The Boy Scouts in Front of Warsaw

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"It is all over, Ivan," he whispered. "They have killed them."

Ivan pondered. "I don't know," he said finally. "One thing is sure,
if all those soldiers could not find them, it is certain we can't.
They are either safe, Warren, or else they are where we can never help
them any more. It seems to me that the only thing to do now is to go
straight to Lodz and find Elinor."

"Yes, that is the only thing to do," said Warren. "If I let myself
think about Evelyn, I will go mad. We will go to Lodz."

"How?" asked Ivan.

"We will have to walk," replied Warren.

"Well, I hope we can get a lift someway or other," said Ivan. "At any
rate, we must get out of this. I know every step of this part of the
city. This place belongs to Prince Nicholani. I used to play all the
time in this park."

He led the way rapidly through the beautiful grounds and entered a
grove of noble trees. They went on and on through the shadows, until
they reached the open fields. Beside the highway a great pile of hay
lay scattered.

"We might sleep here for the rest of the night," Ivan suggested.

"Not if you can go on," said Warren. "I think we had better get as far
from the city as possible."

"Very well," said Ivan, "but let us rest for half an hour."

They flung themselves on the hay, and in a moment Ivan was asleep.
Warren could not rest, however, and sat staring moodily into the
night. In half an hour he roused his friend, and they started onward.
They proceeded in silence, each busily thinking. Warren trying to bear
up and take his blows manfully, and Ivan at a loss to know what to say
to the brave boy who had lost all he held dear in so terrible a
manner.

The road was level, and they went rapidly. As they rounded a sharp
turn, they saw an automobile ahead of them. It was a low racing car
and stood at the side of the road. There was some trouble on, for a
couple of men were bending over a wheel.

"They have had a puncture," exclaimed Warren, "and they are headed
toward Lodz. Let's see if they will give us a lift."

He boldly approached the men, who started, then looked relieved to see
that it was a couple of boys.

"What's the trouble?" said Warren in Polish. The main straightened,
and threw his hands up in a gesture of despair. "All the trouble in
the world!" he exclaimed. "The tire is punctured, and I cannot mend
it. I am not a chauffeur, but I can drive this ear a little, and my
master told me to bring it to him. I don't know what to do. Of
course, as soon as it comes light the soldiers will seize it."

"I can fix the tire," said Warren. "I know all about it, but we are
going to Lodz and we ought not to wait. It is a long way."

"Good!" said the man. "We are going to Lodz, too. There are only two
seats, but we will carry you somehow. Only be quick and mend the
fire. Our lives may depend on it."

Warren turned the light on the wheel and went to work. He had always
prided himself on his swiftness in working out tire troubles, and when
he saw the bad tear in the tube, he took it off and replaced it with
one of the new tires strapped to the rear of the machine. He worked in
desperate haste, and Ivan, at his side, worked with equal
desperation. I

The men watched or restlessly walked up and down the road talking in
undertones to each other. It was evident that their knowledge of cars
was but slight, and they were forced to trust to the young stranger if
they were to proceed at all on their perilous journey.

When the tire was in place and pumped up, Warren hastily collected the
tools and started to replace them in the tool box but Ivan stopped him
with a word. He spoke sharply to the men.

"Take these things," he said. "We are ready!"

The man who had spoken first took the wheel, and his companion the
other seat. Ivan sat on his knee, with Warren on the running board.

It was soon evident that there was something wrong. The car went
plowing along on low speed, the engine bucking and starting.

"Good heavens, Ivan!" exclaimed Warren, after a few miles of this jerky
progress. "What ails the thing? Do you suppose the dub knows how to
drive?"

Ivan turned to the man at the wheel.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "Do you know how to drive? What ails
the car?"

"I don't know," said the man. "In truth I have never driven but twice,
but I thought I could and when the Princess told me to bring this car
after her I was sure I could. She is ahead with her son and Princess
Modjeska and some guests. I fear I will not be able to reach Lodz."
He pressed a lever at random, and the ear shot forward with a speed
that nearly threw Warren from the step. Another frantic attempt and
she slowed down with a suddenness that almost put the others through
the wind shield.

"Here, stop!" commanded Warren. "Get out of that seat and let me
drive! Ivan, tell him I simply eat cars!"

The machine stopped, and the Man thankfully resigned his seat to
Warren, who drew up the heavy motor gloves, and settled himself in his
seat. The car, a beautiful French model, was familiar to Warren, and
he pressed the starter with perfect confidence. And he was justified.
Like a swallow, the beautiful machine skimmed the smooth and level
road, leaving Warsaw with all its tragedy and far behind.

Warren had scarcely slept for two nights. He had had but little food,
and his bandaged head felt light and strange. As they went on and on,
Warren commenced to wonder if he could possibly make the distant city.
At intervals strange colored lights flashed before his eyes, and faint,
booming noises sounded in his ears.

They had not encountered a soul. It was as though the whole country,
after its terrible conflict, lay dead. Finally a faint streak of gray
appeared in the east. Dawn was coming.

"How far to Lodz?" he called. "Just over the hill?"

"Just over yonder hill," said the man at his side.

Warren slowed down, and dropped one tired hand from the wheel.

"Where are you going when you get to the city?" he inquired.

"If we get through," the man replied, "I am to go to the palace where
lives a sister of our Princess. She has turned it into a hospital. By
a strange chance, our Prince was taken there when he was wounded. The
Princess must, be there now.'

"Very well," said Warren. "Direct me when we reach the city."

It grew brighter, and was quite light when they entered the quiet
streets. Fortunately they were not stopped, and with the guidance of
the man beside him Warren drew safely up before the wide stone steps of
the palace.

The car stopped. Warren shut off the engine, and the others jumped
out, glad to stretch themselves. Warren alone made no effort to move.
The others after stamping their cramped legs, turned to look at him.

His hand was still on the wheel, but he was unconscious.

They carried him into the great hall, and a nurse in uniform directed
them to an empty cot and hurried after a doctor. He pronounced it
simply a case of exhaustion, and gave orders which the nurse rapidly
filled, motioning the others to leave as she did so.

The servants turned to Ivan and thanked him for his assistance. For a
moment Ivan thought that it would be a good plan to go to the Princess,
and tell her that he was in Lodz. Then he decided that the presence of
a boy in the city, although he was the son of her very good friend,
would only cause her to feel responsible for his welfare or safety; so
he merely nodded, turned his back to tell the nurse that he would
return shortly, and then he walked listlessly down into the heart of
the town.

Hucksters were driving into the open market. Doors were opening here
and there. A company of soldiers passed at double quick. Ivan
wondered where they were going. He wondered, too, what possible chance
he had to get something to Pat.

There were no Scouts in Lodz besides his tired self and the exhausted
boy back in the hospital cot. Ivan thought of Warren with a gratitude
that he could not have put in words. Warren had taught him so many
things. With Boy Scout principles and Boy Scout training, he had
changed from a haughty, helpless young aristocrat to a helpful,
well-balanced boy, perfectly capable of taking care of himself and of
assisting others as well. Ivan felt the change; he was so reliant, so
strong. A few months ago, he would have stood helpless in his present
situation, conscious only that he was Prince Ivan Ivanovich and must be
looked after. Now, as he faced the morning light, hungry, ragged, and
with only the American nickel in his pocket, he smiled at fate and went
on without fear to enter whatever adventure might come.

The only thing that worried him was the want of enough money to buy
himself a bit of bread and a dried fish. He reflected that he could
easily have asked the Princess for enough to supply his wants, but he
would not turn back.

Ahead of him, an old man with a heavily laden cart was having trouble
with a skittish horse. In vain he pulled on the lines. In vain he
threatened and coaxed. The young creature would not stand, and while
the old man worried with it, vegetables and long sticks of black bread
were slyly stolen out of the end of his cart. Ivan approached.

"Let me hold the horse, father," he said, taking it by the bridle as he
spoke.

The old man threw his hands up in a gesture of thankfulness.

"Blessings on you, my son!" he cried. "These thieves will ruin me
while I speak with that foolish animal. Hold fast, my son, and I will
give you your breakfast."

Ivan nodded, and the old man turned eagerly to his customers.

Presently he reached over, and handed Ivan a generous pie6e of bread
and some fresh fruit. Ivan watched the throngs as he ate, holding the
horse with his left hand, although it was now perfectly quiet.

As he idly watched the persons passing, he noted that with the passing
time, the market had become crowded. People moved in throngs.

And then, as the crowd before him happened to part, Ivan noticed in the
distance a woman hurrying away. She had a big basket on her arm,
filled with provisions. A little girl clung to her other hand. She
was ragged, dirty and pale; but Ivan recognized Elinor.

Dropping the horse's rein, he dashed toward them, but the crowd had
closed, and he was too late. The earth seemed to have swallowed them.
Like a hound on a trail, he searched the market over and over, but not
a trace could he find of the woman or child. In his surprise at
seeing, Elinor, he had failed to take particular notice of the woman.
But as he thought of it, he felt that, it was not the one he had seen
in Warsaw and be remembered that that woman bad spoken of her sister in
Lodz.

Feeling that there was nothing to be gained by remaining longer in the
market, Ivan hurried back to the hospital, where he found Warren much
better, and fretting because he was not allowed to get up.

"Well, I've seen Elinor!" said Ivan, as soon as he entered the ward.

Warren sat up, his eyes bulging under, his bandage.

"Have you, honest?" he cried. "Where is she?"

"Well, I lost her in the crowd," said Ivan, and told the whole story.

Warren lay listening carefully.

"Well, as long as we know she is here in the same town, we know we will
find her. And there won't be any slip the next time." His face
clouded. "But, Ivan," he said huskily, "I can't bear to think of my
dear Evelyn, and poor father, and little Jack." He closed his lips and
shut his eyes in a desperate effort to control his grief.

Warren's cot was drawn across a closed door. And on the other side of
that door sat Evelyn, crying her heart out for her lost brother and
sister!

CHAPTER X

BEGGARS

When poor little Elinor found herself dragged forcibly from her brother
and away from the comparative safety of the underground room where
Warren and Ivan had so mysteriously appeared, as she thought, to get
her and take her home, her childish heart was filled with a terror so
overwhelming that she did not know what she did. Notwithstanding the
efforts of the woman who held her, she screamed as hard as she could
and stiffened in the woman's brutal grasp until she was obliged to put
her down. Elinor tried to run, but she was too tightly held. Then
with a muttered rush of comments, the woman rained blows on the poor
little shoulders and body until the child sank to the ground, nearly
stunned from the force of the blows. Her cries died, and she lay
gasping.

"Now will you be silent?" demanded the fury, shaking her. "You just
try that again! Just try it, and see what I will do to you." She
overwhelmed the fallen child with terrible threats until Elinor was
silenced and shook as though in a chill.

"Now you had better do as I tell you," the woman said. "You will never
see your brother again, never; never! And you will have to live with
me, and do as I say." She jerked the child to her feet and dragged her
down the street after the two men who had gone on, one of them carrying
Rika.

She was still muttering when she reached them.

"This one has got to be trained," she said savagely; "and I might as
well begin it right off."

Michael shrugged his shoulders. "Why don't you show a little, mercy at
the first?" he inquired carelessly. "It doesn't matter to me, but I
tell you, Martha, you will spoil her for everything if you handle her
too roughly. She will die. I've seen her sort before."

"Then let her die!" said the woman. "Good riddance it will be if she
does not take kindly to my tasks."

"Suit yourself," said Michael; "but take my advice and give her a
little time."

"Time!" said Martha. "Time! What are you thinking of? There is no
time! She has lost two years, as it is. You don't seem to remember,
Michael, that I am as good a pickpocket as there is in Europe. That
child is almost too old to begin to learn the art. The other one,
Rika, is just about right; and she has such fine, delicate, little
fingers. Well, this one has good hands too. But you know well that
they are clumsy after they reach five. Do you remember the
yellow-haired child I trained about ten years ago? Ali, she was a
wonder! But you never could keep her down. How I used to beat her!
She would be black welts from her shoulders to her knees. No, you
could not keep her down. She was so ambitious. If she had only kept
out of politics, she might have been stealing yet. But now she is in
Siberia, in the mines. Bah! A home life for me, I say! What care I
who is in power, so long as pretty ladies carry shopping bags and wear
sparkling bracelets and flashing brooches! I say a woman wants to keep
to her own place. Isn't it so, my Michael?"

"Yes, indeed, " said Michael heartily. "I read the other day --"

"Read!" said Martha scornfully. "That's another mistake. Why should a
man like you read? Sooner or later it will get you in trouble. You
never know what the reading may contain. Better not know. What you
don't know won't hurt you."

"You are wrong," said Michael stubbornly. "Sometimes what you don't
know does hurt you. If I could live again, I would be a better man.
When I was a boy there was no learning to be had, except for the upper
class and the priests. Now when I am old and it is too late, you can
learn everything. I have loitered around the schools and listened to
the boys talking their lessons over. It is amazing what they know.
Why, they know everything! And there are schools where they are set to
work at all sorts of trades. I took a job cleaning floors once so that
I might go in and see what it was they did. Martha, those boys (they
were quite little ones, too) made such beautiful things -- furniture
and all that. There was one little chair that you could set on your
hand. It was as perfect as though it was big enough for you. I
thought that I would steal it. Then I thought how sad the little
fellow who made it would feel. The janitor told me there were prizes
for the best workmen, and I knew that chair was best. So I didn't take
it. I never wanted anything more, in my life!"

"Silly," said Martha. "Always bothering your old head about someone's
feelings! I do wish you would stop it! As for these children, I tell
you, Michael, it is a matter of business. We are no longer young. We
must prepare for the time when we can no longer stand on corners and in
church doors and beg. My fingers even now are growing clumsy. Who
will take care of us then if we do not train these children?"

"I suppose so," said Michael wistfully, "But it does seem a pity.
You should have seen that chair."

"I've heard about it enough at any rate," said Martha. "You should have
taken it. You could have sold it for a few kopeks.

"I couldn't," said Michael.

"All right," said Martha. "This is another matter; these children.
You heard what I said. Now here is what I plan. We will go to Lodz
and there we will stay for the next year or two. This war cannot last
forever, and when it is well past, why, then we will strike out in the
world. I know little girls. These will both be beauties when they are
a few years older." She laughed as she dragged Elinor along. "I tell
you I did well when I picked up these pearls."

"No doubt; no doubt!" Michael answered. He could not but look with
pity on the two children however. He was a man whose whole life had
been evil, but somewhere in him was a spark of kindness and
tenderness. He fought, he drank, he stole, he lied; but the sight of
the two poor little girls dragging miserably along with the remorseless
woman somehow touched his heart. He knew that he would often beat
them, and he would also give them their first lessons in picking
pockets; but he knew, too, that there would be times when he would
shield them from the cold, relentless fury of the woman.

So it was with a feeling of pity for the weary little feet that he
asked, "Where do we go tonight? I am tired."

"Tired?" scorned Martha. "You are ever tired! However, we will eat
some supper, and then on to Lodz."

"Walk?" asked the other man, who had not spoken before.

"No," said Martha. "I have a pocketful of money. No, you don't," she
added as the man came close to her. "Here's a handy knife if you try
that. Something tells me to get out of here as soon as we can and it
will take too long to walk with these burdens. Besides, they would
never stand it. You may be sure I would not spend this money on the
railroad if I could help myself.

She turned into a doorway. The house was deserted.

"Here," she said, "I will stay here with these two, while you get
something for me to drink. Also go to the railroad and see if the
trains are running. And hurry!"

She found a chair for herself, pushed the two children in the corner
farthest from the door, and settled herself to wait, while the two men
walked leisurely out of the house and away.

An hour later Michael hurried back. Martha greeted him sourly.

"Don't pretend to hurry, lazy one," she scolded. "I know where thou
hast been. Did you bring what I asked?"

"I bring news," said Michael, glancing at the two children.

"Bah! That is dry drinking," said Martha, making a face. "Well, have
it over!"

"There is a search on for the little one," said Michael. "I know who
she is.

If they find her with us --" He drew his hand across his neck with the
whistling sound of a knife.

"Who is she then?" asked Martha in astonishment.

Michael stooped and whispered in her ear.

"Ai! Ai!" exclaimed Martha. "No wonder her hands are delicate and
small! Well, we have got to go on with it now. And quickly, too. How
will we get out of here? Shall we trust the cars? Do they run?
Answer, Michael, what did you find out?"

"A lot of things," said Michael. "First place, the station is
watched, so I bought two tickets for Lodz. We men will go down there
tomorrow."

"And leave me here!" asked Martha furiously.

"No, no, no!" said Michael. "Will you wait until I finish? When I
came from the railroad, I passed a great empty motor truck. Some
soldiers are getting it ready to go to Lodz tonight. They are going
for more munitions. It belongs to the enemy, but thanks to my German
mother, I am German at will; so I spoke to them. I told them about my
wife and two little children who were going to walk to Lodz. It was
great luck. They said you could go with them.

"Think of that!" said Martha. "Not to walk a step, and to ride down
that beautiful road in a truck. What a wonder! I never expected to
get into one of those great horseless things. Well, what did you say
then, stupid?"

"You are to go down now, and they will start soon. But they do not
want the officers to know they are taking you. It is only because of
my German and my nice way," he laughed. "Well, get up, and we will go
over."

"I am almost afraid," said Martha.

"There is no way as good as this," the man assured her. "You will be
safe. You will rest quite well under the canvases in the truck. And
the road is indeed smooth."

He lifted Rika and led the way. It was growing late, and they hurried
to the place near headquarters where the great track stood. Michael
did not wait for anyone to come. He jumped in, and made a sort of nest
in the canvas covers that were lying in the bottom. In this he seated
Martha and the children, warning the woman to hold fast to the girls.
Then he covered them cleverly with the lightest of the covers, saw that
no one would guess that the truck was occupied, and proceeded to sit on
the nearby curb and smoke. He was afraid that someone would throw
something heavy in the truck, and bring a scream, from one of the
children.

Presently the two soldiers who were to drive came out. They had had a
good meal and were smoking contentedly. Michael went up to them. He
opened his hand and showed three coins.

"Here is all my wealth. I will share it with for your kindness to my
wife and dear little ones," he said in a trembling voice.

The men shook their heads, but he insisted, and they took the offered
coins, protesting that they would take their passengers safely to
Lodz.

"Ah! What goodness!" said Michael with deep feeling. "If I could ever
repay you!"

"That's all right," said one of the soldiers. "Just be silent about
the load we are carrying. Tell no one. Our Captain is in the deuce of
a temper. He would punish anything today." He drew on his gloves and
mounted to his seat. The other soldier swung up beside him.

"It's a pity we can't take you too," said he; "but it wouldn't be
safe. Good- bye."

"Good-bye," said Michael in a trembling voice. "Good-bye, wife!
Good-bye, my sweet children!"

Martha pinched Elinor roughly. "Say goodbye!" she hissed, and a
frightened little voice called, something that was almost lost in the
sound of the engine as the car started. Martha stifled a shriek. This
was a terrifying experience. As the car rolled onward, the two
children, both accustomed to riding in motor cars, and too tired to
mind the unyielding springs and hard tires of the truck, were lulled to
sleep; but Martha sat wide-eyed, not daring to make the least outcry,
and afraid to follow her heart's wish and jump to the ground. The
night was filled with terrors, and when at dawn the car stopped, and a
soldier brought her a can of coffee she was too stiff and frightened to
speak.

When at last they reached Lodz, the two men were obliged to lift her to
the ground. They set them down on the outskirts of the city and Martha
hurried, as well as she could with her tired muscles, and the children
dragging at her side, to the hovel where her sister lived.

There was a long talk then, and many explanations, and Martha rested
and slept as though she never would rise again. When she did finally
get up, she had lost all count of the time, but Michael was there, and
the children were trying to get a handkerchief from the pocket of a
coat suspended from the ceiling by a cord.

"Get it so carefully that you will not stir the coat, and you will have
a piece of candy." The children tried again and again.

Martha groaned and disturbed them.

"Well, at last I am rested," she said. "Michael, thou fool, when next
you get me such a place --" She groaned again.

"Better that than not at all, eh, Martha?" laughed the man.

"We might have walked it," she declared.

"Yes. In how many days, he demanded, "'with those children at heel?"

"Of course," she said, "but it was frightful." She shook her head.
"We rocked and tossed like a ship at sea. And those children slept.
Slept all the way.
I could have beaten them!"

She turned to her sister. "You say you have no money? We will have to
go and get some then." She turned to the children and studied them
critically. "Those clothes won't do," she said. "Where is there a
place where I can get them something else to wear?"

"Two houses down," said her sister. "I will go with you."

The women were not gone long, and came back with a bundle of children's
clothing. Michael was still patiently teaching them the handkerchief
trick, Rika's little face was puckered, and she was ready to cry
although Michael had given her several pieces of candy. It did not
take long to take off the clothes the children had been wearing, and
dress them instead more in accordance with the parts they were to
play.

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