Pete Stubbs was secretly glad that the scouting trip toward Fessenden Junction had been ordered. He was terribly afraid of the consequences to Jack should he accept Broom’s defiance and meet him that night, and he did not know whether Durland and Dick Crawford would share his views. So he hoped that the work in the scout car would distract Jack’s mind and lead him to forget his promise to Broom to see what the Scout-Master and his assistant thought of the plan.

As the car made its swift way along the roads towards Fessenden Junction, the sound of firing constantly came to them.

“I thought Jim Burroughs said the fighting had been stopped,” said Tom Binns.

“The main bodies were stopped, but that doesn’t mean the whole fight is over,” explained Jack. “Bean’s brigade, you see, probably hasn’t been in action at all yet. His troops were not among those sent to Tryon Creek, and he has to cover the roads leading in this direction. It’s just because General Harkness is afraid that some of the Blue troops may have been detached to make a raid by a roundabout route that we are coming over here.”

“Suppose we ran into them, Jack? Would we be able to get word back in time to be of any use?”

“Why not? This is our own country. We have the telegraph and the telephone wires, and the railroad is within a mile of General Harkness’s quarters at Tryon Creek. All he needs to do is to pack troops aboard the trains he undoubtedly has waiting there and send them on to Fessenden Junction. We have the same advantage here that the enemy had when they held Hardport. Then we had to move our troops entirely on foot while they could use the railroad, and move ten miles to our one. Now that position is reversed as long as we hold the key of the railroad situation, Fessenden Junction.”

The road to Fessenden Junction was perfectly clear. They rolled into the busy railroad centre without having seen a sign of troops of either army. A single company was stationed at the depot in Fessenden Junction, impatient at the duty that held it there while the other companies of the same regiment were at the front, getting a chance to take part in all the thrilling moves of the war game.

Jack told the officers all he knew as they crowded around his car while he stopped to replenish his stock of gasoline. There was little in his narrative that had not come to them already over the wires, but they were interested in him and in the scouting car.

“We’ve heard all about you,” said a lieutenant. “You’ve certainly done yourself proud in this war! They tell me that the car will surely be adopted as a result of your success with it. Do you know if that’s so?”

“I hadn’t heard, Lieutenant,” said Jack, his face lighting up. “But I certainly hope it’s true. It’s a dandy car!”

“You didn’t expect to see anything of the enemy the way we came, did you, Jack?” asked Pete Stubbs, when they were in motion once more.

“No, I didn’t, Pete. But it was a good chance to study a road we didn’t know. We may have considerable work in this section before we get through, and I want to know the roads. That road, of course, is guarded this morning by General Bean’s brigade. It would take more than a raiding cavalry brigade to break through his line and make for the Junction this way, and if General Bliss sent troops to Fessenden, they wouldn’t stop to fight on the way. They would choose a road that was open, if they could, or very weakly defended, at least. Otherwise they’d be beaten before they got here. Even a couple of regiments would be able to hold up a brigade, no matter how well it was led, long enough for General Harkness to find out what was going on and occupy Fessenden Junction in force.”

“Where are you going now, then?”

“East of Bremerton, on the way back. I know that isn’t exactly orders, but it seems to me it’s common sense. General Bliss had a long line this morning, and Mardean was practically its centre. Hardport had become his base again. He’s held Hardport now for two days, practically, and he’s had time to repair all the damage we did. Why shouldn’t he have thrown his brigade, if he planned a raid on the Junction at all, thirty miles east from Hardport, to swing across the State line at about Freeport, cut the railroad east of Fessenden Junction, and so approach it from the east, when everyone expects an attack to be made from the west?”

“That would be pretty risky, wouldn’t it, Jack?”

“Certainly it would and yet, if he could fool everyone into thinking he was going to do just the opposite, it would be the safest thing he could do. You see, all the fighting to-day has been well west of Bremerton and Fessenden Junction. Our orders were to do our scouting on the western side of the Junction. I’ve obeyed those orders, and I haven’t found out a thing. Now I think I’ve a right to use my own discretion, and see if there are signs of danger on this side.”

“Gee, that certainly sounds reasonable, Jack! They’ve been doing the thing that wasn’t expected ever since the business started. I guess they’re just as likely as not to keep on doing it, too.”

“We ought to know in a little while, anyhow, Pete. I’m going to circle around here, strike a road that runs parallel to the railroad as it runs east of the Junction, and see what’s doing.”

Jack hurried along then for a time, and none of those in the car had anything to say, since, when Jack was pushing her, the noise was too great to make conversation pleasant or easy in any sense of the words.

They were in the road now that ran along parallel with the railroad that, running east from Fessenden Junction and away from the State capital, which lay southwest of that important point, approached gradually a junction with the main line of the railroad from Hardport at Freeport.

Jack was keeping his eyes open. He hardly knew what he expected to see, but he had an idea that there would be something to repay their trip.

And, about fifteen miles from Fessenden Junction, the soundness of his judgment was proved once more.

“Look up there!” cried Pete, suddenly. The eyes of three Scouts were turned upward in a moment, and there, perhaps two miles away, and three hundred feet above them, they saw a biplane hovering.

“Gee!” cried Jack. “That’s the first we’ve seen in the air a Blue biplane! None of our machines would be in this direction.”

Swiftly he looked along the fence until he saw an opening.

“Here, jump out and let those bars down!” he cried, stopping the car.

The others obeyed at once, and in a moment he ran the car gently into the field and stopped beside a hayrick.

“Sorry to disturb the farmer’s hayrick,” said he, then, jumping out in his turn, “but this is important!”

And a moment later the three Scouts, following his example, were as busy as bees, covering the grey automobile with new hay, that hid it effectually from any spying eyes that might be looking down on them from above.

“Now we’ll make ourselves look small,” said Jack.

He looked around the field.

“I shouldn’t wonder if they picked this out for a landing spot, if they decide to land at all,” said he. “We want to see them if they do anything like that, and hear them, too, if we can. We may want to find out something from them.”

Swiftly, then, they burrowed into the hay. They could look out and see anything that went on about them, but unless an enemy came very close, they themselves were entirely safe from detection.

“Now we’ll know what they’re up to, I guess,” said Jack, with a good deal of satisfaction. “It’s a good thing I sort of half disobeyed orders and came this way, isn’t it?”

“You didn’t really disobey orders, did you, Jack?” asked Tom.

“No, I didn’t, really, Tom. I did what I was ordered to do, but I did something more, too, as there was no special time limit set for the job they gave us. But a scout is supposed to use his own judgment a good deal, anyhow. Otherwise he wouldn’t be any use as a scout, so far as I can see.”

It was very quiet in the hay. But above them, and sounding all the more clearly and distinctly for the silence that was everywhere else, they could hear the great hum of the motor of the aeroplane. With no muffler, the engine of the flying-machine kicked up a lot of noise, and, as it gradually grew louder, Jack was able to tell, even without looking up, that it was coming down.

“By George,” said he, “I think they are going to land! They’re getting more cautious, you see. They scout ahead now, and they’re using their war aeroplane the way we have been using this car of ours.”

“What are our flying-machines doing, Jack? I haven’t seen them on the job at all.”

“General Harkness is using them in the actual battles. They go up to spot concealed bodies of the enemy, so that our gunners can get the range and drive the enemy, theoretically, out of any cover they have found. That’s one of the ways in which flying machines are expected to be most useful in the next war. You see, as it is now, with smokeless powder and practically invisible uniforms, ten thousand men can do a lot of damage before anyone on the other side can locate them at all. But with a flying-machine, they won’t be able to hide themselves. A man a thousand feet above them can see them, and direct the fire of artillery by signals so that the troops that were in entire security until he discovered them can be cut to pieces by heavy shell fire.”

“That’s what our men have been doing, eh?”

“Yes and theirs, too, mostly. This is the first time I’ve seen one of their machines scouting. Look out now keep quiet! They’re landing, and they’re not more than a hundred feet away!”

The scraping of the flying-machine, as it came to rest in the field, was plainly audible as the Scouts stopped talking and devoted themselves to listening intently. Also, by craning their necks a little, though they were in no danger of being seen themselves, they could make out what the two men in the aeroplane were doing.

“Pretty lucky, Bill!” said one of them. “This is a good landing-place, and we can get an idea of the situation and cut the telegraph wire to send back word.”

“Right, Harry!” said the other. “I guess the coast is clear. The brigade isn’t more than five miles back, and with three train loads, they’ll be able to make that Fessenden Junction look like a desert before night theoretically.”

“It’s all theory, Bill, but it’s pretty good fun, at that. I tell you, we would be in a tight place if they’d guarded this approach at all. That brigade of ours would be cut off in a minute. But if we can mess up Fessenden Junction for them, they’ll be so busy trying to cover their line of retreat that they won’t have any time to bother about our fellows.”

“What’s the matter with that engine, anyhow?”

“Nothing much, I guess. But sometimes, if she starts missing, the way she did when we were up there, you can fix things and avoid a lot of trouble by a little timely tinkering. I was up once when my engine began missing that way, and I didn’t pay any attention to it. Then, about twenty minutes later, she went dead on me while I was over the water, and I had to drop, whether I wanted to or not. The water was cold, too, I don’t mind saying.”

“You hear that?” said Jack, in a tense whisper. “Now, as soon as they go, we’ve got to destroy that railroad track, right across the road. We may have half an hour; we may have only a few minutes. And while two of us do that you and Tom, Pete the other will have to cut the telegraph wire and send word to Fessenden Junction. General Bean is in the best position to get over there. I don’t think we can hold them up more than an hour or so, but that ought to be enough. At least, if there’s nothing else to be done, the fellows at Fessenden Junction can tear up a lot of track.”

For five breathless minutes they watched the two aviators tinkering with their engine. Then the big bird rose in the air again, and winged its way eastward. In a moment Jack was out of the hay and calling to his companions to follow him.

“Get your tools from the car, now,” he said. “Mark a rail torn up for every ten minutes you spend there. I’ll get busy with the telegraph wire.”

It took Jack twenty minutes to finish his task, which was exceedingly quick work. But he had had practice in it, and he worked feverishly, since he did not know at what minute they would be surprised and forced to abandon the task by the on-coming enemy.

Ten minutes after he had completed his part of the task, when, theoretically, the others had been able to destroy three lengths of rail, and had left a pile of smouldering brushwood as proof that they had had time to build a fire of the ties, they heard the hum of approaching trains along the rails.

“All right!” cried Jack. “This is as far as they can go now until they make repairs. It’s time for us to be off!”

And he led the way swiftly toward the car, still hidden in the field.

Swiftly he adjusted the spark plug, which he had carried with him, and, just as the first of the trains from the east appeared in sight, the car was ready to move. But Jack, instead of returning to the road, and retracing his course toward Fessenden Junction, headed north across the field, toward the State line.

“I’m going to take a short cut to General Bean’s brigade and get him word of the chance he has to end things right now,” he cried. “If he can capture this brigade of the enemy, the war will be as good as over. It’s the best chance we’ve had yet.”

Jack knew the country perfectly, and soon he was on a country road, which, while it would have been hard on the tires of an ordinary car, was easy for the big scouting machine. They made splendid time, and in an hour they were in touch with the outposts of General Bean’s troops, waiting, since the attack of the enemy in front had ceased, for any news that might come.

“I’ve just heard that the enemy is threatening Fessenden Junction from the east,” the general told Jack, when the Boy Scout made his report.

“Yes, General,” said Jack, eagerly. “And the roads are open in this direction. They will not be able to get very far along the railroad. The troops in Fessenden Junction will undoubtedly cut the tracks, just as we did, somewhere near the village of Bridgeton, and that will be a splendid place to make a flank attack. They won’t be expecting that at all, and I think you can finish them up.”

General Bean reached at once for a field map.

“You’ve got it!” he cried. “That’s just what I’ll do!”

And in a moment he had given his orders accordingly. Ten minutes later the troops were on the march, and Jack was scouting ahead, to make sure that no shift of the enemy’s plan had made it impossible for his idea to be carried out successfully.

Bean’s troops marched quickly and well, and within two hours they were in touch with the enemy, near Bridgeton. Jack and his companions, in the rear, heard the sound of firing, which soon became general. And then, unhampered, Jack sped for the place where he had already cut the railroad, and, in two hours theoretically destroyed nearly half a mile of track.

“They’re in a trap, now,” he cried. “They’ll never get by here!”