The Boy Scouts in Front of Warsaw

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Warren smiled. "Try some other plan, Evvy," he said. "They wouldn't be
apt to wait while you found a window and scratched a letter on it."

"You never can tell," said the girl. "Anyhow, that is what I would try
to do. Get up now, Warren, I have a nice hot breakfast for you. Ivan
is dressed and has been out getting things to eat."

Warren hurried down and enjoyed the nice breakfast his sister had
prepared. Jack, who had had his meal earlier, was awkwardly holding
the baby, and seemed quite overcome by the task.

Breakfast over, Warren went with Ivan to the door, and stood for a
moment looking down the street. A couple of men, very evil looking and
dark browed, approached slowly, and passed on in the direction of the
open market. Ivan glanced carelessly at the pair, then stifled an
exclamation of surprise. As they reached a safe distance, lie clutched
Warren by the arm.

"Look, look!" he cried. "Those are the two men who were with the woman
with the sacks."

"What!" cried Warren tensely. "Come!" He started out, and together
they followed the two men.

"What are you going to do?" asked Ivan.

"Shadow them until I find where they stay. That woman is no doubt
there, wherever that is."

"I follow," said Ivan briefly.

Warren paused. "You can't come," he said regretfully. "Someone has
got to look after dad, and as this is a dangerous job, it is my right,
as the older, to do it. I wish you could come, but you see how it is,
don't you?"

"I suppose so," said Ivan mournfully, "but get back so soon as you
can. And if you find Elinor, and need help about getting her away,
come back or send, and I will bring all the Scouts down."

The boys shook hands and parted, Ivan hurrying back to the house with
the news, while the soiled work boy slouched along after the two
skulking villains ahead.

At the open market a few hucksters, braver than most, were selling meat
and vegetables to as many as dared come and buy. The men ahead bought
freely as though money was plenty. Laden down with supplies, they
finally turned and, walking rapidly, plunged down toward the river
where the narrow, twisted streets invited criminals of every kind.

Warren, following them as far off as possible, had to act and think
quickly at times in order to keep track of them. Finally they turned
into a street or alley leading directly to the river, and as Warren
hurried after them they disappeared as suddenly as though they had sunk
into the earth. Warren darted forward.

It was a row of dismal, crowded houses, and Warren was too far away to
know just where the men had turned in. They had disappeared within one
of the doors, and Warren walked openly and boldly along, studying each
house. It was a rash and reckless thing to do.

Warren forgot the teachings of his order, for there is nothing more
persistently urged on a Boy Scout than caution. If Warren had not been
so intensely excited, he would have remembered this. But of course his
excitement was an excuse for forgetting. It is when we are in
dangerous and exciting situations that we must train ourselves to have
every faculty at our command.

It is the commonest thing in the world to hear people tell what they
might have done, and unfold plans conceived after the necessity for
them was past. Such plans make good reading, but poor history.

Warren, of course, tramping hastily down a deserted street, lay open to
disaster, and the defeat of his purpose. If he had reconnoitered as
carefully as he had followed his game, he would have been able to
locate them without the least suspicion on their part that they had
been shadowed. It then would have been simple to have watched for some
unguarded moment, when the boys could easily have gained entrance to
their quarters and secured the children.

There is no great deed accomplished in this world where caution does
not play a great part. In war, in business, in sports, the man who
looms the biggest after the game is done and people have the time to
study things, is the man who had never once failed to exercise a proper
amount of caution. In a fairy story this warning is given: "Be bold;
be bold -- but not too bold."

You see caution does not question or hesitate or delay too long.
Caution keeps right on, but slowly and with a careful regard to safe
footing. Caution keeps you from rocking the boat, and pointing the
loaded gun, and skating near the thin ice. It keeps you from the heels
of the kicking horse. It makes the good general save his men.

Warren forgot. After blocks and blocks of trailing, he bolted down the
street, examining each house with anxious excitement.

Finally he discovered footmarks leading toward a dark, heavy door, and
he stood looking the place over. It was a tall, narrow place which
had, centuries past, been used as a dwelling. What it was at present
Warren could not guess, unless it had fallen to the level of the damp,
rat infested hovel where crime and disease are bred daily in old towns
like Warsaw. Strange carvings of dragons and monsters upheld the eaves
and formed the heavy water spouts. The tiny, windows were bare and
curtainless. They swung open in the wind that blew from the Vistula.

Warren stood looking. He was all alone in the street

CHAPTER IV

HOT ON THE TRAIL

The men had disappeared, and there seemed no further need for caution.
As Warren approached nearer, he noted the dark, tumbledown building,
which looked as though it had been a ruin for centuries, dismal and
uninhabited. Only one thing was noteworthy. The door, a stout one
heavily barred with ornamental straps of ancient and rusty iron, was
fitted with strong, modern hinges, and had been closely fitted in anew
frame. Warren's keen eye quickly grasped these details as he sauntered
past, and stopped before 'the building, but what he did not see, and
could not guess, was the tiny auger hole bored close to one of the iron
frets. Behind that hole stood a man in whose cunning brain suspicion
lurked; and Warren did not know that after that close scrutiny the
trained eye of one of the basest murderers and criminals in Poland
would now recognize him, no matter where they met.

Warren knew that he must gain access to the den, but how?

Thinking rapidly, he resolved to wait until the men again left the
place, when he would rap at the door, and try to get in on whatever
excuse he might need to invent when the moment arrived. He crossed the
street, and entered an abandoned building. For two hours he waited in.
biding, never suspecting the anxious scrutiny he himself was
undergoing.

His wrist watch told him that noon was past. There was no sign of life
in the street. Remembering the loads of provisions that the men had
carried, he decided that they did not intend to come out of their
hiding place until nightfall. That would give him time to return,
report to the anxious watchers at home, and consult with Ivan and the
other Boy Scouts.

With Warren, to decide was to act. He hurried through the shattered
streets, wondering what the careful Evelyn had kept for him to eat.

As he turned the corner he saw before the house a group of people who
seemed to be regarding it curiously. Warren hastened his steps.
Pushing through the group, he entered. The door, torn from its hinges,
swung against the wall. In the hall a heavy chest of drawers was
overturned and the drawers piled together on the floor. The contents
were scattered everywhere. Calling the names of the family, Warren
dashed through the rooms, vainly hoping to find some trace of his
people, or some explanation of the new disaster. Returning to the
door, he appealed to the bystanders. What had happened? They told him
that they had come down the street just in time to see the soldiers
leading off a group of people. More than that they did not know. They
supposed that they were now dead. It was what happened in war.

Warren returned to the house, his head whirling. This seemed the last
and most crushing blow. To have such a thing happen just as he was
about to rescue his little sister and reunite the family! He could not
imagine why this thing should have been done. Why should any soldiers
molest American citizens?

Utterly overcome, he sank down in a chair by the window and leaned his
head on the sill. All gone! He did not know what to do. His quick
and clever brain for the moment refused to act. He raised his head and
looked dully out into the street where the group of curious people was
slowly moving away. For a long time he stared, then his eyes suddenly
set themselves on something nearer. Dumfounded, unbelieving, he
glared. It seemed that he could hear Evelyn's voice, Evelyn's own
words.

"If anyone kidnapped me," she had said, "I think if I had my diamond on
I would try to scratch a message on the window pane."

Indeed, her mother's ring had served her well. Before Warren's eyes,
on the glass, Evelyn had left her message:

"Arrested as spies. Ac't dad's book. Taken to camp. Find Ivan. Tell
Consul. Help."

Clutching the arms of his chair, Warren sat staring at the message on
the window pane. He read it over and over. A curious feeling that his
eyes were tricking him possessed him. He reached out and rubbed the
message slowly, fully expecting it to disappear. The letters felt
rough under his fingers. It was really written there with Evelyn's
diamond. Still unbelief possessed him. How had it happened that she
had foreseen this dreadful mischance clearly enough, in some mysterious
way, to plan the delivery of the saving message?

As Warren looked, the events of the last few crowded days seemed to
rise up and bear him down under their horror and immensity. He sat
clutching the arms of his chair, and with unseeing eyes stared and
stared at the letters. All at once he felt very young, very helpless,
very lonely.

America, his own dear country, with its safety and its careless,
unthinking haphazard hospitality for every living person who seeks her
shores; America seemed suddenly to be set farther than the farthest
star.

Like most American boys, Warren was clever, shrewd and ingenious. Life
with Professor Morris had trained him in ingenuity and efficiency.
Since his earliest remembrance it had fallen to his lot to act as the
head of his family, making decisions that usually are the sole right of
fathers and guardians. But now, under conditions of horror and
tragedy, he realized that he was after all only a boy; and the thought
came to him that he and his, dear and infinitely precious as they were
to each other, counted not at all in the great tragedy of war.

Who was there to help? The American Consul was powerless for the time,
if he could be found. Warren knew that the portion of the city where
he had lived was a shapeless ruin.

The boy continued to sit motionless in his chair, desperately,
desperately puzzling the dark mystery.

Gradually in Warren's dazed mind the whole affair took definite shape.
They were gone; arrested on suspicion. For the moment at least he felt
sure they were safe, even in the hands of an enemy who had shown
themselves utterly cruel and heartless. He felt sure that if they were
suspected of being spies every effort would be made to make them
confess before they were executed, if it did indeed come near that
question.

But "Find Ivan." What did that mean? Evidently Ivan was not with
them. As though in answer to his thought, Warren heard or thought he
heard a faint shout. He listened. It was repeated, with a sound of
pounding and banging. Once more Warren searched the house, beginning
with the old dusty, rambling attic set close under the great beams of
the old house. Down he hurried, from room to room, looking in presses,
under beds, and listening in each room.

As he reached the kitchen, the sound seemed clearer. It was Ivan's
voice. He opened the cellar stairs and went down. Once, years, even
generations past, the house had been the residence of a noble. The
cellar was not the one or two rooms of the modern house. It was vast
and vaulted and contained a dozen dark, unlighted apartments, all with
heavy, iron-barred, oaken doors.

Professor Morris said that two of the rooms had been used as dungeons
and it was in one of these that Warren found Ivan. He stumbled over
him as be opened the door. The boy was bound, but lying on his back,
so had been able to hammer on the door with his feet. The sound of
pounding had carried even better than his shouts.

Warren hastily untied the cords that secured him and helped him up the
stairs. He was stiff and sore from the cramped position, but once in
the upper rooms, he took a deep breath, and proceeded to tell Warren
the events of the morning.

Once more Professor Morris was the cause of the disaster. The
Professor was, fortunately, of uncommon type. He was a modest man --
so modest that it even ceased to be a virtue, and became an annoying
and irritating trait. He never stood up for himself, nor for his
family in any way.

The saying, "Generous to a fault" likewise applied to him. He was a
spendthrift in kindness, giving not only money needed for himself and
the children, but bestowing his time when he needed it himself. His
learning he gave recklessly, too, writing long, learned articles for
little or no pay, and without a thought that the material given away
was just so much capital.

But of one thing he was jealous, careful and touchy. His book, his
almost completed work on Warsaw. It was to be a book of books, so
clear, so accurate, so full of new f acts that it would be a treasure
among the literary treasures of his time. Professor Morris believed in
the book with the conviction that comes to writers when they have done
something really good. He knew it was fine. It was more than a
history of the beautiful and fated city. It was written in such
golden, flowing English that the hardest and driest facts in its pages
were polished and placed like jewels of great price in their
descriptive setting. And they were jewels. He had mined them out of
strange places in that ancient town. He had taken his time and in
digging for his beloved facts, he had found many an unexpected wonder.

Knowing his father as he did, Warren could see the story told by Ivan
as plainly as though he had been present. One thing made him smile as
he recalled it. His father would not use a typewriter, and anything
written in his strange, cramped hand would look suspicions at once.
And he knew, too, that his father would resent even the touch of
strangers on the beloved pages. He smiled a little bitterly.

"Go on, Ivan," he said. "Let's hear it all."

"A detachment of soldiers came down the street," said Ivan, rubbing his
lame muscles, "and as they came they looked through every house. I
suppose they were on the lookout for troops of our soldiers. When
they reached this place, your father met them at door and talked a
moment with the officer in charge. Of course Evelyn and I did not know
what they said, but the officer grew angry and your father just stood
there and smiled and shook his head. Then Evelyn went to your father
and as soon as the officer saw her he bowed very low, and in English
said, 'Prettee, prettee.' Evelyn came back to us and took the baby
from Jack.

"Then the door slammed, and we heard the big bolt fall, and your father
dragged that big chest across it and came in as pleased as could be.
He said, 'There, I have settled that! Such impertinence! They wanted
to search my house!'

"But at that, blows fell on the door and presently it fell and the
soldiers rushed in. Your father had his book and was trying to hide it
in the lining of a chair. Of course they at once thought it must be
plans or something of the sort, and Professor would not tell them a
thing and we couldn't because we could not make them understand that it
was just a book about the history of Warsaw.

When they took it from your father, of course he resisted, and that
settled the matter. We had to go to the headquarters. Of course, your
father would have followed his book wherever that went. As we started,
the officer took Evelyn by the arm, and I think I hit him pretty hard
for it. Anyway he gave a command, and a dozen big fellows took me and
tied me up and carried me down here. It is a good thing you came,
Warren." He shuddered as he thought of the possible ending that his
adventure might have had.

Warren was deep in thought. One event pressed so closely on another
that things lost their significance and importance.

"We have got to get a hustle on now," he said.

"Your American hustle-on; that means act quickly, does it not?" said
Ivan. "We must indeed hustle on. Let us find where they are, and then
apply to your Consul."

"That's all right," said Warren, "but I don't think they are in any
immediate danger and I think the first thing to do is to got hold of
Elinor."

"Get hold of her," said Ivan. "Do you know where she is?"

"Yes, I think I have found her," said Warren and commencing at the
moment when the boys parted on the street, be gave Ivan an account of
his morning's discoveries.

"Good! Good!" said Ivan. "We will go together this time, and together
we will rescue our pretty little Elinor. Have you made any plans?"

"No, I haven't," confessed Warren. "I don't know what ails me; I seem
to be perfectly brainless today. It looks like I am losing everybody
that belongs to me."

Ivan shrugged his shoulders. "Look at me," he said. "My mother long
dead, my father somewhere on the field of battle, or lying dead in the
trenches. I do not know; but I must not think. What I want to do is
to save Professor Morris, my second father, and Evelyn and Jack and
Elinor, who are as sisters and brother to me. Let us start and plan as
we go."

"Have you any money?" asked Warren. "I have not a single copper."

"Nor I, " said Ivan.

"We ought to have some," said Warren. "We might have to bribe those
people."

Ivan laughed, and felt down his blouse. "This might help," he said.
"I hate to give the small one up. It has been in the family, always
worn by the eldest son, for more generations than I know; but if we
have to give it, it will come back. It always has." He offered Warren
two rings, magnificent jewels.

Warren shook his head. "I hope we won't have to use them," he said.

"What of that?" said Ivan. "Jewels, even family jewels, do not count
for much beside the dear ones. Ah, Warren," said Ivan, "it is hard for
boys to talk, even here in Poland, where it is easier to say what is in
one's heart than it seems to be with you Americans. But let me tell
you now all that I think. We do not know what we may get into today,
what peril -- maybe death. I feel danger approaching; I cannot say
how. All the people of my house have been able to foresee disaster.
What it is I know not. So I will say that so long as I do live, I will
never cease to love you and yours. I want you to take this ring that
we have held so long and if we are parted, wear it for the sake of
Prince Ivan of Poland."

Warren swallowed hastily. "Same here!" he said. "You know darned well
I'm strong for you, Old Ivy Scout." He felt hastily in all his
pockets. "Haven't a thing to swap," be continued, "not a --" He drew
out his hand with something in it. "Guess this will have to do," he
said. "It's a buffalo nickel, but I brought it from home. You can
have it."

"Thank you so much. I will always keep it," said Ivan. It was so.
Years after, if Warren could have looked into the future, he would have
seen a magnificent figure at court, one decoration on his jeweled
breast being a coin around which sparkled a double row of priceless
diamonds. The coin was only, a nickel but that mattered not to Prince
Ivan.

As the boys approached the street where Warren had located the house of
the thieves, they decided to hide for a little in the ruins across the
street, and watch for awhile in the hope that the door might open, or
the two men come out.

They made the approach one at a time, and settled down for a long
wait. An hour or more went by, and all at once Warren stuck out a long
leg and noiselessly kicked Ivan. The oaken door across the street was
ajar. Just a crack, and for a long time it remained so, while the boys
scarcely breathed.

It opened slowly, and the two men came cautiously out. They did not
glance across the street, but looking carefully up and down the crooked
alley, closed the door carelessly, and went off at a brisk gait without
a glance behind.

The boys looked at each other.

"Now!" said Ivan.

"Wait!" answered Warren. "Give them time. No doubt they will be gone
most of the night."

There was a long silence, then glancing at his watch, Warren said,
"Come! Do you see that door? They did not latch it. I don't believe
there is a soul over there but the woman. There is just one thing to
do. Go over and look in; and if she is alone we will rush her, tie her
up and get off with the children. We can do it."

"That's the only thing to do," said Ivan. "Let's go."

The street was deserted as they crossed it and stepped close to the
oaken door. It was ajar, and they could see the interior of the dark,
prison-like room. The woman was there bending over a pot that swung on
a crane in the fireplace. A heap of filthy rags was in a corner near
by, and lying there was little Elinor and the strange child Rika. A
sob rose in Warren's throat as he saw his sister, so pale and thin and
terrified she looked. He heard Ivan's breath come sharply.

"Let's rush!" he said.

"You can't!" answered Ivan. "Don't you see the chain on the inside of
the door?"

"It's light, we can break that," answered Warren. "Get yourself
together. When I say three, throw your whole weight. Grab the woman
as quickly as you can."

"All right," said Ivan.

Warren stepped back a space and held himself for a spring.

"One, two," he counted slowly. "Three" was never uttered. He heard a
strange cry from Ivan; and as he did so, a frightful blow from some
heavy, blunt instrument struck him squarely. He crumpled down
unconscious.

Ivan, behind him, evaded the blow aimed at his head by the second
ruffian, and quick as a panther stood back to the wall, gazing at his
assailant.

"Hands down," said the man, grinning evilly. "Hands down before I
brain you!"

"What do you want with us?" demanded Ivan.

The man laughed.

"What would we want of eavesdroppers and spies? This is our house,
poor as it is. We will guard it when young thieves like you come
peering in the cracks.

What did you think to steal of honest men as poor as yourselves? Your
friend here deserves his broken head. Must I give you one, or will you
come with me peaceably?"

"I'll come if you will tell me what you are going to do with us," said
Ivan.

Again the man laughed, and with his foot shoved the body of Warren
lying motionless on the ground.

"Come on," said the other man. "Why waste words? Get hold of him and
bring him along!"

"Let me have my way," said the man standing over Ivan. "This amuses
me. Come, come, young one, what will you - obedience or a broken
head?"

Ivan was silent, then he spoke. "I won't fight," he said. "You are
too big, but I won't go in that door with you."

"So!" said the man. "Then we do it in this fashion." He made a rush
at Ivan and seizing him in his arms, held him until the other man
lifted Warren and so, half carrying and half dragging Ivan, he followed
through the dungeon-like doorway into the gloom and chill of the great
room beyond.

CHAPTER V

IN THE ENEMY'S HANDS

Ivan's first impression was of a dead, heavy chill which the fire
burning in the great fireplace at the other end of the vast room was
powerless to lighten. The place was half underground, and what light
entered was filtered through dusty and cobwebbed panes of leaded glass
set high under the vaulted roof. The windows partially lighted the
heavy oak beams which supported the ceiling, but the lower parts of the
room lay in deep shadow. Emblems and rude pictures were scratched and
chalked on the walls, but Ivan could not make them out in the dim
light.

Running the width of the room before the fireplace was a massive table,
and on either side of it were benches built where they stood. From the
size and strength of them, they might have been intended for the use of
a race of giants or exceedingly fat men! Their carved bases spread
heavily apart, and huge dragon claw feet braced them on the floor
which, beneath and around the table, was carefully paved with stone.

At one side of the fireplace a great pile of wood was placed, broken
and splintered pieces picked up from the buildings which had been
shelled by the great guns of the enemy. Bits of oaken beams, pieces of
rare, highly polished furniture, and scraps of priceless carvings made
the pile which soon would go in flames to cook the wretched supper even
then in course of preparation.

A woman stood by the table, scraping scales from a fish. A heavy knife
was in her hand, and as she raised her dark and scowling face Ivan
recognized her and shuddered.

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