"Are you the boy that found the paper in the book?" they asked me. Thenthey wanted to know what kind of a book it was, and I told them it was abook about German history and they screwed up their faces and lookedvery suspicious.
"You say that the man spoke broken English?" one of them asked Pee-wee.
Pee-wee was kind of nervous, I could see. "It--it--well it wasn'texactly broken," he said.
"Just a little bent," I said, and oh, you ought to have seen the frownMr. Ellsworth gave me.
"It was kind of--just a little--" Pee-wee began.
"We understand," one of the men said. Then the other one spoke to us.He said, "Boys, we want you to go over with us and we want thisyoungster to identify the man. You needn't be afraid, Uncle Sam is withyou."
But, cracky, I didn't like it and I guess Pee-wee didn't either. I'veread stories about boys that had men arrested and all that, and I alwaysthought I'd like to be one of those regular heroes. But when it came toreally doing it, I knew then that I didn't like to help arrest anybody,and I bet most real fellows feel the same way. I felt funny, kind of.That's why I have no use for young detectives in stories, because I knowyou've got to be a grown-up man to feel that way and do things like that.
They had an automobile right near the tennis courts and we all got inand Pee-wee and I sat in back with our scoutmaster. Cracky, I was gladour scoutmaster was along, that's one sure thing. Pretty soon we got toLittle Valley and Pee-wee pointed out the big white house with the lawnand the flag flying there. Jiminy, but it looked good and I wished wewere up at Temple Camp, raising our colors near the boat landing.
While we were going up the gravel path; the old gentleman came out onhis porch and looked at us and I felt kind of ashamed and I could seePee-wee did too. But, cracky, I've got no use for spies, that's one surething. Pee-wee and I kind of hung behind and I guess he felt funny, sortof, when the old gentleman waved his hand to him, as if they were oldfriends.
I can't remember all they said but the two men who I knew weredetectives showed the old gentleman the paper and asked him what itmeant. First he seemed kind of flustered and angry and I know Pee-wee'sheart was thumping-anyway it would have been thumping, except that itwas up in his throat.
Then the men said that they'd have to search the house to see if therewas a wireless and then the old gentleman got angry; then all of asudden he sat down in one of the wicker chairs on the porch and beganto laugh and laugh and laugh. Then he looked at Pee-wee and said, "Isuppose this is the young gentleman who succeeded in trapping me. Imust take off my hat to the Boy Scouts," and he smiled with an awfulpleasant kind of a smile and held out his hand to Pee-wee.
Well, you should have seen Pee-wee. It was as good as a three-ringedcircus. He stood there as if he was posing for animal crackers. Andeven the detectives looked kind of puzzled, but all the whilesuspicious.
"Are you the spy-catcher?" the old gentleman said to Pee-wee, butPee-wee looked all flabbergasted and only shifted from one footto the other.
"I hope you don't mean to kill me with that belt.axe?" the old gentleman asked. But Pee-wee just couldn't speak.
"He must be a telephone girl--'he doesn't answer," I blurted out,and even the detectives had to laugh.
"Gentlemen, if you will step inside, I'll make full confession andthen give myself up," the old man said; "for I see there is no usein trying to escape the Boy Scouts. It was I who wrote thattreasonable memorandum and I may as well tell you that I have awireless. I will give you my whole history. I see that my youngfriend here is a most capable secret service agent."
"We're only small boys--we belong to the infantry," I said, for Ijust couldn't help blurting it out.
Well, we all went inside and I could see that the Commissioner andthe detectives kept very near the old gentleman as if they didn'thave much use for his laughing and his pleasant talk. I guess maybethey were used to that kind of thing, and he couldn't fool them.
When we got into his library I saw books all around on the shelves,hundreds of them I guess, and the desk was covered with papers andthere was a picture of Mark Twain with "Best regards to Mr. Donnelle,"written on it. Gee whit taker, I thought when I looked around; maybeMr. Donnelle is a deep-dyed spy all right, but he's sure a high-brow.
"You'd have to take an elevator to get up to him," I whispered toPee-wee.
"Shhh," Pee-wee said, "maybe he isn't dyed so very deep--there'sdifferent shades of dyes."
"Maybe he's only dyed a light gray or a pale blue," I said.
Then Mr. Donnelle got out a big fat red book that said on it "Who'sWho in America" and, jiminy, I'm glad I never had to study it, becauseit had about a million pages. I hate biography anyway--biography andarithmetic. Then he turned to a certain page.
"Now, gentlemen," he said, "if you will just read this I will thenconsent to go with you," and he smiled all over his face.
The four men leaned over and began reading, but Pee-wee and I didn'tbecause they didn't ask us and Boy Scouts don't butt in.
"I bet it tells all about German spies and everything, and now he'sgoing to make a full confession," Pee-wee said; "maybe our names willbe in the New York papers, hey?"
"They'll be more likely to be in the fly-paper," I said; "there'ssomething funny about this."
"I bet he was going to blow up some ships," Pee-wee said.
"I bet he'll blow us up in a minute," I told him; because I could seethat he was saying something to the men while they all looked at thebook, and that the whole four of them were laughing--especiallyMr. Ellsworth.
"It was the elder boy who discovered it," I heard him say, smiling allthe while.
"Good night!" I said to Pee-wee, "I thought we had a German in custody,but instead of that. We're in Dutch!"
"Will they send us to jail?" he whispered.
"I think we'll get about ten merit badges for this--not," I said; "he'sno spy."
Well, the men didn't pay much attention to us, only strolled over to oneside of the room and began chatting together, and Mr. Donnelle got a boxof cigars and they each took one.
"I wouldn't smoke one of those cigars," Pee-wee said, "they might bebombs. The Germans are pretty tricky--safety first."
Then Mr. Ellsworth came over to us, smiling all over his face. "Well,boys," he said, "I'm glad to say that our spy quest has gone up insmoke. Mr. Donnelle is one of the best known authors of America. He iswriting a story of the war and our dark memorandum is just a littleliterary note of his about a spy among the American forces. I thinkwe shall find it a most interesting story when it is finished. It isfull of German intrigue and you will be glad to know that the imaginaryspy is caught and court-martialled. You have done a fine thing by yourdiscovery, for Mr. Donnelle has become greatly interested in the Scouts,and especially in our young scout author." Then he gave me a funny look."So you see our dark memorandum was not so dark after all."
"G--o--o--d night!" I said; "it was a kind of a pale white."
"And I dare say," Mr. Ellsworth said, all the while slapping me on theshoulder, "that our deep-dyed villain is going to prove a very goodfriend."
"Even if you're deep-dyed," said Pee-wee, "sometimes the colors willrun and you won't be so deep-dyed after all. My sister had a skirt andshe dyed it a deep--"
Honest, that kid is a scream.
CHAPTER IV
THE PLOT GROWS THINNER--OR ELSE THICKER
Pee-wee says it grows thicker and I say it grows thinner, so I put itboth ways. I told him things would begin to stir up in this chapterand he said a thing always gets thicker when you stir it. I shouldworry.
"Suppose we should go boating or something like that where there's alot of water," I told him; "that would thin it some if you added waterwouldn't it?"
"You're crazy," he shouted.
Westy Martin wanted to name it The Deep Dyed Villain--so you can callit that if you want to--I don't care.
Now I'll start off. You remember about Mr. Donnelle saying that he hada wireless. Well, pretty soon after what I've been
telling you about,the men went away and they were all laughing and good natured about it.I heard one of them say that the Boy Scouts were a wide--awake lot.Believe me, they wouldn't say that if they saw us sleeping after a day'shike at Temple Camp. If you heard Vic Norris snore, you'd think it wasthe West Front in France.
Well anyway, Mr. Donnelle wanted Pee-wee and me to stay at his house alittle while, because he said he was kind of interested in us. He wouldlisten to Pee-wee very sober like and then begin to laugh. And wheneverPee-wee tried to explain, it only made him laugh more.
"Anyway, I could see you weren't a very bad kind of a spy," Pee-wee said.Jiminetty, I had to laugh.
Well, Mr. Donnelle asked us all about the Scouts and we told him allabout them--Pee-wee mostly did that. He's a scout propagander let--that's a small sized propagandist. We told him, how we didn't know howwe are going to manage to get up to Temple Camp in our launch, becauseit would only hold about seven or eight boys and we had twenty-four,not counting Captain Kidd, the parrot.
"Well, now I have a little scheme," he said, smiling all the while,"and perhaps we can hit some sort of a plan. If I can only get you boysout of the way, away up at camp, I'll be able to carry on my Germanpropaganda work." Then he winked at me and I knew he was kidding Pee-wee.Well, believe me, we hit a plan all right; we more than hit it, we gaveit a knockout blow. All the while we were talking, he was taking usacross the lawn till pretty soon we came to a little patch of woods andas soon as I got a whiff of those trees, good night, I felt as if I wasup at Temple Camp already. That's a funny thing about trees--you get toknow them and like them sort of.
Then pretty soon we came to a creek that ran through the woods and Icould see it was deep and all shaded by the trees. Oh, jiminy, it wasfine. And you could hear it ripple too, just like the water of BlackLake up near Temple Camp. If I was a grown-up author I could writesome dandy stuff about it, because it was all dark and spooky as youmight say, and you could see the trees reflected in it and castingtheir something or other--you know what I mean.
"Can you follow a trail?", Mr. Donnelle asked us.
"Trails are our middle names;" I told him, "and I can follow one--"
"Whitherso'er--" Pee-wee began.
"Whither so which?" I said. Because he was trying to talk high browjust because he knew Mr. Donnelle was an author.
So he led us along a trail that ran along the shore all in and outthrough trees, and he said it was all his property. Pretty soon Icould see part of a house through the trees and I thought I'd like tolive there, it was so lonely.
"You mean secluded," Pee-wee said. Mr. Donnelle smiled and I told himPee-wee was a young dictionary--pocket size.
Pretty soon we reached the house and, good night, it wasn't any houseat all; it was a house boat. And I could see the fixtures for a wirelesson it, only the wires had been taken down.
Then Mr. Donnelle said, "Boys," he said, "this is my old workshop and Ihave spent many happy hours in it. But I don't use it any more and ifyou boys think you could all pile into it, why you are welcome to it forthe summer. It has no power, but perhaps you could tow it behind yourlaunch. Anyway you may charter it for the large sum of nothing at all,as a reward for foiling a spy."
"I--I kind of knew you were not a spy all the time," said Pee-wee.
Well, I was so flabbergasted that I just couldn't speak and even Pee-weewas struck dumb. We just gaped like a couple of idiots, and after a whileI said, "Cracky, it's too good to be true."
"So you see what comes from collecting books for soldiers and for keepingyour eyes open," Mr. Donnelle said; "you have caught a bigger fish thanyou thought. N ow suppose I show you through the inside."
Now here is the place where the plot begins to get thicker and, believeme, in four or five chapters it will be as thick as mud. We were justcoming up to the house-boat to go aboard it, when suddenly the door flewopen and a fellow scampered across the deck and ran away.
I could see that he had pretty shabby clothes and a peaked cap and Iguess he was startled to hear us coming. In just a few seconds he wasgone in the woods and we all stood gaping there while the boat bobbedup and down, on account of him jumping from it. But I got a squint athis face all right, and I noticed the color of his cap and how he ran,and I'm mighty glad I did, because that fellow was going to come intoour young lives again and cause us a lot of trouble, you can bet.
Mr. Donnelle said he was probably just a tramp that had been sleepingin the boat and he didn't seem to mind much, only he said it would bebetter to keep the door locked.
"Maybe he might have been a--" Pee-wee began.
"No siree," I said. "We've had enough of deep-dyed villains for one day,if that's what you were going to say."
"Maybe we'd better track him," said Pee-wee, very serious.
"Nix on the tracking," I said, "I've retired from the 'detectivebusiness, and now I'm going to be cook on a house-boat."
"We'll have a good anchor anyway if you make biscuits," Pee-wee said.
"They'll weigh more than you do anyway," I fired back.
And Mr. Donnelle began to laugh.
Well, we didn't bother our heads any more about the tramp, but I couldsee that Pee-wee would have been happier if we'd have thought it was theKaiser or Villa, instead of just a plain ordinary tramp, looking for aplace to sleep. But oh, crinkums, you'll be surprised when you hear allabout that fellow and who he was and I suppose you'd like me to tell younow, wouldn't you? But I won't.
I've got to go to camp meeting now, so goodbye, see you later--
CHAPTER V
LOST
Now I'm going to write until my sister begins playing the piano. Musicand literature don't mix--believe me. There are two cruises in thisbook--a big one and a little one. You can take your pick. The littleone is full of mud and the big one is full of pep. Anyway you get yourmoney's worth, that's one sure thing.
This chapter is about the little cruise. But first I have to tell youabout the house-boat, because it turned out to be our home sweet homefor a couple of weeks. It didn't only turn out, but it turned in andit turned sideways and every which way. But I'm not going to knock it.It got knocks enough going through the creek and up Bridgeboro River.It knocked into two bridges, and goodness knows what all. But what caredwe, yo ho? We cared not--I mean naught.
First Mr. Donnelle showed us through it and it was dandy, only in verypoor shape. It's shape was square. But I wouldn't laugh at it because wehad a lot of fun on it. Inside it had two rooms and a little kitchen andthe roof had a railing around it and there was lots of room there. Therewas lots of room on the deck too. And there was a kind of littleguard-house, too, to put Pee-wee in if he didn't behave. Some of thewindows were broken, but I knew we could fix them easily. All we neededto do was eat some green apples and then we'd have plenty of panes. Therewere some lockers too, only one of them was locked and we couldn't getinto it.
I guess the tramp didn't take anything, because there was nothingmissing. I guess all he took was a look around. There were some cushionspiled on one of the lockers and they looked as if someone had beensleeping on them.
Pee-wee said he could see the oil stove had been used by the smell--he'sgot such sharp eyes that be can see a smell. I told him he had a classyeye because there was a pupil in it, and you ought to have seen Mr.Donnelle laugh. I guess he thought we were crazy.
"Well we should worry about the tramp," I said, "especially now that wehave a boat like this. The next thing to do is to bring the whole troopand get her fixed up."
One thing was easy anyway. Just below Bridgeboro, where we live, thereis a kind of a branch flowing into the Bridgeboro River. We alwayscalled it the creek. Now we found out from Mr. Donnelle that it startedalong up above Little Valley. Over there they call it Dutch Creek. Hesaid that at high tide we could float the houseboat right down intoBridgeboro River and then wait for the up tide or else tow it up toBridgeboro. Cracky, I could see it would be a cinch ark! I was gladbecause we fellows didn't have money enough to have the boa
t carted byland. But, good night, this way was easy.
The next morning I sent a birch bark call to an the fellows in ourtroop. I sent them each a little piece of birch bark by courier. ConnieBennett, he's our courier. And that meant come to Special Meeting--W. S.W. S. means without scoutmaster. So pretty soon they began coming up toCamp Solitaire. That's the name I gave the tent I have on our lawn. Whenthey were all there, I told them about Mr. Donnelle and the houseboat,and we decided that we'd hike over to Little Valley and pile right inand get it ready instead of bringing it to Bridgeboro first. We decidedthat if we worked on it for about three days, it would be ready.
So we all started to hike it along the road to Little Valley. We had anadventure before we got there, and I guess I'd better ten you about it.I made a map too, so you can see the way everything was. It's about fivemiles to Little Valley by the road.
Well, we were an hiking it along, sometimes going scout-pace and most ofthe time jollying Pee-wee, when all of a sudden I noticed a mark on arock that I was sure was a scout mark. It was an arrow and it was markedwith a piece of slate. Underneath the arrow was another mark like a pail,so I knew the sign meant that there was water in that direction.
I didn't know any scouts around our way that could be camping there, butwhenever a scout sees a scout sign he usually likes to follow it up. SoI told the fellows I was going to follow if there was any time. They saidit was an old last year's mark, but go ahead if I wanted to, and I toldthem I'd meet them at Little Valley later. So now comes the adventure.As soon as I left the fellows, I hit the trail into the woods just likeyou'll see on the map I made. It wasn't much of trail and I guess afellow couldn't follow it if he wasn't a scout. It was all thick woodslike a jungle kind of, and I could see where branches had been brokenby somebody that passed there. Pretty soon it began to get swampy andthere wasn't any more trail at all.
Roy Blakeley: His Story Page 2