Part 10 (1/2)

And I suppose the man in Hoboken also telephones the automobile driver when to come for the dollars.”

”Who is this man in Hoboken that does the telephoning?” demanded Roy, when Captain Hardy had done speaking.

”Ah! That they don't know. He has always called up from a different place and has gotten away before the secret service could spot him.

But the agent a.s.sures me that they'll have him soon. He always telephones from a station close to the piers where the transports load.

The next time he calls for the grocer, the telephone operator is going to delay him while she notifies a secret service agent posted near by with a motor-cycle. So they'll spot him and trail him.

”And that reminds me,” continued Captain Hardy, after a pause, ”that we're to do a little motor-cycle work ourselves, and that Henry has been selected for the job because he is familiar with motor-cycles.”

Henry's eyes lighted with pleasure. Not only was he the oldest boy in the wireless patrol, and Captain Hardy's first lieutenant, but he was one of those natural mechanics who seem to know instinctively how to handle tools and make things. Indeed he had constructed his own wireless outfit and shown his fellows how to make theirs; and he could repair a motor-cycle almost as skilfully as a garage man. So it was natural that he should be selected for this task.

But there was still another reason why his captain had chosen him for the work he had in mind. Though not so quick or clever as Roy, Henry was a keen observer and close reasoner. Moreover, he was entirely dependable, was very discreet, and being the largest boy in the party, was best fitted to take care of himself if he got into trouble.

”We are going to trail this automobile driver with a motor-cycle, as you have probably guessed,” explained Captain Hardy to the little group of scouts. ”And Henry is to do the trailing. Come, Henry. We'll go take a look at your machine. The secret service people said that it would be here in half an hour.”

”Where? In this house?” asked Roy eagerly.

”No, not here, but at a house around the corner from the grocer's. It will always be in readiness for instant use.”

As Henry put on his hat and followed his leader, the other scouts looked at him somewhat enviously. ”Remember,” said their leader, turning about, ”each one of you has his work to do, just as Henry has.

See that you do it.”

At once the boys returned to their posts, while Henry and his captain pa.s.sed out of the house and went down the street. Instead of going directly to their destination, the two made their way by a roundabout route and kept a sharp lookout lest they should meet the grocer or his boy. But they pa.s.sed almost no one and came soon to a little white house, not far from the grocer's store, that was set back in a yard behind a high hedge. Connected with the house was a small garage, built so as to resemble an extension of the dwelling.

A keen-eyed woman answered their knock at the door and looked at them questioningly.

”We are the sugar refiners sent by the Federal Sugar Company,” said Captain Hardy, repeating the words given him by the secret service agent.

”I've been looking for you,” replied the woman. ”Come in.” And she led them at once through the house to the garage.

Henry was about to ask Captain Hardy what he meant by saying that they were sugar refiners, but when he saw the motor-cycle that awaited him he forgot his question and gave a sharp cry of exultation. It was a beautiful machine, with tires so strong and thick they were practically puncture proof and were evidently equal to any demand that was likely to be made upon them. Evidently the engine was one of great power.

The frame of the machine was a dark gray; and Henry instantly noted the fact that there was an almost utter absence of nickel about the motorcycle. The spokes, handle-bars, and tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs were all enameled black. The headlight was a powerful electric one, with a black cap over the lens. With great interest Henry examined the spark- and gasoline-controls, the motor itself, and finally the m.u.f.fler, which was of the most improved variety. He looked in the gasoline-tank and found it full. The oil-tank was br.i.m.m.i.n.g. Every moving part had been carefully greased and cleaned.

”What's this?” cried Henry, of a sudden, noting what seemed to be an extra and unnecessary piece of framework.

”Take it out and see,” said Captain Hardy, with a smile.

Carefully Henry examined the fastenings, to see how the extra tubing was adjusted. Then he drew it forth.

”A metal cane,” he said, puzzled. ”What is it? What is it for?”

Captain Hardy explained. Then he picked up a small electric torch, some well insulated wires that lay coiled on a near-by chair, and something that looked like a giant fountain pen. He handed these articles to Henry, and repeated what the secret service man had told him as to their use.

”Put them in your pocket and be very careful that you do not lose them,” directed Captain Hardy. ”Carry them with you so that you can run to your motor-cycle at a second's notice. Now replace that cane on the machine.”

Henry slid the cane back and fastened it in place. It was gray, like the car, and seemed to be a part of it. Then Captain Hardy fastened the little map case above the gasoline-tank in such a way that Henry could pluck out a map as he rode.

”Now,” he said, ”there is nothing to do but wait until the automobile driver comes for another dollar. Then you must follow him wherever he goes. You must watch every movement he makes. But you must not let him see you. It's a hard thing to ask of you, Henry, for everything hinges upon your success.”

A look of determination flashed in Henry's eyes. ”I'll do my best,” he said simply.

”I know you will,” rejoined his leader. Then he added, with a smile, ”Now we'll go back to the eagle's nest and wait for the hawk to appear.”