Chapter X: The Pursuit in the Dark

Day followed day but that bird of prey did not appear. "A watched pot never boils," said Henry at last, trying to conquer his impatience; and he turned his mind from the task of following the automobile driver to the even more difficult task of securing one of the dollars. For sooner or later the wireless patrol would have to procure one of these mysterious coins. But Henry could see no way to accomplish that end without alarming the quarry. Day after day the little patrol discussed the question. It was useless to think of securing a coin from the man on the cliff, from the grocer's boy, or from the grocer himself; for none of the three had possession of the coins very long after they were marked. And what became of the coins after they left the grocer's hands could as yet be only guessed at.

Again and again, as the days passed, the members of the wireless patrol discussed the secret of the dollars, but nowhere could they find even the suggestion of a solution. Slowly time dragged on. Day followed day. The watch grew monotonous and tiresome. There were no signs of hostile activity in the hawk's nest and the secret service had no suspicious telephone conversations to report. It required all their resolution to keep the young scouts at their task of listening in. They even began to think that they had been detected and that the activities of the spy in the hawk's nest were ended.

Then, one afternoon, galvanizing them to sudden action, came a cryptic message from the secret service, announcing that the Federal Sugar Company could use experienced refiners at once. Henry took the message, and recalling what Captain Hardy had told the woman when they went to see the motor-cycle, at once guessed its meaning. He ran to Captain Hardy and repeated it.

"You guessed rightly," said Captain Hardy. "Hereafter we, too, have to use code messages, and we just carried out the spy idea about sugar. This message is to warn us that transports are sailing. Go to your stations, boys."

Lew flew back to the wireless. Roy and Willie hustled down to the pine grove. Henry, his heart beating fast, hurried away to his motorcycle station.

For a long, long time nothing happened. Then a line of transports came into view. Presently the spy appeared at his window, sweeping the channel with his powerful glasses. For several moments he studied the passing ships carefully, then withdrew from the window and was lost to sight. In a very few moments the scouts saw the grocer's boy, with his basket and a few small packages, enter the house, then hurry away. Roy trailed him directly to the grocery store, but did not enter.

Henry, meantime, impatient, like Paul Revere, "to mount and ride," stood peering out of a tiny window of the garage, awaiting the expected motor-car. In his eagerness minutes seemed like hours. As time passed and no motorcar came, he began to believe that none would come, that the spies had learned of the trap set for them, and that they had discontinued their work or devised some new plan of operation. So impatient did Henry become that he could hardly refrain from running into the street to see if any motor-cars were approaching. At last his anxiety was relieved. He heard the regular beating of a motor climbing the hill. Then as he glued his eye to the tiny window the familiar car, a powerful roadster, with its top raised, rolled by. Again Henry tried to catch the number and failed. Then he knew that the dust-covered license number was not dust covered by accident. Quickly he noted the treads of the tires, and the shape of the wheel hubs, axles, and springs, so that he could identify the car. Then it passed from his sight.

And now his anxiety suddenly grew a hundredfold. Always before, the car had returned the way it came. Suppose that this time it should go back by another route and he should miss it. He could not endure the thought. Quickly he opened the door and peered forth. The driver was just turning his car, as he had always done before. The matter was settled. He would pass Henry's hiding place on his return. Quickly Henry shut the door and waited with what patience he could command.

for what seemed like an hour he waited. His pulse beat fast with excitement. He could hardly compel himself to stand quietly by his window and wait. The old fear that the motorist had gone away by some other route returned and began to torture him. He wanted to run out into the street and assure himself that the car was still in sight. And then, when it seemed he could endure the suspense not a second longer, he heard the purring of a motor, and the car he was waiting for slid quietly by and began to descend the hill toward the ferry.

At once a new fear sprang up in Henry's heart. Suppose the motor-cycle wouldn't go. Suppose he should be so slow as to miss the ferry-boat. Desperately he flung open the door and trundled his motor-cycle out to the street. The roadster was only a block ahead of him. Speedily Henry pushed the cycle along the road. The motor began to bark and Henry leaped to the saddle. In another instant he was speeding after the roadster and was already so near it that he had to jam on his brake to avoid coming up to it. Near the ferry there was more traffic and Henry felt relieved. He dropped back a little distance and was almost completely hidden from the roadster by the carts and cars between them. So they proceeded to the ferry, the suspected driver bringing his roadster to a halt near the front of the ferry-boat just as Henry, following a string of wagons and carts, reached the other end of the craft. Then the whistle blew and the boat pulled out into the Bay.

But Henry had now no eyes for the sights in the harbor that had formerly so fascinated him. His entire attention was centred on the roadster. The driver of the roadster remained in his seat, calmly looking out over the Bay. Henry stood his machine against a post and sought a position near by where he was sheltered from the spy's observation by a huge coal truck, but where he could himself distinctly see the roadster by peering through the spokes of the truck wheels. Again he made a mental inventory of the distinguishing features of the car he was following. And before the ferry-boat reached Manhattan he could have passed a perfect examination as to the appearance of the roadster.

It was already dusk when the boat slid into its slip, and the heavy clouds overhead gave promise of a dark night. Henry was thankful. Up Broadway he followed the roadster at a safe distance, then up Park Row, and so to the Brooklyn Bridge. Across this magic structure, one hundred and fifty feet above the surface of the water, Henry continued to follow the roadster. The great buildings, piled skyward in huge masses, were twinkling with a million lights. Boats were coming and going on the stream below. Electric cars followed one another across the bridge in endless procession. Elevated railway trains thundered past unceasingly. Up-stream shone the fairy lights of the other bridges that span the East River. The Navy Yard lay in full view. But the scene that at other times Henry would have found entrancing, now he scarcely noticed. He had eyes for one thing only--the rolling motor-car ahead of him and the red eye that now glowed at its rear.

He turned on his light and at a safe distance followed the roadster, which was heading due east. They passed the business portions of Brooklyn. They left Prospect Park behind them. They traversed a region of apartment-houses. Then came less thickly settled districts, with block after block of private residences, each in its own little yard. And so they proceeded to the very outskirts of the city, where houses gave place to vacant lots and vacant lots were succeeded by open fields. Darkness had come. Traffic had grown less and less. Now there were no sheltering vehicles between himself and the roadster. A great fear of discovery sprang up in Henry's heart. He switched off his light, risking arrest, and rode on in the darkness. Occasionally he passed under a lone street lamp. And now he understood why his machine was enameled black instead of being nickel finished. It gave back no answering gleam when beams of light fell upon it. It was made for just the secret sort of work it was doing now. For, with his motor completely muffled, his lamp extinguished, Henry was now riding through the night like a dark shadow.

Long before this, Henry had slipped the proper map from its case and had followed his route as far as he was able to see. Though his eyes could no longer pierce the darkness, Henry knew that he was passing through a lonely, undeveloped section of land. Dimly he glimpsed tiny bits of woodland here and there. The lonely lights Henry occasionally saw were the lamps in isolated farmhouses. He could no longer tell exactly where he was, though he knew the road he was following. But he had watched his speedometer closely and he knew he was traveling about twenty miles an hour. He was keeping pace with the motor-car, but riding several hundred yards behind it. So they continued for a long time.

Suddenly the motor-car swung round a curve and vanished from sight. Henry knew the car had rounded a curve because he saw the lights swing. A minute later as he was about to reach the curve himself, he heard the rapid beating of hoofs and a team of horses came tearing round the bend and charged straight at him. Evidently the driver had lost control of them and it flashed into Henry's mind that they had been frightened by the roadster ahead. But he had no time to think of anything. The frantic animals bore down on him like an express-train. Quick as thought Henry turned sharply to the right and threw on his power. The horses were almost upon him. The driver glimpsed him, cursed him savagely for having no light, and gave a powerful heave on the reins. The horses swerved in one direction as Henry shot in the other, missing them by less than a foot. Before he could straighten his machine again, it had left the road and was plunging over the rough surface of a field.

Henry jammed his brake on so suddenly that it toppled him from the saddle, but neither he nor the machine was injured. He turned the motor-cycle about and headed for the road. And now his hair almost stood on end. In the darkness he could dimly see some great lumber piles, as large as houses. He had all but crashed into them at high speed. Now he understood why the roadster's light had disappeared when the car turned the curve. It had been hidden by these great lumber piles. Rapidly Henry ran back to the road. He knew the motor-car would now be far ahead of him. He should have to hasten to overtake it. He ran along the highway, pushing his machine, and leaped to the saddle when the engine began to explode regularly. Then he turned the curve and peered ahead into the darkness. The road seemed to lie straight before him, but the motor-car had utterly vanished.

For a moment Henry rode on, almost bewildered. Then he looked rapidly about him. No farmhouse was in sight to which the motorcar might have gone. No light gleamed anywhere. But he could dimly see trees here and there. And he made out a wooden fence lining the left side of the road.

"Lucky I didn't shoot in that direction when I met that team," muttered Henry. "I'd have gone clear through that fence." He dismounted, set his machine up, and took out his pocket torch. Holding it close to the road, he began to examine the highway. "There are the marks of his rear tires," he muttered.

And thankful indeed was the puzzled scout that he had learned so well at Camp Brady to observe carefully. He mounted his wheel and rode a few hundred yards further. Then he examined the road again. He found the tracks he was searching for. He rode on and dismounting, found in two places the telltale marks. But the third time he examined the highway there were no marks of the roadster's tires visible.

"He left the road between this point and the last stop," murmured Henry.

He went back a hundred feet and searched. There were no tire marks. Another hundred feet showed no prints in the dust. But the third hundred revealed the wheel marks. "Ah!" said Henry, "he turned off close by."

He set his wheel against the fence and went forward, following the prints with his light, which he shaded carefully and held close to the road. Within fifty feet the marks turned straight off to the left. The car had passed from the highway through a gap in the fence, into an open field. What the field was like Henry could only conjecture. He dared not flash his light around to see.

He ran back and got his machine, then followed the wheel prints into the field. They did not show readily on the grassy surface, and soon he had lost them altogether. At first a sense of fear clutched at his heart. He recalled his leader's words as to the dangerous nature of this duty. Here he was in exactly the lonely situation his captain had foreseen, by himself, and with no means of defense. The enemy he was trailing had disappeared. He might be a mile distant or he might be waiting for his pursuer, behind the nearest tree. Henry shivered with fear and stood irresolute. But the feeling passed when he realized that he had lost the trail, that his quarry had escaped him, that he had failed his captain. A wave of remorse swept over him. The sense of fear left him entirely, and he bent all his energies to the task of finding the motor-car. He hid his wheel in a thicket that he might work faster, pausing only to snatch from it the metal cane fastened to the frame.

Cautiously he glided forward, crouching as he moved, and taking advantage of every rock and bush he could see to screen himself. He held his breath and listened. Now he crept forward a foot at a time. Now he advanced swiftly for yards. He worked his way to the right and the left. But nowhere could he see what he was searching for, and no betraying sound came out of the thick blackness.

"It's no use," he said to himself bitterly, after he had searched for a quarter of an hour. "I have lost him, and if I am not careful I'll lose his message as well."

Near by he could dimly discern a tall stump. He ran over to it and on it laid his map, a pencil, his electric torch, his knife, the wires that he had been carrying in his pocket, and the giant fountain pen. Grasping the tip of his cane he gave a sharp tug and an inner lining slid outward. From this he drew out a third length, and from that a fourth. His metal cane was in reality an extension rod, not unlike a telescoping fishing-rod. It was fully ten feet long. In its curved handle was a small opening, like a keyhole. Into this Henry jammed the bayonet connection that terminated one of the wires. The other end of the wire he thrust into a like opening in the side of his big fountain pen. Into the opposite side of his pen he fastened one end of his second wire, attaching the other end of this wire to his knife, which he thrust deep into the earth. Then, raising the extended cane aloft with his left hand, he put the point of his fountain pen to his right ear and listened. The mysterious articles that the secret service had supplied constituted a complete wireless receiving set. He could catch any message sent from a point within six or eight miles.

He was not a moment too soon. Hardly had he gotten the fountain pen adjusted before there came a crackling in his ear. He rested his cane, upright, against the stump, and began to tune his instrument by sliding the cap of the fountain pen in and out. In a second he had tuned it perfectly. The sounds came to him with startling clearness.

"He's near at hand," muttered Henry.

He seized his pencil and wrote down on his map the letters that were sounding in his ear. Then with frantic haste he disconnected his instrument, telescoped his extension cane, and gathered up the different articles and thrust them into his pockets. As rapidly as he could pick his way, he went back to his hidden machine. He fastened the metal cane in place, and got everything ready for a quick start.

Suddenly a faint purring noise came to his ears. "Ah!" muttered Henry, "he's started his motor. He's off in that direction. What shall I do?"

His first impulse was to run at speed toward the purring motor, and to try to locate exactly the position of the hidden wireless station. But discretion showed him that was not wise. The spy might turn his lights on at any moment and Henry would be caught. Then everything was lost.

"I must make sure I can find the place in the daytime," muttered Henry. Carefully he gauged the sound, deciding whence it came. "He's right off there," he said. And with his heel he made a long mark in the turf, pointing straight toward the sound.

Almost before he finished, the sound grew louder and Henry knew the car was advancing. He shrank back into the thicket, dragging his motor-cycle with him. An instant later the roadster rolled softly past, not more than fifty feet distant. In a moment more the car had reached the fence and turned into the highway. Its lights suddenly flashed out and the car went bowling down the road toward Brooklyn.

Henry leaped from the thicket and ran toward the highway, pushing his motor-cycle before him. He paused at the opening in the fence, and with his knife smoothed a space on one of the posts and marked a cross on it with his pencil. Then he ran to the highway, started his motor, and was soon flying down the road in pursuit of the roadster. And as he had come, so he returned, with lights out, until Brooklyn was reached and the streets were once more alive with traffic.

At a safe distance he followed the unsuspecting motorist and saw him turn into a private yard in Flatbush. Instantly Henry dismounted, thrust his wheel behind a hedge that fenced a private residence, and gained a position where he could watch the spy's house. He saw the spy close and lock his garage and enter the house. Stealthily Henry approached and noted the house number. At the corner he got the name of the street. Then he hurried back to his hidden motor-cycle and was soon flying back to his comrades at the eagle's nest.