CHAPTER XI
ORDERED OVER THERE
The Leffingwell cook had prepared a regular crackerjack—no, a Leffingwell dinner; and Mr. Leffingwell begged the boys to say little about their adventures until they had had something to eat. As they all sat down at the table, Porky and Beany looked back over the couple of centuries or so that had passed since breakfast, and decided that since they had not had time for anything at all since that remote period, it would be a good thing to sample a few of the good things urged upon them by Barton, the butler.
Presently, that is along about the third helping of everything there was, the boys commented to tell about their day's adventures. They had an attentive audience; an audience that forgot to eat or say "Dear me suz!" or smoke. And it seemed as though they wanted to hear everything over at least three times. And the boys were willing to tell.
Before the meal was finished, the doctor came quietly in. He had been to look at Asa and, finding him asleep under the effects of the quieting tablet he had given him, he came to report to Mr. Leffingwell that his young guest was doing well.
"It won't lame him permanently, will it?" asked Colonel Bright.
"No, no danger of that unless there should be some infection, and I am sure there will be nothing of the sort. I wonder, Mr. Leffingwell, if it is possible to keep the boy here for a few days or a week? I hate to have him moved. Your man Timmins says he was talking about going to his home to-morrow.
"Well, I should say not!" exploded Mr. Leffingwell. "Where is
Timmins anyhow!"
"Sitting beside Asa," said the doctor. "Shall I call him?"
He tiptoed back to the boy's room, and in a moment returned, followed by Timmins, who stood just inside the doorway and looked inquiringly at Mr. Leffingwell.
"What's this, Timmins, about Asa's going home to-morrow? You get those fool notions out of Asa's head, and, Timmins, we will appoint you head nurse for a while. The lad seems to like you."
Timmins smiled and bowed. "Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" he said.
And at that moment the ice-cream came in. That Leffingwell cook!
The ice-cream was in the shape of little tents, with a silk flag
sticking gayly out of the ridge pole of each.
The boys noted with satisfaction that the tents were good-sized. They gave their whole attention to the work in hand, and the others seemed secretly to agree to put aside the day's excitements for a space.
After dinner they followed Mr. Leffingwell to his den, where Mrs. Potter took out her knitting. She had a very large knitting bag, and it seemed full of balls of wool.
Colonel Bright noticed it. "Looks as though you were going into the knitting game wholesale."
Mrs. Potter smiled. "Not quite," she said. "I am making two complete sets for a couple of young men who are going into the service."
Porky felt of the soft, light yarn. "I say—that's pretty good of you, mom. Who are your lucky friends?"
"That reminds me of something," said the Colonel. "I know a couple of lads, about like Porky and Beany here, who have been crazy to go across. I have been watching them for some time, and have about made up my mind that they would be a real help to me over there, and not a hindrance. So I have been pulling wires, and making plans, and I think it looks as though I can take them with me. It's just about the job you boys were joking about wanting."
"No joke at all!" said Porky bitterly. "Oh, gee; now some one else has it!"
"Why, you don't mean that you really meant it?" said the Colonel.
"I wish you had made it clear!"
"We couldn't have tried harder to make it clear unless we had hit you, Colonel," said Beany sadly.
"Well, that's too bad," said the Colonel. "These fellows are just about your age. Perhaps they seem older to me because they have had a lot of responsibility that has made them older. It's too bad."
"Never mind, Colonel," said Porky. "If the other fellows have fallen in luck, why, it's great for them. What, are you planning for them?"
"It's like this," said Colonel Bright, squinting up his eye as he puffed busily on his cigar.
"There's a lot of most important running around to do behind the lines in what is really a zone of safety: messages, and plans, and all that sort of thing, you understand, that have to be taken from one officer to another, and it seemed to me that it was better to have some one who knew that that was his whole job, and could give every minute to it, rather than depend on petty officers who were continually being ordered away. I thought it would save a lot of time and anxiety if I could have aides that were trained to just the service I required. So I reported the case to some of the big fellows in Washington, and they told me to go ahead. You see I've been in this army of ours so long that I suppose I have a sort of pull. Well, at any rate, that's how it is."
"And the fellows are going over with you?" asked Porky.
"It has the sort of look as though I was going with them, as it stands now. Of course orders are secret; but I would not be surprised if my men packed off in about a week. I have work in Washington, however, that may keep me there for another week at least, so I am to go over on a regular passenger boat, and the chaps I have spoken of will go with me."
"Gosh! What luck!" said Beany, looking at his brother. "Are they brothers?"
"They are related some way," said the Colonel, smoking at his cigar.
"Gosh! what luck!" said Porky, looking at Beany. "Always something to take the joy out of life!"
"You ought to be glad for 'em," said Mrs. Potter. "I declare, boys, I didn't know as there was a jealous hair in both your heads! How you do talk!"
"That's all right, mom," said Porky. "We are not jealous; only it was just exactly what we wanted to do, and it's a sort of jolt. Is that who the sweaters are for, mom?"
"Yes, I thought I might as well," said Mrs. Potter. She glanced at the Colonel. He was looking at his cigar. Mr. Leffingwell was staring at the ceiling. She glanced at Mr. Potter. His right eyelid quivered. "Yes," said Mrs. Potter, "Colonel Bright thought they might like to have them." She smiled at Porky and Beany—strange, soft, tender, sad, wonderful smile.
"Come, see if they are going to fit," she said.
Mr. Leffingwell blew his nose.
All the while that the preparations for the boys' journey went swiftly on, time, pain-filled and gloomy, dragged itself away in the two hospital rooms where the Wolf and the Weasel lay wounded. By carefully questioning his nurse, the Wolf, who was not so badly hurt as it was at first thought, found out that the Weasel was his next door neighbor. That question settled, the Wolf settled himself to the task of getting well. In a few days to the amazement of those attending him, he was able to sit up. They commenced leaving him alone for an hour or so at a time. Two days more, wrapped in a heavy bathrobe, he was lifted into a reclining chair, and allowed to look out of the window. How could the nurse guess that the moment she left, her helpless patient rose to his feet and falteringly at first, moved here and there about the room, stopping every moment or two to rest? When she returned she found him quietly seated, resting, as she had left him. He did indeed look tired and pale, so she hurried him back to bed. The next day and the next this was repeated. Then came his chance. His nurse was going to a lecture in the assembly room on the first floor. She would be gone a couple of hours.
She placed the Wolf in his chair by the window, looked at his bandages, set a bell beside him, and left a pile of magazines on the wide window sill at his elbow. Then, with repeated warnings to rest and not overdo, she left him.
As soon as he heard the last light pad-pad of the girl's rubber-heeled shoes, the Wolf stood up. He stood firmly. He tied the bathrobe about him and went to the door. There he waited, listening. All was quiet. He opened the door a little. As he did so, a nurse and a doctor came out of the Weasel's room, went slowly down the ball, and turned into a room at the corner. The Wolf listened more intently still, and went out into the hall. Between the room occupied by the Wolf and the one where the Weasel lay, there was a space. A table and a chair stood there. It was where the night nurse sat. On it was a writing tablet, pens, ink, and a couple of little bottles. One of them caught the eye of the Wolf. The blue color of the glass told him that it was a deadly poison even before lie read the label. He put it in his pocket.
Then he gently turned the handle of the door, and went in. For a moment he thought the room was empty. The shade at the window was drawn closed. The Wolf swept the room with a swift glance then his eyes rested on the bed.
Ah! Did you start then, ever so slightly, you cruel killer, you merciless destroyer? What good now is the blue vial in your pocket? Of what use the clenched fist, and writhing, clutching fingers? You have come too late, Wolf; you have lost your poor too! Look and look and look again at that peaceful bed. See how straight the sheet is and how decently it is drawn up. Go over, Wolf, and draw it down and see what it covers! Hurry, Wolf, because you have but little time to remain undisturbed! Already the nurse and doctor have finished making their report; already a narrow, white stretcher is being prepared.
For the last time in all your wicked life, black murder filled your heart, Wolf, but the Weasel has escaped you. The Wolf put the sheet back over the dead face of the Weasel and grating his teeth, stepped softly to the door. He slipped into the hall, but as he did so, he heard low voices, and instead of turning toward his own room, he went in the opposite direction where he saw a stairway. Unfortunately for him, the stairs led up instead of down. Slowly, silently, he climbed them; but not before he thought he heard a low exclamation from below. For some unforeseen reason the nurse and doctor had looked in the Wolf's room to see how he was getting on. The room of course was empty, and the Wolf knew a search would begin at once. How he cursed his fate that he was dressed only in his underwear and bathrobe! It would take a clever man indeed to escape in such garments. And escape he must. The Weasel was dead. He had killed him, and no one knew better than the Wolf that he would be made to pay the whole penalty. Adolph was dead, the Weasel was dead, Ledermann had jumped into the river to escape his pursuers and had drowned. And here was he, the Wolf, trapped-at bay. He slipped into the first door at hand. It was a large hall used for a gymnasium for the nurses. There were steps at the door. He looked about. There was not a place to hide. Hurrying to the window as fast as his feeble strength would permit, he raised the sash and looked out. There, outside the window, was a fire-escape. Without an instant's hesitation, he stepped out and placed his slippered foot on the narrow tread of the iron ladder. His head was swimming from weakness. He heard an exclamation from above and looked up.
For an instant he made out the faces of the nurse and doctor against the sky above him. Then the nurse disappeared, and the doctor stepped out on the sill. He was going to follow; the nurse had gone for help. There was one thing to do: hurry—hurry! Once more the Wolf looked up at his pursuer. He laughed his own sneering, cruel laugh. The ladder seemed to swing and sway dizzily. It was like being at the top of a tall mast in a heavy sea. He clutched the ladder. Then everything grew dark, guns boomed in his ears, his grasp loosened and the last long night and the last long silence wrapped him like a cloak.
The Weasel had bitten to the bone.
Crushed and mangled, they lifted the Wolf from the pavement five stories below, and taking him into the hospital once more for a little while, laid him in the chamber of death beside the stretcher where the Weasel rested with that new look in his face. But the nurse who had cared for the Weasel knew the manner of his going, and rolled his stretcher away across the room. She would not let him lie even in death beside the other.
The very next afternoon the telephone rang.
Mrs. Potter and Beany and Asa listened, while Porky said, "Yes, sir," a dozen times and "All right, sir," until Beany twitched with nervous excitement.
When he put up the receiver, everybody said, "Well?" at the same time.
Porky went over and kissed his mother. It was real easy to do, those days. A fellow wanted to kiss his mother.
"Well?" said everybody again.
Timmins hovered in the doorway.
"To-morrow," said Porky with a sort of solemnity.
No one spoke. Then "What time?" said Beany.
"Six o'clock, morning," answered Porky.
"You know, mom, there's no chance of our getting hurt," said
Beany.
"How you do talk!" said Mrs. Potter. She did not look up, however. She was finishing the second sweater, and gave it her whole attention.
"Naw!" said Porky. "Not a chance in the world! We will be home before you know it, with a lot of good stories to tell you. Perhaps we will bring you some loot. Wouldn't you like something to remember the War by?"
"Just you look out for yourselves," said Mrs. Potter. "I'd like a couple of boys sent home safe and sound. That's what I'd like to remember things by." She stabbed the needles through her knitting and, rising, left the room. The boys looked after her. Beany made a move to follow, but his brother pushed him back.
"Let her alone," he said. "She likes to be brave."
That evening passed like lightning, although all the traps had been ready for days. Gladdis, the cook, had baked them a wonderful fruit cake, and Mr. Leffingwell came home with four new comfort kits and a portable typewriter for each one—a little typewriter that would go in one end of a suit-case.
Everybody seemed more than happy, quite noisy, in fact. There was not a moment when anybody felt the least bit—the least bit— well, you know! That is, not a moment except just at bedtime. Then Mrs. Potter came into the boys' room, and gave them each a little, thin package. She just handed it to them and kissed them goodnight, and went out.
"Let's see what they are," said Porky. There were two little leather cases. Inside were Mom Potter's pretty, motherly dear face, and pop's splendid, homely countenance. Porky jerked out the light.
The following morning, Mr. Leffingwell's car, crowded with the whole family, was the first to arrive at the station. The Potter boys wandered restlessly about until Colonel Bright, followed by his wife and daughter and a Japanese house-man loaded with rugs and bags, came breezing in with a hearty greeting for everybody.
Mr. Leffingwell bustled about, tipping everybody he could find to tip. Timmins and the elevator boy took Asa out on the platform and sat him on a truck where he could see everybody the very last minute. And all at once it was the very last minute; and somehow everybody had shaken hands and had talked loudly, and the boys had kissed their mother—a kiss to be remembered, and had swung on board. The train started. The boys strained for one last look at their parents. They thought they smiled.
Asa turned to Timmins.
"Gee, the light hurts a feller's eyes," he said.