The Boy Scouts on Belgian Battlefields

CHAPTER I.

ANTWERP, ON THE SCHELDT

"Oh! how glad I am that part of the trip is over, now we've crossed from England to Antwerp without being wrecked!"

"You certainly did seem to have a bad time of it, Tubby, in the wash of the Channel!"

"Bad time did you say, Rob? It was a great deal worse than anything we struck on the voyage between New York and Liverpool, let me tell you."

"But now we want to forget all our troubles of the past, Tubby."

"I know what you mean by that, Merritt; it's just the same as telling me the worst is yet to come."

"Well, I'm a little afraid myself that's going to turn out a fact. Here we are, just landed in a strange country that is being overrun by an army of German invaders; and all of us are bound to push deeper and deeper into the mire."

"Hey, Merritt, you give me a shiver when you say that, don't you know?"

"I guess you must mean a quiver, Tubby; because whenever you laugh or tremble you make me think of a bowl full of jelly!"

"Now you're making sport of me because I'm so pudgy and fat. Just as if I could help that; can I, Rob?"

"To be sure you couldn't, Tubby; and we wouldn't want you to be anything but what you are – the best natured scout in the whole Eagle Patrol, and I'm safe in saying you're the only fellow in the Long Island town of Hampton who hasn't an enemy. Everybody takes a fancy to a jolly rolypoly like you, Tubby."

"What would we do without you?" Merritt added, with real feeling in his voice.

"Well, but it strikes me you tried mighty hard to induce me not to join you two on this wonderful trip abroad," complained the fat boy reproachfully.

"There was a good reason for that, Tubby," defended Merritt quickly. "I could see that with all these Old World countries in a scrap, my job of finding that man who is wanted so badly by my grandfather might take me into the fighting zone. Now Rob, as the leader of the Eagle Patrol, volunteered to stand by me, and I gladly accepted his assistance. When you asked to go along I was afraid the hardships of the trip might be too much for one of your peculiar build. That's all, I give you my word for it, Tubby."

"My 'peculiar build,' as you call it, Merritt," chuckled the other, considerably mollified by the explanation offered, "has gotten me into a peck of trouble, I admit. But you never saw me show the white feather, did you?"

"Never, Tubby!" admitted the boy addressed, who was a rather thoughtful looking young chap, of athletic build, though possibly not quite the equal of Rob Blake, the leader of the scout patrol to which all of them belonged. "It was mighty good of you two to back me up when I'd decided to take the risk alone. But unless that precious paper can be recovered, my grandfather, you know, stands to lose what he says is an enormous amount of money."

"He's got plenty in reserve, I understand, Merritt," observed Blake. "What a grand thing that turned out for your folks when Grandfather Merritt, who had cut your dad out of his will many years ago after he married against his wishes, repented of his cruelty, and paid you an unexpected visit to get acquainted. Little did you think, when you stood up for that old fellow who was being snowballed so unmercifully by a bunch of village boys, that it was your own grandfather."

"Yes," added Tubby, "you know they say a good action is never thrown away. That's why I'm always watching for my opportunities. Some day I hope to win the admiration of a crank millionaire who should, of course, make me his heir."

"Well, here we are landed in Antwerp, and with a lot of sights to gather in before we set out in the direction of Brussels to find your man. Every minute counts, so let's get busy, and begin to wander around."

"That's right, Rob," said Merritt. "Suppose you lead the way."

These boys, who were all dressed in the well-known khaki that distinguishes scouts in nearly every country of the world, had just landed from a steamer that reached Antwerp from the shores of England.

They had managed to get themselves and few belongings conveyed to a fair hotel by means of a vehicle drawn by a broken-down horse; all of the best animals as well as such automobiles as were deemed worth taking having been commandeered by the Government for cavalry, field and artillery purposes.

While Rob Blake and his two chums, Tubby Hopkins and Merritt Crawford, are thus starting out to secure their first view of the quaint Flanders city, we may take occasion to glance back and see who they are and what they have done.

Those who have had the pleasure of reading previous volumes of this series need no further introduction to the trio; but for the benefit of any who are now making their acquaintance for the first time, a few paragraphs may not come in amiss.

There were other patrols in the Hampton Troop, but as the Eagles had been first in the field, the members of this organization were looked upon as the pioneers of the scout movement in that part of Long Island.

Rob filled the post of patrol leader, and had, on one occasion, even occupied the position of assistant scout-master, being fully qualified for the certificate he had received from Scout Headquarters in New York City.

Merritt, the second in command, filled the position of corporal. Tubby thus far seemed content to remain just a scout, though he had, by dint of hard labor managed to climb into the first grade rank.

Until recently, Merritt's folks had been in just ordinary circumstances. His father was said to be the best wheelwright in the eastern end of the island, and by constant labor kept his little family housed and clothed, and perhaps laid up a little for a rainy day.

Merritt always knew there was some sort of a family skeleton around, and that he had a severe old grandfather somewhere far away; but beyond that he had never been able to probe.

One day, near the end of the preceding winter, had come the singular little incident that wound up in a joyful reunion. Merritt, as one of his chums chanced to remark a little further back in this story, had come upon several village roughs engaged in battering a stranger in town, a little old gentleman who, carrying his grip and finding the hacks all away from the station, had evidently attempted to walk to the hotel.

The cowardly assault aroused the indignation of Merritt, who was a manly boy at all times. He remonstrated with the assailants, and when they continued to pelt the old man, he proceeded to attack them. Whether he could have won out alone and unaided will always be an open question. Fortunately one of the town policemen chanced to come in sight, which event caused the three foes to vanish in hot haste.

Then imagine the astonishment of Merritt when, after giving the old gentleman his name at the other's urgent request, he found himself being hugged by the stranger. He announced himself as Merritt's repentant grandfather who, unable to keep up his bitter feud longer, had sought the forgiveness of his son.

Just what came up later to start these three boys across the water during vacation time, when the Old World was commencing to rock and heave in the throes of the most terrible war ever known, will be made clear as the story progresses.

The first volume in the series, The Boy Scouts of the Eagle Patrol, was necessarily confined to the activities of the young organization; but Rob and his mates met and overcame many difficulties that are well worth reading about.

In the second volume, The Boy Scouts on the Range, were recounted a series of strange adventures that befell some of the Eagles during a visit to the Far Southwest, where they took part in the wild life of a cattle ranch.

Through the pages of The Boy Scouts and the Army Airship the reader will find that Rob and his comrades always bore themselves manfully, no matter the emergency; and that they scrupulously observed "scout law" under any and every occasion, as every true wearer of the khaki makes it a point to do.

After this, followed an account of many remarkable happenings that befell the Eagles when under canvas. The Boy Scouts' Mountain Camp has deservedly been reckoned one of the very best scout books ever published for boys, and those who own a copy are likely to read it many times.

Once more, chance allowed some of the leading characters in the Hampton Troop to come in touch with Government officers who were experimenting with a wonderfully designed submarine. It happened that Rob and his friends were enabled to assist Uncle Sam's agents in defeating the plans of foreign spies who tried to steal the design of the new invention. In the pages of The Boy Scouts for Uncle Sam are recorded the adventures that accompanied their service, as well as mention of the reward following their victory.

It was a happy chance that allowed some of the boys to pay a visit to the then uncompleted Panama Canal. While in the Canal Zone they again demonstrated that they were always wide-awake and devoted to the service of their country. Much useful information will also be found between the covers of this volume, called The Boy Scouts at the Panama Canal.

Once more, Rob and several of his close adherents were unexpectedly allowed to take a trip. Andy Bowles, the bugler of the troop, had an uncle who owned a cattle ranch down in Chihuahua, in Mexico. He was sick, and unable to go down himself to dispose of the stock before the fighting forces of rebels and Federals drove the herds away. Accordingly, he sent his nephew and several of his chums to seek General Villa, whom he had once befriended, and gain his assistance in selling the valuable stock. The wonderful things they saw, and the peculiar adventures that came their way, have all been described in the seventh volume, just preceding this, under the title of The Boy Scouts Under Fire in Mexico.

That, telling briefly some of the remarkable things that happened in their career as Boy Scouts, will have to suffice to introduce Rob and his two chums to the reader.

Starting out from their hotel, the three American boys were soon engrossed in their pursuit of seeing some of the strange sights for which this old Flemish city on the Scheldt has always been famous.

While they gazed, and made many amusing comments, Rob could not help noticing that, in turn, they attracted considerable attention. He could give a good guess as to the reason of this.

At that time, with the vast German army spreading out over most of Belgium, and also fighting its way to Paris, the good people of Antwerp were constantly worried over the possibility of an attack. They had many scares, though as yet the invaders, after taking Brussels, had not chosen to invest the big city near the sea. Later on, as we all know, the time came when their heavy artillery was turned on the forts of Antwerp, and before the terrible fire from those colossal German guns, steel domes that had been called invulnerable were easily battered to pulp.

With the assault and fall of Antwerp we have nothing to do, at least at present; but possibly those Flemish people thought the Boy Scouts part of an English army coming to defend Antwerp.

When Rob and his two chums landed from England, after crossing on a small steamer, they found the city choked with fugitives and Belgian soldiers.

Pushing their way along the crowded sidewalks, the boys took in all the sights that were so new to their American eyes. Only Rob had a small smattering of French, while his companions could not speak a word of the language. All of them were utterly ignorant of Flemish, current in half the homes of Belgium.

The way in which the natives made use of sturdy-looking dogs, harnessed in small carts, and trained to do their duty in order to earn their keep, was perhaps the most interesting thing that held their attention.

"Why," remarked Merritt, "they use dogs for nearly everything. Dozens of milk peddlers have teams to drag their big brass cans around. Then there are the hucksters, like we have over in New York, only these fellows peddle from carts drawn by dogs. We saw one poor, four-footed wretch roped to a treadmill, and doing the family churning; so I guess Belgium must make the dog traffic pay right well."

"And think of dogs drawing a quick-firing gun, which we saw in that street where the soldiers were getting ready to go to the front!" exclaimed Tubby. "I think that was the queerest sight ever."

"I can plainly see," Rob told them, "that while we're over here we are bound to keep our eyes wide open all the time because there are so many things that strike us as being queer just because we've been used to other ways. These people would stare at many of the things we think are common."

"What are you looking at now, Tubby?" asked Merritt, seeing that the boy, who had gained his name because after a fashion he resembled a tub of butter, was in the act of stretching his fat neck in order to see something that had attracted his attention.

"Why, I was wondering what made all the people crook their necks like that, and look up in the air. Is there a German Zeppelin heaving in sight? I don't seem to glimpse any big dirigible up there; do you, fellows?"

"What's that moving along away up near the clouds?" demanded Merritt.

"It must be an aëroplane," said Tubby. "I just heard somebody say my name close by; but he pointed up at that flier. What could he have meant, Rob?"

"I think I can tell you," replied the other scout. "German aëroplanes are called Taubes, and it sounded like your name. They say that is an aëroplane spy up there!"

CHAPTER II.

THE AERIAL MAP-MAKER

"He's flying pretty high, let me tell you," said Tubby, straining his neck in an endeavor to watch the evolutions of the far-distant object sailing on the border of the cloud, and which looked so much like a great bird with outstretched wings.

"And all the while he is using his powerful field-glass to watch things going on below," added Rob. "I wouldn't be surprised if those chaps make a rough map, as they go over a place, with the position of forts marked, and the disposition of troops. In this war they say aëroplanes and dirigibles are going to play great stunts."

"Think of the nerve of that German aviator, sailing right over Antwerp in broad daylight!" Tubby declared. "It's a dare, all right, and I wonder if any of these Belgian fliers will take him up. I really think I'd like to see a little scrap up in the air. We didn't have a chance for anything of that sort since we were down in Mexico with Villa."

"Well," returned Merritt, "you may see more of that kind of business over here than you want. These fliers don't go circling around just to spy on the enemy. In lots of cases they have another and more terrible mission."

"Oh!" ejaculated the fat scout uneasily, "now you're thinking of that visit paid by a Zeppelin to Antwerp a short time back when it dropped a bomb that smashed things to flinders. They say it was aimed at the king's palace. But you don't think now that fellow away up there in the clouds would bother dropping explosives on our heads, do you, Rob?"

Tubby always appealed to the patrol leader when bothered about anything. To hear him talk you would imagine that he considered Rob Blake a walking encyclopedia, and capable of answering any kind of question.

"No, he's flying too high for that," the other told him confidently. "You see, with the air currents, that we know something about ourselves, no one at that height could count on landing his explosive anywhere near the place he wanted it to go. Chances are that chap is only out on a spying trip. Aëroplane pilots are the scouts of the air these days, you understand. Nothing can be hidden from them."

"I understand," ventured Merritt, as they continued to watch the circling of the lofty observer and map-maker, "that there can be no surprises in this war, because the enemy always knows all about the massing of troops long before an attack can be delivered. An eagle or a hawk, hovering over shallow water, can see every bit of bottom when the surface is still, and so he's able to pounce down on the fish he's selected for dinner. These wonderful air-pilots will bring information of every contemplated move on the part of the enemy."

"Poor old Napoleon would be a back number in these days," Tubby sighed, "because you remember his strongest card was to divide the enemy, and then smash one army and then the other. They'd know all about his game in time to block it. The romance of war has gone glimmering, I'm afraid."

"Listen to all that shouting," said Merritt.

"Seems to be cheers, as well as these people can cheer, which is not like the good old United States way," Tubby commented.

"You can see what it means," remarked Rob. "There goes a Belgian biplane up, to get after the bold German!"

"My stars!" gasped Tubby. "Now we will see a circus! Think of two rival pilots maneuvering up there among the clouds, and trying to knock each other out! Whew! But watch him boring up in spirals, would you? Does the German see him, do you think, and is he beginning to skip out?"

"Nothing like that has happened yet, as far as I can see," admitted Rob. "There he starts around again, as if meaning to complete his map, no matter if a dozen Belgian or English airmen come up after him."

"It'll be a fight, then, see if it doesn't!" Tubby affirmed.

"There goes a second aëroplane, and this time a monoplane," Merritt told them, pointing as he spoke. "Unless I miss my guess, there's an English aviator in that machine. It doesn't carry the little Belgian flag the other does, you notice."

"Two against one," muttered the deeply interested Tubby. "Better be making up your mind to turn tail and run, Mr. Deutschland. The odds are against you, and, if you should get tumbled out of your seat a mile high, I'd hate to be under you when you strike the ground."

"They seem to be maneuvering for position," asserted Rob. "Yes, both are circling around now, and going still higher all the time. Before long the German will be hidden in that cloud bank, and that's what he's aiming to have happen."

"I thought I saw something like a little puff of smoke just then!" declared Merritt, who had exceptionally good eyes, strong almost as those of an eagle.

"Then they must be bombarding each other!" Tubby ventured to say, evidently greatly thrilled by the spectacle that could never have been dreamed of a few generations back.

"It's likely they are using their automatics, and trying to disable each other," admitted Rob, "though, between us, Merritt, I don't believe the tiny puff of smoke could be seen away down here, unless you had a strong glass. Of course, when moving as fast as they do, the chance of making a shot tell is next door to nix."

"Anyhow, they're chasing the German aëroplane off," Tubby declared. "That is the main object for the brave Belgians going up there."

The boys had made up their minds while on the way across that as Americans they must obey the President's appeal and be strictly neutral, if it were possible. They had many good friends who were of German descent, while others had English ancestors and near relatives.

The one country with which they sympathized deeply was Belgium. The stubborn and heroic way in which that seven millions of people had defied seventy millions, and the gallant manner in which their little army had tried to resist the invasion of their beloved country, had aroused the admiration of every one of the scouts.

As they stood there on that afternoon, and watched, they finally saw the German Taube vanish in the clouds, with the leading Belgian aëroplane following suit. Whether the pursuer ever overtook the foreign air-scout or not, the boys never learned.

"Well, that was a lively little tilt while it lasted," remarked Merritt as, the entertainment being over, the crowds again commenced sauntering back and forth, with everybody talking volubly about the spectacle in the heavens.

Soldiers gave them a curious look in passing. Every stranger in Antwerp was under more or less suspicion in those days, for it was becoming known that the German secret service had for years maintained the most wonderful system of spying in France, England and Belgium ever dreamed of. Antwerp had thousands of Teuton residents before the war, some of them leading merchants who owned splendid country places six or seven miles outside the city, where solid cement tennis courts afterward came in very handy as foundations for the immense German siege guns.

"We'll see plenty more things that will give us a thrill to beat that," Rob observed, pushing through the bustling, chattering crowds.

"Yes, and I'm afraid times may come when danger will hang over our heads," Merritt pursued, with a touch of regret in his voice. "Then you'll both be sorry you didn't let me go off on this wild goose chase, as it may turn out to be, by myself."

"What do you take us for, I want to know?" demanded Rob. "Haven't we been through all sorts of tough times together in the past; and why shouldn't we stand by our chum when he needs our help? What's a scout good for if he is ready to desert a comrade when the sky grows dark? That's just the time to show his true colors."

"You're taking the very words out of my mouth when you say that, Rob!" asserted Tubby valiantly. "No matter what happens, we're bound by the ties of old friendship. We'll sink or swim together, boys. And Merritt, please don't ever tell us again you're feeling sorry for letting us come along."

"If that man is to be found, we're going to corner him!" declared Rob, with his lips taking on the firm lines that marked them whenever he was making up his mind to hammer away persistently, like Grant did before Richmond; "and when we go back to the other side, we hope to be carrying that precious old paper your grandfather let get out of his possession in such a queer way."

"This seems like a pretty warm day to me, even for summer," observed Tubby irrelevantly.

"Now, we can give a pretty good guess, Rob," ventured Merritt smilingly, "that Tubby has a sly meaning back of that remark."

"Yes," added the patrol leader, "and the chances are three to one it has something to do with feeding."

"You are champion guessers, both of you," Tubby informed them, without seeming to be in the least ashamed of the confession. "I'm consumed by a violent thirst right now; and I bet you the milk in that shiny brass can that those two tired dogs have been dragging all over Antwerp this afternoon will have a lump of ice in it. Anyway, I'm going to test it; come along and let me stand treat."

Laughing at his earnestness, the others followed the fat scout across the street, where the old woman with her dog team was apparently resting, and observing the remarkably interesting sights around her.

Just then there were loud cheers that attracted the attention of the three boys.

"Something else coming along that's worth seeing," Merritt announced. "Better curb that fierce thirst of yours for a minute or two, Tubby, while we watch what's passing."

"Oh! well, I guess the milk won't sour while we're waiting," admitted the fat boy with a sigh of resignation, as he wheeled so as to face the street.

"What do you call that, I wonder?" remarked Merritt, as he looked. "It's got the wheels of an automobile; but say, notice how the body of the car has been built up with steel sides, will you? And as sure as you live there's a quick firing Maxim mounted behind that bullet shield."

"Now I know what it is," Rob hastened to say.

"Then tell us, please," urged Tubby helplessly.

"They call them armored cars," said the patrol leader. "I've read about how some of these reckless Belgians have fitted up cars in this way. Nearly every day they start out to raid through the country, where they expect to run across detachments of Uhlans, or bicycle squads of the German advance. Then they dart down on them and do some terrible work; before the enemy can recover to smash them, they are off like a flash, and return to town with all sorts of trophies."

"They must have just been coming in," ventured Merritt. "I saw one of the soldiers had a bandage around his head. Another was holding up two helmets which must have been worn by Uhlans. And listen how the crowds roar and cheer. They certainly do hate the Kaiser and his army in Antwerp."