The Boy Scouts at the Canadian Border

by John Henry Goldfrap

The closer they drew the more violently did Andy’s heart pump. His excitement kept on growing by leaps and bounds. This, then, was to be the culmination of the remarkable adventure that had come to them so unsolicited during their visit to the woods of northern Maine. He wondered whether these two men were going to resist arrest, even when outnumbered three to one. That they were desperate characters went without saying, and they must know what their fate was likely to be, once the military authorities of Canada had them in their hands.

So Andy fingered his gun, and made up his mind how far he would be justified in using it under the conditions. As a scout, he had no business to seek glory such as a soldier would seek to attain; and yet there may be occasions when even a peace-loving scout, bound by the vows of his order, must display loyalty and courage, and be ready to defend the weak against a bully. He should also, Andy felt confident, be prompt to stand up for the laws of neutrality, and consider it his bounden duty to aid the authorities of a neighboring community to stop any bold raid that threatened to disrupt the peace.

Yes, it must be admitted that impulsive Andy was about ready to make stern use of his gun, if the occasion demanded such a necessity. He could aim so as to only wound the fellow at whom he fired; that was the extent his activity in the affair ought to reach, Andy decided, though for that matter, if the conspirators were bound to be set up before a firing squad anyhow they would be no worse off if they paid the full debt now.

The lieutenant interrupted his reflections, grim as they were becoming, nor was Andy sorry for it. Drawing their heads close together, the officer gave his last orders in the ears of his three followers. He had decided that they would stand a far better chance of advancing close in, without the risk of discovery, if they veered a little to the left, and then continued to creep up.

Rob saw that the scheme was a good one, for in that quarter lay a fringe of bushes that seemed dense enough to effectually conceal their movements. Once behind this barrier, they would feel more free to move as they pleased. It seemed that these accommodating bushes kept right on until only fifty feet away from the fire itself.

Really nothing better could have been devised. If he had had the management of the scheme in his own hands, Rob did not see how he could have improved upon the lieutenant’s plan of action.

By now it was probable that Zeb and the two privates were nearing their post, having crept around the camp as ordered. In good time the signals arranged for could be exchanged, to make sure that all was ready; then the command to rise up and advance would be next in order—after that it depended on the state of desperation that would assail the fugitives whether any fighting must ensue, or the capture be carried out without bloodshed.

As the quartette of creepers drew near the terminus of the bush fringe they grew more and more cautious. By now they had reached a point so close to the fire that they plainly heard some one give vent to a laugh. This would seemingly indicate that while the plotters might be a desperate lot, at the same time their recent escapade had not entirely demoralized them. Andy felt a strange sensation creeping over him. He knew it could not be fear, because Andy always boasted that he had never experienced such a silly thing in all his life; and certainly there was no occasion for it now; indeed, the boot was on the other foot, and it should be these two trapped rascals who hovered near a condition of collapse after their recent narrow escape, and with peril still overshadowing them.

When Andy first peered out between the bushes he anticipated seeing a pair of desperadoes who, by their fierce appearance, would have shamed all the villains depicted on the screen at the movies. He had quite a shock when he discovered that nothing of the sort greeted his vision. In fact, had Andy happened on this camp by accident, knowing nothing about the bold raid across the border, he would never have suspected that two such dreadful villains could masquerade under such ordinary exteriors.

One of the men was tall and dark, with straight black hair, and a certain dignified way of doing his menial duties, for he was actually washing up a few tin dishes at the time—no, Andy corrected himself, for a second look told him these were of aluminum ware, the most expensive outfit any camper can purchase, and much preferable to any other on account of extreme lightness.