CHAPTER XVIITHE TWO CROSSES
I GUESS maybe I’d better tell you about Skinny now, so you’ll know all about who he is. Before I was a scout I used to call him Wash-board, because he was so skinny you could have used his ribs for a wash-board. I guess I used to think that was funny, but, gee, when you get to be a scout you find out what real fun is and you don’t call names like that.
He always lived down in Barrel Alley and his mother goes out washing. Once Skinny’s father hit him on the head and it made him queer like. But he got better mostly. Only he was always afraid of people after that. His father went away and got killed. Sometimes Skinny sold papers at the station, but he was always scared of people, especially rich fellows. How should I know he was interested in Scouts? He didn’t have much to eat, I guess. Anyway Jake Holden was a good friend to him and he wasn’t scared of Jake. I guess maybe he had consumption.
He didn’t wake up again then, anyway he didn’t open his eyes, and as soon as his mother came home from her work Westy and I went home. I wasn’t thinking anything about the house-boat now. I was only thinking about Skinny and I had my mind all made up, too. I didn’t say anything to Westy, but on the way home I decided what I was going to do.
It was the scout trail that took me to that tenement house and if you follow a scout trail you’re safe. That scout trail knew what it was doing all right. There wasn’t any trail leading to the houseboat. Stick to your trail. That’s the rule. And you can bet your life I was going to stick to that trail now. If that trail was going to lead to the cemetery, all right—that’s what I said. But I had picked up Skinny McCord’s trail and I made up my little old mind that I was going to hang on to it and follow it like a blood-hound.
That night we were going to have a special troop meeting to decide about chipping in money for our cruise up to camp, because we didn’t have much left on account of spending so much for paint and lumber and different things.
I knew how the fellows and Mr. Ellsworth would be feeling about me not coming back and Westy not showing up, and I knew how the Silver Foxes would feel, especially. But anyway, I had my mind all made up. After supper my sister Ruth played a game of tennis with Westy and while they were playing I went up to my room and got out the Scout Handbook. Then I read the scout laws over, but anyway I knew them. After I had read them all I made two crosses with a lead pencil, one alongside of one law and one alongside another. Then I put the Handbook in my pocket and went downstairs.
It was time to go to the meeting now and so we started off.
“You seem awful funny,” Westy said; “what’s the matter?”
“It’s patrol business,” I said; “it’s about——”
“Is it about me?” he asked me.
“It’s about my patrol,” I said; “it’s about the Silver Foxes. Did you ever hear that a Silver Fox never makes a mistake about a trail?”
“No,” he said, kind of puzzled.
“You want to read up natural history,” I told him. “A silver fox knows the tracks of all the different kinds of animals and if he could talk he could tell you about them.”
“Too bad he can’t talk,” Westy said, sort of jollying me.
“Ican talk,” I said. Then after a minute I said, “It’s about the Elk patrol, too.”
He didn’t say any more and pretty soon we got to the troop-room—that’s in the Public Library. We were a little late, but I wanted it that way, so we wouldn’t have any talk with anyone before the meeting started. Everyone said “hello” to us, but they were the coldest “helloes”youever saw.
“If I’d known it was going to be as cold as this, I’d have worn my sweater,” I told Westy. Even my own patrol didn’t say anything to us, and they all looked kind of glum. I heard Will Dawson say something about our patrol being “in bad,” but I didn’t pay any attention—I should worry.
Now the way we sit at the beginning of troop meetings is in three rows and each patrol is one row. The patrol leader always sits at the right hand end of the row and Mr. Ellsworth sits in front. If there are any local councilmen they sit in front with him. But it doesn’t look much like that after things get started, I can tell you that. That night Mr. Bennett was there, too. He’s on the Local Council.
When Westy and I went up to our row to sit down, nobody said anything to us at all, not even the fellows in our own patrol. Ralph Warner was sitting in my seat at the end, and he said, kind of cold like, “Do you want to sit down here?”
“Of course I want to sit down there,” I told him; “I’m the leader of this patrol. WhereshouldI sit?” So he moved over kind of glum and I sat down in my chair at the end, right beside the Silver Fox emblem that stands in a rack on the floor. Maybe they had an idea of electing a new patrol leader, hey? I should worry.
As soon as we were all ready Mr. Ellsworth called the roll and Westy and I were marked late. Then Mr. Ellsworth read a couple of notices and said the special meeting was called for several purposes. He said one was to draft a letter of gratitude to Mr. Donnelle for loaning us the boat, and one was to decide (he always says determine, but decide is easier) how much each scout could chip in for the expenses of our cruise up the Hudson to Catskill Landing.
Then he looked very serious and said one of the patrols had all signed a petition (all except two absentees, he said) asking him to order an election in that patrol for a new patrol leader.
“I have been asked,” that’s just what he said, “I have been asked to administer a troop reprimand to a member of the patrol of the Silver Foxes for absenting himself throughout the day from urgent troop duties with no better excuse than a desire to play baseball. This I shall have to do. The new election is asked for in order that a patrol leader may be found who will not leave his patrol and his duties on a mere pretext and not return. I authorize this election. Meanwhile Wesleigh Martin will please stand up.”
I could see that Westy’s face was kind of white and his lips were tight together and I knew he didn’t intend to say anything.
CHAPTER XVIIISCOUT LAW NUMBER THREE
Now, I can tell you just exactly what Mr. Ellsworth said, because I remembered it and I wrote it down right afterwards. First I was afraid Westy would say something and I didn’t want him to, because—well, you’ll see. So now I’ll copy what Mr. Ellsworth said. Oh, jiminy, you could hear a pin drop, everyone was so quiet. He said:
“Wesleigh (that’s Westy, you know), I have been asked by your own patrol to give you this public reproof, and I speak for the whole troop as well, when I remind you that your action to-day in absenting yourself and thereby avoiding your share of the work we had undertaken to do, was unscoutlike and unworthy of you, and unworthy of the patrol whose fine traditions you were bound to guard and support. You knew that to be entitled to your share of the pleasure of this purposed cruise, you would have to do your share of the work. You knew that to-day was set apart for concerted effort by the whole troop to make this boat ready for starting next Saturday. You knew that at the urgent request of some of you boys I arranged to spend the day helping you. You were one of the boys who asked me to do this. You remember?
“We meet here to-night after a hard day’s work, pleasant as work always is, but hard nevertheless. You will have the satisfaction of knowing that you will occupy a bunk which your companions have made ready for you, and that you did not yourself hammer so much as a single nail. Arthur Van Arlen and Wigley Weigand, both weary and one lame, after a frightful experience, were here and helped to make the boat safe and comfortable foryou. They were loyal to the Raven Patrol. I hope you may be moved to appreciate the interest and spirit which they displayed while you were playing ball.
“When you have an opportunity, Wesleigh, I would like to have you read the scout laws again and bear in mind particularly your obligation of loyalty to your scoutmaster, which of course, means to your scout duties—your troop and your patrol. I kept my word with you to-day and you did not keep your word with me. The house-boat is ready for our cruise, and I hope that you, along with all the members of the troop will find the trip enjoyable. That is all, Wesleigh, unless you have something to say.”
Oh, gee, you should have heard the silence—I don’t meanheardit—but there wasn’t a sound.
Then Westy said, “I haven’t got anything to say.” And then he sat down.
I knew that it was time then for me to do what I wanted to do, but I couldn’t get up because I felt all shaky. I was holding to the pole of the Silver Fox emblem that was right beside me, and, oh, cracky, I felt funny. All of a sudden I heard Mr. Ellsworth say that he wouldn’t say anything to Roy Blakeley because the patrol was going to have an election and then I heard Will Dawson, of my patrol, say under his breath, sort of, that there’d be only one fellow to vote for me, and I knew he meant Westy Martin. Gee, I’m glad I heard him say that because it gave me a kind of an idea what to say and it made me mad, and when you’re mad you have courage—you know what I mean, you can get up and talk. Jiminy, I knew I couldn’t make a speech like Mr. Ellsworth with all long words, and besides I had to be careful that it didn’t seem as if I was just answering him back.
So then I grabbed tight hold of the emblem pole because, I don’t know, it seemed to give me courage kind of, and it wasmyemblem andmypatrol for a few minutes yet, anyway. But oh, didn’t my hand tremble. Anyway I could see that Mr. Bennett was sort of listening and I wasn’t so much scared after I got up.
This is what I said, only I didn’t say it as well as it sounds here on account of being nervous, but I should worry as long as I knew I was right, hey?
“I heard a fellow in my patrol say just now” that’s the way I began, “that there is only one Silver Fox would vote for me because I went away and didn’t come back. I know he meant Westy and he’s the one fellow I’d want to vote for me, anyway, you can bet. I don’t care what happens, I don’t, if Westy will only vote for me. Because he’s one real scout and none of the rest of you know anything about scouting alongside of him—you don’t. And anyway I don’t care so much if I’m not leader any more, if I could only be sure you’d electhimleader——”
“He stands a tall chance,” I heard a fellow say.
“About as tall as Pee-wee,” another fellow said. He was trying to be smart.
“Maybe he’ll have a tall chance, as tall as the Woolworth Building,” I said; “you’d better keep still. I want to ask Mr. Ellsworth if I can say something—while I’m still Silver Fox leader, that’s all.”
“Surely you may, Roy,” he said, kind of pleasant.
“Because there’s one more thing I’m going to say for my patrol. I—I started that patrol and——”
Oh, gee, then I broke right down, not exactly crying, but you know, there was something in my throat and I just couldn’t talk for a minute.
“Go on, Roy,” Mr. Ellsworth said, and he was awfully nice, I have to admit that.
So I said how I started that patrol and did the best I could and always told the fellows to be loyal and how disgrace spills all over just like Mr. Ellsworth himself told us.
“Anyway, Mr. Ellsworth,” I said, “I can’t say it as good as I’d like to, because—you know——”
“Take your time, Roy,” he said.
“Anyway, you remember how you spoke about the laws.” I was holding tight to the Silver Fox standard and it kind of helped me to speak, and I guess pretty soon my voice didn’t shake. “I know all the laws,” I said, “and I think more about them than I do about stunts and adventures and things——”
“How about baseball?” a fellow said, but I didn’t pay any attention to him, and Mr. Ellsworth frowned at him.
“And only to-night I looked at them,” I said, “and I made marks next to two of them.” Then I fumbled in my pocket and got out the Handbook, and I reminded myself of a lawyer. Anyway I could see Mr. Bennett smile at Mr. Ellsworth. “Gee, I wouldn’t say anything against the laws, that’s one sure thing,” I said, “because they’re all dandy laws, you can bet. But maybe a fellow might not know which one to obey because he can’t obey them all at once, can he?”
Mr. Ellsworth said he didn’t know about that and he looked kind of surprised. I should worry, I wasn’t scared now. “Suppose he’s on his way to obey Law 8 and keep his word and be loyal to his troop and his scoutmaster,” I said. “That’s Law 8, isn’t it?”
Mr. Ellsworth looked surprised and said, “Yes.” And Mr. Bennett was smiling with an awful funny kind of a smile.
“And suppose while he’s on his way he runs plunk into another law.Good night!What’s he going to do? Maybe you don’t know which law I mean by another one. It’s number 3, and I can say it without even looking at the book. Even if they elect——”
I guess Mr. Ellsworth could see my voice was trembling, because he said, “Take your time, Roy, you have us interested.”
I have to admit I was feeling bad, but anyway I said the law right off without looking at the book.
3. A SCOUT IS HELPFUL.He must be prepared at any time to save life, help injured persons, and share the home duties. He mustdo at least one good turn to somebody every day.
3. A SCOUT IS HELPFUL.
He must be prepared at any time to save life, help injured persons, and share the home duties. He mustdo at least one good turn to somebody every day.
“Maybe you never noticed that the part about good turns is printed in italics. You know what italics mean—you learn that in the Second Grade. It means that that special thing is emphasized, see?”
Mr. Ellsworth was smiling a little, but anyway he was listening and so was Mr. Bennett. Gee, I didn’t see anything to smile at.
Now I have to admit that I got kind of excited and I didn’t know much what I was saying.
Sometimes I had to stop on account of that lump being in my throat. But anyway, I kept on and I held on tight to my emblem—the Silver Fox emblem.
“So that’s what I mean,” I said, “and this morning Westy was on his way to help on the house-boat and he met” (oh, jiminies, I guess I didn’t know how I was talking now, I was so excited) “and he met Skinny McCord’s mother and she told him about Skinny being sick on account of a good turn he did for me—keeping Jake Holden from going to my house—and she asked him to go up and stay with him and he didn’t think any more about the house-boat, and I’m glad he didn’t, and I told him that, and I’m his patrol leader yet, anyway. I tell him that, I do! And he went home and got his baseball and his catching mit and it cost a dollar and seventy-five cents, and he took them to Skinny just so as he’d kind of forgot being sick. Westy saved up to get that mit and I know all about it. And he stayed all day with Skinny and the doctor says, he says Skinny has got to die, but anyway Westy stayed all day with him—that’s what he did. And I’m glad you fellows are going to elect a new leader if you want him to reprimand Westy, because you’d never getmeto do it, I can tell you that!”
Oh, crinkums, there wasn’t a sound. It had to stop because I was gulping and all excited, but I started again, you can bet.
“And there’s only one thing more I’ve got to say,” I told them. “I got on the trail—I mean Skinny’s trail. And it took me to his house in Barrel Alley. I picked up his trail down at Little Landing and it had the scout’s pathfinder sign printed in the mud. And I—I’m—I’m a scout, I am, I don’t care what you say, and I followed it. And maybe, for all you know, it was put there for me to follow—maybe. It took me to where a fellow was sick, it did, and it showed me one of my own—one of the Silver Foxes, doing a good turn to pay Skinny back for the good turn he did for me. And I stayed there to help and I forgot all about the house-boat, and I’m glad I did. And I hope that whoever these fellows elect, he won’t let them chip in for the cruise, but I hope he’ll have them chip in to send Skinny up to the country—I don’t care what the doctor says. Once a doctor said that—he said that my father——”
And that’s all I had a chance to say. Gee, I couldn’t tell you what happened next. All I know is, I heard my Scout Handbook go kerflop on the floor and Vic Norris of the Ravens grabbed the Silver Fox emblem right out of my hand and began waving it. All of a sudden I saw Westy and he didn’t say anything only put his arm around my shoulder and he started to say something and, oh, I don’t know, he just couldn’t. Then I heard a fellow asking him what was the matter, because he was husky, kind of, and his eyes shiny—you know. And he said he had a cold. Oh, boy!
“He caught cold from drinking out of a damp glass,” Doc Carson shouted. Honest, you couldn’t hear yourself think. And Pee-wee—g-o-o-d night!
Then Mr. Ellsworth held up his hand and we all quieted down.
“Before we go any further,” he said, “and while our lungs are working overtime I want every member of the Raven Patrol and every member of the Elk Patrol to give three cheers for the Silver Foxes, scouts,realscouts, every one of them, and for their leader, Roy Blakeley. After that you can hold your election.”
CHAPTER XIXTHE END OF THE MEETING
Oh, boy, some excitement! “Excuse me while I blush,” I said. For they were all shouting and Pee-wee was on top of the table dancing and yelling, “Hurrah for the Solid Silver Foxes! Three cheers for the Sterling Silver Foxes!” Believe me, that kid is self-starting, but he isn’t self stopping.
Then I told them that I had something more to say, and they shouted it was their turn to do the saying, and believe me, they did—with something left over. At last Mr. Ellsworth got us throttled down and he told me to say what I had to say, because Mr. Bennett had a word or two for us.
So I told them my idea that I’d had in my head all the time, and you just wait and see how many adventures it led to. That’s one good thing about good turns; they most always start something. Already Pee-wee was started.
I told them I thought instead of keeping Tom Slade’s place open, kind of in memory of him, it would be better to put Skinny McCord in that vacant place and take him up to Temple Camp and help him to get well. Then I told them how he read the Handbook, and how he was crazy about scouting, only he was scared of the fellows because he was so poor. And then I said that findings is keepings and that Skinny belonged to the Silver Foxes, and they would make a present of him to the Elks on account of Tom Slade. “Anyway,” I said, “when Tom gets back he’ll be old enough for assistant scoutmaster, so it’s all right.”
Then Mr. Ellsworth said, “Very good,” and that Councilman Bennett had something to say. This is what he said, because Mr. Ellsworth wrote it out for me, and he remembered almost just how it was. Oh, but he’s one fine man—Mr. Bennett—he’s on some kind of a board and he helped build the hospital and he likes the scouts and he wishes he could shin up a tree—he said so. So this is what he said.
“My young friends, I have listened with a good deal of something or other (it’s too much bother to spell it out) to our young leader of the Silver Foxes, and I must say that the Silver Foxes are solid fourteen karat gold. I am a lawyer myself and I wish to express my professional admiration of the way Leader Blakeley presented his case.”
“The pleasure is mine,” I said under my breath, because I just couldn’t help it.
Then he said like this—he said, “If Skinny McCord wishes to cast his lot with such boys as these, he shall not find the means lacking. I will furnish his suit and such sundries as he needs. I agree with Leader Blakeley that doctors are sometimes mistaken. Let us hope it may be the case in this instance. The cruise to camp must be made; let nothing interfere with that. If some of you boys wish to go into the city in the morning you may have the pleasure of purchasing Skinny’s outfit. I would suggest that the Silver Foxes do this in order that their gift may go complete to their comrades of the Elks. I think I have your scoutmaster’s permission to do this.”
“Sure you have!” Pee-wee shouted.
“We’ll go in on the 9 A. M. train,” Westy said.
“What time does the 9 A. M. train leave?” Pee-wee shouted. “Oh, but it’s great!” He was half crazy.
“The nine o’clock train leave at 8.60,” I told him, “and you have to get a transfer——”
“To what line?” he shouted.
“To the clothesline,” I said.
“You make me sick!” he yelled, “You haven’t got any what-do-you-call-it—hero—something or other——”
“That talk will have to be strained through a sieve,” I said. “Don’t mind him, Mr. Bennett, somebody’s been feeding him meat. He goes to the movies too much. He’s known as the human megaphone. All step up and listen to the Raving Raven rave—only a dime, ten cents, ladies and gentlemen!”
Even Mr. Bennett had to laugh.
“Now all we’ve got to have is a girl,” Pee-wee shouted, “because we’ve got a poor lad—I mean—you know what I mean—noble poverty and a boat and heroes doing good turns——”
“And Ravens turning somersaults,” I said.
“And all that,” he kept up, “and Roy foiled his prosecuters—I mean persecuters——”
“You mean executers,” Doc said.
“And all we need now is a heroine,” Pee-wee said, while he danced up and down. “A poor girl—I mean a maiden—with gold hair—if we could only rescue one—oh, wouldn’t it be great.”
“Even if her hair was only gold-filled it would be something,” Connie Bennett said.
“You’re crazy!” Pee-wee shouted, “it shows none of you know anything about stories.”
Oh, jiminy, I can’t tell all the stuff we shouted. You see, it was just because we were feeling so good. And Mr. Ellsworth didn’t try to stop us.
The next chapter is about two dollars. I don’t mean it’s worth that much. I don’t know what I’ll name it yet.
Olive oil[1]—that’s the French way to say, “So long.” Anyway, it’s something like that. I should worry.
[1]Au revoiris probably what he meant.
[1]Au revoiris probably what he meant.
CHAPTER XXMOSTLY ABOUT SKINNY
This chapter I am going to fillWith some stuff about a two dollar bill.
This chapter I am going to fillWith some stuff about a two dollar bill.
This chapter I am going to fill
With some stuff about a two dollar bill.
That isn’t so bad for poetry, is it? I got that idea out of a story by Sir Walter Scott—putting poetry at the top of the chapters. Mr. Ellsworth says sometimes a fellow might get killed for writing poetry. I should worry—a scout is brave.
You can bet that if Pee-wee had his way we’d have all gone into the city that very night and broken into a store to get Skinny’s outfit. But nix on that hurry up business when it comes to Mr. Ellsworth. “Scouts are not made in a day,” he said to Pee-wee, “and the outfit doesn’t make the scout anyway, remember that.”
“Any more than a merry-go-round makes a good turn,” I said.
So Mr. Ellsworth went to see Skinny and his mother, and then he went to see the doctor, and he found out that Skinny wasn’t going to die right then, but that something was the matter with his lungs, and that he’d keep getting sick all the time probably and wouldn’t grow up. Oh, boy, when Mr. Ellsworth once gets on your trail,good night! That’s just the way he hauled Tom Slade into the troop, head over heels. And look at Connie Bennett, too. Mr. Ellsworth had to hypnotize Connie’s mother and now Connie’s a first class scout.
After two or three nights he brought Skinny to meeting, and oh, cracky, but that kid looked bad. He just sat and watched us do our stunts and he was scared when anybody spoke to him, except Mr. Ellsworth. And he was coughing a lot, too.
After the meeting Westy and I and Mr. Ellsworth took him home, and just when we left him he asked us if maybe he’d live long enough to get the pathfinder’s badge. And oh, gee, it made me feel good the way Mr. Ellsworth answered him. He said,
“Well, I can’t exactly promise that because I don’t know how long it will take you to win that badge, but if you think you can win it inside of forty or fifty years, I think you’ll be there to grab it when it comes.” Oh, jingoes, but we’ve got one dandy scoutmaster. I don’t care what you say, he’s the best one in America. And when he said that, Skinny kind of smiled and then you could see how thin he was, because the wrinkles came all around his mouth.
Well, on Saturday Westy and Dorry Benton and Ralph Warner (they’re all in my patrol) went into the city to get Skinny’s outfit, so we could give him a surprise at the meeting on Monday night. I didn’t go because I wanted Westy to have the say, and I didn’t want him to think I was butting in, because Skinny belonged to him, as you might say. Besides I had to cut the grass so my sisters could play tennis with Johnny Wade—honest, that fellow is there all the time. He’s got a machine, but I never saw it. I guess maybe it’s a sewing machine, hey?
Now I didn’t know how much money Mr. Bennett gave Mr. Ellsworth. All I know is that when the fellows came back they had everything for Skinny, or most everything. Because they came up to Camp Solitaire (that’s the tent I have on our lawn) and we opened the whole business. Pee-wee was there and the first thing we knew he was shouting that there wasn’t any belt-axe.
“We used all the money we had,” Westy said, “and it isn’t worth while asking Mr. Bennett for any more, even if there’s one or two things missing.”
Oh, jiminy, Pee-wee went up in the air. “Why didn’t you get a belt-axe,” he shouted; “don’t you know a belt-axe is the most important thing of all? It’s the sign of the scout! It’s more important than the uniform.”
“He’d look nice going down Main Street with a belt-axe and no uniform,” I said; “you’re crazy on the subject of belt-axes. What’s the matter, are you afraid Hindenburg is going to invade Bridgeboro? You should worry about a belt-axe. Wait till he’s a tenderfoot.”
“That shows how much you know about scouting,” he yelled; “the belt-axe is the emblem of the woods.”
“The which?” Westy said.
“The emblem of the woods,” he hollered at the top of his voice. “You have to have a belt-axe first of all. It’s more important than the Handbook. It means woodcraft and—and—and all that sort of stuff!”
Well, first I just laughed at him and jollied him along, because I know how crazy he is about things like that—he’d wear every badge in the Handbook on his chest if he had the chance. And he’s always getting new suits and things, because his father is rich. Pee-wee’s all right only he’s daffy about all the scout stuff that you see in the pictures and he always has his belt-axe dragging on his belt, even when he’s home, as if he expected to chop down all the telegraph poles on Main Street.
“You have belt-axes on the brain,” Westy told him.
“He’s got them on the belt anyway,” I said.
“You ask Mr. Ellsworth about it and see what he says,” Ralph Warner said. “He’ll tell you it’s better for Skinny to wait till he can earn a little money and then buy a belt-axe. There’s time enough.”
“Sure he would,” I said, because I know just how Mr. Ellsworth feels about things like that. And for all I know, maybe he didn’t want Skinny to have everything at the start, just so as he would be able to get some things all by himself later. Because Mr. Ellsworth thinks that’s the best way.
Of course, we always jollied Pee-wee about his belt-axe and about wearing his scout-knife and his drinking cup hanging from his belt right home in Bridgeboro, as if he was in South Africa, and Mr. Ellsworth always said he was the typical scout—that’s the word he used—typical.
But now I began to think maybe it would cause some trouble and I hoped he wouldn’t be giving Skinny any of that kind of talk. But he did just the same, and it made a lot of trouble. Pee-wee’s all right, but I don’t care if he knows what I said, because it’s true.
On Monday we had it fixed for Skinny to come up to Camp Solitaire, and Westy and I would teach him some stuff out of the Handbook. Then we were going to give him the new stuff so he could put it on, because we wanted him to feel good—you know what I mean—when he went to meeting. We didn’t want him to feel different from the other fellows. But usually we don’t do that until a fellow takes the oath first.
Oh, boy, but wasn’t he proud when we put the khaki suit on him, and fixed the hat on his head. He smiled in that funny way he had that always made me feel kind of bad, because it made his face look all thin. And he was awful bashful and scared, but anyway, he was proud, I could see that.
So then I opened the Handbook to page 59, where there’s a picture of a scout standing straight, making the full salute, and I told him he should stand straight and try to look just like that. He said, “I ain’t fat enough,” but I told him not to mind, but just to look at that picture and he’d know how he looked as a boy scout.
“How soon will I be one?” he said. And I told him pretty soon.
Now I thought about that picture early in the morning and I made up my mind I would show it to him when he got dressed up. You can bet he didn’t look very much like it but a lot I cared about that, as long as it made him feel good. So early in the morning before he came, I took my two dollar bill (that’s my allowance my father always gives me Monday morning) and put it in the Handbook at page 59, so that I could find the place all right.
After I showed the picture to Skinny I shut the Handbook because I wouldn’t need it any more and I laid the two dollar bill down on the table in a hurry, because I wanted to straighten Skinny’s belt and fix his collar right and make him look as good as I could. Anyway I laid an oar-lock on the bill so it wouldn’t blow away. I’ve got two nickel-plated oar-locks that my patrol gave me on troop birthday, and I keep them in my tent except when I go to camp.
Westy was telling Skinny how fine he looked and, oh, gee, Skinny was happy, you could see that. Of course, he didn’t look very good, I have to admit it, but he had a smile a mile long.
“You’re all right,” I told him, “all you have to do is to stand up straight and think about scouting and the oath and the laws, and then you’ll look like one.”
Then he said, “I have to have one of those axes, don’t I?”
“You should worry about an axe,” I said; “you didn’t see one in the picture did you?”
“Wasn’t it because the boy in the picture was facing me, and you wear the axe in back, don’t you?”
“Don’t you worry,” I told him, “I know that fellow in the picture and he hasn’t got one on.”
“One of your scout fellows says you have to have one,” he said, kind of timid.
“Good night!” I said to Westy, “Pee-wee’s been at it.”
“He knows, too,” Skinny said.
“You mean that little fellow?” I said. “Has he been talking to you?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Forget it,” I told him; “if that kid had his picture taken he’d stand with his back to the camera so as to show his belt-axe. If he had the Gold Cross he’d pin it on the end of his nose, so everybody’d see it. The principal thing to wear is the scout smile, you take it from me. When you see Mr. Ellsworth to-night you ask him about the belt-axe and go by what he says. That’s the one to go to—your scoutmaster.”
“But anyway it’s in the book about the axe,” he said, and oh, gee, I could see how he fell for that axe. I don’t know, it was something about it, I suppose. “It’s all right for a tree to fall for an axe, but don’tyou,” I said. That was a joke.
“You got to have one when you go chopping trees, haven’t you?” he asked me.
“You forget it,” I said, and I decided I’d give Pee-wee a good bawling out after the meeting.
Then I started straightening Skinny’s suit and telling him how swell he looked and how he must always take off his hat to ladies. He was interested all right, but I could see how the belt-axe kind of had him, and I suppose it was because it was bright and shiny and a weapon, sort of. That’s the way it is with lots of fellows when they start being scouts.
We tried to get him to go in the house to supper with us and then go to the meeting, but he was kind of scared and wouldn’t. I guess it was because I live in a big house and because my father is rich—but anyway, he never acts that way, that’s one sure thing. And, gee, nobody can say Ruth and Marjorie wouldn’t have been nice to him too.
So we left him in the tent and told him to read the Handbook, but to be sure to go home and get his supper in time to be at the meeting that evening. We made him the full salute just for fun, and oh, didn’t he smile and look proud. I bet he was proud going up Main Street too.
“I’d like to get my hands on that kid,” I said to Westy, as we went across the lawn; “he makes me sick with his heroes and his noble rags and his belt-axes. He’s got that poor kid’s brain full of fancy stuff before he’s even a scout.”
“That’s just like him,” Westy said, “but he’ll get over it.”
“Emblem of the woods!” I said. “Did you hear that?”
“I guess he told Skinny we were going to chop down some saplings to-morrow for stanchions on the boat,” Westy said.
“Goodness knows what he didn’t tell him,” I said, “Skinny will be chopping down all the fence rails in Barrel Alley if Pee-wee has his way.”
Oh, boy, we had huckleberry pie for supper, and didn’t Westy and I have two helpings! “There’s only one thing scouts like about huckleberry pie,” my father said, “and that’s the taste of it.”
CHAPTER XXISOMETHING MISSING
After supper Westy and I started for troop meeting. It was getting dark fast and we went scout-pace down the hill, because after all that had happened you bet we didn’t want to be late. No, siree.
All the while we were talking about just what I ought to say when I presented Skinny to the Elks, because that’s what we were going to do that night. And I was the one to do it, because I was patrol leader. Westy had a blue ribbon, because that’s the Elks’ color, and he was going to pin it on Skinny with an express tag that he got that day. He had it all written nice and neat on the tag.
From the Silver Foxes to the Elks.Handle with Care.
From the Silver Foxes to the Elks.Handle with Care.
From the Silver Foxes to the Elks.
Handle with Care.
I told him to put prepaid on it, too, and then he said it would be a good idea to put some thrift stamps on Skinny’s face. Jiminy, that fellow Westy has some crazy ideas.
“Believe me, it’ll be great,” he said.
“The Elks will have some training to do, that’s one thing,” I said.
“He’ll learn soon enough, all right,” Westy answered.
“I guess it would be a good stunt to have a flag sticking up out of his collar,” I said; “he won’t mind, he’ll just smile. He doesn’t get mad, that’s one good thing about him.”
“I like to see that smile, don’t you?” Westy said, “it’s kind of bashful like.”
“He’s going to pan out all right,” I said, “you take it from me.”
Then we said how it might be good to put him in a barrel and mark it “A gift from Barrel Alley,” but we decided not to because it might make him feel so kind of bashful and scared—you know what I mean.
All the while I knew what I was going to say, and this was it:
Scouts of the Elk Patrol, we present you with this testimonial (my sister said that was a good word to use) of our steam—I mean esteem. You get fifty green trading stamps besides. This youth is positively guaranteed to grow, if kept in the sun and to win the pathfinder’s badge before the summer is out. He is made of fast colors and will not run—except when he’s tracking. He should be kept away from explosives such as Pee-wee Harris.With love and kisses from theSilver Foxes.
Scouts of the Elk Patrol, we present you with this testimonial (my sister said that was a good word to use) of our steam—I mean esteem. You get fifty green trading stamps besides. This youth is positively guaranteed to grow, if kept in the sun and to win the pathfinder’s badge before the summer is out. He is made of fast colors and will not run—except when he’s tracking. He should be kept away from explosives such as Pee-wee Harris.
With love and kisses from theSilver Foxes.
With love and kisses from the
Silver Foxes.
“Oh, it will be great!” Westy said, “we’ll do it before Mr. Ellsworth takes up the collection for the cruise, hey?”
“G-o-o-d night!” I said and I stopped short.
“What’s the matter?” Westy said.
“I’m glad you said that,” I told him; “I forgot my two bucks.”
“I’ll go back,” Westy said; “you wait here.” There wasn’t any time to stop him and anyway, he can beat me running, I have to admit that.
“Where did you leave it?” he called back.
“I laid it right on the table,” I shouted, “and I laid an oar-lock on it to keep it from blowing away. Feel around and you’ll get it. Hurry up.”
I saw him going back up the hill for all he was worth and then I sat down beside the road to wait for him. I got to thinking about the house-boat and the fun we’d have cruising up the Hudson and how Skinny would get fat and eat a lot, and especially how he’d stare when he saw Jeb Rushmore. He’s our camp manager, and just wait till you see him, that’s allIsay.
But mostly I was thinking about the fun we’d have presenting Skinny to the Elks, and, oh, boy, I could just see Mr. Ellsworth laugh with that funny laugh he has—trying not to. And you can bet I was glad we had Skinny started. Because when a fellow once gets on the trail, he’s a goner. Oh, bibbie, that was going to be some meeting!
Pretty soon Westy came running back down the hill.
“Did you get it?” I asked him, but, of course, I knew he did. He was so much out of breath that he couldn’t answer and even after he stopped he had to pant it out, kind of.
“It wasn’t there,” he said.
“Wasn’t there?” I said; “you’re crazy. Sure it was there. Where did you look?”
“I looked just where you said,” Westy panted, “and all around besides. First, I felt all around with my hand and I lifted the oar-lock and it wasn’t underneath it.”
“Maybe you got the wrong oar-lock,” I said, all excited; “there are two of them.”
“The other one was hanging up,” he said; “I found your flashlight on the duffel-bag and poked the light all around and I saw the other oar-lock hanging up. I threw the light on the ground, too, because there’s a pretty strong breeze up there.”
“How could the breeze blow it away when it was under the oar-lock?” I said. “It was a new two dollar bill.”
“Well, it wasn’t there, anyway,” he said.
Then for a minute we both stood there and neither one of us said anything. I know what I was thinking, but I didn’t want to say it. I guess Westy was thinking the same thing, too. We both sat down beside the road and after a couple of minutes, he said: “Maybe a tramp took it, hey?”
“Jerry wouldn’t let anyone on the grounds,” I said. Jerry’s our gardener. “And besides Don wouldn’t, either.” He’s our dog—he’s a collie.
“Well, it isn’t there, anyway,” Westy said; “I lifted the oar-lock and felt underneath and I laid it down again, right where it was—on a book or something. When I flashed the light it wasn’t there. Come on, we’ll be late. I’d let you have two bucks if I had that much extra, but I’ve only got two myself. You can chip in yours to-morrow, it’ll be all right.”
I got up and I felt awful funny.
“Anyway, there’s no use being late,” he said; because I kind of just couldn’t start.
“It isn’t that I’m thinking about,” I told him, “It’s——”
“I know,” he said, “I thought about that, too, but we’ve got to hustle.”
So we started down the hill and neither of us said anything. Of course, we were both thinking about Skinny, but neither one of us would say it.
“Pee-wee’s to blame in a way,” Westy said, after a while; “it’s the belt-axe the poor kid was thinking about.”
“No, he isn’t to blame, either,” I said; “he didn’t mean anything—he didn’t mean for Skinny to do anything like that.”
“He should have kept his mouth shut,” Westy said.
“Anyway,” I said, “I’m not going to make that speech; I just can’t. I’m not going to say anything to Skinny about it. Maybe I’ll tell Mr. Ellsworth sometime—I don’t know. But anyway, I can’t present him to the Elks that way, I can’t. I just can’t. Poor kid, I don’t suppose he ever saw as much as two dollars before.”
“You shouldn’t have left it out like that,” Westy said.
After that I guess neither of us said anything. Gee, I can’t tell you how I felt. I know if a fellow is low down and fires stones and calls names and all like that, even still he can get to be a scout. But if he steals—jiminy, I’ve got no use for a fellow that steals. A plaguy lot I care about two bucks, but, oh, boy, I was looking forward to that meeting and how we were going to have Skinny all decorated and present him to the Elks. And now we couldn’t do it. Honest, I didn’t even want to see him. I didn’t feel sore at him, but I didn’t want to see him. Because he’d spoiled all the fun for me, that’s all.