The Wolf Patrol Part 14

CHAPTER XIV

CHIPPY AND THE SPY

The latter sprang up with a savage cry that was not English. 'Ach Himmel!' cried he, and again, 'Ach Himmel!'

At that moment of immense surprise, his native tongue sprang to his lips before any other, and he leapt upon Chippy, and seized him with hands that trembled.

The leader of the Ravens was not hurt, and his coolness was splendid.

'h.e.l.lo, Albert!' he said; 'it's all right. There's no need to 'elp me up.'

'Help you up!' hissed the stranger. 'What are you doing here? What do you mean by watching me?'

His c.o.c.kney accent, too, was wiped out as if by magic. Probably he had forgotten for the instant that he had used it in Locking. At any rate, he did not use it now. But his English was perfect, in word and tone--the English of a well-educated man.

'Why,' said Chippy calmly, as if to tumble on a man's head was the most natural thing in the world, 'me an' a lot more are out to-day for a run over the he'th. One cuts ahead, an' the rest of us foller 'im. We've lost the one we foller, an' he's got to be found, so I'm looking everywheer. Wot made yer pull yer boot off? Got a stone in it?'

Chippy did this superbly. He boldly mentioned the fact that the boot was off, and he suggested a probable explanation, and he did it all with just the right amount of careless curiosity. But he was dealing with no common man. The tall, powerful foreigner was still holding him by one hand with a grip of steel, and the fierce blue eyes blazed again with suspicion and distrust. The man spoke, and his tone was low and cool, for he had mastered himself, but there was a hard note in it.

'How long had you been there?' he asked quietly.

'Just seein' who it was, then tumbled,' said Chippy.

The Raven knew--how he could not say--but he knew that he was in great danger. There was a dreadful change in this man. The chattering c.o.c.kney who had called himself Albert had gone, and a grim, stern, savage man stood in his place, a man whose fierce glittering eyes seemed to be striving to pierce Chippy's very soul and read his thoughts.

Chippy was indeed in danger. For d.i.c.k was right: this man was a spy sent by his Government to gather for them all particulars of the new fort which was being built at the mouth of the river. So far the spy had been very successful, and to carry off his notes and to secure his own safety he was quite ready to kill this boy if need should arise, and hide his body in this solitary place.

Consider for a moment the position in which the spy stood. What is the punishment threatened to the spy who is caught at such a task? Death!

What will the Government he serves do to help him? Nothing at all, nothing. It may be a Government quite friendly to the land where the spy is seized. It will disavow him, and leave him to his fate. Yet that Government was quite willing to profit by his labours; nay, sent him there to gain that information. Yes, because Governments act upon the idea that the friend of to-day may be the foe of to-morrow, so they use such instruments freely. But if an instrument should break in the hand, it is cast aside, and not a second thought is given to it.

The spy knew all this; he was no raw hand in this dangerous profession, and he was now weighing in his mind whether it would be safe to let this boy go. Had he seen too much? He tried to find out how much Chippy had seen.

'What was I doing when you saw me first?' he asked lightly, and smiled.

But the smile was of the lips only, a mere mockery of a smile. The eyes, the very heart of a smile, remained fiercely bright, and cold, and questioning.

'Fiddlin' wi' yer boot,' said Chippy calmly; 'gettin' the stone out, I s'pose.'

'Look here,' said the spy in quiet tones, 'have you seen me for the last five minutes? Yes or no.'

He paused for a reply, but none came. Chippy was shaken. Yes or no.

That position admitted of no manoeuvring.

'What's this?' said the spy softly, and fingered with his left hand Chippy's badge; his right hand was clutched with a grip of iron on Chippy's shoulder.

'Scout's badge,' muttered Chippy.

'Ah, is it really?' murmured the spy. 'Yes, I've looked into that movement. Well, on your word as a scout, yes or no.'

Chippy looked up. He forced a laugh.

'Why--look 'ere, Albert,' he began, and then twisted like an eel, and tried to dive under the spy's arm. He had smiled and spoken, hoping to throw the man off his guard, but this man was not easily deceived, and his grip remained unshaken.

He gave a low, savage laugh. 'Thank you; that is all the answer I want,' he said, and slipped his left hand into a hidden pocket under his coat.

There is an instinct which teaches every living creature that the moment has come when it must fight for its life. Chippy felt it strongly, and he hurled himself upon the spy, kicking, biting, tearing at him like a little tiger, but all in vain; in that powerful grip he was utterly helpless. Yet no, that gallant struggle was not all in vain, for it held the spy's whole attention as he mastered his victim, and it prevented him from seeing a second boyish figure racing into the hollow down the slope by which the spy had entered.

Chippy, clever Chippy, saw his staunch brother scout das.h.i.+ng into the combat, and began to yell at the highest pitch of his voice, not calling to d.i.c.k, but just making a noise, any noise, to cover the sound of those swift feet, and give d.i.c.k the advantage of a surprise as he darted up behind the spy.

d.i.c.k made full use of the opportunity. He had watched every movement of the two in the hollow, and had leapt from his cover as soon as he saw Chippy begin to struggle. His patrol flag was fastened on a stout ashen staff, hard as iron, an old alpenstock cut down. He swung it up as he ran, and he was within a yard of striking distance, when he saw the spy's hand reappear with something in it glittering like the blade of a dagger.

With a last bound d.i.c.k was within reach, and he brought the heavy staff down with all his strength, fetching the spy a ringing crack on the head. Half-stunned, the man staggered round to face the new a.s.sailant, and Chippy saw his chance. He tore himself free, made a swift dive to the ground, and was off. d.i.c.k joined him, and the two boys scoured away at full speed, leaving the spy all abroad for the moment from the effects of that shrewd stroke.

CHAPTER XV

FLIGHT

The scouts made straight for the bank over which they had been peeping, leapt it, and dashed on, Chippy picking up his patrol flag as he ran.

He had left it with d.i.c.k to have his hands free. d.i.c.k was last over the bank, and he glanced back as he cleared it. 'Run, Chippy, run,' he called. 'He's coming! He's coming!'

The spy had pulled himself together, and was in hot pursuit. He was bounding up the slope, and d.i.c.k saw that he came terribly fast. 'He's a confounded long-legged beggar,' thought d.i.c.k. 'We shall have to fight for it yet. It's lucky we've got a good stick apiece.'

Beyond the bank was a long gra.s.sy ride sloping easily downwards, and here the boys ran their fastest, and behind them the spy raced at great speed, gaining, gaining steadily. They went half a mile, and then d.i.c.k gasped: 'He's close on us, Chippy. Let's turn on him!'

'Not a bit of it,' grunted Chippy. 'Peg it! peg it! See wot's in front?'

'Only some burnt furze,' said d.i.c.k.

'Only!' snorted Chippy. 'See wot's under my arm?'

d.i.c.k looked, and, precious as wind was, he let out a yell of delight.

In the excitement of the flight he had not observed it; tucked under Chippy's arm was the spy's boot. The Raven had whipped it up, and carried it on at the moment of escape.

d.i.c.k at once saw what Chippy meant. Hitherto they had been running over clear open gra.s.s, and the spy, even with one boot off and one boot on, had made tremendous headway, but the burnt furze was close at hand, and here they would show him another dance altogether.

They were approaching a broad belt of land which had been swept by a heath-fire. The furze-bushes had been very thick on the ground, and had been burned away to the very foot of the stems. Now those close-standing stems pushed short spikes above the soil like the teeth of a huge harrow pointing upwards, each tooth blackened, hardened, and pointed by fire.

The spy was not ten yards behind the boys when the latter burst into the flame-swept belt of heath. Their boots kicked up clouds of black ashes as they bounded forward, and their pursuer followed at once.

Twice he put his unprotected foot down in safety, missing by sheer luck the thickly planted spikes, but the third time he set the very middle of his sole on a short stout fang standing bolt upright, and pointed by fire as if with a knife.

He let out a yell of agony as the spike, by the force of his weight and speed, was driven home into his foot.

'Got 'im,' said Chippy, and the two scouts turned to see their enemy, doubled up on the ground, utterly crippled for the time by that shrewd thrust from below.

'I knowed that 'ud settle 'im, if we could on'y get on to it,' chuckled Chippy, while the boys eased their speed, but still ran steadily on.