CHAPTER XI
OFF TO CAMP DIXTON
Bob Baker did not flinch in what might be called the “face of theenemy.”
True, Helena was not exactly an enemy, though her father had helpedto organize the pro-German meeting. But Helena was a girl who, in ameasure, thought for herself. She did not altogether agree with theopinions held by her father and his Fatherland friends, though she hadheard many stories of the achievements of the Kaiser and his chosenones. Also she had heard, not from her father, other stories thatreflected anything but glory on German arms.
And so, when Helena knew that the motor boys were about to take thetrain that, eventually, would land them at Camp Dixton, she decided togo to say good-bye to Bob Baker.
Naturally, she did not tell her father of her intention, and,naturally, Mr. Schaeffer was as far as possible from the station fromwhich the recruits departed. He did not care to see such activities onthe part of loyal Cresvillians in favor of Uncle Sam.
It was a violation of the constitutional rights of the young men to beplaced in a position where they might have to fight on foreign soil,Mr. Schaeffer claimed. Mr. Pfeiffer had said so and he ought to know.
“Well, Helena, I am glad to see you,” remarked Bob, when he foundhimself near the blue-eyed girl.
“Are you?” she inquired, and her voice was not very warm.
“Of course I am!” he insisted. “It’s no end good of you to come down tosee me off.”
“Well, I thought I’d come,” she said, a bit shyly. “I--I’m sorry we hadthat little difference of opinion. But you know--you know, I’ve alwaysliked you, Bob.”
“I hope so, Helena.”
“But you know war is a terrible thing!”
“Are you sorry to see me go?”
“Of course I am! I’m afraid you won’t come back.” And for the firsttime she showed a little emotion.
“Oh, I’ll come back all right!” declared Bob, as he took her hand.
“Let go!” she exclaimed. “Some one will see us!”
“I don’t care!” declared the stout one. “I like you a lot, Helena, andI’m sorry your father----”
“Please don’t speak of him!” she begged quickly. “I must do as myfather says, and, though I like you, I--I--that is, he says--well, hedoesn’t believe in this war!”
“I’m afraid he’ll have to come to believe in it,” said Bob. “We allwill. It’s a war that’s got to be fought to a finish. I’m sorry for thepeace-loving Germans, if there are any, who don’t hold with the Kaiser,but I’m against all who do! We’re in this war to win, Helena!”
The girl did not answer. She seemed struggling with some emotion. Thedistant whistle of a train was heard, and the recruits, some of whomformed the centers of rather tearful groups, prepared to gather uptheir luggage.
“Well, I guess it’s good-bye, Helena,” said Bob, while Ned and Jerrywere bidding farewell to some boy and girl friends, among them MollieHorton and Alice Vines.
“Yes, good-bye,” Helena murmured. “I’m sorry you’re going, but Isuppose you know your own business best. Perhaps you will not be gonefor as long as you think.”
“Oh, I guess it will be for a long time,” said Bob. “This war isn’tgoing to be over in a hurry. But we’ve all got to do our duty.”
“Well, it’s too bad we can’t all have the same duty,” sighed Helena.“However, I suppose that can never be. Good-bye, Bob. Write to me whenyou get a chance!” and before Bob knew what was happening she hadgiven him a rather sisterly kiss on his forehead and disappeared in thecrowd.
“Here! Wait a minute!” called Bob, starting after her. But the traincame in just then and there was so much confusion, and such a scrambleto get baggage together and find places in the cars, that Bob did notget another glimpse of Helena.
A United States regular, Sergeant Mandell, was in charge of therecruits, having been detailed by Lieutenant Riker to conduct themsafely to Camp Dixton.
“All aboard, boys!” he called. “All aboard!”
“All aboard she is!” echoed Jerry.
“We’re off for the camp!” said Ned.
Bob said nothing, but as soon as he got in his seat he raised thewindow and looked out. Helena was not in sight, and, with a sigh, thestout lad turned away.
A special car had been reserved for the boys from Cresville andvicinity, who were going away in a body, and the lads now filled thecoach with gay songs and jests. To most of them it was a holiday, apicnic, but there were some who felt the gravity of the situation, andwho felt that doing their duty in the matter of enlisting was not aseasy as it seemed.
The three motor boys kept together, and soon had stowed away theirpossessions and made themselves comfortable.
“Well, this is the first time we ever left Cresville under suchcircumstances,” observed Ned, as the train pulled out of the stationamid cheers from those left behind, and a stirring air played by theband.
“Yes, we’ve gone out on many a trip, but none was just like this,”agreed Jerry. “I wish the professor could be with us, at least part ofthe way. He’d be interested in this bunch.”
“More likely he’d be crawling around on the floor of the car lookingfor a new kind of fly,” said Bob, with a chuckle.
Professor Snodgrass had gone back to Boston after his flying visit toCresville. But he had promised to go to see them in camp, for it wasevident that, on account of the war, he would not be kept very busy atBoxwood Hall.
Soon the prospective soldiers in the special car were having the bestof times. They had gotten over the first wrench of parting, and werehaving fun. They sang and joked, and Ned, Bob and Jerry entered intothe jollity of the occasion.
“Do we go right into camp?” asked one lad from Cresville.
“No, I believe we first have to stop at Yorktown and go through adetailed examination,” answered Jerry, who had been making inquiries.“So far all we’ve gone through has been preliminary; and though we haveenlisted, there is still a lot of red tape to go through. They’ll siftus out at Yorktown.”
“You mean separate the sheep from the goats!” laughed Ned.
“Something like that, yes,” Jerry admitted.
So they traveled on. At each stop there was a rush to get papers, ifany were available, so the recruits might know the latest news inregard to the war. There were flaming headlines, but not much realnews, as events were, as yet, hardly shaped. But everything went toshow that Uncle Sam had at last decided to get into the war on awholesale scale.
“When’s the next stop?” asked Bob, as the conductor came through on oneof his trips.
“Oh, in about half an hour. But that isn’t Yorktown.”
“No, I know it isn’t.”
“Chunky wants to know if there’s a lunch counter there,” put in Ned,grinning.
“Oh, yes, sort of one;” and the conductor smiled.