I don't know what to call this chapter. Maybe it will come without calling, hey? Anyway, I should worry. Maybe I'll think of a name when I'm finished with it. It will be mostly about Skinny.
There isn't much more to tell about our trip to Catskill Landing, but you just wait, and there'll be a lot to tell you about our cruise down again. Don't be in a hurry—just you wait. More haste, less speed. But take it from me, you don't get much speed out of a house-boat. A house-boat belongs to the merry-go-round family, that's what Mr. Ellsworth says.
That night we kept the boat tied up to the dock in Poughkeepsie and took a hike around the town, while Mr. Ellsworth tried to find somebody who would tow us up to Catskill Landing. When we got back, he said he had been talking with a man who had a little steam yacht and would tow us as far as Catskill Landing. He said it wouldn't cost anything, because anyway he was going up through Lake Champlain and Lake George and he was strong for the Boy Scouts. You hear lots of men say that. But, one thing, he wasn't going for two days and so we'd have to stay tied up in Poughkeepsie waiting for him. You see we were a kind of a tramp boat, but what did we care as long as we got to camp some time or other. Scouts are tramps anyway, hey?
So now I have to tell you about that two days we spent in Poughkeepsie and most of the time we spent in teaching Skinny to swim. Of course, that was up to the Elks and you can bet I didn't interfere, nor any of my patrol either, but I was mighty glad to see how easy it was for him to learn.
[Illustration: MOST OF THE TIME WAS SPENT IN TEACHING SKINNY TO SWIM.]
"That kid is half fish," Doc Carson said to me.
"No wonder," I said, "most all his life has been spent in the marshes.He's going to be a cracker-jack, you see."
"He'll walk away with that badge when he once gets started," Westy said.
"You mean he'll swim away with it," I said; "gee-williger, look how that little codger can dive."
One thing, there was a dandy place for learning, that's sure.
We put the skiff into the water and a couple of the Elks rowed around near the house-boat, keeping near, while Hunt Ward showed Skinny the strokes. The rest of us sat along the cabin roof, cheering just so's the kid would be encouraged. He looked awfully thin and little in his bathing suit and whenever he climbed up to the deck of the house-boat the wet cloth stuck tight to him and made him look, oh, I don't know, kind of like a marsh rat, as you may say. That's what he always said people called him, aswamp rat, and I guess he was even kind of proud of it.
One sure thing, he was game. And he was just the same in learning to swim as he was in everything else; he got all excited and wanted to go too fast. As soon as he got the hang of it and could manage a few strokes,good night, he wanted to swim across the river. He started right off before the fellows in the boat noticed him and was heading across stream. Two or three times we heard him sputtering and shouting, "Now can I have that badge?"
Late that afternoon they let him dive off the deck. It was low and it didn't make much of a dive. Of course, he didn't dive right, he only just jumped and went kerflop into the water, and he had us all laughing. As soon as he found out how much fun it was, he kept climbing up and splashing into the water again; oh, boy, it was as good as a circus to see him. Then he'd go swimming to the skiff and climb in just like a little eel, and sit there shivering.
You can bet that kid is going to have the swimming badge all right, we all said; the trouble is going to be to hold him back. And we were right, too, because when he came up on the cabin roof to get dry, all of a sudden, before any of us knew it, he was over at the edge and dived off before Mr. Ellsworth had a chance to call to him. That was sure too much of a dive for a beginner, for if he hit the water face down and flat,good night, that might have been the end of him. The skiff was hauled up then so Hunt Ward dived in after him, but he had to swim some to catch him and it was mighty funny to see them.
That night Mr. Ellsworth gave Skinny a good lecture and told him he mustn't do things like that until he was told to, but I guess Skinny didn't understand. When I saw Mr, Ellsworth sitting alone on the deck after dark, I went up and sat down and began talking to him. I often do that.
I said, "I guess Skinny's going to get the swimming badge, all right."
"Yes, I guess he is," that's what Mr. Ellsworth said, "Skinny's too much for me. If the boys would only teach him a little scouting, I'd be better pleased. He wants to be a swimmer now; he's not thinking about being a scout. He thinks of the badge only as something to wear."
"I tried to teach him some things out of the Handbook," I said, "but the Elks didn't like it. I tried to tell him some things about scouting and all I got was a good lecture from Connie. Nix on teaching fellows in other patrols."
Mr. Ellsworth seemed awfully worried, kind of; he just sat thinking a minute. Then he said, "I'm afraid Skinny is going to be hard to tame. He'll make a fine swimmer and a fine stalker—"
I said, "He calls that sneaking."
Mr. Ellsworth laughed and said, "But the principal thing is to make him a good scout. Has he done any good turns?"
I said, "The only good turns I know about, are the good turns he made in diving; he turns every which way."
"Well, I hope he can forget about swimming long enough to eat his supper," Mr. Ellsworth said.
But just the same Skinny didn't.
Well, that was the way it was with Skinny and I could see that the Elks were rushing him through, so that he'd get the badge. That used to be one trouble with the Elks and I don't care if they do know I said it. They got one good lesson to cure them, that's sure. The trouble with them was they were making a collection of badges and when you're out for badges, you skip at lot of pages in the Handbook, that's sure.
The next day I said to Connie Bennett—this is just what I said; I said, "I hope you won't get mad at me again if I say something about Skinny, because, anyway, it's none ofmybusiness, that's sure. But as long as you fellows are busy teaching him stunts and things, I don't see that there would be any harm in it, if I read some things in the Handbook to him—some other kind of things, I mean."
He said, "What kind of things?"
"Oh, just about the laws and things like that, like about being honest and obedient—you know."
"You keep your hands off my patrol," that's just what he said; "and you needn't start hinting that the Elks are dishonest—"
"Who's hinting that?" I said, kind of mad; "you remind me of an airplane, you're always going up in the air."
"If any of my patrol are dishonest, they'll be thrown out," he said, "and maybe they'll be welcome in the Silver Foxes."
"Sure," I said, "we make a specialty of burglars and pickpockets; we eat 'em alive. All I was asking you was that you let me teach Skinny some of the 'idea' stuff—you know what I mean."
"You're jealous because he's a genius," Connie said; "and you want to fill him up with grandmother stuff. Why don't you let the kid alone? We'll take care of him."
"All right," I said; "I should worry. Only there's no use getting mad; we're all one troop."
"Yes, but we're three separate patrols," he said.
"United we stand, divided we sprawl," I said. Then he walked away. That was the second day at Poughkeepsie and most all day the Elks were busy turning Skinny into a fish. Some of the rest of us went up to Metzger's Candy Store to get some jaw-breakers. Did you ever eat those? Pee-wee was quiet for an hour munching one. The licorice ones are best. In the afternoon we sat along the cabin roof watching Skinny and the Elks. Good night, you should have seen that kid! Every time the fellows in the boat had to row after him, because he'd go swimming away on his own hook. He never paid any attention to what they told him.
"Throw him a jaw-breaker," Grove Bronson said; "just for fun."
"Nix," I said; "you don't catch me interfering with the buzz-saw. Twice was enough. When I try any polishing, I'll polish up the Silver Foxes."
"Go ahead, throw him one," Grove said to Pee-wee. But I guess Pee-wee didn't have any jawbreakers to spare. His cheeks were sticking out and there was licorice all over his lips, and he said—this is the way it sounded: "I—ooo—go—to—goo—to—are—" something like that, honest.
"Go in and wash your face," Doc said; "you look like a minstrel actor in a rainstorm."
"Yu—sht—p—m—nd—r—n—business." Pee-wee blurted out. Crackey, I thought I'd die.
Pretty soon Doc Carson (he's a Raven) threw a jaw-breaker out into the water and Skinny got it before it went down.
"What do you know about that little water snake," El Sawyer said. Then he shouted, "Bully for you, Skinny!"
I said, "You'd better look out, you'll get yourself in trouble."
"What do I care for the Elks?" he said.
"That's all right," I said; "Connie's got Skinny copyrighted, all rights reserved."
Then, all of a sudden, Wig Weigand shouted, "Look at that, will you?Look!"
We could just see Hunt Ward reach out of the skiff for Skinny, when all of a sudden he disappeared and came up about twenty feet from the skiff. Everybody began laughing and I guess the Elks were mad, because they thought we were just sitting up there kidding them.
Right then I heard Mr. Ellsworth calling out from just in back of us,"Take him in the skiff and bring him aboard, Huntley."
"Now—e—ng—t—gt—cld—down," Pee-wee said, munching away on a jaw breaker.
"You look as if you'd been gargling a bottle of ink," I told him."Don't talk, you can't do two things at once."
Pretty soon Skinny came up the ladder to the cabin roof where we were all sitting. His wet bathing suit stuck to him and it made him look terribly thin, and his hair was all streaked and the water was dripping from his face. But anyway, his eyes were bright and all excited—I never saw another fellow that had eyes like that. He had the piece of candy in his hand and it was all melting from the water and his hand was black and sticky. Jiminy, he looked awful small and skinny alongside of Mr. Ellsworth, and I had to feel sorry for him as soon as Mr. Ellsworth began to speak.
Skinny looked up at him and said, "I got it—I dived and got it—see—I saved it—I didn't eat it. I can swim under the water. Now can I have the badge?" Cracky, the way he stared, if I'd had the badge, I'd have torn it off my arm and handed it to him, honest I would.
Mr. Ellsworth just looked at him and said, "No, you may not have the badge. Before you can have the badge for swimming you must be a better scout. You must learn to be obedient. You heard one of your patrol tell you not to go under water. You heard your patrol leader tell you to get into the skiff. Do you think you know better than they do, what is best for you?"
Even still he didn't pay any attention, he was so excited. "Now am I a hero?" he said.
"No, you are not a hero," Mr. Ellsworth told him; "and you will go inside and get your uniform on. The first duty of a scout is to obey his leader, and you have failed to do that. You are very much mistaken as to the meaning of heroism, and it wasn't necessary to bring us any proof that you got the candy or whatever that is. Scouts are not in the habit of lying and deceiving. We expect always to believe you without proof. Throw that away and go inside and get your clothes on."
Gee, maybe he was right, but anyway, I felt mighty sorry for Skinny. His eyes were all full of tears and he went over to the rail and threw the sticky jaw-breaker out into the water. I I could see by his neck that he was gulping and trying not to cry and, oh, boy, it made me feel bad. It seemed as if it was always that way with him—that he had to be disappointed and that things never came out right with him. Anyway, I said to myself, it's Connie's fault, and all the rest of the Elks are to blame, too. Why didn't they tell him in the beginning about those other things. All they cared about was showing their new member off to the rest of the troop, and you see how it ended.
First I thought I'd go in and talk to Skinny and tell him he was a wonder, for that was just what he was, and Mr. Ellsworth knew it, too. Then I decided that I'd better not on account of Connie. And anyway, I wouldn't have any right to go in and spoil what our scoutmaster said, would I?
Gee whiz, I wouldn't say anything against the Elks, that's sure, because they're all peachy scouts when you come right down to it, but I have to admit that they're crazy about stunts. They have more merit badges in their patrol than there are in the Ravens and Silver Foxes put together. Hunt Ward's sleeve looks like one of those Indian totem poles, there are so many badges on it. Anyway, I should worry, we have twenty-two badges in our patrol, and more good turns in the troop book than either of the other patrols. That's what counts, too—good turns.
The trouble with the Elks was that every time they got a new fellow, he must take a header for some badge or other and most always he would have two or three stunt badges (that's merit badges, you know) waiting for him when he passed his first class tests. "Begin at the beginning," that's what Mr. Ellsworth always said, and he says it's more important to know the scout oath and follow it, than it is to get the eagle, award. Connie's a good patrol leader all right; gee, nobody can say he isn't, but he's crazy about stunts and merit badges. He always seemed to think that that was all there was to scouting. But believe me, there's many a girl wears a sailor hat who screams when she gets in a boat. Anyway, I'm not going to be knocking anybody.
Well, the next day in the middle of the night—I mean the next night early in the morning—I mean when it was just getting light, after the night after the next day—we got to Catskill Landing, and oh, boy! wasn't I glad! We tied the houseboat to an old pier maybe a couple of hundred yards above the regular landing, and had a good swim and then breakfast before we started up to camp. Mr. Ellsworth let Skinny go in, but he told him to be careful not to disobey his leaders or he'd have to come out.
Jimmy, it was funny to see that kid. I don't know how to tell you about it, but he seemed to kind of swim different from the other fellows, and he couldn't help getting excited. They threw pieces of stick for him to get, and he would swim out and bring them in in his mouth just like a dog, and then wait for more, all anxious like. One thing about Skinny I noticed, and that was that all the fellows, even in his own patrol, got a lot of fun out of him, making him do things, but nobody exactly seemed to make friends with him. Anyway, I guess he didn't care, he was always so crazy about what he was doing. Even a lot of summer people stood around on the shore, watching him in the water and saying he was a wonder. I guess they didn't know what to do with themselves, hey? Mostly that's the way it is with summer people.
I flopped some flapjacks for breakfast and El Sawyer (he's a Raven) hung one of them around his neck for a souvenir. He's a fresh kid. Maybe you think it's easy to flop flapjacks—I should worry.
Oh, boy, now comes the best part of this whole story. As soon as we could get our stuff into the duffel bags and the boat all tied fast, we started out on our hike for Temple Camp. You can bet I always like to hike, but early in the morning, oh, it's simply great. Some fellows can drink sodas early in the morning but I can't, but anyway, early hikes are my middle name. You know, just when the sun is coming up, all red like, and peeking over the hill, just as if it was stalking.
Oh, boy, if scouts could only sneak up as quiet as all that!
Now the way you get to Temple Camp is to hike up through Catskill village till you get to the old turnpike road, and then go straight along that till you come to a big boarding house, where there are a lot of people sitting on the porch waiting for breakfast or dinner or supper, or time to go to bed. Then you hit the road up through the woods till you come to a turtle. I guess he isn't there now, but anyway, he was there last year. Then you cut up through the woods and follow the scouts' signs, and you'll come out at Leeds—that's a village. You'll see all the summer people waiting for their mail at the post office. Some of them will say, "Oh, there go some boy scouts, aren't they cute?" They always say that. There's a stationery store there too, where you can buy fishhooks and marshmallows, and other things to eat. I don't mean you eat fishhooks.
Anyway, you go down Main Street till you come to a smell like rotten wood and then you turn in where the willow trees are and you come to an old sawmill. If you holloa from there, they can hear you at camp. Then you cut through the woods and follow the trail till all of a sudden you come plunk out on the edge of the lake and it's all surrounded by woods. That's Black Lake, and believe me, black is my favorite color when it comes to lakes. Then you go across in the boats to Temple Camp.
Mr. John Temple started Temple Camp. He's rich and owns a lot of railroads and things. He used to be mad at the scouts, but after a while when he saw what kind of fellows scouts are, he got glad at them and started Temple Camp. He's awful grouchy when you first see him, but you should worry about that. Once, when he was out west about some railroads, he saw Jeb Rushmore, who was a trapper and all that, and he was getting old, so Mr. Temple made him come to Temple Camp to be camp manager and live there. Oh, boy, you're going to see him in just a minute and I can hardly wait.
So that's the way we went to Temple Camp, but there are short cuts to the Hudson besides that When we got near to the lake we all got anxious—you know how a fellow is when he's almost to a place he's been thinking about a lot.
Doc Carson said, "I see the water is still wet." That was just to jollyPee-wee.
"That's because of the recent rains," I said.
"The which?" Artie asked me.
"You think you're smart talking aboutrecent rains,don't you?"Pee-wee shouted. "You got that out of a book."
"I bet there'll be a lot of troops there this summer," El Sawyer said.
Pretty soon I saw he was right, too, because five boats came across to get us and there was a strange scout in every single one of them. Uncle Jeb was waiting at the landing on the other side to meet us, and oh, cracky, didn't it look good to see the big pavilion and the tents and patrol cabins upside down in the water. There were a lot of scouts waiting too, and I could see the camp was pretty full.
Uncle Jeb said, "Wall, Roay"—that's just the way he talks, slow like; "haow's all the boys from Bridgeboro? I reckon little Pee-wee ain't growed at all. Hain't you never goin' ter grow, Pee-wee? And Artie and Grovey, and El, and Hunter Ward and, let's see, Vic Norris—every plaguy one of yer here. Ain't none of yer died or gone off ter war, hey? And there's Connover Bennett, too, large as life, and still crazy about raisin cake, I reckon. Wall, wall, it's good ter see ye all."
I said, "It's good to see you, too, Uncle Jeb, gee, all the fellows were crazy to see you, that's one sure thing."
"And still making them flapjacks, hey?" he said; "I remember when one uv them New Hampshire scouts scaled one uv them flapjacks uv your'n across the lake. I reckon you're the same old Roay that put the mosquito dope in the biscuits. Yer remember that?" Cracky, I'm not going to tell you anything about my past life, but summer before last up there—oh, boy!
Most of the morning we rested up and got our patrol cabins cleaned out and all fixed up, and in the afternoon we banged around and got acquainted with some of the new troops.
Just before supper, Westy and I went down for a swim and there were Connie Bennett and two or three of the Elks diving with Skinny. A whole lot of fellows were standing around watching. Most of them laughed at Skinny, but they all had to admit he was a crackerjack. I knew the Elks were just kind of showing him off and putting him through a lot of freak stunts just to get their name up around the camp.
After supper, Westy and I and a new fellow in an Ohio troop were rowing around near the shore. He was an awful nice fellow—quiet like—just like me, only different. All of a sudden we noticed Skinny standing on the shore and he called out and asked us if we'd take him in.
"Better watch your step," Westy said; "safety first."
"Where's your patrol?" I called to him.
"They went on a hike," he called back; "can I go with you?"
"You go and ask Mr. Ellsworth," I said; "and if he says it's all right, come ahead."
We could see him scooting pell mell around the edge of the cooking shack, his spindle legs as thin as sticks. Bert Winton (that was the new fellow) watched him, kind of laughing, and then he said, "Queer little codger, isn't he?"
I said, "Yes, he's new and he came out of the slums. I guess he'll never work in harness; that's what our scoutmaster says."
"Swims like an eel," Winton said; "why didn't they take him hiking, I wonder?"
"Hanged ifIknow," Westy said; "he's going to win them the swimming badge, all right. But he doesn't seem to be friends with them exactly. They make good use of him, anyway."
"Kind of a performing bear, hey?" Bert said.
"Something like that," I told him; "I wish I had him in my patrol, I know that."
"Guess he wouldn't fit into any patrol," Winton said; "he seems to be a kind of an odd number."
Pretty soon Skinny came running back shouting for all he was worth, and believe me, he did look like an odd number. His streaky hair was all down over his forehead and his eyes were like a couple of camp fires. He was shouting: "Don't go, don't go! I can go with you"
We rowed over to shore and as he climbed in I could see that he was trembling all over, just for fear we wouldn't wait for him, I suppose. "I was going to swim out to you, I was," he said; "if you didn't wait."
"You wouldn't want your scout suit to get all wet, would you?" I said."Sit down and don't be so excited."
"I like the water better than hiking, anyway," he said; "and I likeyoubest of all."
I said, "The pleasure is mine," and then we all laughed.
"You can make fun of me all you want," he said; "I don't care. I told them they could make fun of me all they want if they'd let me go with them, but they wouldn't let me go."
"They wouldn't, huh?" Bert Winton said, and he studied Skinny awful funny like.
"When I win them the badge, then they'll take me, won't they?" he said.
"I guess so," I told him.
"I'm going to win the cup for them in the contest, too," he said; "I'm going to win it for them before I go home. Then I'll be friends with them. I told them I'd win it ifyoudidn't try for it."
"You should worry about me," I said, "I can swim, butgood night, I'm not in the contest class. And maybe you're not either, so don't be too sure."
He said, "I'm going to win them the cup, and I'm going to win them the badge. But I don't have to get to be a first class scout guy to win the cup, I don't. It's made of silver. Once my father stole a lot of silver. It's all fancy, that cup."
"I know all about the cup, Alf," I said; (because, gee, I didn't like to be calling him Skinny) "but don't call the fellows scout guys. Just scouts—that's enough." He just looked at me kind of wild, as if he didn't understand, the same as he always did when anybody called him down, or tried to tell him something.
For a few minutes nobody spoke and we just rowed around. Then Westy said, "So that's their game, is it?"
I knew well enough what he meant. Every season Mr. Temple offers a silver cup to the best swimmer at Temple Camp. Once Mr. Temple had a son who got drowned because he couldn't swim, and that's why he's so interested in fellows being good swimmers. That silver cup hasn't got anything to do with the scout swimming badge. You can't win that (anyway they won't give it to you) till you've passed your first class tests. But anybody can try for the silver cup, and you can bet it's a big honor for any troop or patrol to have that. Most always they have the contest on Labor Day.
I said, "Alf, you can bet I'd be glad to see you win that cup, but don't forget that there are more than a hundred fellows at the camp. Some of the troops come from the seashore—you know that, and they're all crackerjack swimmers. It comes mighty hard to be disappointed, so don't you stay awake at night thinking about it." I said that because I could just see that poor kid dreaming about handing that cup over to his patrol leader, and honestly, I didn't think there was much chance for him.
Pretty soon Bert Winton leaned over and said to me, "Do you suppose that's true about his father?"
"Guess so," I told him.
"He doesn't seem to be very much ashamed of it," he said.
All I could say was, "He's a queer kid; he's all the time blurting out things like that."
"Maybe it's because he's just plain honest," Winton said.
"But you'd think he'd be ashamed," I told him.
He just shrugged his shoulders and looked kind of funny at Skinny. I had a kind of a hunch that he liked him and believed in him. Anyway, I remembered those words, "just plain honest."
It was nice rowing around there in the dark. It wasn't so very dark, though, because the moon was out and you could see it in the water just as plain as if it had fallen kerflop out of the sky and was laying in the bottom of the lake. Over on shore we could see the camp-fire getting started and black figures going toward it, and the blaze was upside down in the water.
"How about camp-fire?" Westy said.
"We should worry about camp-fire," I told him; "there's plenty of time.Wait till it gets to blazing up good and high."
"It's fine out here," Bert Winton said; "I always take a row before going in to camp-fire."
"We should worry about you, too," I heard somebody say, and then a lot of fellows began laughing. By that I knew they had heard everything we said.
Winton said, "Funny how clear you can people talk when they're on the water."
Pretty soon we were away over at the other side of the lake and it was awfully still, and even our oars seemed to make a lot of noise dripping the water.
All of a sudden Westy said, "There's a canoe."
We could only just see it as it went gliding by us, but I noticed there were two dark figures in it.
Winton said, "Shh, wait till they pass us, then I'll tell you about them."
"I bet they're evil cronies," I said; "like they usually have in books," Because you know how it is in books; there are always a couple of bad fellows that won't join the good ones, but go camping right near them and make a lot of trouble for them. Hanged if I see why they don't join in with them and be done with it, hey?
Pretty soon Winton said very low, "They're a couple of millionaire campers—young fellows. Their people are staying near Leeds and those fellows have got a tent right across there in the woods near the shore. They're having the time of their lives with an up-to-date oil stove and a couple of fireless cookers and some thermos bottles and things. They've got cushions with buckskin fringe—presents from Dearie and Sweetie, I suppose, and they've got a cedar chest with brass hinges. Regular modern Daniel Boones, they are."
"Oh, me, oh, my!" Westy whispered; "have they got jackknives hanging from their belts?"
"Right the first time," Bert Winton said.
"And leather cases of writing paper?" I said, just for fun.
"Everything except a burglar alarm and a telephone," Bert said; "but they're not half bad chaps. We'll row over and see them some day. They have wild times around their camp-fire, telling yarns and watching the roaring blaze in their oil stove. They've got a fancy Indian blanket, you ought to see it. One of them paddled over to camp one day and wanted to buy a fishing rod. He had about a hundred dollars with him. He couldn't even swim."
"Good night!"I said.
Then, all of a sudden Skinny piped up, "If I had a hundred dollars I'd buy a canoe, I would. I'd have it painted red. I'd have a sail for it, too. Then all the fellows would like me, wouldn't they?"
I said, "Shh, don't shout like that; people can hear you all over. The fellows like you now, don't you worry."
"I don't care if they hear me," he said.
Pretty soon we rowed over and went up and sprawled around camp-fire. Gee, whiz, I guess the whole camp was there. One of the scouts in a Virginia troop was telling a yarn about somebody who had an adventure at sea. It was mighty interesting, you can bet, and it kind of started me thinking about Lieutenant Donnelle. Little I knew of the terrible thing that was going to happen at camp the very next day. Right across from me I could see Skinny sitting near Mr. Ellsworth, but the rest of the Elks were sprawling around with the Ravens. One thing, my patrol always sticks together. Skinny's eyes looked awful big and wild, kind of, with the fire shining right in his face and it made me feel kind of spooky to look at him. Poor kid, little he knew what he was going to go through. Anyway, I wished that the Elks would call him over to them. Probably he was thinking about how he was going to win them the silver cup, hey?
One thing I have to admit, and that is that Mr. Ellsworth helped me a lot with this chapter and the next one too. But just the same both of them are by me, all right.
It's a funny thing, but all that night I was dreaming about that canoe with the two fellows in it. I could hear them paddling just as clear as could be, only when I woke up before daylight, I knew it was just the sound of rain on the roof of our patrol cabin. It was dripping into the rain ditch, I guess.
Pretty soon I went to sleep again, and I could see Skinny standing in front of me and his eyes were staring and his face was all white and there was some blood on it and he said, "I want to be a Silver Fox, because my father stole a lot of silver; so haven't I got a right to be?" I tried to answer him, but there was a loud noise and he couldn't hear and then, all of a sudden, I woke up and I knew the noise was thunder and Skinny wasn't there at all. Anyway, it made me feel kind of creepy and I was glad when I saw him at breakfast.
All that morning it rained and most of the scouts stayed in their tents and cabins. Some of them played basketball in the pavilion. Three fellows from the Boston troop went out fishing, but they had to come in it was raining so hard.
Before dinnertime, Uncle Jeb called some of us to move the mess boards into the pavilion, because it was beginning to blow from the east and the awnings and thatch roofs over the mess boards didn't keep the rain off, because it blew sideways. Out on the lake the water was churning up rough with little white caps. Jiminy, I never saw it like that before.
It was so dark and rainy that a fellow couldn't read even; anywayIcouldn't because, oh, I don't know, I felt queer kind of. A lot of us sat on the wide porch of the pavilion—the side facing the lake. It was wide enough so the rain didn't come in and wet us as long as we stayed way back near the windows. We sat in a long row with our chairs tilted back. It was nice there.
Somebody said, "That spring-board looks lonely sticking out into the lake; look how the drops jump off it, just like fellows diving."
"Not much of a day for the race," Doc Carson said.
"What race?" Pee-wee shouted.
"The human race," Doc said; "no sooner said than stung."
We were just starting to jolly Pee-wee, because that's our favorite indoor sport, when somebody said, "There's one of the gold dust twins out; he must be crazy."
"He comes from Maine," another fellow said; "I guess he's a maniac."
But anyway, it was no joke, that was sure. Away over near the other side of the lake we could see the canoe bobbing up and down and it seemed to be coming toward us.
"Only one of them is in it," I said.
"And that's one too much on a day like this; that pair are sure nutty,"Doc said.
But just the same the canoe came along and one of those campers was sitting in the stern paddling it. He was having a pretty hard job, I could see that, but maybe it wasn't as dangerous as it looked, because if you know how to manage a canoe it's better than an old tub of a boat in bad weather.
"He's making it all right," one of the fellows said; "he's game, that's sure."
Pretty soon he came alongside the landing and turned his canoe over to let the water out, and then came up to the pavilion.
"Pretty wet," he said.
"You said something," Westy answered him; "you took a big chance coming over."
"I'd sure have been drowned if Ihadn'tcome," he laughed; "I wonder if you fellows can sell us a shovel? Our tent is floating."
I had to laugh, because that's always the one thing that most campers who aren't used to it forget about—I mean digging a drain ditch outside their tent. And the first time it rains,good night,they get drowned out like rats. I thought he was a pretty nice kind of a fellow, only he was one tenderfoot, that was sure. He had a swell bathing suit on with one of those waterproof mackinaw jackets over it. I guess his people were rich all right, and I suppose that's why the fellows at camp called the pair the gold dust twins. He took some bills out of his pocket and said, "We want to buy a shovel; you can't dig a trench with a canoe paddle. There's fine swimming in our tent."
Then Bert Winton said, kind of quiet in that way he had, "I don't think you'll need any money here. I'll get hold of one of the scoutmasters," and he started down the steps. Just then I noticed Skinny standing on the steps and Bert Winton gave him a push, just for fun, as he went by.
"Come on in out of the rain, Alf," I said; because I knew he was just hanging there, because he was afraid to come up where the rest of us were. I asked him where his patrol was, and he said, "In the cabin, playing checkers." I said, "Don'tyouknow how to play checkers," and he said, "No." After that I didn't notice him.
Pretty soon the gold dust twin came back with a shovel and Mr. Elting, who is resident trustee, was with him, telling him he'd better not go back across the lake on account of its blowing up harder.
"I could never get around through the woods," he said; "because I tried it."
"Some of these boys will show you the trail," Mr. Elting said.
But he said, "No," and that as long as he came he was going to go back. He said he didn't want any escort. He was pretty game, that was one sure thing. I guess maybe he felt sort of ashamed to have boy scouts show him the way, because he was older than most of us. Anyway, he started back and we sat there watching him, and pretty soon it seemed as if a kind of a screen was behind him, the rain was so thick and there was so much mist. It made him look sort of like a ghost or a—you know—a spectre.
Then, all of a sudden Artie Van Arlen's hat blew off and I heard a branch of a tree crack.
"Where is the canoe?" Doc said, all excited; "do you see it?"
We looked all over, but couldn't see him anywhere. That was just how quickly it happened. Then, all of a sudden I could hear a voice, but I couldn't hear it plain, because the wind was blowing the other way and the rain was making such a racket on the porch roof. The voice was all mixed up with the wind and it sounded spooky and gave me the creeps.
For a couple of seconds nobody said anything.
The next thing I knew there was a loud splash and I heard the spring-board down on the shore crack, and when I looked there I could see it jumping up and down.
I knew what that meant.
"Who dived?" Westy shouted; "he must be crazy! He can't make it. Hurry up, let's get a boat out! Do you hear the voice now?"
After that everything seemed to happen all in a jumble. Westy and Doc and I ran to the landing and got one of the boats off, while the fellows up on the porch shouted to the fellow who had dived to come back, because he couldn't make it. I heard one fellow yell, "You're crazy; come back while you can! They're getting a boat out!"
I was so busy helping to push the boat into deep water that I didn't think any more about the fellow who dived, only I supposed he must have turned back. I heard the fellows shouting, but I didn't pay any attention. Out on the lake I could hear the voice now calling help, and it sounded creepy, like a person trying to call while he's gargling.
Doc said, "It's all up with him; hurry, anyway."
It was pretty hard getting the boat started, because the wind kept blowing it ashore, and we had to pull and tug for all we were worth. I got in back of it and shoved out till I was beyond my depth, then jumped in while Dock and Westy pulled for all they were worth, trying to get her ahead.
I guess most everybody at the camp was up on the porch by now, and there were a lot crowding on the spring-board.
"Pull hard," Doc said; "the next cry will be the last one; I know the sound."
Just then we heard a long cry, but it didn't say any word, just h—e— e—
And then it stopped.
Doc said, "Pull hard anyway; you steer her, Roy. Right over there—a little to the left—you can see the canoe."
I looked over there and saw it upset and no one was near it.
* * * * *
I can't tell you all about what happened. I tried and tore up three pages. Because it makes me all excited myself, as you might say. I can hear that crowd on the porch shouting just as plain as on that very day it happened. And every time it rains and it's dark and windy, it reminds me of it too. The next thing I knew we were right close beside two fellows and Westy was holding them and shouting, "Let go, I've got him!"
The fellow who wouldn't let go was Skinny.
I can't tell you about how he looked—honest, I just can't tell you. But there was blood on his face just the same as I saw in the dream—as sure as I'm sitting here, there was. He had hold of the camping fellow's mackinaw jacket with his teeth and the fellow's mouth was stretched wide open and Skinny's hand was clutching his teeth and chin and holding his head above water that way. It wasn't like any rule for holding a drowning fellow, anyway, no ruleIever heard of. Even now I can see that skinny little white hand straining to hold that mouth and chin, and afterward I saw how there was a cut across Skinny's fingers where the fellow's teeth had pressed. Skinny's arm was shaking just like a rope shakes when it's pulled too tight and his eyes were staring crazy.
While I kept the boat steady, Doc leaned out and pressed Skinny's jaws so as to make his teeth let go. And even then when we dragged him in over the stern, he had a piece of mackinaw jacket in his mouth.
I said, "Skinny, don't act crazy, he's saved," but he only sat on the back seat trembling all over as if he had a fit. It wasn't because he was cold, it was just because he was excited and crazy like.
I didn't notice the camping fellow much after I saw that he was alive and that Doc had him breathing all right. Westy took the oars but I couldn't help him on account of Skinny. And I couldn't do much for Skinny either. He was gone clean out of his head and started screaming, "I did it; I did it!"
I said, "Yes, you did it; try to be quiet and get rested now. Can't you see he's all right?"
"I held him up till you came," he panted; "I'm a hero. I want to go and be all by myself, I do."
I said, "Hsh, Skinny, listen—"
"He called me!" Skinny shouted; "he called meout loud!"
"I know," I said, "and you went. Sure, you're a hero." But of course, I knew the fellow never called him at all. Anyway, maybe the wind made it sound that way to him. He just sat there shaking all over and staring wild, "Three times," he panted out, "and that's the last—I—I got my hand in his mouth before—before—he said it—I did. That's the way murderers do—it is. I did it. Even I know how to strangle—I do. I'm a hero!"
I said, "Listen here, Alf, you're a wonder—"
"I—I—I—couldkillyou if I wanted to!" he screamed; "I can do anything—I can sneak—stalk—I can take things out of your pocket—I can choke people—I—"
That's just the way he went on and I saw he had gone all to pieces, maybe from the strain, and didn't know what he was saying. I just put my arm around him and I could feel that he was shaking all over, but it wasn't anything like a chill.
He kept saying, "I want to be alone by myself now."
I said, "Alf, listen a minute—please. You can go and be alone by yourself. You can go in our patrol cabin and I'll chase all the fellows out. I know how you feel. It was wonderful, Alf. Try to get quieted down now. You saved him."
"I—I canbite," he said.
I said, "Yes, I know; but try to take it easy now, because we're coming to shore. You have to act like a real hero."
But as soon as we came into shallow water he jumped out of the boat and scooted around the edge of the pavilion, like a wild animal. In a couple of seconds everybody in camp was around the boat, waiting to hear what the camp doctor said. As soon as I knew that the fellow was going to be all right, I went away to find Skinny. No one else seemed to miss him.
Pretty soon I heard a voice calling, "What's your hurry, Blakeley?" andI turned around and saw Bert Winton hurrying to catch up to me.
"I'm going to look for that kid," I said.
For about half a minute we walked along together, and then he said kind of quiet, sort of, "Do you think he's crazy?"
"I don't think he's exactly crazy," I said; "but he's all gone to pieces."
"He sounded crazy from the shore," he said.
"He didn't know what he was saying, anybody could tell that," I answered him.
"What did he do?" Winton asked me.
"Oh, he just nearly killed him trying to save him," I said.
"Hmph," Winton said.
"He'll be all right," I told him.
"Most of the fellows here think he's crazy," he said. "Last night they could hear him way out on the lake, boasting about his father stealing silver. 'Better keep your watch under your pillow and let Uncle Jeb take care of your coin,' that's what all the fellows are saying."
"Is that whatyou'resaying?" I said.
"I'm not saying anything," he shot back.
"You saw what he just did," I told him.
"I saw what he just did," he said.
"You don't seem to be very excited about it," I shot back at him again.
"What's the good of getting excited?" he said.
"Doyouthink he's crazy and a thief?" I asked him.
"I think he may be a little crazy—at times," he said. "As to being a thief—" And then he screwed his mouth up, but didn't say anything more.
"A hero-thief," I said, kind of sarcastic, for the way he talked made me mad.
"He's sure a hero," he said.
"I'm glad you think so," I told him. "Heroes aren't usually thieves, are they?"
"Not as a rule," he said, kind of quiet and all the while kicking a stone.
"Well then," I said.
"Well then," he said too.
"Well then, there you are," I spoke up.
"Well then, here we are," he said, with an awful funny smile, "and the question is, where is the little skinny fellow?"
"I guess I can find him without any help from you," I said.
Then he walked away. Cracky, maybe I couldn't understand Skinny very well, but I sure couldn't understand Bert Winton at all.
I hunted for Skinny for a couple of hours, but I couldn't find him. I went all the way into Leeds for I couldn't think where else he'd be, if he wasn't around camp. But he wasn't in the village, that was sure, and I began to get kind of anxious, because I knew the crazy state he was in, and besides he was soaked from being in the lake.
It cleared up nice and sunny while I was gone and when I got back to camp, everybody was getting ready for supper. I had to change my clothes, they were so wet, and while I was doing it Mr. Ellsworth came into our cabin and asked me if I knew where Skinny was.
I said, "No, I don't; I hiked all over looking for him, but I couldn't find him. That's how I got so wet I should think Connie would have his patrol out hunting for him."
Mr. Ellsworth and I walked over to supper together, and he seemed kind of worried. "I'm afraid this thing has jarred his balance a little," that's what he said.
"One reason he wants to be alone," I said, "is because he hasn't got any friends."
"I think his patrol is very proud of him," he said; "the whole camp is proud of him."
"They're proud of what hedid; they couldn't help being proud of it," I said. "But they're not proud ofhim. Why don't they take him in and make friends with him? He's won the gold cross for them; gee, the least they can do is to show some interest in him. Are they ashamed of him? They don't even trust him, that's whatIthink."
Mr. Ellsworth said, "Yes, he's won the gold cross for them; no doubt of that."
"Yes," I said, "and where is he now? He's gone off so's he can be alone. One fellow around here says everybody in camp thinks he's a thief."
"Oh, I guess he didn't say just that, Roy," Mr. Ellsworth said, very nice like, "but we've got to have a little talk with Skinny about the way he talks—the things he says. He's a very queer youngster. They see he's different from the rest of us, that he's out of the slums and, well, they don't understand him, that's all."
"He just blurts everything out," I said, "that's all."
"Well, hemustn't," Mr. Ellsworth laughed, "especially when he's out on the lake. His tirade to-day, after the rescue, sounded very strange. The boys are not used to hearing talk about picking pockets and stealing silverware. They don't understand it."
"I should worry about them," I said; "Skinny's just a kind of a freak. Look at the way he wanted to go away and be alone by himself. Doesn't that prove it?"
"Well," Mr. Ellsworth said, "it will be more to the point if he comes back all right."
"It would be more to the point if the Elks were out hunting for him," I said. You can bet I wasn't afraid to say it—to Mr. Ellsworth or anybody else.
"I think we'll have to organize a search if he doesn't show up soon,"Mr. Ellsworth said. Then neither of us said anything for a few seconds.
"How about the camping fellow?" I asked him.
"They took him home in a skiff," Mr. Ellsworth said; "he wanted to go, so three of the boys rowed him across after the weather cleared."
"I don't see how Skinny held him up—I just don't," I told Mr.Ellsworth.
Mr. Ellsworth said, "No, it was marvelous any way you look at it. I think Skinny nearly broke the poor fellow's jaw. There is wonderful power in frantic desperation."
Anyway, at supper all the fellows were shouting about Skinny. Everybody said he'd have the gold cross—even Uncle Jeb and Mr. Elting. And you never hear Mr. Elting saying much about those things till he's sure. All the Elks were shouting about the gold cross and where they'd keep it, just as if it was theirs. Hardly any of them said anything about Skinny.
At camp-fire it was just the same only more so, and I noticed across the fire that Mr. Ellsworth and a couple of the scoutmasters were talking together and I guessed they were deciding about getting a searching party started.
Pretty soon Bert Winton came over and squatted down alongside of me. "Kind of hot on the other side," he said, "flame blows right in your face. These fellows all in your patrol?"
I told him, "Yes," and then I said, "mostly we hang together."
"Good idea," he said; "any news of the little codger?"
"Icouldn't find him," I said, kind of mad like.
"Guess he didn't go far," he said; "just wanted to get off by himself and think it over. Natural enough. Didn't hit his tracks, did you?"
I said, "Nope."
"Stole a march on you," he said.
"Oh, sure, he stole a couple of marches," I said; "maybe he even stole a look."
"Well, he stole away," Winton said; "he'll be back."
Cracky, I couldn't make heads or tails of that fellow. Somehow I kind of liked him—I couldn't help it.
All of a sudden I heard a fellow shout, "There he is!" And then everbody around the camp-fire set up a howl.
Skinny was standing in the dark away from the fire, just as if he was afraid to come in among the fellows. His uniform was all wrinkled and stained and he looked even worse than he did other times. There was a long mark on his cheek where I guess the gold dust twin had scratched him, and he didn't have his hat or his shoes.Good night, he didn't look much like pictures you see of heroes. But he was all quieted down, that was one thing. I guess he was played out.
"There he is, the crazy little Indian!" a fellow shouted; "come in here, Skinny, till we get our fists on you. You've won the gold cross, you little spindle shanks!"
Then a lot of fellows shouted, "Hurrah for Skinny! Come here, Skinny, till we pat you on the back—you little water snake!" They didn't even seem to know his last name or his front name either, and it made me mad.
"You trot right over here to mamma, Skinny," Vic Norris of the Elks shouted; "we'll take care ofyou."
The kid was smiling, all confused, as if he didn't knowwhatto do.
"Come ahead over; don't be scared," Connie Bennett shouted. So then Skinny went over, kind of bashful and staring all around him, and sat down with the Elk patrol.
Westy leaned over and whispered to me, "Can you beat that?His own patrol leader telling him not to be afraid to go and sit down with his own patrol! I'll fix that bunch," he said.
Then he stood right up and shouted—oh, boy, you ought to have heard him. He said, "Let's give three cheers for Alfred McCord, of the 1st Bridgeboro Troop, B.S.A., the second fellow to win the gold cross in his troop and the first one to win it in his patrol—theonlyone in his patrol thatcouldwin it!"
Oh, boy, that was some whack.
Well, you should have heard the fellows shout for Skinny. Merry Christmas! but that was some noise. They all stood up, the Elks too, and gave him the biggest send-offIever heard at Temple Camp. Even the scoutmasters and the trustees joined in and old Uncle Jeb kept shouting, "Hooo—ray! Hooo—ray!" Cracky, you would have laughed if you'd heard him. Oh, bibbie! when Temple Camp once gets started, the west front in France is Sleepy Hollow compared to it.
And oh, didn't it make me feel good to see Skinny. He looked as if he was going to start to run away, but Connie had him by the collar, and all the Elks were laughing, and now I could see they were proud of him, anyway.
Then Mr. Ellsworth held up his hand and as soon as the racket died down, he began to speak. This is what he said, because Mr. Barrows (he's a trustee) knows shorthand, and afterwards he gave it to me all written out to copy in our troop book. He said:
"Scouts, you have heard that speech is silver and silence is golden. I think this kind of shouting is highest grade sterling silver. It is chunks of silver, as one might say. But since this is a matter of the gold cross, I ask for just a moment or two of golden silence, while I speak to you. I see about me, scouts from Ohio, and Michigan, and New Hampshire—"
"And Hoboken!" Pee-wee piped out. Jiminy, that kid is the limit.
"Yes, and Hoboken," Mr. Ellsworth said, trying not to laugh. "I speak to all of you from north, south, east and west—"
"One of them has been up in an airplane, too!" Pee-wee yelled.
"I speak to all scouts here," Mr. Ellsworth said, "whether they come from the heavens above or from the earth beneath or from the waters under the earth. That will include any scout who may happen to have been in a submarine. Will that do?" And he gave Pee-wee an awful funny look.
Then he said, "I want to thank you all for the tribute you have paid our troop in its moment of pride and honor. This little scout is brand new, he is not even out of the tenderfoot class, and the gold cross award for heroism will be his. I think that every scout of his patrol should thrill with pride at this thought. I dare say we all find him a little strange,weas well asyou, and I'm afraid he is a kind of law unto himself—if you understand what I mean. But this beautiful cross which will soon be his will bring him closer to us all, I am sure. It is said in our Handbook that a scout is a brother to every other scout, so he has many thousands of brothers all over this broad land. The gold cross is very bright. Look in it and you will see your face reflected. You will see the scout smile, and that is brighter than any gold.
"The best of all, it reflects honor—honor on him who wears it, honor on his patrol, on his troop and on every troop and scout in this whole great camp. And Alfred McCord has brought us this honor. Come here, Alf, my boy, and let me shake your hand."
Wasn't that a peach of an address?
But I noticed that Skinny didn't move. He just stood there close to Connie Bennett He was shaking all over and he was smiling and he was crying. I saw Hunt Ward jump up and give him a rap on the back and he was so little and so thin, that it kind of made him stagger.
Then he said, "Can't I stay here with them?"
Oh, boy, wasn't I glad!
Believeme, that wassomenight. I guess I knew how Skinny felt when he scooted off, because after camp-fire I felt just that same way myself. Christmas! I don't know how it feels to win the gold cross, and I guess I never will either, but just the same, after camp-fire that night, I just felt as if I wanted to go and be by myself—I can't tell you why.
It's fine hanging around the camp-fire after it's died down, but they're pretty sure to chase you off to bed if you do that. It's a danger zone, believeme. Anyway, I know a peach of a place on a big rock near the shore. You just go along under the spring-board and pass the boat landing and follow the path. So I went there and pretty soon Hunt Ward came along on his way to the Elk cabin, and he stopped a couple of minutes and talked to me.
"Well," he said, "we've got that little old medal in our patrol."
"You've got Alf in your patrol, you mean," I said.
"I don't know whether you could exactly say heearnedit," he said; "because he was crazy and didn't know what he was doing."
"I wish I knew some more fellows who were crazy like that," I told him.
"You seem to be kind of sore at us, Foxy," he said. Most of them called me Foxy, because I'm leader of the Silver Foxes.
"There's a difference between a mascot and a regular friend," I told him. "You fellows treat Skinny just as if he was a sort of a mascot. Why don't you take him in with you, just like you would any other fellow?"
"He's a queer little duck," Hunt said.
"That isn't any reason why you shouldn't take him in. I'm not saying you haven't—now. And I'm glad if you have, that's sure. You ought to read him the Handbook and teach him some of the other stuff—the laws and all that. Gee, that's the least you could do, now he's won the cross for you."
"Grandpa Foxy," he said, and then he went along toward the Elk cabin.
I was just going to start off to our own cabin when I heard footsteps. It seemed as if someone might be stealing along, and first I thought it might be Skinny. I was glad it wasn't, because I wanted him to stay in with his own fellows now and not bother with me.
It was Bert Winton.
"H'lo, Blakeley," he said, in that quiet kind of a way he has; "I thought everybody was in bed."
"I seeyou'renot in bed," I told him, kind of grouchy.
He said, "Me? Oh, no, I always prowl around after fox trails and things. I got on one fox trail, didn't I? Bet the kid won't sleep to-night, hey?"
"I bet I won't sleep either," I said; "and that's why I'm here."
"Kind of like the kid, don't you?" he said.
I said, "Yes, and that's more thanyoucan say."
He just looked at me a minute and then he sat down on the stone alongside of me, and he broke a stick off a bush and began marking on the ground with it. Then he said, kind of as if he didn't take much interest—he said, "Actions speak louder than words; did you ever hear that?"
"Sure," I said, "but I'd like to know what that has to do with Skinny."
He just kept pushing the stick around, then he said, "If you're such a good friend of his, instead of trotting all around and sticking your face into every cabin like an old maid hunting for a thimble, why didn't you find his trail and follow it?"
I said, "I don't know why I didn't"
"If you thought he just went off to be by himself, why didn't you trail him and make sure?" he asked me, all the while very friendly and quiet like.
"Well, if he wanted to be by himself," I said, "why should I track him?"
"Why should you hunt for him at all, then?" he said.
"Just because I choose to," I told him.
"That's a good reason," he said.
"It's all the reason you'll get," I blurted out.
"All right," he said, very nice and polite, "only then don't go aroundthinking you're a better friend to him than I am. I know this camp andI know those fellows across the lake and I know page fifty-one of theHandbook, and I've seen the kid once or twice."
"I suppose you think I don't know what's on page fifty-one of the Handbook," I said, getting mad; "it's the tracking badge—pathfinding— so there. And I see you have it on your sleeve, too."
"That's where it belongs," he said.
"Well, then, if you think it was so important to track him, why didn't you track him?" I blurted at him, for I was good and mad.
"I did," he said.