“If you need any extra pilotin’,” spoke up Big Zeb, “count on this chicken to do his best to kerry ye through.”
“Then you mean to keep with us, do you, Zeb?” asked the scout master.
“I sartin do; that is, if ye want me along,” the guide replied. “I’m an American born, and p’raps haven’t had as much friendly feelin’ for the Canucks ’cross the line as I might in times past, but, sir, when I hears how they are volunteerin’ by the tens of thousands an’ goin’ away ’cross the ocean to fight ’ginst the Kaiser, I begins to change my idees consarnin’ that brood. Now I thinks they air all to the good, an’ I takes off my hat to them. Yes, an’ arter hearin’ what meanness this ’ere batch o’ schemers is up to, I’d walk all the way to Labrador to upset their ugly game; that’s me, Zeb Crooks, Maine woods guide.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that, Zeb,” said Rob heartily. “If you’d seen the terrible sights we did in Belgium and northern France, you’d feel that there was need for sympathy for those who are risking their lives to crush all military spirit and prevent a world war like this from ever happening again as long as men people the earth. That’s what’s taking these Canadian boys away from their homes, nearly four hundred thousand of them. It isn’t alone that the empire they belong to is in danger, but the whole world is on fire, and the conflagration must be quenched. They believe it can be done only in one way, which is by winning this war. Of course, the Germans and their allies say it’s just the opposite and that they are fighting for their very existence. Well, there’s the camp!”
They could just glimpse delicate lances of light which managed to escape through the cracks or chinks between the logs that had not been fully filled afresh when the hunting party took possession of the bunk-house.
A minute afterward Andy was pounding at the door, but there was little necessity for this summons, because the listening scout within had heard the murmur of their voices and was already fumbling with the bar. So the friendly door was quickly flung wide open, and Donald found himself ushered into a warm and hospitable interior.
He and Tubby stared at each other, and with reason. Donald on his part may have thought that never before had he run across so fat a youth as Tubby Hopkins, who seemed to be fairly bursting his khaki clothes with plumpness. On his part, Tubby was naturally consumed with a burning curiosity concerning this young stranger—who he could be; what had happened to make him have such a perceptible limp; and, above all, why were Rob and Andy seeming to be in such a stupendous hurry?
“Sit right down here, Donald,” said the scout master, indicating a rude bark chair close to the cheery blaze, “and I’ll look up that magical salve. I know where I put it away in my pack. I give you my word you’ll find it just the thing to soothe that bruised leg of yours. Andy, tell Tubby what’s happened, and about our plan of campaign for invading Canada this very night.”
“W-w-what?” gasped the other, his face the picture of both amazement and consternation.
“Oh, that’s nothing, Tubby!” remarked Andy airily. “Now don’t go to suspecting that we’re meaning to do anything that’s wrong. Just the other way, for the boot’s on the other foot, since this is going to be an errand of mercy and meant to keep Uncle Sam from being accused of a grave breach of neutrality by the folks up in Ottawa.”