Bob Cook and the German Spy | Page 5

every man them fellers bring in here," said
Sergeant Riley. "We keep 'em here until we get word to do something
else with 'em. It's not for us to ask questions, you know."
"Have you got any more here?" demanded Bob.
"That's the first; we have accommodations for seventy-five though."
"Whew," exclaimed Bob. "Do you think there'll be much trouble with
the Germans here in High Ridge?"
"Can't say. Some of them are a crazy lot. At any rate we're ready for
'em. And what are you doing here at this time o' day anyhow? You'll be
late for school; your visiting hour here is usually in the afternoon."
"I saw that fellow on the trolley," Bob explained. "I wanted to see what
happened to him."
"Well, you better run along," advised the sergeant. "Come in and see
me later."
Bob hurried out and ran down the block toward the high school. His
mind was not on his lessons, however. War was uppermost in his
thoughts, and he still pondered over what his father had said the
evening before, and the recent arrest of the German in the trolley car.
Probably after all there was something in this scare about spies and
plotters.
He arrived at school fifteen minutes late, but nothing was said to him.
School discipline was greatly relaxed that morning and instead of
recitations the first period, the principal gave a talk on patriotism and
what the declaration of war would mean. He especially warned the

pupils against acting differently toward any of their number who might
be of German blood.
"They may be just as good and loyal citizens as we are," he said. "At
any rate we must act as though they were until they convince us
otherwise."
Bob considered this good advice, but he still thought of his father's
words and his experience of that morning. "Suppose anything should
happen to father's steel works," he thought. They were making shells
for the Government and could afford to run no risks. "I'll see if I can be
of any help in protecting them," he told himself.
He tried to concentrate his mind on his tasks, but it seemed hopeless.
The words of the German in the trolley came back to him
continually--"I won't fight for Germany. I won't fight for the United
States either, but I'll fight all right." What could he have meant? Did he
mean that he wouldn't try to enlist in either the German or American
armies, but that he'd do his fighting on his own account? How could
that be? Bob wondered if the fighting he would do would be for this
country or Germany. If for this country, it seemed queer that the secret
service officer should have arrested him. The thought of bombs
returned insistently to Bob's mind.
Recess came at last and he sought out Hugh Reith, his best friend.
Hugh was a boy of Bob's own age, almost exactly his size, and as they
both liked to do the same things they were bosom companions. Bob
was light and Hugh was dark, his hair was almost raven black, and his
eyes a deep brown. He had large hands and several crooked fingers
owing to the fact that he had broken them playing base ball. He was
stronger than Bob, though not so agile or quick on his feet, and while
he could defeat his light-haired friend in tests of strength he was not a
match for him when it came to speed.
"What do you think of this war, Hugh?" Bob asked eagerly.
"I wish I could enlist," said Hugh.

"So do I, but I guess we can't."
"We're too young, I suppose. Isn't there anything we can do to help?"
"My father thinks we may have trouble with the Germans here in town.
If anything starts you can be sure I'm going to get in it if possible."
"Say," exclaimed Hugh, "did you see young Frank Wernberg this
morning when the principal was making his speech about patriotism?"
"No, what was he doing?"
"Oh, he was snickering and making side remarks to Jim Scott, and
making himself generally objectionable."
"If I'd been Jim I'd have told him to keep quiet," said Bob warmly.
"That's just what he did do finally."
"Did he stop?"
"Oh, for a little while," said Hugh. "He was awful, I thought."
"You know," said Bob, "my father says that Mr. Wernberg is about the
most rabid German in High Ridge. He's crazy on the subject."
"Who, your father?"
"No, Mr. Wernberg. He's crazy on the subject of Germany. He thinks it
is the greatest country in the world and that every one in the United
States is a fool or something."
"Why doesn't he go back to Germany then?" demanded Hugh angrily.
"That's what