Anderson Crow, Detective Part 10
Mrs. Crow interrupted him. "Do you mean to say, Anderson Crow, that you never suspected what's got into all these gay Lotharios?"
He was instantly on his guard. "What are you talkin' about, Ma?" he demanded querulously. "You surely can't mean to insinuate that I--"
"What is this mystery you've just been solvin'?" she asked relentlessly.
He met this with a calm intolerance.
"Nothin' much. Just simply got to the bottom of a German plot to stuff the young men of America so full of weddin' cake they won't be able to git into the trenches, that's all."
"My goodness!" exclaimed Mrs. Crow, who, as a dutiful wife, never failed to be impressed by her husband's belated discoveries.
"Eggin' our boys into gittin' married, so's they can't be drafted," went on Anderson, expanding with his new-found idea. "It's a general pro-German plot--world-wide, as the sayin' is. Now, I'll tell you somethin' else. Shut the door, Susie. Like as not some spy's listenin'
outside this very minute. They know I'm onto 'em." He lowered his voice. "You'd be surprised if I was to tell you that the whole derned plot originated right here in Tinkletown, wouldn't you? Well, that's exactly what I'm goin' to tell you. Started right here and spread from one end of the land to the other. Sort of headquarters here. I don't know as there is any more prominent or influential Germans in the whole United States than Adolph Schultz, the butcher on Main Street, and Heiney Wimpelmeyer, the tanyard man, and Ben Olson, the contractor, and--"
"Ben Olson is a Swede," interrupted Carrie.
"He _claims_ to be a Swede," said her father severely. "Don't try to tell me anything, Carrie. I guess I know what I'm talkin' about." He paused to mentally repair the break in his chain of thought.
"Um--ah--what _wuz_ I talkin' about?"
"About the Swedes," said Carrie, snickering.
"Breakfast's ready, Pa," said Mrs. Crow. "Call the boys, Susie."
"How are you going to stop it, Pop?" inquired Susie, after they were all seated.
"Never you mind," said he. "I've got the thing all worked out. I'll stop it, all right."
"You can't keep people from gittin' married, Anderson, if they're set on doin' it," said his wife.
"You bet if I was old enough I wouldn't be gittin' married," said fourteen-year-old Hiram, in a somewhat ambiguous burst of patriotism.
Immediately after breakfast Mr. Crow set out for the town hall. He was deep in thought. His whiskers were elevated to an almost unprecedented level, so tightly was his jaw set. He had made up his mind to preserve the honour of Tinkletown. Meeting Alf Reesling in front of the post office, he unburdened himself in a flood of indignation that left the town drunkard soberer than he had been in years, despite his vaunted abstemiousness.
"But you can't slap all the Germans in jail, Anderson," protested Alf.
"In the first place, it ain't legal, and in the second place--in the second place--" He paused and scratched his head, evidently to some purpose, for suddenly his face cleared. "In the second place, the jail ain't big enough."
"That ain't my fault," said the marshal grimly. "We've got to nip this thing in the bud if we have to--"
"What proof have you got that the Germans are back of all this? Got to have proof, you know."
"Gosh a'mighty, Alf, ain't you got any sense at all? What are all these fellers gittin' married for if there ain't somethin' behind it? They ain't--"
"They're gittin' married because every blamed one of 'em is a slacker,"
said Alf forcibly.
"A what?"
"Slacker. They don't want to fight, that's what it means."
Anderson pondered. He tugged at his whiskers.
"They don't want to fight _who_?" he demanded abruptly.
"W'y--w'y--n.o.body," said Alf.
"They don't want to fight the _Germans_," said Mr. Crow triumphantly.
"That ought to settle the matter, Alf. What better proof do you want than that? That shows the Germans are back of the whole infernal plot.
They are corruptin' our young men. Eggin' 'em into gittin' married so's--"
"Well," said Alf, "there's only one way to put a stop to that. You got to appeal to the women and girls of this here town. You simply got to talk to 'em like a Dutch uncle, Anderson. These boys of our'n have just got to remain single fer the duration of the war."
"That puts an idee in my head," said Anderson. "S'posin' I put up an official notice from Washin'ton that all marriages contracted before the draft are fer the duration of the war only. How's that?"
"Thunderation! No! That's just what the boys would like better'n anything."
"But it ain't what the _girls_ would like, it is?"
Mr. Reesling was silent for a long time, letting the idea crystallize, so to speak.
"Supposin' they hear about it in Washin'ton," said he doubtfully, but still dazzled by the thought.
"President Wilson don't know this town's on the map," said Anderson, a most surprising admission for him. "An' even if he does hear about it, he'll back me up, you c'n bet your boots on that--even if I am a Republican. Come on, Alf; let's step around to the _Banner_ printin'
office."
Shortly before noon a hastily printed poster, still damp and smelling of ink, appeared on the bulletin-board in front of the town hall. A few minutes later a similar decoration marred the facade of the Fairbanks scales in front of Higgins's Feed Store, and still another loomed up on the telephone pole in front of the post office.
With the help of the editor, who was above all things an enterprising citizen and a patriot, the "official notice" was drafted, doctored and approved in the dingy composing-room of the _Tinkletown Banner_. The lone compositor, with a bucket of paste, sallied forth and, under the critical eye of the town marshal, "stuck up" the poster in places where no one could help seeing it.
The notice read:
OFFICIAL!!!
War Proclamation No. 7!!!
The Undersigned by Virtue of the Authority vested in him by his fellowmen hereby gives DUE NOTICE to the citizens of Tinkletown that the President of These United States and Congress in solemn conclave have uttered the following decree, to become effective immediately upon publication thereof:
All marriages entered into by Male Citizens of the United States of America between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-one on and after this date, the 21st of May, 1917, shall be in force for the duration of the War only. This measure is taken at this time for the purpose of making things as easy as possible for our young heroes, who, in the grave hour of battle, must not be worried with thoughts of the future.
Men so marrying shall have precedence over all others in the SELECTIVE DRAFT for the National Army Immediately to be Called.
Such men shall be the first called to the Colours.
TEMPORARY WIDOWS of any and all such Soldiers shall not be ent.i.tled to PENSIONS in the Event of the Death of said Provisional Husbands, and shall revert upon notice thereof, to the State of Single-blessedness from which they were LURED!!!
By order of ANDERSON CROW, Marshal.
As the first of these desolating posters was put in place, the Rev. Mr.
Maltby, pastor of the Congregational Church, happened to be pa.s.sing the town hall. He halted and, in astonishment, read the notice.
[Ill.u.s.tration: _The Rev. Mr. Maltby, pastor of the Congregational Church, happened to be pa.s.sing the town hall_]
"My dear man," said he to Mr. Crow, "this cannot be true."