Bob Cook and the German Spy | Page 2

that was the one thing in every one's mind. Crowds in front of the newspaper offices had greeted the news from Washington with wild enthusiasm, patriotic parades had been organized, and from almost every house and office streamed the Stars and Stripes.
Bob Cook had been among the crowds, and his young mind and heart were fired with patriotism and enthusiasm. A company of soldiers from the Thirty-ninth Infantry called out the week before had caused him to cheer and hurl his cap high in the air, while all the time he envied the men in khaki.
"I hate to think of you enlisting, Harold," said Mrs. Cook sadly.
"Why?" demanded Harold earnestly. "Don't you think it is my duty to offer my services to my country! I'm free; no one is dependent upon me."
"I know," agreed his mother, "but somehow I don't like to have my boy go over to France and be killed. Let some one else go."
"Suppose every one said that," exclaimed Harold. "We shouldn't have much of an army and our country wouldn't be very well defended, would it?"
"Let him go," said Mr. Cook quietly to his wife. "I don't want him killed any more than you do, but there are some things worse than that. Suppose he was afraid to go; you'd be ashamed of your son then I know."
"How do you know I'm going to get killed anyway?" demanded Harold. "Every one that goes to war doesn't get killed. At any rate it's sort of gruesome to sit up and hear your family talk as if you were just as good as dead already."
"True enough," laughed Mr. Cook. "When does your examination come?"
"Next Monday."
"Will you wear a uniform?" asked Louise.
"Why, certainly," said Harold, swelling out his chest at the thought.
"I wish I could enlist," sighed Bob.
"You're too young, I told you," said Harold scornfully.
"I'll bet I could fight as well as you could," said Bob stoutly. "Besides, I'm big for my age and maybe if I told them I was older than I really am they might take me."
"Don't do that, Bob," said his father earnestly. "Don't lie about it."
"They'd find you out anyway," exclaimed Harold. "You can't fool these recruiting officers."
"I'd like to get to France and see the trenches, and see the soldiers, and the guns, and the fighting," Bob insisted.
"Do you realize that Harold may never get to France even if he does enlist and get a commission?" remarked Mr. Cook.
"Why not?"
"First of all on account of Mexico."
"Do you think the Mexicans will make trouble?" inquired Harold.
"I shouldn't be at all surprised," said Mr. Cook. "If they think we have our hands full with Germany those bandits may stir up a fuss and then troops would have to be sent down there."
"And Harold might be one of them," laughed Bob. "That would be a joke, wouldn't it?"
"I don't see why," cried Harold warmly. "If troops were needed in Mexico and I was one of those sent, I'd be serving my country just the same."
"Of course you would," his father agreed. "It might be though that you wouldn't even get out of High Ridge."
"You think they'd keep us right here?" demanded Harold, his face falling.
"Possibly," said Mr. Cook. "It might be that you'd have your hands full too."
"Do you think the Germans could land an army and invade this country?" exclaimed Mrs. Cook in alarm.
"Not for a minute do I think that," said Mr. Cook.
"Then what do you mean?"
"Aren't there lots of Germans in the country already?"
"Do you think they'd make trouble?"
"Most of them would be peaceable enough, but some of them would only be too glad to blow up some factories, or railroads, or things like that."
"They've been doing that for the last two years," said Harold, "but I don't see what there is in High Ridge."
"There's my company," said Mr. Cook. He was president of the High Ridge Steel Company.
"But you don't make war supplies," exclaimed Mrs. Cook. "Why should they want to blow up your plant?"
"Up until now we haven't manufactured war supplies," Mr. Cook corrected. "This afternoon, however, we took a contract from the Government to make high explosive shells. And, what is more, we are going to do it at cost price so we shan't make a cent out of it."
"I think that's fine," said Bob enthusiastically. "Perhaps you'll have to stay home and guard father's factory, Harold."
"Do you think there'll be any danger to it?" Harold asked his father.
"I don't know," replied Mr. Cook. "There are a lot of rabid Germans in High Ridge and you can't be sure just what they will do."
The telephone rang at that moment and Bob excused himself to go into the next room and answer it. Dinner was now over and the rest of his family shortly followed. As they entered the sitting-room