Boy Scouts Mysterious Signal; Or, Perils of the Black Bear Patrol by G. Harvey Ralphson
Boy Scouts Mysterious Signal; Or, Perils of the Black Bear Patrol by G. Harvey Ralphson
"But I say it's not fair!" cried a red-headed lad, drawing himself up to his full height. "You're not playing fair with us!"
"Ach, it is not so!" protested the one to whom the boy spoke. "We find you an enemy in our city, and you must take the consequences!"
"Just because you wear an officer's uniform," retorted the boy, beginning to lose his temper and gazing fearlessly into the pale blue eyes of the other, "is no sign you know more than we do. You may think that helmet and those stripes on your arm give you more brains than the common run of people, but it isn't so! I say I protest!"
"And much good your protest may do you at this time and place," was the calm answer. Then, drawing his eyebrows down until the blue eyes were scarcely able to peer beneath them, he continued: "I, Heinrich von Liebknecht, Captain in His Imperial Majesty's army in command of a detachment sent forward to capture this city, have decided that it is better that you remain with us. There is nothing more to say."
"But there is a great deal more to say!" stormed the boy.
"Jimmie," cautioned another lad, stepping forward and laying a hand on the arm of the red-headed boy, "perhaps it would be better to say no more just at this time. There must be some way out of this."
"Silence!" commanded the man who had called himself von Liebknecht. "The decision has been made. I leave you now, but will return in a few moments. By that time you will have said farewell to your friends and be ready to accompany me for service under the Kaiser!"
The lad addressed as Jimmie could scarcely restrain a sneer as the other finished speaking. His contempt was unbounded, and he did not seem to be making any great effort to conceal his emotion.
Just as the door was closing behind the departing man Jimmie permitted himself to wrinkle his freckled nose in that direction and accompanied the gesture with a motion indicative of great disgust and contempt well known to many.
The scene was one unusual in the extreme. Four young boys were standing in a room from which the ceiling had been partly removed by an exploding shell from a cannon. They were in one of the houses that had only partly escaped destruction during the bombardment of Peremysl by the Germans on that memorable first day of June, 1915.
Three of the boys were about eighteen years of age and wore the well-known uniforms of the Boy Scouts of America. The eldest, Ned Nestor, was slightly older than the others and wore insignia that denoted his rank as patrol leader of the Wolf Patrol, New York City.
Jack Bosworth and Harry Stevens stood beside Ned, their uniforms slightly the worse for wear, due to the extremely active experiences they had just undergone. These boys were members of the Black Bear Patrol of New York City, and were fast friends of Ned Nestor and his red-headed chum, Jimmie McGraw, the fourth member of the group.
Just now Jimmie was not wearing the Boy Scout uniform. Instead he was dressed in the uniform of a Russian Cossack, and this was the immediate reason for the controversy that had arisen between the boy and the German officer. Those of our readers who have followed the adventures of the boys as related in previous volumes of this series, and particularly that entitled "Boy Scouts with the Cossacks, or Poland Recaptured," will at once recall the exciting circumstances that resulted in Jimmie's donning the Cossack uniform and the reason for the presence of the four boys in Peremysl at this time.
Jimmie seemed to be too much overcome by his emotion at what he considered rank injustice to be able to carry on rational conversation.
"I tell you, Ned," he sputtered, "just because I happen to have on some clothes a little different from others they needn't think I'm any different myself! I'll fix his clock, all right!"
"Don't forget about using slang, Jimmie!" cautioned Ned, half laughing. "But you see the German officer, von Liebknecht, is really more than a little bit right at that."
"How's that?" inquired Jimmie in astonishment.
"They say clothes don't make the man," replied Ned, "but in a great many cases clothes are like one's reputation-they play an important part in other people's estimate of us. In this case, for instance, the Germans have just captured this city from the Russians. You are discovered wearing a Russian Cossack uniform, and they naturally and almost excusably conclude that the wearer of the uniform is a subject of the country it represents."
"Oh, I see," slowly replied the lad, nodding his red head.
"Yes, Jimmie," put in Harry Stevens, "you see it pays to 'Be Prepared,' just as our motto says. We never can tell just when we'll be required to depend upon our reputation or our uniform for a favorable opinion from those who see us or hear of us."
"That's all very well," interrupted Jack Bosworth, "but how are we to get Jimmie out of this predicament? General or Captain von Liebknecht seems to think that he's going to make a German soldier out of Jimmie just to keep him out of harm's way, and I don't like it."
"Perhaps we can find some of the other uniforms or clothes of some sort for Jimmie to change into," suggested Harry eagerly.
Ned shook his head in a despondent manner.
"I'm afraid that wouldn't work, boys," he said presently. "We would only be caught at it and all tried for spies, and maybe find ourselves in a worse predicament than we now are. Perhaps the German officer will listen to reason when he returns."
"Yes," scorned Jimmie. "Perhaps the sun will shine at midnight, or water will start running uphill, or something like that will happen!"
"You don't seem to have much faith in the German ability to change the mind?" inquired Jack. "Maybe this fellow'll be different."
"No, sir!" pursued Jimmie gloomily. "The average German is a pretty decent fellow in a great many ways, but when it comes to changing his mind-why, it 'can't be did,' because it's impossible."
"Hush!" commanded Ned. "Here he comes. I'll talk to him."
But, though Ned endeavored by every art of conversation at his command to influence the German Captain to change his mind, that individual insisted that since Jimmie had been found in the captured city wearing the uniform of a Russian Cossack he must be treated as one. The only alternative he would admit was that Jimmie must give evidence of his claim that he was not a Russian by enlisting in the German army.
"So," decided the German, "you haf been to riding horses accustomed. Goot. You shall now ride a horse for der Kaiser, und," he added meaningly, "you shall do it vell. You may now say goot bye to dese odder poys und come mit me. Der oath ve vill administer."
Several soldiers fully armed, standing about, stepped forward at the Captain's signal. Placing themselves between Jimmie and his chums, they advanced, fairly compelling the lad to accompany them.
Thunderstruck at the proceedings, but unable to render any assistance to their comrade, the three lads watched Jimmie disappear through the doorway. Then, as they were left quite alone, they turned to one another with an air of dejection.
"What shall we do, Ned?" inquired Jack presently.
"Yes, Ned," put in Harry, with something very like a catch in his voice, "let's have your ideas. You are always ready with some suggestion in an emergency. What shall we do?"
"In the first place, boys," answered Ned, "I'm mighty glad to hear you ask questions like that. It shows me that you are ready for action instead of wanting to sit down and give way to despair. I'm ready for action this minute if I could only decide what should be done."
"I move we hunt around and find some guns and go hold that bunch of Germans up and take Jimmie away from them!" said Harry impulsively.
"Do you suppose the Captain will make good on his threat of making Jimmie enlist in their cavalry regiment?" asked Jack, ignoring Harry's suggestion. "If they do, can't he slip away some night?"
"What if he does?" inquired Harry. "Where would he slip to, and where shall we get to help him? It seems to me that every minute counts now. If they get him into a cavalry regiment they'll want to be on the move right away. At times like these, with Germany fighting the whole of Europe, they can't afford to let a regiment remain idle."
"That's very true," nodded Ned thoughtfully. "Germany has won a victory over Russia, and that may relieve some of her forces in the east, at least temporarily, until Russia gathers enough of an army to make another assault. In that case they might send the cavalry regiment toward the western front in Prance or Belgium, where Germany is meeting the French, English and other troops."
"Do you think they will make Jimmie go along and fight the allies?" questioned Jack. "If they do that, he may get killed."
"Perhaps that would suit the German Captain as well as anything else," observed Ned. "It would save him the trouble and responsibility of ordering the red-head shot immediately."
"Then in that case," continued Jack, "I second Harry's motion and hope it is carried unanimously. Let's get busy and get the boy."
"I think you are right," agreed Ned. "Now, if we can have some plan of action we'll be able to make more headway than without it."
"Right you are, Scout Master!" cried Jack. "What is your plan?"
"Well," began Ned, glancing at his comrades, "it seems almost too bold a thing to try just at first thought, but I can't think of anything better than to try to get away from this place in the Eagle, and then watch our chance to kidnap Jimmie from those fellows."
"A fine idea!" was Harry's almost cheerful response. "Ned, there's nothing too bold to try once, anyway. Maybe we can get Jimmie out of their hands. If we ever do-"
Harry's clenched first, which he shook at the door out of which the Germans had led Jimmie, spoke more eloquently than his unfinished sentence. Plainly he was ready for action.
"Let's slip out of here while we have a chance," suggested Ned.
"Just the thing!" agreed Jack. "It's the best time we'll ever find. The incoming army is pretty busy just now and won't see us."
With one accord the three lads moved toward the door. Ned glanced around the partially wrecked apartment in the hope of discovering something that would be of use to them in their endeavor to help Jimmie escape. An object in one corner caught his attention.
As Ned stepped forward to examine the object he had seen, he was startled to hear a cry from Jack, who had been looking from a window.
"Look!" cried the boy, pointing toward the street. "They're actually making Jimmie take an oath of enlistment!"
Quickly joining Jack, Ned and Harry saw Jimmie standing in the street, surrounded by German soldiers wearing the uniforms of Uhlans. Directly behind the lad stood one of the soldiers with the muzzle of a gun pressed against Jimmie's back. Before him an officer stood, apparently administering some form of oath. The three boys could see Jimmie's lips move in response to the prompting of the officer.
Directly the ceremony was ended and the soldiers turned as if preparing to mount their horses, standing near.
"There's a bunch coming back to this house!" declared Jack.
"Wonder what they want?" mused Harry in a puzzled manner.
"I think they have decided they want three more recruits!"
"Good night!" was the lad's startled ejaculation. "Let's go!"
"Come over here," directed Ned, springing toward a corner of the room. "I think I've found something that will help us out."
The Boy Scout Camera Club or, The Confession of a Photograph by G. Harvey Ralphson
This is a pre-1923 historical reproduction that was curated for quality. Quality assurance was conducted on each of these books in an attempt to remove books with imperfections introduced by the digitization process. Though we have made best efforts - the books may have occasional errors that do not impede the reading experience. We believe this work is culturally important and have elected to bring the book back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide.
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"Please believe me. I didn't do anything!" Thalassa Thompson cried helplessly. "Take her away." Kris Miller, her husband, said coldly. He didn't care as she was humiliated for the whole world to see. What would you if the love of your life and the woman you considered your best friend betrayed you in the worse way possible? For Thalassa, the answer was only one; she's going to come back stronger and better and bring everyone who made her suffer to their knees. Let the games begin! ***** "I hate you." Kris gritted out, glaring into her eyes. Thalassa laughed. "Mr Miller, if you hate me so much, then why is your dick so hard?"
The roasted lamb was cold, a reflection of her marriage. On their third anniversary, Evelyn Vance waited alone in her Manhattan penthouse. Then her phone buzzed: Alexander, her husband, had been spotted leaving the hospital, holding his childhood sweetheart Scarlett Sharp's hand. Alexander arrived hours later, dismissing Evelyn's quiet complaint with a cold reminder: she was Mrs. Vance, not a victim. Her mother's demands reinforced this role, making Evelyn, a brilliant mind, feel like a ghost. A dangerous indifference replaced betrayal. The debt was paid; now, it was her turn. She drafted a divorce settlement, waiving everything. As Alexander's tender voice drifted from his study, speaking to Scarlett, Evelyn placed her wedding ring on his pillow, moved to the guest suite, and locked the door. The dull wife was gone; the Oracle was back.
Her fiance and her best friend worked together and set her up. She lost everything and died in the street. However, she was reborn. The moment she opened her eyes, her husband was trying to strangle her. Luckily, she survived that. She signed the divorce agreement without hesitation and was ready for her miserable life. To her surprise, her mother in this life left her a great deal of money. She turned the tables and avenged herself. Everything went well in her career and love when her ex-husband came to her.
Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman. As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius. When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval."
The day Raina gave birth should have been the happiest of her life. Instead, it became her worst nightmare. Moments after delivering their twins, Alexander shattered her heart-divorcing her and forcing her to sign away custody of their son, Liam. With nothing but betrayal and heartbreak to her name, Raina disappeared, raising their daughter, Ava, on her own.Years later, fate comes knocking when Liam falls gravely ill. Desperate to save his son, Alexander is forced to seek out the one person he once cast aside. Alexander finds himself face to face with the woman he underestimated, pleading for a second chance-not just for himself, but for their son. But Raina is no longer the same broken woman who once loved him.No longer the woman he left behind. She has carved out a new life-one built on strength, wealth, and a long-buried legacy she expected to uncover.Raina has spent years learning to live without him.The question is... Will she risk reopening old wounds to save the son she never got to love? or has Alexander lost her forever?
The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.
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