves.

"The searchlight – quick!" cried Mr. Barr.

In an instant the great beam of white light was cutting the night like a fiery sword. Suddenly its rays concentrated on a dark object not far distant from the Peacemaker.

Within the radiant circle was limned a strange picture. Two men were struggling in the water, while beside them the outline of a boat showed for an instant and then vanished forever.

At top speed the Peacemaker was rushed to the scene. She reached it in time for those on board to see one of the two men struggling in the water throw up his arms. The next instant, with a shuddering cry, that might have been either defiance or agony, he vanished as had the boat.

The other man was picked up. He was an old man, seemingly, and almost exhausted from his struggle with the waves. But, as he was being dragged on board, a strange thing occurred. The salt water, with which he was drenched, had likewise soaked his beard and hair. As he was hauled over the sloping deck of the submarine his beard and hair slipped away, and there before them lay Berghoff, seemingly dead or dying.

As soon as they had recovered from their amazement, he was carried below and made as comfortable as possible; for it was found that he was shockingly burned. The chart was consulted, and it was reckoned that Bellport was the closest place at which to land. And so it came about, that Berghoff – or the wreck of the man – was brought back to the very spot from which he and his ill-fated companion had set out on their diabolical trip.

Under close police guard the injured man was carried to the local hospital, and with his first conscious breath he cried aloud for Karloff. He was told of the man's fate, and then made a full confession of the plot to blow up the submarine. As for the accident that had destroyed their own craft, he explained that Karloff, stooping to light a cigarette, had ignited some leaked gasoline in the bilge. In a flash the flames had reached the fuel tank, and an explosion that ripped the boat apart followed.

For days the man lingered in the hospital, apparently contrite and suffering great pain. But one night a drowsy nurse and an open window aided him in a plan of escape that must have formed itself in his mind some time before. In a weak voice he begged his police guard to get him a drink of water. When the man came back, Berghoff had gone. Nor was he ever heard of again. Whether he managed in some way to communicate with his friends, or whether he gained financial resources to aid his escape by robbery or other means, will never be known.

"Wa'al, I'm glad I stuck to that thousand," said Lem Higgins, when he heard of the escape. "I'll git another boat now."

*******

And so ends the tale of the Boy Scouts' services for Uncle Sam. Of course, they remained on the island till the conclusion of the tests. But they were molested no more, and so far as they were concerned Berghoff and his evil designs ceased to exist. Their experiences had proved of much value to them, and broadened and developed their characters to a marked extent.

We shall meet our friends and fellow Scouts again in a succeeding volume of this series, for strong, healthy lads like these cannot seem to help meeting with adventures. When they face them in the true Scout spirit, that of bravery mixed with brains, it is a combination hard to beat. This new volume will be called "The Boy Scouts at the Panama Canal," and will relate their experiences at the "Big Ditch," that remarkable engineering achievement that is holding the interest and attention of the entire world. The book will contain authentic photographs of the canal in process of construction and include accurate descriptions of the engineering feats.

THE END