The Motor Boys in the Army; or, Ned, Bob and Jerry as Volunteers

“You’re going, aren’t you, Ned?”

“Surest thing you know!”

“Will you be there, Bob?”

“Of course, Jerry. It ought to be quite a meeting, I should say.”

“You said something!” exclaimed Ned Slade, with an air of conviction. “Things will whoop up in great shape. Why, there hasn’t been so much excitement in Cresville since I can remember.”

“Not since the old lumberyard burned,” added Jerry Hopkins, as he walked down the street, one arm linked in that of Ned Slade on his left, and the other hooked up with Bob Baker’s on his right. “It doesn’t seem possible that we’ve been drawn into this, after all the President did to keep us out; but it’s true.”

“Of course it’s true!” exclaimed Ned. “The President goes before Congress and asks for the whole strength of the nation to back him up, and defy Germany. And he gets it, too!”

“That’s what he does,” added Jerry. “It’s one of the strongest declarations about the war I ever read; and we’ve had a chance to read a few in the last two years. America against Germany! I never expected it, but, now it’s come, we’ll have to get in it good and strong.”

“And we’ve got to hustle, too!” added Bob Baker.

“That’ll be something new for you, Chunky!” observed Jerry Hopkins, with a chuckle. “You’re getting fatter than ever,” and he caught some of his friend’s superfluous flesh between thumb and finger and made Bob squirm.

“Quit it!” the latter begged. “What do you think I’m made of, anyhow?”

“I was just trying to find out,” answered Jerry, innocently. “’Tisn’t as firm as it might be, but when we get back to Boxwood Hall, and you have a little tennis or football to harden you up, I think you’ll feel better.”

“I’d feel better right now if you’d quit pinching me!” exclaimed the tormented one. “Try it on Ned a bit.”

“Oh, he doesn’t need waking up,” laughed Jerry. “But say, do we need tickets for this meeting to-night?”

“I don’t believe so,” remarked Bob, whose nickname of Chunky fitted him well. “But let’s go down the street and read one of the notices. There’s one in front of Porter’s drug store. And while we’re there we can----”

“Get chocolate sodas! I know you were going to say that!” broke in Ned. “Say, I thought you were on a diet, Chunky. The idea of taking chocolate! Don’t you know it’s fattening?”

“Who said anything about chocolate sodas?” demanded the fat one. “I didn’t mention it!” and he glared at Ned. But Jerry was between the two.

“I know you didn’t, little one!” returned Ned sweetly. “But you were going to, and I made it easy for you. However, I don’t believe one chocolate will hurt you; and since you are going to buy----”

“Who said I was?” demanded Bob.

“Why, didn’t you?” asked Ned, with an assumption of innocence. “I’m sure I heard Chunky invite us to have sodas. Didn’t you, Jerry?”

“Sure!” was the ready answer. “Don’t try to back out, Bob. It’s too late.”

“Well, it’s of no use trying to buck up against a conspiracy like this,” sighed the stout youth. “I guess I’ve got the price,” and he rattled some change in his pocket.

The trio of lads, nodding now and then to acquaintances they passed, kept on down the street until they reached Porter’s drug store. In the window was a placard announcing a patriotic meeting to be held in the auditorium that evening, for the purpose, as it stated, of:

“_Upholding President Wilson, and proving to him that Cresville approves of his course in declaring a state of war with Germany exists._”

“No tickets needed,” read Jerry. “It’s a case of first come first served, I guess.”

They entered the drug store, and soon were being served, talking, the while, of the coming patriotic meeting.

“Colonel Wentworth is going to preside,” announced Ned.

“Yes, and there’ll be enough rhetorical fireworks to stock a battleship,” observed Jerry.

“Well, the old soldier means all right,” added Bob, who seemed to be of a kind and mellow disposition, now that he was having something to eat. Eating, as may have been guessed, was one of Chunky’s strong points. “There isn’t a more patriotic citizen than Colonel Wentworth,” went on the stout youth, stirring his chocolate ice-cream soda to mix it well before drinking. “He did his share in the Spanish war, and now he’s anxious to volunteer again, I hear.”

“He’s a little too old, isn’t he?” asked Ned.

“Yes, but he’s in fine shape. Well, we’ll go to the meeting, anyhow, and help whoop things up.”

“That’s right!” chimed in Jerry Hopkins. “These are the days to show your colors.”

It will be evident to the reader that the period of the opening of this story was in the spring, following the announcement of war between the United States and Germany.

Of the events leading up to that announcement nothing need be said here, for they are too well known. But even though every one who had closely followed the trend of thought and happenings, knew there was nothing for an honor-loving and conscientious nation to do except take the step advocated by President Wilson, still the actual declaration that a state of war existed, when it was made, came as a shock.

Then followed the reaction. A reaction which resulted in the holding of many meetings, in the organization of many societies and in new activities in many that were already organized.

The New England town of Cresville, the home of Ned, Bob and Jerry, was no exception to this rule. It was a progressive town, or small city if you will, and numbered among its members citizens of worth and patriotism. So it is not strange that a meeting should be called to “back up” the President.

The meeting had its inception with Colonel Wentworth, a Son of the Revolution, an officer in the Spanish-American war, where he had fought with the regulars both in Cuba and in the Philippines, and an all-around true-hearted and red-blooded American. He felt that Cresville should make her position known, and in order to stir her blood, as well as add fuel to his own, he proposed the holding of a patriotic mass meeting, at which a number of speakers should be heard. A United States Senator had promised to come and tell something of the events leading up to the formal declaration of war.

Ned, Bob and Jerry, home from their college, Boxwood Hall, for the Easter vacation, had read the notices of the meeting, and, having followed with interest the course of events in America preceding the entrance of the United States into the war and also having closely observed the course of England, France, Russia and Italy against a common enemy, had decided to attend the meeting.

They had planned to take a motor trip to a distant city, to attend a concert by the Boxwood Hall Glee Club and a dance afterward, at which the boys expected to meet some young ladies in whom they were more than ordinarily interested. But when Jerry had seen the notices posted for the patriotic rally he had said to his chums:

“Fellows, the dance racket is off! We’ve got to show ourselves at the auditorium.”