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四川省巴中市2013年中考英语试题(word版,含答案及扫描听力材料)
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你可能喜欢CHAPTER I TURNING BACK
Slowly and ponderously the United States transport, Sherman, moved out of the maze of boats that had clustered about her at the Brest dock. With ever-gathering speed she thrust her prow into the rippling water, leaving behind, on the wharf, cheering hundreds of Uncle Sam’s boys who envied the lot of their fellows in thus sailing for home after the Great War. Mingled with the resonant voices of the Americans were the shriller notes of their French comrades, who were bidding God-speed to their allied comrades.
“Well, we’re really off at last,” remarked a tall, bronzed youth, speaking to some of his chums who leaned over the rail with him, waving to friends on the wharf.
“Yes, Jerry,” remarked a rather stout khaki-clad soldier lad, “off at last. And now that the captain can dispense with my valuable services in warping the ship away from the dock—I believe warping is the proper word—I’m going to look——”
“For the kitchen!” interrupted a third member of the little group clustered about the lad called Jerry, who wore on his coat the D. S. C. of valor. “Isn’t that what you were going to say, Bob?”
“What’s that about a kitchen?” asked the youth called Jerry.
“Oh, Bob is up to his old tricks,” remarked the soldier who had interrupted his friend’s facetious words.
“Perhaps I may be, Ned,” came in repl “but I know enough not to call the place on board a ship where food is prepared a ‘kitchen.’ Why don’t you say galley, you land-lubber?” and with this parting shot Bob Baker, winking one eye at his tall friend, Jerry Hopkins, strolled aft.
He was soon lost in the throng of soldiers which crowded every available part of the transport, and Ned and Jerry, retaining their places by the rail, looked down at the water of the harbor which they were leaving behind. This was one of the first transports to depart for the United States after the terrible conflict, and in addition to taking[3] home a number of unwounded men, it also carried many casual cases.
Among the former were many friends and comrades of Jerry Hopkins, Ned Slade, and Bob Baker, three chums known to many of my readers as the “Motor Boys,” of whom more will later be told.
“Yes, we’re on our way,” remarked Ned to Jerry, as the two stood somewhat apart for the moment, their friends at the rail having moved to one side. “We’re on our way, and Bob hasn’t lost much time in starting his favorite indoor sport.”
“Well, I don’t know that I blame him,” announced Jerry. “The eating problem has been a hard one for all of us since this war started, and there’s such a crowd on board that it isn’t likely to be an easy matter to get a feed now. Bob always was one who believed in safety first, when it comes to his stomach.”
“You’re right!” assented Ned. “But there’s one thing about him: He isn’t mean, and if he finds a way to get an extra supply of grub he’ll share it with us.”
“You said a mouthful!” agreed Jerry.
For several moments they stood looking at the gradually disappearing reminders of the late conflict—the docks and the buildings at the Brest camp, in France, where they had spent some days[4] in waiting for transportation back to the United States. Then Ned turned to look over the seething deck.
“This is some crowd!” murmured Ned. “I hope Bob doesn’t get lost in it.”
“Especially if he does manage to find the galley, and can bribe or intimidate one of the cooks into slipping him something on the side,” added Jerry. “In that case I hope Bob’s memory carries him back to us, for, to tell you the truth, I’m hungry.”
“So’m I,” admitted N “though I did pull a raw one on Chunky. But I guess we ought to consider ourselves lucky to be on board.”
“You said it!” declared Jerry. “There’s a lot of the boys who would give up a wound stripe for the sake of going back on one of these early boats. Now that the war is practically over, there’s going to be a big slump in the enthusiasm that kept us going when nothing else would have done it. Yes, we’re dead lucky to be going back.”
And so, amid the whistle salutes of other craft, the waving of hands and the tossing of hats and caps from unknown well-wishers, the Sherman kept on her way.
Out toward the west she headed, out toward the land of the Stars and Stripes, and deep in their hearts Ned, Bob, and Jerry were thankful for the Providence that had picked them as among[5] the first to go back home after the fighting was over.
They had covered themselves with glory, for in addition to the D. S. C. bestowed on Jerry Hopkins, Ned and Bob had received honorable mention, and their company was one picked out for signal honor, the three boys sharing in the general praise.
“I wonder how things are going back in Cresville,” mused Ned, after a period of silence on the part of himself and Jerry.
“That’s queer! I was just thinking that same thing myself,” the taller lad exclaimed. “It will seem mighty quiet after the hail-storms we’ve been through.”
“Hail-storms is right,” agreed Ned Slade. “But it can’t be too quiet for me. All I want to do is to sit under a tree back of the house, with plenty of books and magazines to read, clean clothes—real clean clothes—to wear, a bath-tub where I know where it is, and——”
“Something to eat!” interrupted a voice behind him, and, turning, Ned and Jerry beheld their stout chum, Bob Baker, who smilingly held out some sandwiches.
“Running true to form,” murmured Ned, as he accepted one, and also a bit of chocolate candy his friend extended. “How’d you manage to do it, Bob?”
“Oh, my hypnotic eye. Just told one of the cooks I had to have something if they didn’t want the captain to read the service for burial at sea. And the cook allowed he didn’t want that to happen so soon after we’d got started. This is the result,” and Bob began munching on his share of the auxiliary rations, an example followed by Ned and Jerry.
“Am I right?” mumbled Bob, between bites.
“Right-O, Chunky!” murmured Jerry. “This touches the right spot.”
“Do you accept my amendment regarding the necessities you require on reaching home, Ned?” asked Bob, after a period of eloquent silence.
“Amendment accepted, all in favor say ‘aye!’” exclaimed Ned, adding, a moment later: “The ayes have it!”
“Didn’t see anything of Professor Snodgrass, did you?” asked Jerry of his chums, as they disposed of the last of the sandwiches and chocolate Bob had procured in some mysterious way.
“No,” answered Ned. “The last I saw of him was when he had seen to it that Gladys Petersen and Dorothy Gibbs were safely on their way home and he was packing up his pictures and specimens of bugs and things to ship to the college.”
“He said he might possibly join us on this transport,” said Bob. “And he may be here, for[7] all we know. Looks as if everybody I ever met in France is on board.”
“Not that pretty little girl with the black hair and brown eyes you were so fond of in the restaurant—she isn’t here, is she?” asked Jerry.
“Oh, cut it out!” growled Bob. “You know what I mean.”
“But did she know what you meant?” asked Ned pointedly. “You know you never could get the hang of the French words, and she used to rip them out like a drygoods clerk tearing off a yard of muslin.”
“Say, if you fellows think I’m going to rustle grub for you, and then have you insult me, you’ve got another guess and a half coming!” cried Bob hotly—so hotly, in fact, that Jerry quickly interposed.
“That’s all right, Bob,” he said quietly, laying a cautioning hand on Ned’s shoulder. “We two were just as fond of Marie as you were, only she seemed to take more of a notion to you than she did to us.”
This admission apparently brightened Bob visibly, and his anger slowly died away.
“And, going back to the original subject,” said Ned, “did either of you see the professor?”
They had not, they admitted.
“Well, we’re not likely to hear from him until we get across, then,” decided Bob.
But it was not to be long before his words were disproved.
Gathering speed, the transport moved ahead, and the craft was approaching the open sea, leaving behind, in a misty haze, the camp at Brest, when without warning she suddenly slowed up, not gradually, as if making a regular stop, but with a jar and a shudder that seemed to go through her whole structure.
“What’s that?” cried Bob, as he and his chums felt the tremors and the vibration.
“Something’s wrong!” said Ned in a low voice.
“Could we have struck a mine?” asked Bob in a half whisper, as though he feared to start a panic. “It couldn’t be a sub, could it? I thought——”
He did not finish the sentence, for in the midst of it the ves but, to the surprise of all, she began turning slowly back toward the port she had so recently left.
CHAPTER II SUSPICIONS
Not much imagination is required to picture the confusion on board the U. S. S. Sherman when she was turned around and headed for Brest, the port from which the craft had so recently sailed. And also it is easy to guess something of the many and rapid questions that were fired from all directions, without any counter-barrage in the way of replies being given.
“What does it mean?”
“Aren’t they going to let us go home after all?”
“Have the Germans started another war?”
“Did we strike a mine?”
“Has a torpedo hit us?”
The two last were the questions most often asked, for it was easily within the bounds of possibility that the craft might have been damaged by some floating mine, nor was it out of the bounds of possibility that she might have been torpedoed. Some German captain of a submarine, not having heard of the signing of the armistice, or choosing[10] to ignore it, perhaps pleading ignorance later, might easily have taken this method of revenge for the fancied wrongs to the “Fatherland.”
And so it was that on all sides arose the question:
“What has happened?”
But no one answered it. At least the returning soldiers, among whom were Ned, Bob, and Jerry, had no one to answer it for them. They “milled around” on the decks, surging this way and that until they threatened the equilibrium of the vessel and the officers had to go among them ordering them to remain quiet.
“But what has happened, sir?” asked Jerry of a captain with whom he was on friendly terms.
“I don’t know, exactly. Something seemed to go wrong with the machinery. But there is no danger. We are only a short distance from shore. It is the duty of every one to remain calm.”
The boys did their best, but the questioning still persisted and at length Jerry said:
“Fellows, I’m going to find out what the matter is.”
“I am, too!” exclaimed Ned.
“So’m I!” added Bob. “Maybe the galley is on fire, and——”
“That would be a terrible calamity!” laughed Jerry, and his laugh seemed to ease the tension[11] somewhat. Then he added: “You two boys had better stay here. If three of us chase around we’ll be ordered to keep to one spot. But if I go alone I may be able to manage it.”
“And as soon as you find out what it is come back and tell us,” begged Ned.
“Sure thing!” promised his tall chum, as he moved away.
While Jerry is thus endeavoring to learn the cause of the sudden turning back of the troopship, readers who are meeting Ned, Bob, and Jerry for the first time will be told something more about the lads, so they may seem more like old acquaintances.
To those readers who have the first book of this series, entitled “The Motor Boys,” not much need be said. It need only be stated that the present series, under the caption “Ned, Bob and Jerry,” is a continuation of the same characters in new fields.
Ned Slade was the son of a wealthy department store-keeper. Bob Baker’s father was a banker. And Mrs. Julia Hopkins, the mother of Jerry, was financially interested in several institutions controlled by Mr. Slade and Mr. Baker. The youths lived in Cresville, in one of our New England states, and their interest in locomotion dated from the days of their early boyhood, when they owned motor cycles. It was their activities[12] on these machines that gained them the appellation of “Motor Boys.” They later secured an automobile, and in this they made a trip Overland, to Mexico, and Across the Plains, as related in the books bearing those distinctive titles.
Afterward the boys secured a motor boat and had many voyages, including travel on the Atlantic, the Pacific, and in Strange Waters. Trips above the clouds followed in airships of various makes, and, not satisfied with that, the three adventurous lads descended to the depths in submarines.
Following a series of exciting adventures, detailed at length, there was a conference on the part of the parents of Ned, Bob and Jerry. It was decided that the lads had better “buckle down” to some serious work in life, and, accordingly, they were sent to college to complete their educations.
In “The Motor Boys at Boxwood Hall, or, Ned, Bob and Jerry as Freshmen,” is related the many jolly times they had and how they helped to establish a reputation for old Boxwood Hall in athletics. At Boxwood Hall the three had lots of fun, as well as doing good work in their studies. The boys had many obstacles and difficulties to overcome but how they won out in the end is set forth in detail in the book.
The three chums spent a summer on a ranch,[13] and then the Great War broke out. Ned, Bob and Jerry joined the army, and, in due course, they found themselves fighting Germany. What happened to them is set forth in the book immediately preceding this, called “The Motor Boys on the Firing Line.” More than the details of many battles is in this volume, for in addition to fighting for Uncle Sam the Motor Boys had also to help their friend, Professor Uriah Snodgrass.
This doughty little scientist was the boys companion on their many trips, and he not only enjoyed the companionship of the boys, but he obtained much information by going with them, not to mention many valuable, if not always pleasant specimens. For Professor Snodgrass collected bugs, snakes and allied creatures for Boxwood Hall and other colleges and also several museums.
He had gone to Europe with the boys on a double mission. One was to find two young ladies—Dorothy Gibbs and Gladys Petersen—nieces of Professor Petersen’s, and the other was to get photographs of the effects of war noises on certain insects.
Professor Snodgrass found the girls, and, with the help of the three boys, was able to send them back to the United States. He also got the pictures he wanted, and he secured for himself a[14] large sum of money. This money had been left by Professor Petersen to Professor Snodgrass, provided the latter discovered the whereabouts of the two young ladies.
Now, with the ending of the war Ned, Bob and Jerry had started back home on the transport. Professor Snodgrass, having seen to it that the nieces of his late friend were safely cared for, had turned his attention to shipping back the moving and other pictures he had made of the insects. The boys had lost sight of him in the confusion of the preparations for sailing for home. Professor Snodgrass, however, had said he might meet the boys on the transport. But, up to the time of the turning back of the Sherman, no further word had been received concerning the little scientist.
Now all was confusion on board the troopship. In spite of the orders of the officers, the men kept moving here and there, each one seeking to learn the cause of the trouble, to find out why they should be going back to France when they hoped they had left it for good—and this was saying or thinking nothing against the country that had given them such a warm welcome in her hour of dire distress.
“It’s a fat chance Jerry has of finding out what the row is,” commented Ned to Bob, as they retained their places near the crowded rail close[15] to one of the lifeboats—a position Jerry had assigned to them as a rendezvous.
“What makes you think so?” asked Bob.
“Because I just heard our colonel telling the major he didn’t know what was up.”
“Well, maybe it isn’t generally known yet,” said Bob. “If there’s been an accident the captain of the ship is sure to know about it, even if he doesn’t tell our colonel right away. You see the ship captain is in full authority, once the vessel gets away from the dock. His word is law, and the military authorities, that had the say on shore, don’t cut any ice now.”
“Poetically speaking,” added Ned, with a smile.
“Exactly,” agreed Bob, also grinning. “You see the safety of the ship depends on the captain, and you can stake your last doughnut that he knows what’s up, even if he hasn’t told any of the military crowd, which includes us—ahem!” and Bob swelled up his chest. “But you can depend on it that if anything is to be found out Jerry will discover it. He has a way with him!”
“Can he find out something our colonel can’t learn?” asked Ned.
“He might. The colonel couldn’t descend to asking information of a stoker or a coal passer, but Jerry could, not being of the elect, you know. Yes, you let Jerry-boy alone, and he’ll come home with the bacon. And, speaking of bacon, I wish[16] I had some right now, with some fresh eggs, and have them with the sunny-sides up. The bacon nice and crisp, and the coffee just right, with cream in a little pitcher on the side and——”
That was Ned giving Bob a thump on the back.
“What’s the matter?” indignantly demanded the stout youth.
“Cut out the imaginary eats!” was the answer. “Haven’t we got troubles enough without that? But here comes Jerry. Now to see if he has found out anything!”
The tall lad, on whose coat was the D. S. C., sauntered toward his two chums. With a signal from his eyes—a signal they well knew how to interpret, Ned and Bob moved to one side. Jerry had told them, without the use of words, that he wanted to speak with them alone.
Just then, fortunately for their plans, there was a little commotion farther up the deck, and in the rush that followed there was a clear space left near the rail where the three boys now stood.
“Well, what is it?” asked Ned, as Jerry looked first at him and then at Bob. “Are we sinking, Jerry?”
“Far from it. The hull is as sound as a dollar.”
“Then it wasn’t a mine or a torpedo?” asked Bob.
“Not this time. But there has been an accident[17] to the machinery, and we’re returning to the dock for repairs.”
“Only an accident to the machinery!” exclaimed Ned. “Then why, in the name of Andy Rush, all this mystery and excitement?”
“Because,” answered Jerry slowly, “from what I heard, the accident was a premeditated one, and it looks suspicious.”
“Suspicious!” exclaimed his two chums.
“Hush! Yes! But not so loud. That’s why I gave you the high sign to let me have a word alone with you. There’s a rumor that some revengeful German may have set off a time bomb in the engine room. So far the damage is slight, but——”
Jerry paused, for another tremor ran through the ship and again the vessel came to a sudden stop.
CHAPTER III THE LITTLE MAN
“Say, this is getting a bit more than interesting!” cried Ned, as he and Bob gazed at Jerry.
The stout lad looked up at the lifeboat near which he leaned on the rail.
“None of that!” warned Jerry. “Don’t start a rush. There’s no danger!”
But his words did not seem to be borne out, for no sooner was it apparent to all on board that the Sherman had come to a stop again than a sort of panic began which the officers had to work hard to subdue. Finally the colonel commanding the troops had to make an address from the main deck.
“There is absolutely no danger!” he declared. “The captain assures me the ship is not leaking a drop, and we shall soon be back at the dock whence we started. This is unfortunate, but it can not be helped. We shall start for home again as soon as possible.”
“When will that be, sir?” some soldier asked.[19] While another—more than one, in fact—inquired as to the cause of the trouble.
“There has been an accident to the machinery,” the colonel stated. “One of the engines is disabled, and that puts all the work on the remaining unit. I am told that this excess caused a temporary stoppage of the one good engine. But we shall soon be under way again.”
“Was there an explosion?” some one asked.
“A slight one, yes,” was the rather hesitating answer.
“What caused it?”
“Did we hit a mine?”
“Was it a Boche?”
These were only a few of the questions, hurled like hand grenades, at the colonel.
“I am not at liberty to say what caused the explosion,” he announced. “It can not be told at present. All I ask of you—all that your officers ask of you—is that you remain quiet. We shall soon start again, to be quickly back at the dock.”
“For how long?” asked several.
That seemed to strike a popular chord.
“I am sorry, but I am unable to answer that question,” replied the colonel with a smile. “I know you all want it answered, and I will say that if it is found it will require too long to repair the damage to this transport another will be provided.”
There was a cheer at this, and the colonel and his staff looked relieved. The danger of a panic and a rush for the boats seemed past. But many rumors were still in circulation, and that of a German spy or some Hun sympathizer having tried to sink the transport and the troops gained each hour.
It seemed a very long time, though it was not more than two hours, before the ship was under way again. But she limped along under less than half steam, and many anxious hearts were glad when the dock they had recently left loomed in sight again.
The accident, of whatever nature it was, had happened when the Sherman was not far from shore, and, even had it been necessary to launch the lifeboats and rafts, it is probable that all on board would have been saved.
But there was always danger, especially when the wounded men were considered, and there were not a few of them on board. Consequently, it was with a feeling of relief that all observed the craft being warped back to the berth she had so lately left.
“Now the question arising is: What——”
“Are we going to eat, and when!” interrupted Ned, breaking in on what Bob had started to say.
“As you were! As you were!” growled the stout lad. “I wasn’t going to say that at all.[21] What I mean is: ‘What’s going to happen to us? Shall we have to stay cooped up on board when there’s peace and plenty and room to move about on shore?’”
“Not to mention Marie, of le restaurant de la palma or something like that,” mocked Jerry.
“That’s right—keep on picking at me!” mourned Bob. “But you guys’ll be just as glad as I shall be to get off this tub if she isn’t moving toward the U. S. A.”
“Guess you’re right,” assented Jerry. “It isn’t going to be much fun cooped up here if we’re going to stay tied to the dock. It’s too crowded. Wouldn’t be so bad if we were at sea and knew we were moving toward home. But if we have to hang around this dock it will give me the willies!”
“You said another mouthful!” agreed Ned. “But it’s a good thing this accident didn’t happen when we were three or four days out. And maybe they’ll let us go ashore.”
This hope was realized, at least on the part of the Motor Boys, a little later. Once the Sherman was made fast to the dock again, there were numerous petitions from the privates to their officers for permission to go ashore, if only for a few hours. Ned, Bob, and Jerry made their requests, and, to their delight, they were granted. Perhaps Jerry’s D. S. C. and the honors attained by Ned and Bob had something to do with this.
“But you must not go far away, and you must report back here on board in three hours,” their captain told them. “It is thought the repairs will be completed by then.”
Jerry and his chums were closely scrutinized and their passes examined with care when they walked down the gangplank to the dock. All who were allowed to go on shore were thus observed, and as the three friends passed out to the streets of the city which had loomed so large of late as the location of the camp of much rain and mud, they noted that the sentries had been doubled around the wharf of the Sherman.
“If there’s a German spy on board he’ll stand a fat chance if they find him,” said Bob, as he and his chums started off on their leave.
The three boys headed at once for a restaurant, for the emergency rations which Bob had, somehow, managed to secure had long since lost their effects. And, for a wonder, Ned and Jerry did not twit their stout companion with being over-zealous in his desire for food. They wanted it as much as he did.
Moreover, they went to the restaurant where the pretty Marie waited on one of the tables. Bob had discovered this “life-saving station” in the midst of his wanderings about Brest, and after some persuasion on the part of his chums had let them into the secret of it. Thereafter they spent[23] much of their leave-time in this place. Now again they headed for it.
And Marie was there. She welcomed the boys with a smile. With smiles, for though Bob claimed it as his right to bask in them to the exclusion of all others, Marie, in reality, smiled impartially on her “three musketeers.”
“Back so soon?” she asked, with her fascinating accent and pronunciation.
“Yes. Couldn’t stay away from you, ma’m’sell,” returned Bob, trying to catch Marie’s eyes in a glance that meant more than words.
“What’s that? What’s she got to sell?” asked Ned, winking at Jerry.
“Oh, cut it out! That’s an old one,” replied Bob. “I can speak as good French as you.”
“Better, mon ami, much better!” laughed Jerry. “Now you two old roosters stop kidding and get down to business. We have only three hours’ shore leave, so let’s make the most of it. What have you to eat, Marie?”
“Now you’re talking!” commented Ned. “Bob can live on love if he likes, as for me, give me——”
“Liberty or death!” chanted Bob.
They all laughed gaily, and Marie was told, in a casual way, of the accident to the troopship and her trip back to the dock.
The boys were so taken up with the pretty waitress[24] and with getting their appetites in a fair way to be satisfied, that they paid little attention to those around them at the other tables. But when they had begun to eat, and the sharp edge of their hunger was somewhat dulled, Jerry looked about the restaurant to note the possible presence of some of their friends who, like themselves, might have also received shore leave from the Sherman.
Jerry did not see any soldiers whom he and his chums knew, though he did observe a number of Uncle Sam’s boys, together with some French poilus and British Tommies. What attracted his attention, however, was the sight of a little bald-headed man seated at a table two or three removed from the one at which he and his friends were dining. The little man was in civilian clothes.
“Look!” excitedly exclaimed Jerry, nudging Ned, who sat next to him. “Look over there!”
He pointed to the little bald-headed man, who was busy over his soup.
“Professor Snodgrass!” exclaimed Ned. “Well, this is luck!”
Jerry arose from his chair, followed by Ned, and started toward the man to whom he had called the attention of his chums. The man’s back was toward the lads, but there was no doubt in their minds that he was their scientific friend.
“Where have you been, Professor Snodgrass?”[25] asked Jerry, as, with Ned, he stood at the other table.
And then the two boys received the surprise of their lives. For the little man who gazed quickly up at them was not Professor Snodgrass at all, though he bore a wonderfully striking resemblance to him from the back.
But more strange than the fact of his being the professor’s double (which was not so pronounced when his face was seen) was the action of the little man. His face turned red with rage, and he fairly spluttered as he rose from his chair, facing Jerry and Ned, and exclaiming:
“What do you mean? How dare you call me Professor Snodgrass? How dare you insult me? I shall complain to the manager! How dare you?”
Highly indignant, he motioned to Jerry and Ned to move back, and, hardly knowing what they were doing, they retreated, while the eyes of all in the restaurant were turned on them.
CHAPTER IV OFF AGAIN
Jerry Hopkins was the first of the three chums to regain his composure and take the situation in hand. Quietly he motioned to Ned to fall back, and, at the same time, nodded to Bob not to approach, as the stout youth seemed about to do. The two soldiers had had enough experience with Jerry’s method in an emergency to be willing to let him manage matters now.
“What do you mean? What do you mean?” spluttered the little man, who, from the back, had so closely resembled Professor Snodgrass. “How dare you insult me?”
“There seems to be some mistake,” said Jerry, trying to keep his voice under control, for, truth to tell, he was as indignant as his chums were at the unwarranted assumption on the part of the stranger.
“Mistake? I should say there had been!” was the exclamation from the little man. “You made a mistake in thinking I had anything to do[27] with that—that charlatan! That pretender! That scientific faker, who calls himself ‘Professor’ Snodgrass. A mistake indeed!”
“Wait a minute! Wait a minute!” broke in Ned, unable longer to hear his friend thus abused. “The mistake will be on the other foot in a minute if you keep on that way!” he said indignantly.
The little man seemed about to rise from the table to attack Ned, but Jerry gently thrust back his impetuous chum.
“Let me handle him,” he whispered to Ned.
“Is he crazy?” asked Bob.
“It begins to look that way,” answered Jerry, as the little man resumed his seat at his table, though he did not continue his meal.
“We wish to apologize for having mistaken you for a friend of ours,” said Jerry suavely. “Seeing you from the back we took you to be Professor Snodgrass, and——”
“Is he a friend of yours?” asked the little man fiercely.
“He certainly is!” exclaimed Bob truculently.
“Well, all I have to say is that I am sorry for you,” said the little man. “You had no right to assume that I was he, and your effrontery in publicly addressing me as such needs to be apologized for.”
“Which we are doing,” said Jerry stiffly. “And I might add,” he went on, “that if you continue in[28] your present strain there will be something else to apologize for, and not on our part, either!” He seemed quite a different Jerry now.
“We have made proper reparation for having mistaken you for our friend, Professor Snodgrass,” he continued, “and that, to a gentleman, should be sufficient. I think that is all, sir!”
Jerry turned stiffly and marched back to his own table, followed by Ned and Bob, who had left their seats to join him. For a few seconds the little bald-headed man did not seem to know what to do. He said something about its being “all right now,” but mingled with this were grunts and mutterings about “insolent puppies,” which words, however, Jerry and his chums thought best to ignore.
“Say, what was eating him, anyhow?” asked Bob, when they had resumed their seats for their dessert which the pretty Marie was then bringing to them.
“I guess you mean what had he been eating,” said Ned. “Red pepper and chili con carne I imagine, with a dish of tabasco sauce and frijoles on the side.”
“Reminds me of our Mexico trip,” interposed Bob. “What was the name of that Spanish fellow who was always making so much trouble?”
“You mean Vasco Bilette,” suggested Jerry.
“That’s it! This fellow, who really looks a[29] lot like our dear, old professor, certainly is touchy.”
“He certainly is,” agreed Jerry. “Say, Bob,” he went on, “you claim you can parlez-vous better than the rest of us. Suppose you ask Marie if she knows this duck.”
“Sure!” assented the stout lad. “Say, chere Marie,” he went on as the pretty little waitress came up to their table, “comprehendez-vous him?” and he pointed to the man who was the cause of the Motor Boys’ discomfiture. For it had been disquieting, to say the least, to have the eyes of all in the restaurant turned on them during the fracas, as Ned termed it.
“Comprehendez-vous him?” asked Bob of Marie. “You know. La petite hommes de la table d’hote,” and to make sure that his “French” would be understood he pointed to the little man.
“Say, what’s that you’re getting off?” demanded Jerry.
“I’m asking her if she’s wise to the guy who’s eating in this restaurant,” translated Bob. “Comprehendez—that means ‘do you know.’ La petite—that means ‘little’ and hommes means ‘man.’”
“He’s right there,” declared Ned earnestly, while Marie looked amusedly at “les trois mousquetaires.”
“How do you know?” snapped Jerry.
“Why, isn’t it painted all over the cars we’ve[30] been riding in, ‘chevaux 8—hommes 40’? That is eight horses or forty men. Sure hommes mean men, or man.”
“Watch Bob swell up,” commented Jerry.
“Well, you told me to spout French, and I’m doing it,” said the lad with the perpetual appetite. “Now give her a chance to answer. I’ll ask her again. Chere Marie! Comprehendez-vous la petite hommes de la table d’hote?”
The pretty waitress placed on the table the dishes she had brought up to serve, turned for a look over her shoulder at the man Bob referred to, and then looked back, with a smile, at the stout lad and his chums.
“Oui,” she answered, guessing shrewdly at Bob’s meaning and shrugging her shoulders expressively.
“Oh, ho! So she does know him!” exclaimed Ned, for in spite of the fact that they let Bob assert his knowledge of French, they could not help acquiring some of the words, and that “oui” meant “yes” had been one of their first acquisitions.
“Who is he?” asked Jerry.
“She can’t understand that,” declared Bob. “Wait, I’ll translate it to her.” Then, laboriously he said: “Le nom des hommes? Comprehendez-vous?”
“What’s that?” Ned wanted to know.
“I’m asking her if she knows his name,” replied Bob.
They looked anxiously at Marie. Again she turned and glanced at the little man who had waxed so indignant at being taken for Professor Snodgrass.
“Cochon!” exclaimed Marie, and she seemed to snap out the word as a second lieutenant issues his commands to the awkward squad.
“What did she say?” chorused Ned and Jerry.
Bob was nonplussed. He scratched his head and then repeated the word to Marie.
“Cochon?” he asked.
“Cochon! Cochon!” was the swift answer. “Oui! Cochon des cochons!”
“Um!” murmured Bob.
There was a moment’s silence, during which Marie moved off to serve another table.
“Well, what is he, a German spy?” asked Ned. “If he is, he has his nerve with him—showing up here after the armistice.”
“Yes, tell us what she said,” begged Jerry.
“Well,” returned Bob slowly, “you know the French language is very queer. It isn’t like any other language.”
“Oh, we know that all right!” exclaimed Ned. “You needn’t tell us that. Even though you may know a lot more about it than we do, it hasn’t taken us six months to appreciate the fact that it’s[32] a mighty elusive way of conversing. But what I want to know, and what Jerry wants to know, is: What did Marie say that pepper-hash guy was?”
“Well,” confessed Bob, “that’s just it. If the French language didn’t have so many words in it that sound a lot alike, but mean a lot of different things, I could be sure. She called him a cochon.”
“A cochon of a cochon,” added Jerry.
“Yes, that’s what she did,” said Bob.
“Well, but what is a cochon?” asked Ned.
“It’s either a pig or a coachman,” said Bob, desperately. “That’s the trouble. I’m not sure which. I forget whether cocher is pig or whether it’s coachman, and I don’t know whether cochon is coachman or pig. I know it’s one or the other, but just now I sort of forget.”
“A heap of good your French does us!” laughed Jerry. “If she said he was a coachman it might mean he was a respectable, though humble, member of society. If, on the other hand, she called him a pig, it might mean he had something to do with starting this war. Now which is it?”
Bob scratched his head again. Plainly, he was “stumped.”
“I’ll ask her again when she comes back,” he said. “I wish I had my French book here. I sort of think that cochon means pig, and, in that case——”
“Well, he certainly acted like a pig, so we’ll let[33] it go at that,” declared Jerry. “The idea of getting on his ear just because we happened to mistake him for Professor Snodgrass!”
“And he did look a lot like him from the back,” declared Ned.
“Sure,” assented Bob. “I wonder where the dear old chap is, anyhow? I wish he were going back with us.”
“Not much chance of that,” said Jerry. “He said he’d like to, and he really started back, but he received word to take up some other line of scientific investigation before he left to go back to Boxwood Hall, and you can wager your last cartridge that he’ll do it. But this man seems to have some sort of grudge against him, taking us up the way he did.”
“That’s right,” agreed Ned. “Say, Bob, you’ll have to tackle your friend Marie again. See if you can’t find out more about this duck.”
“I will,” promised Bob. “I’ll speak to her as soon as she comes back. It might be, you know, that this fellow is some relation to the Germans the professor captured.”
“Not much chance of that,” declared Jerry. “This cocher or cochon doesn’t seem a bit like a Hun.”
“You never can tell,” remarked Ned. “We’d better find out all we can about him while we have the chance. If Professor Snodgrass is going to[34] remain here it would be a good thing for him to know about this guy.”
“Here comes Marie now,” said Jerry. “Go at her again, Bob, and see if she can’t speak English.”
“I will,” agreed the stout youth.
When Marie again approached their table, in response to a beckoning signal, Bob began:
“Marie, de la cochon la petite cocher est le——”
“Oh, for cats’ sake!” cried Ned, “you’ll be worse tangled than before. Can’t you get some American words? Here, let me——”
But at that moment there came an interruption in the person of a member of the American military police who, thrusting his head into the restaurant, called:
“Anybody here that’s booked to go on the Sherman had better hike back to the dock. She’s going to sail soon.”
“Has the machinery been repaired?” asked Jerry.
“Yes! She’s getting ready to sail. You fellows going on her?”
“Yes,” answered Ned.
“Oh, you lucky dogs!” sighed the other. “Well, get a move on. We got orders to round up everybody that had shore leave,” and with a friendly wave of his hand he departed.
“Come on!” cried Jerry, gathering up a few possessions, an example followed by the others.
“I’ll pay the bill,” said Ned, taking a handful of change out of his pocket.
“Where’s Marie?” asked Bob. “I want to——”
“Oh, never mind finding out what cochon means!” exclaimed Jerry. “We don’t want to be left!”
“I want to say good-bye!” declared Bob, indignantly. “And I was going to ask her if she could put us up some sandwiches.”
“Cupboard love!” laughed Ned. “Come on! Move lively!”
“The pepper-hash individual is moving, too,” commented Jerry, as they left the restaurant, having noted that the man who had so resented being taken for Professor Snodgrass was also settling his bill.
“Well, if he doesn’t run into us again I’ll be thankful,” remarked Jerry. “He sure did make me feel like twenty-nine cents when he turned on me the way he did.”
Quickly the three chums made their way back to the dock to which the Sherman had returned. They saw others on the same errand. The repair work had been completed sooner than was expected, and now the siren of the vessel was blowing to call back those who had been allowed shore leave.[36] Fortunately each one, when being granted permission to “stretch his legs,” had been told to hold himself in readiness, and none had gone far away.
The Motor Boys were soon on board again, and after a slight delay the transport was again moving slowly from the dock.
“Off again!” exclaimed Ned.
“Y and let’s hope with better luck!” added Bob.
Jerry looked about the crowded deck. As he did so he gave a start, and grasped the arm of Ned.
“Look!” he exclaimed.
“What is it?” asked Ned. “See a ghost?”
“No, but if that isn’t our peppery friend of the restaurant—le cochon—I’ll do K. P. for a week!”
CHAPTER V THE NIGHT ATTACK
Instantly Ned and Bob turned to look in the direction indicated by Jerry. Both the tall lad’s chums saw the individual referred to as “le cochon.”
“It’s him all right!” asserted Bob, with complete disregard for the rules of grammar.
“But what’s he doing here?” demanded Ned.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” said Jerry in a low voice. “It can’t be that he feels so indignant at us for having honestly mistaken him for Professor Snodgrass that he has followed us here.”
“If he has,” voiced Ned, “he’ll find we have our gang with us, and he’d better watch his step!”
“We’ll take no more of his insults,” declared Bob. “I’ve a good notion to go up to him now and ask him what his game is.”
“No, don’t!” interposed Jerry, as his stout chum seemed about to put this into execution. “Let’s lay low for a while, and see what we can[38] find out. No use starting anything. We’ve had trouble enough already.”
“Exactly,” chimed in Ned. “There’s been enough of a hoodoo about this homeward trip. Let’s get out to sea before we tackle le cochon. Then he can’t dodge us by getting off and walking ashore.”
“He’s going below, anyhow,” remarked Jerry, as they saw the little man descending a companionway. “He must feel at home. I didn’t know they allowed any civilians to travel on the troopships.”
“They’ve made an exception in his case,” decided Jerry. “Well, it is queer, and I’d like to know what it all means. This man is an American, by his talk, but he isn’t at all like our dear old professor, no matter how much he looks like him from the rear.”
“I’d like to see the professor once more,” said Ned.
“Same here,” agreed Bob. “Well, we’ll see him, I suppose, when we get back home. Gee! After what we’ve gone through it hardly seems as if there is any such a place.”
“You said a mouthful, buddy!” exclaimed a tall soldier who wore the croix de guerre. “I’d rather see my back yard with the sunflowers and the hollyhocks in it than all the gardens of the too-de-loories over here.”
The Sherman was now again rapidly leaving the harbor of Brest and making her way toward the open sea.
“There isn’t going to be much of a joy-ride about this,” observed Ned, as he and his chums found their sleeping quarters and stowed away their few belongings.
“No; it’s too crowded,” decided Bob. “There isn’t much more elbow room than we had in the trenches.”
“Trenches!” exclaimed Jerry. “Don’t name ’em!”
Any one who heard, saw, or had any experience in connection with the return of the first of our fighting forces back to their homes need not be told that the transports were no place for a comfortable voyage. While everything possible was done to insure the comfort of the soldiers, the first requisite was to bring back as many as possible in the shortest possible time, and also transport as many casualties as could safely and comfortably be accommodated. The recovered, or partly recovered, wounded were the first consideration, and none of the soldiers who were comparatively well and strong, even though some of them had been in hospitals, begrudged an inch of space that went to make life easier for those who had lost an arm, a leg, who were suffering from the effects of gas or shell shock, or who were[40] among the most terribly afflicted—some being blinded.
So, as Bob said, the transport was no place for joy-riding. There was such a crowd that the soldiers had to stand up to eat, many of them, and they were glad of a place to sleep. They could not move around much on the boat, big as it was.
“Now we’re really on our way at last!” exclaimed Bob to his chums. “And do you know what I think will be the best thing to do?”
“I can make a pretty good guess,” laughed Ned. “It has something to do with eating, hasn’t it?”
“Don’t get fresh,” advised the stout lad. “You may be thankful to me, later, for suggesting this.”
“What were you going to say, Chunky?” asked Jerry. “Go on, tell me! Don’t mind the shrimp!”
“Well, I was going to say it would be a good thing if we located the place at the lunch counter where we’ll be handed our rations,” suggested Bob. “They’ll be giving the mess call soon, and if we know where to fall in, and the shortest route to the dining car, so much the better.”
“Not such a bad suggestion at that,” commented Jerry. “We’ll do it, old top!”
“Yes, you said something—for once,” conceded Ned.
Accordingly, led by Bob, who might perhaps qualify as an expert in the matter of eating, the three lads asked their way about the troopship[41] until they found where their particular company would be fed, and at about what time.
“About an hour more!” sighed Bob, as he looked at his wrist watch.
“Listen to him!” cried Ned. “And it’s only a little while ago that la belle Marie was feeding him!”
“It’s the sea air!” confessed Bob. “It always did make me hungry!”
There was not a great deal to do on board the Sherman—at least during the first day of the homeward-bound voyage. The soldiers stood about on deck, or sought such sheltered places as they could find, and smoked, played cards, talked or read. Later on some entertainments might be gotten up, it was said. But the wounded required the attention of the nurses and the doctors, and the well and strong were well able to shift for themselves.
Bob’s wisdom in finding out in advance where they were to assemble at mess call proved to be a commendable bit of forethought. For while some of the soldiers hurried here and there in what approached confusion, the three chums got in line, and with a few other knowing ones were among the first to be fed.
“Chunky, we’ve got to hand it to you!” complimented Jerry, as he cleaned his plate. “You sure are one good little feeder.”
“And I take back all I said,” added Ned. “You may come to my party, Bob, when I have it.”
“Thanks!” murmured the stout one, smiling between bites.
After the dinner mess there was nothing to do until the middle of the afternoon, when word went around that there was to be boat drill. That is, each man was to be told where his station was, and what boat he was to try to get into in case of danger. This program held for two days of ocean travel, until some began to complain of too many boat drills.
But, in spite of the fact that the war was over, there was a chance that a floating mine might be struck.
Following the short boat drill, Ned, Bob, and Jerry came back to a comfortable place they had preempted on the after deck, and they were sitting there talking when Bob nudged Jerry, who was nearest him, and whispered:
“There he is again!”
“Who?” asked the tall lad.
“The pepper-pot,” was the answer. “Le cochon!”
As he spoke he nodded toward a secluded and shadowed corner. There, staring at the three boys, they could make out the little bald-headed man of the restaurant. He was peering at them through his spectacles over the top of what to the[43] boys seemed to be a pamphlet and which he was holding just below the level of his eyes.
“Well, he’ll know us again, anyhow,” mused Jerry. And then, as if conscious that he was under observation and had been detected in spy work, the peculiar individual hastily turned and went below.
“I’d like to know what his game is!” exclaimed Ned.
“So would I!” agreed Jerry.
“We’ll have to keep watch,” said Bob. “He seems to have it in for us.”
“Let’s see if we can find out something about him,” suggested Ned. “We can ask some of our officers, and, if they don’t know, maybe they can find out from the ship’s captain. It may be this fellow is a German spy, or at least a Hun sympathizer, who would like to play some mean trick on those who put the ‘Fatherland’ on the blink.”
“Yes, let’s see if we can get a line on him,” agreed Bob.
Jerry was about to assent to this when the three chums were approached by a group of their comrades who wanted them to join a party that was going to call on some of the wounded who were below decks. This was done, and, for the time being, the queer little bald-headed man was forgotten.
Indeed the minds of the Motor Boys did not[44] revert to him until late that night when they were turning in, and then Jerry said:
“We’ll make some inquiries in the morning.”
The boys were tired enough to sleep soundly, even though their beds were not as comfortable as those oftentimes they had stretched out on when in some camp. But they were too happy over going home to find fault, and soon all were asleep, as were hundreds all around them.
It was shortly after midnight, Jerry declared later, stating that he had glanced at his radium-faced wrist watch, when the midnight attack took place. And it was made on Bob. He was sleeping between Ned and Jerry, and they were awakened by hearing the stout lad yell.
“What’s the matter?” demanded Jerry, suddenly awakening and instinctively glancing at his watch. “What is it, Bob?”
“I’ve got him! I’ve got him!” cried a voice savagely, and the tones were not those of Chunky. Then followed the sound of a struggle.
CHAPTER VI A STRANGE ENCOUNTER
Instantly all was in confusion in that part of the sleeping quarters where the three friends were berthed. Jerry leaped up, followed by Ned, and the tall lad flashed on the scene the gleam from his pocket electric torch.
He saw a strange sight. Bob was struggling in the grasp of a white-robed figure. The two were tumbling about, each one seemingly trying to get an advantageous grip on the other. And all the while the figure in white was shouting:
“I’ve got him! I’ve got him! I’ll kill him now! I’ve got him!”
While Bob, exerting himself to the utmost, could only gasp:
“Let up now! What’s the matter! Ned! Jerry! He’s killing me!”
Ned’s answer to this appeal was to leap on the back of the man who had Bob in what might prove to be a death-grip, while Jerry moved about to get in position where he, too, could help his chum.[46] Meanwhile, the tall lad kept his pocket electric lamp glowing.
“Who is he? What’s he fighting you for, Bob?” cried Jerry, while many other soldiers, awakened by the commotion, gathered about the struggling twain.
The only answer from the stout youth was a grunt, and a gasp.
“It’s le cochon!” cried Ned. “That’s who it is! The same fellow who acted so rotten in the restaurant, Jerry! He’s trying to kill Bob! He must be crazy!”
At first, as Jerry admitted afterward, this was his thought also. But a second look at Bob’s midnight assailant told a different story. This man had a shock of red hair, while the other had been almost bald. And there was a great difference in the physique of the two.
Ned was doing his best to pull the fellow away from Bob by a rear attack, and to this end Jerry likewise lent his aid. Other soldiers also joined in to separate the two struggling ones, and they worked to such good advantage that the desperate grip on Bob’s throat was broken, his attacker pulled away and his arms held behind him.
NED WAS DOING HIS BEST TO PULL THE FELLOW AWAY FROM BOB.
“Why it’s Meldon!” some one shouted. “It’s Meldon of the Twenty-seventh. He was in the hospital!”
And Meldon, if that was the name of the man[47] in white pajamas, looked wonderingly about him, passed his hand over his eyes as if in a daze, and murmured:
“Where am I? What happened?”
“Lots happened, old man,” answered Ned, himself panting from the violence of the struggle.
“Are you all right, Bob?” he asked his chum.
Bob carefully and tenderly felt of his throat before answering.
“I—I guess so,” he replied, after a pause. “But what’s the idea of giving me the once-over like that?” he demanded of his assailant.
The latter acted most strangely. He looked from one to the other of those about him, including those who held him tightly, and again, he passed his hand over his forehead, one arm having been released when it was seen that he was going to offer no more resistance.
At that moment, when every one was wondering what it all meant, a nurse came hurrying in.
“Here he is!” she called to a doctor who followed. “Is he hurt?” she asked the soldiers about the pajama-clad one.
“No,” answered Jerry. “But he came near——”
“Did he attack any one?” interposed the surgeon quickly.
“You might call it that,” answered Bob, with an attempt at a smile.
“Just what I feared!” exclaimed the medical man. “We’ll have to keep him under closer restraint.”
“Who is he, sir?” asked Jerry, saluting the surgeon, who bore the rank of major. “All we know is that we heard a commotion in the dark, and found my chum here, Bob Baker, struggling with this man.”
“Meldon is a private suffering from shell shock,” answered the doctor. “He has violent spells, and then gets up and imagines he’s attacking a German.”
The soldier in pajamas seemed to have become completely quiet now. He gently shook himself loose from those holding him, and, advancing to Bob, held out his hand.
“I’m all kinds of sorry, old man,” he said in a cultured voice. “These spells come on me before I know it, but they’re getting less frequent. All I know is that I went to sleep in my usual berth and woke up having a dickens of a fight. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. But it must have come on me in my sleep, and I thought I was back again fighting the Huns.”
“Well, as long as you did your share of that I’ll call it square,” said Bob, with a laugh. “At first I thought you were——”
He stopped, with a significant look at Ned and Jerry.
“Did you think I was a Boche, too?” asked the soldier who had caused the commotion.
“Well, not exactly,” Bob answered slowly, for he had been about to say that he had thought his assailant was none other than the queer little man—a thought shared by Ned and Jerry.
“Well, I hope it doesn’t happen again,” said the afflicted one. “And I’m sure it won’t. I’m getting better, I know.”
“We’ll keep him a little more confined than we have been doing,” said the doctor to Jerry and his friends, when the nurse had led away the shell-shocked individual. “This is the second or third time he has gotten loose in the night and started a fight. Fortunately, none of them ended seriously. Better let me look you over,” the medical major suggested to Bob. “He didn’t bite you anywhere, did he?”
“Not a bite!” answered Bob, with a laugh. “Though he did gouge me a bit on the neck.”
Bob’s throat was scratched by the other’s finger nails, and an antiseptic wash was applied to prevent any possible bad effect. Then such quiet as was possible under the circumstances replaced the midnight excitement.
“At first I thought it was le cochon,” remarked Ned in a low voice to his chums, as they turned in to get what sleep they could.
“That was my first idea when I awoke and[50] found him choking me,” admitted Bob. “Though I couldn’t form any good reason why he should want to put me out of business.”
“There’s something queer about le cochon,” declared Jerry. By common consent the boys had adopted that name for the strange little man. “Why should he be on board here where no civilians—or at least none unless specially qualified—are permitted? And why should he have such a feeling against Professor Snodgrass?”
“Those are questions I’d like to have answered,” said Ned. “Did either of you ever hear our professor speak of an individual who somewhat resembled him?”
“If he ever knew such to be a fact,” declared Jerry, “he’d never give it a thought or remember to tell us. All he thinks of is bugs, bugs, and then more bugs.”
“Guess you’re right,” assented Bob. “But this man must know our professor, and also have no liking for him, or he wouldn’t have called him such names as he did.”
“We oughtn’t to have stood for that!” said Ned vigorously.
“No,” agreed Jerry. “But it was better to let the thing go as it did. No use having too much of a row. Now let’s go to sleep. I’m tired.”
Next day the Sherman was many miles further out to sea on her homeward-bound voyage. Jerry[51] and his chums inquired for the soldier who had attacked Bob, and learned that he was progressing toward recovery as well as could be expected.
It was the third day out that, as Ned, Bob and Jerry were coming back from the “sick bay,” or hospital, where they had been to call on Meldon, and when they were walking along a dimly-lighted passage, they saw some one approaching them. As the passage was narrow they all squeezed back against the wall to let the person who was nearing them pass. But the latter, at the sight of the three boys, seemed to change his plans.
Instead of passing he turned suddenly, and, with a muttered exclamation, swung back. Not before, however, Jerry had time to notice that he carried a black object under one arm. And as soon as the tall lad observed this Ned exclaimed:
“What’s that funny smell? Isn’t it like a burning fuse?”
CHAPTER VII A MIDNIGHT BLAST
To Ned, Bob, and Jerry, as well as to other soldiers who had taken part in the Great War, the word “fuse” referred to but one thing, and that was the explosion which usually followed the lighting of it. The lads were familiar with many kind of fuses, from the ordinary time one, the most common form of which is the fizzing string attached to a firecracker, to the complicated fuses in the big shells. These may be set to explode the shell at any height, or at any time desired.
And when Ned, sniffing the air suspiciously, spoke of a fuse, his two companions understood at once what he meant. But Jerry perhaps because he did not want to cause an alarm, or it may have been because he really believed what he said, exclaimed:
“Fuse, my eye! That’s cigar smoke you smell!”
“Then all I have to say is that it’s a pretty poor specimen of cigar,” retorted Ned. “Must be one[53] of the substitute tobacco ones the Germans had to use. Cigar! My word, old top! I’m glad I don’t smoke if they have to inhale that sort of stuff.”
“It does smell funny,” agreed Bob. “And did you see who that was?”
“Our peppery friend, le cochon,” remarked Jerry. “He evidently didn’t want to meet us, for he turned away like a shot.”
“He had something under his arm,” went on Ned. “Fellows, I don’t want to be an alarmist, but after all that has passed, and smelling what I believe to be powder smoke, don’t you think we ought to tell the captain?”
“And get laughed at?” asked Jerry. “Not much. We got ourselves into a conspicuous position once by having something to do with this man, and I’m not going to risk it again. He, too, seems to have had enough of us, for it was evident that he didn’t want to meet us. Let well enough alone, I say.”
“Yes,” insisted Ned, “but suppose he’s been up to some trick here? Suppose he may have planted——”
Ned did not finish what he had started to say. For at that moment there was a commotion in that part of the ship given over to hospital needs, and loud cries indicated that something unusual was going on.
“What’s that?” asked Bob, looking at his two chums.
“Sounds as if some of the patients were making a row,” remarked Jerry. “It may be Meldon, the fellow who attacked you in a nightmare, Bob. Perhaps he’s having another spasm, poor fellow.”
“Maybe we’d better go back there and see if we can give any help,” suggested Ned. “Sometimes when they get to raving that way, as they often do, they’re stronger than usual and the women nurses can’t handle ’em. Let’s go and see if we can help.”
“It may be a good idea,” agreed Jerry.
Forgetting, or putting aside, rather, for the time being, the memory of the strange man they had met, and the odd manner in which he had acted, the three chums turned back to the hospital which they had just left.
And it was fortunate that they did. For two of the wounded men had become delirious and were fighting their nurses. And as it happened, there was only one doctor on duty just then, and he was having his hands full.
Of course the two patients did not know what they were doing, their pain and suffering having affected their brains temporarily, and the aid of Ned, Bob and Jerry in subduing them was greatly appreciated by the nurses. In fact, the help was absolutely necessary, for one of the nurses was in[55] danger of bodily harm from the unreasoning strength of the patient, a big raw-boned Kentucky mountaineer, who had been sorely wounded in the head, and who was scarcely on the road to recovery.
But, being directed by the nurses and by the one doctor, the Motor Boys soon managed to subdue without the use of undue force the two half-insane patients, who were soon strapped to their cots.
“Thank you very much, boys!” exclaimed the head surgeon, when he had come in and had been told of what had happened. “You helped out a whole lot. I shall see that you are officially thanked.”
“Oh, this wasn’t anything,” declared Jerry. “We just heard the row and came to do what we could.”
“Well, I, for one, am mighty glad of it,” exclaimed the panting nurse, who had been in danger from the attack of the crazed soldier. “I shall never forget it! I went through a good part of the war, and I didn’t want to have to wear a wound stripe on the way home,” and she nodded to the three chums.
“This bids fair to be an eventful voyage,” remarked Jerry, when he and his friends were up on the main deck again. “We started off with a bad omen— Bob has to fight[56] and now we rescue some of the nurses. I wonder what’s next on the program?”
“Don’t you think we’d better report what we saw down in the passage?” asked Ned, “and that we smelled what might have been a burning fuse?”
“Well, let’s first think it over a bit,” suggested Jerry. “I’d hate, like all get-out, to give a false alarm. Suppose we go to the ship captain, or our captain, which would be the proper procedure, and tell him what we saw? What evidence have we?”
“Well, we saw that pepper-hash individual with something black under his arm,” declared Ned.
“Might have been a box of cigarettes he was taking to some of the wounded men,” interposed Jerry.
“He ran back when he saw us,” persisted Ned.
“Yes, because of the encounter we had before,” agreed Jerry. “That doesn’t prove anything.”
“Well, I’m sure I smelled powder smoke—the same as when a bomb fuse is lighted,” declared Ned.
“You may have, and, again, you may have merely got a whiff of a bad, cheap cigar. That’s no evidence, so far. If we went to the captain with that information he’d only laugh at us.
“Besides,” went on Jerry, “you’ve got to have motives for suspecting any one, even le cochon.[57] And you can be pretty sure he didn’t get on board this troopship unless he was well vouched for. They aren’t taking any chances.”
“Well, maybe I’m imagining a whole lot,” admitted Ned. “Only I would like to know who that fellow is, what his game is, and why he seems to have such a grudge against our Professor Snodgrass.”
“Yes, I’d like the answer to those questions myself,” admitted Jerry. “But to get at them I don’t just feel like going to the Sherman’s captain and telling him we suspect the pepper-pot of being a German spy.”
“No,” assented Ned slowly, “I don’t suppose we can do that. But I’m going to keep my eyes open.”
“There wasn’t a sign of anything wrong when we came back through the passage where we met that duck,” remarked Bob.
“No. But it still smelled mighty queer,” stated Ned.
“It always will so near the hospital rooms,” suggested Jerry. “The odor of iodoform is very lingering.”
“Well, maybe it was that,” agreed Ned. “But I’m going to keep my eyes open.”
“Yes, we can all do that,” came from Jerry. “And now let’s get in line for the semi-occasional feed. It’s about due, I think.”
“You’re falling in with me, I see,” laughed Bob.
During the afternoon the three chums moved about on board the Sherman as much as the crowded condition of the transport would permit. And it was while making their way about the crowded boat deck that they heard some one hail them with:
“Well, if there aren’t the three musketeers!”
Turning quickly, Ned, Bob, and Jerry beheld a youth whom they had learned to know and like in the trenches.
“Well, if it isn’t old Hen Wilson!” cried Jerry.
“Old scout Hen!” added Ned.
“Where’d you blow in from?” demanded Bob.
“Been here all the while,” was the answer, as the four met in a jolly circle. “That’s what I was just going to ask you.