Lucky, the Boy ScoutCHAPTER ILUCKY MEETS JOHN DEAN
Lucky, the Boy Scout
“WATCH my papers, will you please, Mister?” Scarcely waiting for a reply, the bright eyed little newsboy left his stand and darted across the street, where he confronted a ragamuffin, nearly a head taller than himself.
“You have to play fair,” he began hotly, “or you can’t sell papers in this block.” Then calling to a youngster who looked little more than a baby, and who was standing several yards away where the bigger boy had chased him, he said:
“Come back here, Billy! You have as much right to this corner as Spot. And don’t you forget that, you Spot,” he flung back over his shoulder as he recrossed the street.
The big stranger who had been left incharge of the papers, watched the proceedings with considerable amusement.
“What’s the trouble, sonny?” he asked, and beneath the stern lines of his face lurked a smile that invited confidence.
The boy recognized him as a rancher, for many of his type came to this great packing center, bringing their herds from the big ranches of the West. You could easily tell them by their breezy manners and friendly ways.
“Oh, that Spot chases every little feller off the block, so there won’t be any com—com—”
“Competition?” the ranchman suggested.
“That’s it—competition. Spot’s nothing but a bully. He won’t pick on anyone his size.”
“And you take it upon yourself to ‘beard the lion in his den’ and act as champion?”
“I don’t know anything about that,” replied the boy, flushing, “but how are all these little fellows going to get a start in business unless somebody takes their part?”
The cattleman eyed the boy keenly. He was quite different from the other little “newsies” shouting hoarsely the startlingnews of their papers’ headlines. He appeared underfed, as did many of the children of the slums crowding the streets; his clothes were patched and repatched, but they were clean. His face, too, was clean, and his hair, somewhat ragged and uncut, showed the industrious use of comb and brush. He was a lad of about twelve.
John Dean—for that was the stranger’s name—looked down the narrow, dirty, ill-smelling street, with its crowds of surging humanity, down the dingy rows of tenement houses with their crying children and their scolding mothers standing in the doorways. He saw the heavy trucks pounding over the brick pavements, and the rattling wagons, and he thought of the calm that rested over his own boundless country. What a difference there was between the fetid air that rose from this cavernous street and the invigorating breeze that swept across his prairie lands out West! What a difference there was between his stalwart, robust cowboys and the wan-faced, hollow-chested men he saw about him!
The boy before him, according to all the rules of the game should have been another victim of the environment in which he lived.Dean found himself liking the lad, his actions, and especially his championship of the weak. Was there much of such material in this crowded, unwholesome place, he wondered, as he continued on his way.
The business that had called Mr. Dean to Chicago was completed and yet he was compelled to wait four days more because he had promised to meet a certain man, who would not arrive in Chicago until then. Time would hang heavily on his hands, he thought. His thoughts traveled back to the newsboy.
There came to him a sudden impulse; he decided to follow it and so he retraced his steps to where the boy was stationed.
“Back again, mister?” The boy smiled in greeting as if to an old friend. But it could be no more than a second’s greeting, for customers kept him busy.
“What’s your name, sonny?” the man asked, when the opportunity offered.
“Ted—Ted Marsh,” answered the boy.
“Will you soon be through?” Dean inquired. “I’ll tell you why I ask. I should like you to take me about the city. I know something about it, but there are lots ofplaces I want to see which you can show me. I will pay you for your time, of course.”
The boy thought for a minute. He turned and looked squarely at the man. Dean liked that—he met his eye.
“You will have to wait until I finish my papers,” the boy said. “Then I will have to run home and let my mother know. Otherwise she would worry. But I’ll tell you what, sir”—a new idea had come to him—“I can take you down to the Settlement; you can see that while I finish up.”
“That’s all right, lad. I’ll watch awhile and see you doing business.”
This promised to be quite interesting, John Dean decided, with a sudden zest. He looked forward to the evening before him. He watched the boy, his quickness and his method, and he noted that Ted was the least bit quicker than the other boys and that he seemed to enjoy the competition and the struggle of selling papers. Dean decided it was a hard game. The boy’s stock of papers was rapidly diminishing.
“I can take you over now, Mr.——”
“Dean,” answered the owner of that name, smiling.
“Then I can return and finish up, get home and be back, all in about an hour. Will that be all right?”
“It will—fine,” was the reply.
The two walked down to the Settlement. On the way Ted explained how fine a place it was, just what it did, the clubs in it, and the gymnasium classes. He told the man, quite proudly, that he was a Scout.
“My! I wish you could meet Miss Wells,” the boy added.
The man started. He turned eagerly at the name. He was about to ask a question—stopped—changed his mind and allowed the boy to continue telling of the many fine points of the place to which he was being taken. The boy did so with tremendous pride.
“I suppose you go to the Settlement often?” he remarked.
“Sure,” was the reply. “It’s better than idling about on the corners. More fun, too,” he added.
The man’s interest grew. He asked manyquestions, all of which the boy answered as best he could.
Miss White, one of the workers, came to the door.
“Hello, Ted,” she greeted him pleasantly. She also smiled a welcome to the man.
“This is Mr. Dean, a friend of mine,” said Ted. “Is Miss Wells in, Miss White?”
“No, she will not be in until late in the evening. Can I do anything?”
The boy explained and added that he wanted Mr. Dean to know the place. Miss White promised to show it to him, while Ted hurried back to finish the sale of his papers before going home.
To Miss White, who was very friendly and likable, Dean explained his impulse and his impressions, his desire to know more of the boy. Miss White was fully acquainted with the facts, she knew Ted quite well and also knew his family.
The man listened closely while she told the boy’s history.