“Well, hardly that,” continued the other hastily. “You know there have been all sorts of stories in the papers about plots hatched and engineered in the States by those whose sympathies are with Germany, and who feel furious because of the never-ending trains loaded with munitions, soldiers, food, aeroplane parts, motor trucks, and such things that an army in the field would require—these all heading across Canada, and aiming for the ports where steamers are waiting to carry cargoes to Great Britain. It would make these German sympathizers joyous if only something might happen to cut off this endless chain of supplies for the Allies.”
“Yes,” added Tubby eagerly. “I’ve read where the folks down in Washington are dreadfully alarmed lest one of these terrible schemes may succeed. You recall how the President enjoined everybody in the States to be strictly neutral, and not to lift a hand toward doing anything that might be reckoned an unfriendly or unneighborly act by the aroused people of Canada? So now the Government on both sides is keeping an extra guard along the border, in order to nip any such black scheme in the bud.”
“I’ve been told that’s the case,” Rob assured them. The talk went on along the same lines until finally the scout master, jumping up, announced:
“Well, we’ve rested long enough, I guess! We’d better put our best foot forward if we hope to get anywhere near that logging camp close to the border. So pick up your packs, fellows, and we’ll be off!”
“Oh, listen to that, would you!” cried Tubby excitedly. “It sounded just like the far-away whistle of a railroad locomotive.”
“A good guess, Tubby,” chuckled Andy, “because that’s just what it was. I half expected you’d ask Rob if it could be the scream of one of those Canadian lynx we’ve heard tell about are to be found up here.”
They were conversing while walking, and once again the whistle sounded. Even Tubby could tell now that it came from the northwest. There was also a faint rumbling sound that indicated the passage of a heavy train over a trestle, miles away.
“Yes, the Great Canadian Railway runs close to the boundary along here somewhere,” Rob said, “and I suppose we’ll often hear distant whistles, for the traffic at present must be unusually heavy. That’s likely a long train filled with grain, and all sorts of valuable supplies that are being sent from the rich Saskatchewan and Alberta country, as an offering from the Canadian Northwest granary. It means another nail in the coffin of the Germans, when it reaches the land across the sea. All day long, and night, too, at intervals, those trains are running, carrying millions and millions of dollars’ worth of supplies.”
“Huh!” chuckled Tubby, “if a German only chanced to live around here, he’d have to stuff cotton in his ears to shut out the sound; because each rumble of trains would mean to him more trouble for his friends across the sea.”
They pushed on for some time. Rob evidently had his plan of campaign well figured out, for he now turned sharply to the left and headed almost due west. Apparently he fancied he was as near the International Boundary as there might be any need of going; and that the lone logging camp must lie farther along the new course.