It was a lively scene in the room under the church when the meeting was called to order by Mr. Witherspoon, the civil engineer and surveyor. A dozen boys were on hand, several having come from curiosity, and meaning to join the scouts later on if they saw reason to believe it would amount to anything.
Besides the boys there were present Judge Stone, his friend the hermit-naturalist, Larry Henderson, and two fathers, who had dropped around to learn whether this new-fangled movement for the rising generation meant that the boys were to be secretly trained for soldiers, as so many people believed.
Robert Witherspoon having once been a scout master knew how to manage a meeting of this sort. After he had called it to order he made a neat little speech, and explained what a wonderful influence for good the organization had been in every community where it had been tested.
He read various extracts from the scout manual to show the lofty aims of those who had originated this idea which was taking the world by storm.
“The boys have been neglected far too long,” he told them; “and it has been decided that if we want a better class of men in the world we must begin work with the boy. It is the province of this scout movement to make duty so pleasant for the average lad that he will be wild to undertake it.”
In his little talk to the boys Mr. Witherspoon mentioned the fact that one of the greatest charms of becoming scouts was that growing habit of observing all that went on around them.
“When you’re in town this may not seem to be much of a thing after all,” he had gone on to say; “but in the woods you will find it an ever increasing fascination, as the wonders of nature continue to be unfolded before your eyes. We are fortunate to have with us to-night a gentleman who is known all over the country as a naturalist and lover of the great outdoors. I think it will be worth our while to listen while he tells us something of the charming things to be found in studying nature. Mr. Henderson I’m going to ask you to take up as much time as you see fit.”
When Tom and Carl and some of the otherboys did that little favor for Mr. Larry Henderson they were inclined to fancy that he was rather rough in his manner.
He had not been talking five minutes however, before they realized that he was a born orator, and could hold an audience spell-bound by his eloquence. He thrilled those boys with the way in which he described the most trivial happening in the lonely wilds. They fairly hung upon his every sentence.
“When you first commence to spend some time in the woods, boys,” he told them, “it will seem very big and lonesome to you. Then as you come to make the acquaintance of Br’er ’Coon and Mr. Fox and the frisky chipmunk and all the rest of the denizens, things will take on a different color. In the end you will feel that they are all your very good friends, and nothing could tempt you to injure one of the happy family.
“Yes, it is true that occasionally I do trap an animal but only when I find it a discordant element in the group. Some of them prey upon others, and yet that is no excuse why man should step in and exterminate them all, as he often does just for the sake of a few dollars.”
This sort of talk roused the enthusiasm of the boys, and when after a while Mr. Witherspoon put the question as to how many of them felt like immediately signing the roster roll so as tostart the first patrol of the intended troop, there was a good deal of excitement shown.
First of all Tom Chesney signed, and immediately after him came Carl, Felix, Josh and George. By the time these five names had appeared Josh had slipped his arm through that of Walter Douglass and brought him up to the table to place his signature on the list.
“We need two more to make up the first patrol,” announced Mr. Witherspoon. “Unless eight are secured we cannot hope to get our charter from scout headquarters, because that is the minimum number of a troop. I sincerely hope we may be able to make so much progress to-night at this meeting that I can write to-morrow to obtain the necessary authority for acting as your scout master.”
At that another boy who had been anxiously conferring with his father walked forward.
“Good for you, Billy Button!” called out Josh. “That makes seven, and we only need one more name. Horace, are you going to see this grand scheme fall through for lack of just a single name? Your sig would look mighty good to the rest of us at the end of that list.” Then he ended with an air of assumed dignity, “Horace, your country calls you; will it call in vain?”
Horace Herkimer Crapsey was the boy who had been spoken of as a dainty dude, who hatedto soil his white hands. Tom had expressed it as his opinion that if only Horace could be coaxed to join the troop it would prove to be the finest thing in the world for him. He had the making of a good scout only for those faults which other boys derided as silly and girlish. He was neat to a painful degree, and that is always looked on as a sort of crime by the average boy.
Horace evidently had been greatly taken by the combined talk of the scout master and the old hermit-naturalist. To the great delight of Josh, as well as most of the other boys, he now stepped forward and placed his name on the list.
“That makes eight, and enough for the first patrol,” announced Mr. Witherspoon, with a pleased look; “we can count on an organization now as a certainty. All of you will have to start in as tenderfeet, because so far you have had no experience as scouts; but unless I miss my guess it will be only a short time before a number of you will be applying for the badge of second-class scouts.”
“That’s just what we will, sir!” cried Josh, brimming over with enthusiasm.
“We cannot elect a patrol leader just now,” continued Mr. Witherspoon, “until there are some of you who are in the second class; but that will come about in good time. But it is of considerable importance what name you would like togive this first patrol of the new Lenox Troop of Boy Scouts.”
There was a conference among the boys, and all sorts of suggestions were evidently being put forward. Finally Tom Chesney seemed to have been delegated as usual to act as spokesman.
“Mr. Chairman,” he said, rising from his seat, “my comrades of Lenox Troop have commissioned me to say they would like to ask Mr. Henderson to name the first patrol for them. They believe they will be perfectly satisfied with any name he may think best to give them.”
Judge Stone smiled, and nodded his head as though he considered this quite a neat little compliment for his good old friend. And the naturalist was also evidently pleased as he got upon his feet.
“After all, boys,” he told them, “it is a matter of very little consequence what you call this fine patrol. There are a dozen names that suggest themselves. Since you have a Bear Mountain within half a dozen miles of your town suppose you call it the Black Bear Patrol.”
There was a chorus of approving assents, and it looked as though not a single objection was to be offered.
“The black bear is an American institution, you might say,” Mr. Henderson continued, when this point had been settled, “and next to the eagle isrecognized as distinctive. From what I have heard said this evening it seems to me also that the Boy Scouts of America differ from any other branch of the movement in many ways.”
“Above all things,” exclaimed Mr. Witherspoon, “in that there is nothing military about the movement over here. In Europe scouts are in one sense soldiers in the making. They all expect to serve the colors some day later on. We do not hold this up before our boys; though never once doubting that in case a great necessity arose every full-fledged scout would stand up for his country’s honor and safety.”
“Every time!” exclaimed the impetuous Josh.
Long they lingered there, discussing many things connected with the securing of their uniforms, after the proper time had elapsed. Various schemes were suggested whereby each boy could earn enough money to pay for his outfit; because that was one of the important stipulations made in joining a troop, no candidate being allowed to accept help in securing his suit.
Before the meeting was adjourned it was settled that they were to come together every Friday night; and meanwhile each member of the Black Bear Patrol expected to qualify for the grade of second-class scout just as soon as his month of membership as arranged under the bylaws of the order had expired.
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“Three weeks have gone by since we had that first meeting, Tom; just think of it.”
Carl was walking along the river road with his chum when he made this remark. They had seen the last of the snow vanish, and with the coming of milder days all the boys began to talk of going fishing before long.
Perhaps this saunter of the pair after school may have had something to do with the first contemplated outing of the season, and they wanted to see whether the fish had commenced to come from their winter quarters, though the law would not be off for trout yet awhile.
“That’s a fact, Carl,” replied the other boy; “and at our very next meeting most of the members of the patrol are going to get their badges as second-class scouts, because they’ve already qualified for it to the satisfaction of Mr. Witherspoon.”
“Honest to goodness I believe there’ll be only one tenderfoot left in the lot,” Carl continued;“and that of course is our dude, Horace. He managed to exert himself just enough to fulfill the requirements a tenderfoot has to possess, but there he sticks.”
“Wait a while longer,” Tom told him, “and one of these fine days you may see Horace wake up. I haven’t lost hopes of him by a long shot. At our next meeting, after we’ve passed up, the first thing we have to do is to elect a patrol leader.”
Carl laughed softly.
“Oh that’s all cut and dried, already,” he asserted.
“Well, if it is no one has said anything to me about it,” objected Tom, at which the other laughed again.
“Why should they bother when it was seven against one, Tom?” argued Carl. “Why, the boys wouldn’t dream of having any other leader than you!”
“But that doesn’t seem quite fair, it ought to be talked over openly. Why pick me out above every one else for that?”
“Because you’ve always been a leader among your schoolmates, Tom, that’s why!” he was quickly, told. “You’ve got it in you to take the lead in every kind of sport known to boys. Baseball, football, hockey, athletics—tell me a single thing where you’ve had to play second fiddle toany other fellow. And it isn’t because you want to push yourself either, but because you can go ahead.”
“Well,” said Tom, slowly and musingly, “it’s mighty nice to know that the other boys like you, and if the fellows are bound to make me take the office of patrol leader I suppose I’ll have to accept it.”
“No one so well able to do the work as you are, Tom. But this has been a terribly long three weeks to me, I tell you.”
“Now you’re thinking that we haven’t made a bit of progress about finding that stolen paper,” suggested Tom, looking a little crest-fallen. “Both of us have tried from time to time to watch Dock after nights, but somehow we haven’t had much success up to now.”
“No,” added Carl, with one of his heavy sighs, “if he has that paper hidden somewhere he’s smart enough to keep away from his cache, so far as we’ve been able to find out.”
“I don’t believe he’s come to any settlement with Amasa Culpepper as yet,” Tom observed, with considerable positiveness.
“We think that, but we don’t know for sure,” ventured the less confident Carl. “If only I could glimpse the paper I’d have a big load lifted from my mind. And it cuts me to the quick to see poor mother trying to look cheerful when I comeindoors, though I’ve noticed signs of tears on her cheeks several times.”
“I’ve been thinking of some sort of scheme,” began Tom, slowly.
“Good for you!” burst out Carl, delightedly. “Tell me what it is then; and can we start in to try it right away?”
“That depends on several conditions,” explained the other. “First of all do you remember what that receipt made out by Mr. Culpepper looked like, Carl?”
“Do I? Why, it seems to me it must have been burned on my memory as though you’d take a red hot poker and make marks on the clean kitchen floor. When I shut my eyes nights and try to go to sleep it keeps dancing in front of me. Before I know what I’m doing I find myself grabbing out for it, and then I want to kick myself for being so foolish, when I know it’s all just a silly bit of imagination.”
“I’m glad you remember so well how it looked,” remarked Tom, somewhat to the mystification of his companion.
“What has that got to do with your scheme?” he demanded, in perplexity.
“A whole lot,” came the swift answer; “because I want you to get me up as close a copy of that receipt as you possibly can!”
“Whew! do you mean even to signing Mr. Culpepper’s name at the end?” asked Carl, whose breath had very nearly been taken away.
“Yes, even to that,” he was told; “in fact the paper wouldn’t be worth a pinch of salt in my little game if that signature were omitted. Do you think you could duplicate the receipt, Carl?”
“I am sure I could; but even now I’m groping in the dark, because for the life of me I can’t see what you expect to do with it, Tom.”
“Don’t forget to crease it, to make it look as though it had been folded and opened ever so many times; yes, and soil the outside a little too, as if it had been carried in a boy’s pocket along with a lot of other things like marbles or a top or something like that.”
“But please explain what all this means,” Carl pleaded.
“Listen!” replied the other, impressively, “and I’ll tell you what my game is. It may work, and it may fall flat; a whole lot depends on circumstances, but there’s no harm trying it out.”
“Of course not; go on and tell me.”
“In watching Dock when he didn’t know it, we’ve learned considerable about his habits,” continued Tom. “For one thing every single night he walks home along the river road here after delivering a package or two at certain houses. It seems to be a part of the programme. Well, some fine night we’ll lie in wait for him aboutthis spot; and on the road will be that duplicate of the paper which we believe he stole.”
At that Carl became quite excited.
“Oh! now I see what your game it!” he cried; “and let me tell you I think it’s as clever a trick as could be thought of. He’ll pick up the paper, thinking it may be something worth while; and when he sees that it is the very receipt he thinks he has got safely hidden away somewhere, Dock will be so rattled that the first thing he does will be to hurry to find out whether it’s been taken or not.”
“That’s the idea, Carl; and of course we’ll follow him, so as to jump in the very minute he gets out the real document to compare them.”
“Fine! fine, Tom! You are certainly the crackerjack when it comes to laying a trap to trip a scamp up. Why, he’ll fall into that pit head over heels; and I do hope we can snatch the paper away from him before he has a chance to tear it up.”
“We’ll look out for that all right, you can depend on it,” came the reassuring remark from the other scout. “When will you get busy on that copy, Carl?”
“To-night, after the kids are in bed,” Carl hastened to reply; “I wouldn’t care to have them see what I was doing, though in this case I firmly believe it’s all right.”
“And if your mother wants to know, tell her,” said Tom.
“I’d have to do that anyway,” said Carl, without the least confusion or hesitation; “I always tell my mother everything that happens. She takes an interest in all my plans, and she’s the dearest little mother a boy ever had. But she’ll understand that it’s only meant to be a trick to catch the thief.”
“Then if you have it ready by to-morrow afternoon we might try how it works that same evening,” Tom remarked.
“I wish the time was now, I’m getting so anxious to do something,” sighed the second boy, as he again remembered how he had seen his mother force herself to appear cheerful when he came from school, though there were traces of tears on her cheeks, and her eyes looked red.
Soon after that the chums separated, as the afternoon was drawing near a close.
“I wish you luck with your work to-night, Carl,” was what Tom called out in parting; “and if any one wants to know where we’ve been, be sure and tell them that so far as we’ve been able to find out the fishing promises to be mighty fine this spring, better than for years, if signs go for anything.”
On the following day at noon when they walked home for lunch Carl showed his chum thepaper. It had been carefully done, and even bore the marks of service in the way of numerous creases, and some soiled spots in the bargain.
Tom was loud in his praise.
“It certainly looks as if it had been carried in a boy’s pocket for some time,” he declared; “and it’s up to you to say how close a copy the contents are to the original.”
“I’m sure Amasa Culpepper would say it was his own crabbed handwriting to a fraction,” Carl had no hesitation in asserting. “And so far as that goes Dock Phillips isn’t capable of discovering any slight difference. If he ever picks this up you mark my words, Tom, he’s going to get the biggest shock he’s felt in many a day.”
“And you can see how the very first thing he’d be apt to do would be to look around to see if anybody was spying on him, and then hurry away to find if his paper could have been taken from the place where he hid it.”
“Oh! I hope, Tom, he doesn’t just step over it, and never bother to pick it up.”
“We’ve got to take our chance of that happening,” he was told; “but we know how nearly every boy would act. Besides, scraps of paper have begun to seem worth something in Dock’s eyes lately. The chances are three to one he’ll get it.”
“Well, I’ll meet you at just seven o’clockto-night at the old smithy, and we’ll lay the trap when we hear his whistle up the road. Dock always whistles when he’s out after dark. I think it must help him keep his courage up.”
The church bells had just started to ring seven when the two boys came close to the old blacksmith shop that had been deserted when Mr. Siebert moved to a better location.
They had chosen this spot because it was rather lonely, and there did not seem to be very much chance of their little game being interrupted by any other pedestrian coming along just at the critical time.
On one side of the road lay the bushes, in the midst of which the boys expected to hide; on the other could be seen the river.
All was quiet around them as the minutes passed away.
“There, that’s his whistle, Tom!” whispered Carl, suddenly.
Thereupon the other scout crept swiftly out upon the road, and placed the folded paper where it could hardly help being seen by any one with ordinary eyesight. He had just returned to the bushes when a figure came hurrying around the bend, whistling vigorously as some boys are in the habit of doing. Carl’s heart seemed almost to stop beating when he saw Dock suddenly halt and bend over.
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Just at that instant, as luck would have it, a vagrant gust of wind, perhaps an advance courier of the prospective storm, swooped down across the road. Before the boy who was stooping over could touch the paper that had attracted his attention it was whisked suddenly away.
He made an ineffectual effort to seize upon it in the air, but missed it and had to stand there, while the paper floated far out over the river, to fall finally on the moving current.
Carl quivered with another feeling besides anxiety and suspense; keen disappointment was wringing his heart cruelly. Just when their clever little plot seemed on the point of working, a freak of fate had dashed his hopes to the ground.
He had the greatest difficulty in suppressing the cry that tried to bubble from between his lips. Even Tom must have felt bitterly chagrinned when he saw the paper go swirling off, withouthaving had a chance to test its ability to deceive Dock Phillips, and perhaps lead him into confessing his guilt.
The grocer’s boy was now walking on again. Of course he knew nothing about the character of the elusive paper, save that it had played him a little trick. They could hear him whistling again in his loud way as though he had already forgotten the circumstance.
“Hang the luck!” complained Carl, when he felt that it was safe to let a little of the compressed steam escape through the safety valve of his voice.
“That was a rough deal, all right,” admitted Tom. “Who would have dreamed such a blast could sweep down and take that paper off? Too bad you had all your work for nothing, Carl.”
“Oh! the work didn’t amount to much,” said the other boy, despondently; “but after hoping for such great things through our plan it’s hard to feel that you’re up in the air as bad as ever.”
“We might try it all over again some time, after Dock’s kind of forgotten about this happening,” suggested Tom. “But if he kept on seeing loose papers every little while he might get suspicious about it. Perhaps we can think up another plan that will have the earmarks of success about it.”
“I never thought the river would play me sucha trick,” said Carl, looking out on the moving water; “up to now I’ve had a sort of friendly feeling for the old stream, but after this I’ll be apt to look on it as an unprincipled foe.”
“Oh! I wouldn’t say that,” urged Tom, always practical; “the river wasn’t to blame at all. And that gust of wind would have come whether we thought to place our bait on the road or not. I’d call it a piece of hard luck, and let it go at that.”
“We couldn’t do anything, Tom, now our paper’s gone off on the current?”
“Oh well,” replied the other purposely allowing himself to grow humorous so as to cause Carl to forget the keen bitterness of his disappointment; “perhaps if we went fishing to-morrow below here we might take the trout that would have your paper tucked away in his little tummy.”
“That’s right, Tom,” the other added; “we’ve read some thrilling yarns about jewels being recovered that way; and I remember that even a gold watch was said to have been found, still running inside a fish after many moons.”
“Yes, they tried to explain that phenomenon in a lot of ways, but I guess it must have been meant for a joke, just as my idea was.”
“It’s all over for to-night then?”
“Yes, let’s go home,” replied Tom. “Wehave lots to talk over and do, too. Before long the exams will be coming on, and we want to pass with honors if we expect to enjoy our vacation this summer.”
“And it’s pretty nearly decided I hear, that the Black Bear Patrol takes a long hike the first thing after school closes,” Carl was saying, as they started down the river road into Lenox.
“Ten days in camp or knocking about will do more to make us seasoned scouts than as many months at home,” ventured Tom, knowingly.
“All the difference between theory and practice you mean,” added Carl. ”On my own part I don’t care how soon we get started. I’ve a whole lot of things written down to be attended to, once we get away from civilization. That long list Mr. Witherspoon gave me I’ve made up a name for.”
“What is it, then?” asked Tom.
“Things for a Tenderfoot Scout to Look for on His First Visit to the Storehouse of Nature. What do you think of the title, Tom?”
“A pretty long one, it strikes me,” answered the other; “but it covers the ground. Every one of us must have a copy, and it’ll be a lot of fun to find out who’ll be the first to answer all those questions.”
“One thing I hope will happen before we start out on that hike,” said Carl.
“Of course you’re referring to that paper again, and I don’t blame you a bit. We’ll do our level best to get hold of it before then,” and trying as well as he knew how to buoy up the drooping spirits of the disappointed chum Tom locked arms with him, and in this fashion they walked home.
The days again drifted along into weeks.
Scout matters were looking up decidedly in Lenox. There was even some talk of a second rival organization among another set of boys, though Mr. Witherspoon gave it as his opinion that nothing could ever be done with such a wild crowd.
“There isn’t a single one among them, from what I hear and know, who could comply with the requirements every scout is expected to have as an asset when he makes application,” was the way he put it. “Those boys couldn’t subscribe to any of the rules which govern scouts in their daily life. They’d have to turn over a new leaf for a fact before they could don the khaki.”
“And,” said Josh Kingsley, “when such tough fellows as Tony Pollock, Asa Green, Wedge McGuffey and Dock Phillips start to turning leaves you can begin to see angel wings sprouting back of their shoulder blades.”
There were already five boys who had given in their names to make up a second patrol.When it was filled they meant to join the troop, and qualify for a better standing than greenhorns or tenderfeet.
Larry Henderson had long since gone back to his wilderness home beyond Bear Mountain. Twice had Tom received a letter from the old naturalist, in which he asked a great many questions, all concerning the boys of Lenox, in whom he had not lost interest, and what progress the new troop was making.
He also expressed a hearty wish that should they ever take a trip through the section of country where he lived they would not neglect to look him up in his cabin.
One thing Tom and Carl had noticed of late, and this was that Dock Phillips had taken to going with that tough crowd again. For a while his work in the grocery store had tired him so much each day that when evening came he had been content to go to his home, eat his supper, and then crawl in between the sheets.
Once more Dock was to be seen hanging around the street corners late at night with that group of rowdies that gave the uniformed force so much trouble. Some of them only escaped arrest on numerous occasions because their fathers happened to be local politicians whom the police did not wish to offend.
Tom and Carl talked this fact over and arrived at a conclusion, which may, and again may not, have been the true explanation.
“Dock’s getting tired of holding down his job,” Tom had said, “He’s been out of school so long now that he can’t be sent back; and he doesn’t like hard work either. Since his father signed the pledge he’s been working steadily enough, and perhaps Dock gets into trouble at home because of his temper.”
“I happen to know he does for a fact,” assented Carl. “He’s been acting hateful, staying out up to midnight every night, and his father has threatened to pitch him out. I rather think he’s lazy, and wants to loaf.”
“Perhaps he thinks that he ought to be drawing a regular salary because of that paper he’s got hidden away, and which is worth so much to Amasa Culpepper, as well as to you. To keep him quiet it may be, the old man is paying him a few dollars every week on the sly, even though he refuses to come down with a big lump sum.”
“Tom, would it be right for me to have another talk with Dock, and make him an offer?” ventured Carl, hesitatingly.
“Do you mean try to find out what the sum is he asked Amasa to pay him?” questioned Tom; “and agree to hand it over to him just as soon as the stock of the oil well company can be sold, after your mother gets it again?”
“Yes, like that. Would it be wrong in me? anything like compounding a felony?” Carl continued.
“I don’t see how that could be wrong,” the other boy answered, after stopping to think it all over. “You have a right to offer a reward and no questions asked for the return of your own lost or stolen property.”
“Then I’d like to try it before we settle on leaving town, Tom.”
“It would do no harm, I should think,” his chum advised him. “The only danger I can see would be if Dock took the alarm and went to Mr. Culpepper, to tell him you were trying to outbid him for the possession of the paper.”
“That would be apt to make him come to time with a jump, wouldn’t it?” said Carl.
“Unless he got it into his head that Dock was only trying to frighten him into meeting the stiff price at which he held the paper,” said Tom. “He might make out that he didn’t care a pin, with the idea of forcing Dock to come down.”
“Yes, because he would believe Dock wouldn’t dare put his neck in the noose by confessing to us he had stolen the paper. Then would you advise me to try the plan I spoke of?”
“If you get a good chance I should say yes.”
That was on a Wednesday afternoon, and Carl went home, his head filled with a programme hehad laid out that concerned the cornering of Dock Phillips.
On Thursday he learned, when home for lunch, that a new boy had come for orders from the grocery. Carl was immediately filled with alarm. In imagination he could see Dock and Mr. Culpepper coming to terms at last.
After school that afternoon he waited for Tom, to whom the startling news was disclosed. The stunning effect of it did not seem to affect Tom’s quick acting mind.
“Let’s find out just what’s happened,” he remarked. “Perhaps over at Joslyn’s, next door to the Phillips’s, we might pick up a clue.”
“Yes, and I know Mrs. Joslyn right well in the bargain,” said Carl, showing interest at once. “I’m sure that if I told her as a secret just why we wanted to know about Dock she’d tell me if anything had happened there lately.”
To the Joslyn house the two boys went. Mrs. Joslyn was an energetic little woman, and said to be able to mind her own business.
She listened with growing eagerness to the story, and at its conclusion said:
“I’m sorry for your mother, Carl, and I don’t know that I can help you any; but there was something strange that happened at the Phillips’ house last night.”
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“Was it about Dock?” asked Carl, eagerly, while Tom could see that the color had left his face all of a sudden.
“Yes,” continued Mrs. Joslyn, “Dock seems to have fallen into the habit of staying out until midnight, with some of those young fellows who loaf on the corners and get into every kind of mischief they can think up.”
“That’s what we’ve been told was going on, ma’am,” said Tom.
“I could hear his father scolding him furiously, while his mother was crying, and trying to make peace. Dock was ugly, too, and for a time I thought his father was going to throw him out of the house. But in the end it quieted down.”
“That’s a new streak in Dock’s father, I should say,” remarked Tom. “Time was when he used to come home himself at all hours of the night, and in a condition that must have made his wife’s heart sick.”
“Yes, but you know he’s turned over a new leaf, and acts as if he meant to stick to the water wagon,” Mrs. Joslyn explained. “Somehow it’s made him just the other way, very severe with Dock. I guess he’s afraid now the boy will copy his bad example, and that’s peeving Mr. Phillips.”
“But he let Dock stay in the house, you say?” Carl continued. “Then I wonder why he didn’t show up for orders this morning. The other boy told my mother Dock was sick and couldn’t come.”
Mrs. Joslyn smiled.
“Yes, he says that,” she observed. “I went over to take back a dish I had borrowed, and he was lying on the lounge, smoking a cigarette. He said he was real sick, but between you and me, Carl, I’m of the opinion he’s just tired of his job, and means to throw it up. He’d rather loaf than work any day.”
Carl breathed more freely. It was of course none of his business what Dock did with himself, though he might think the other was a mean shirk to hang around idle when his people needed every dollar they could scrape up.
“Thank you for telling me this, Mrs. Joslyn,” he said as with his chum he prepared to take his departure; “it relieves my mind in several ways. And please don’t whisper my secret to any one.I still hope to be able to get that paper from Dock sooner or later, if he doesn’t come to terms with Amasa Culpepper.”
“I promise you faithfully Carl,” the little woman told him. “I guess I’m able to hold my tongue, even if they do say my sex never can. And Carl, you must let me know if anything happens to alter conditions, because I’m dreadfully interested. This is the first time in all my life I’ve been connected with a secret.”
“I certainly will let you know, Mrs. Joslyn,” Carl promised.
“And furthermore,” she continued, “if I happen to see Dock doing anything that looks queer or suspicious I’ll get word to you. He might happen to have his hiding-place somewhere around the back yard or the hen house, you know. He may have buried the paper in the garden. I’ll keep an eye on the neighbors while he’s home.”
Tom was chuckling at a great rate as he and Carl went down the street.
“It looks as if you’ve got Mrs. Joslyn a whole lot interested, Carl,” he told the other. “She’s just burning with curiosity to find out something. Every time Dock steps out to feed the chickens she’s going to drop whatever she may be doing, and focus her eyes on him, even if her pork chops burn to black leather.”
“I wonder what he’s meaning to do?” remarked Carl, in a speculative way.
“Oh! just as Mrs. Joslyn told us, Dock’s a lazy fellow,” Tom suggested; “and now that his father is working steadily he thinks it’s time for him to have a rest. Then we believe he’s expecting sooner or later to get a big lot of money from Mr. Culpepper, when they come to terms.”
“Yes,” added Carl. “And in the meantime perhaps he’s got Amasa to hand him over a few dollars a week, just to keep him quiet. That would supply his cigarettes, you know, and give him spending money.”
“Well, it’s a question how long his father will put up with it,” Tom mused. “One of these fine days we’ll likely hear that Dock has been kicked out, and taken to the road.”
“He’s going with that Tony Pollock crowd you know,” Carl hinted; “and some of them would put him up for a time. But I’m hoping we’ll find a chance to make him own up, and hand back the thing he stole. I’d like to see my mother look happy again.”
“Does Amasa still drop in to call now and then?” asked the other.
“Yes, but my mother insists that I sit up until he goes whenever he does. You’d have a fit laughing, Tom, to see the black looks he gives me. I pretend to be studying to beat the band, and in theend he has to take his hat and go. I’m allowed to sleep an hour later after those nights, you see, to make up. It’s getting to be a regular nuisance, and mother says she means to send him about his business; but somehow his hide is so thick he can’t take an ordinary hint. I think his middle name should have been Rhinoceros instead of Reuben.”
“What will she do when you’re away with the rest of us on that ten day hike over Big Bear Mountain?” asked Tom.
“Oh! she says she’ll have told Mr. Culpepper before then she doesn’t want him to call again,” explained Carl; “either that or else she’ll have to keep all the rest of the children up, and get them to romping like wild Indians. You know Amasa is nervous, and can’t stand noise.”
Tom laughed at the picture thus drawn of three boisterous youngsters employed in causing an ardent wooer to take his departure.
“It’s only a few days now before we can get started, you know, Carl. Nearly all the preparations have been made. Each scout will have his new uniform on, with a few extra clothes in his pack.”
“We won’t try to carry any tent, will we, Tom?”
“That’s been settled,” came the ready answer. “At the meeting when I was elected patrol leaderwe discussed this trip, and it took like wildfire. In the first place we haven’t a tent worth carrying; and then again it would make too heavy a load. All of us have been studying up on how to make brush shelters when in the woods, and even if it rains I think we’ll get on fairly well.”
“Each scout has a rubber poncho, which can be made mighty useful in a pinch, I should think,” said Carl. “Then besides our clothes and a blanket, we’ll have to carry a cooking outfit, as light as it can be made, and what grub we expect to eat up.”
“Oh! most of that we’ll rustle for on the way,” the patrol leader told him. “We’ll find farms scattered along our route, and it’ll be easy enough to buy eggs, milk, perhaps a home-cured ham, some chickens, and other things like bread and butter.”
“That’s a great scheme, Tom, and it makes my mouth fairly water just to talk about it. Sounds like an army foraging, only instead of taking things we’ll expect to pay cash for them. How many are going along on the hike?”
“I have yet to hear of any member of the Black Bear Patrol who dreams of backing out; and there are several others who’ve told me they hope to join us. The way it looks now only a bad case of sickness would be able to keep any scout from being in line on that wonderful morning when Lenox Troop marches out of town headed for Big Bear Mountain.”
“One good thing, we don’t have to pack any heavy guns along with us,” declared Carl.
“No, that’s absolutely forbidden,” the patrol leader declared; “we can take a fishing rod if we feel like it, because there’s a chance to pick up some trout or bass before we come back on the down-river boat ten days later.”
“I like that idea of making the return trip by water,” Carl continued. “It will be great after so much tramping and camping. Besides, some of the boys have never been fifteen miles up the river before, and so the trip is going to be a picnic for them.”
“Come over to-night and do your cramming for the exam with me,” suggested Tom.
“I’d like to the worst kind,” the other boy said with a grimace; “but this is the night Mr. Culpepper generally pops in, and you see I’m on guard. But I’m hoping mother will give him his walking papers pretty soon now.”
“You would have to put a bomb under his chair to convince Amasa that his space was more desired than his company,” laughed Tom, as he strode off toward his own comfortable home.
The days passed, and since school would be over for the year at the end of the week, in the bustle of examinations and all that they meantfor each boy scout, the intended outing was over-shadowed for the time being.
When, however, several of the scouts got together of course the talk soon drifted toward the subject of the hike, and many were the wonderful projects advanced, each of which seemed to give promise of a glorious prospect ahead.
So Friday night finally came.
School had been dismissed with all the accustomed ceremonies that afternoon, and there were few of the boys who had not gone up to a higher grade, so that when the last meeting before their expected vacation trip was called to order by the president of the organization it was a care-free and happy assemblage that answered the roll-call.
Mr. Witherspoon, the scout master, was on hand, but he seldom interfered with the routine of the meeting. It was his opinion that boys got on much better if allowed to manage things as much as possible after their own ideas. If his advice was needed at any time he stood ready to give it; and meanwhile he meant to act more as a big brother to the troop than its leading officer.
Of course Mr. Witherspoon expected to start out on the hike with the boys. His only fear was that he might not be allowed to finish the outing in their company, since he was liable to be called away at any time on urgent business.
The usual routine of the meeting was gonethrough with, and then a general discussion took place in connection with the anticipated hike. They had laid out the plan of campaign as well as they could, considering that none of the boys had actually been over the entire route before.
“That makes it all the more interesting,” Tom had told them; “because we’ll be apt to meet with a few surprises on the way. None of us would like to have anything all cut and dried ahead of time, I’m sure.”
“It’s generally the unexpected that gives the most pleasure,” declared Josh Kingsley, who was known to have leanings toward being a great inventor some fine day, and always hoped to make an important discovery while he experimented in his workshop in the old red barn back of his home.
“Well,” remarked George Cooper, getting slowly to his feet, “there may be some things that drop in on you unexpected like that don’t seem to give you a whit of pleasure, and I can name one right now.”
“Oh come, George, you old growler, you’re just trying to throw cold water on our big scheme,” complained Felix Robbins, trying to pull the other down.
“I’ve seen him shaking his head lots of times all evening,” asserted Billy Button, “ and I just guessed George was aching to make us feel bad.He’s never so happy as when he’s making other folks miserable.”
George refused to take his seat. He even shrugged his shoulders as though he thought his comrades were hardly treating him fairly.
“Listen, fellows,” he said, solemnly and ponderously; “I don’t like to be the bird of ill omen that carries the bad news; but honest to goodness I’m afraid there’s a heap of trouble looming up on the horizon for us unless we change our plans for a hike over Big Bear Mountain.”
“What sort of trouble do you mean, George?” asked the patrol leader.
“Only this, Mr. President,” said George, “on the way here I learned that Tony Pollock, Wedge McGuffey, Asa Green and Dock Phillips had started off this very afternoon, meaning to spend a week or more tramping over Big Bear Mountain; and I guess they’ve got it in for our crowd.”
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“It looks like a set-up job to me!” declared Josh Kingsley, with a ring of honest indignation in his voice.
“They’ve been hearing so much talk about what a great time we meant to have, it’s just made them green with envy; that’s what I think,” ventured Horace Crapsey.
“Yes, but why pick out Big Bear Mountain,” Felix wanted to know; “unless they meant to spy on the scouts, and give us all the trouble they could?”
There were signs of anger visible on every side. Scouts may be taught that it is noble to forgive those who wrong them, but all the same they are human, and deep down in their boyish hearts is the resentment any one with spirit feels at being imposed upon.
“We haven’t lifted a finger to interfere with anything that crowd wanted to do,” said Walter Douglass, aggressively; “and they have no business to upset our plans.”
“Huh! just let them try it, that’s all!” grunted Josh, shaking his head.
“We had an experience something like this over in Winchester, where I belonged to the scouts before moving to Lenox,” remarked Rob Shaefer, one of the two new boys.
“Do you mean some rowdies tried to make trouble for you?” asked Carl.
“In every way they could,” the new boy replied. “We stood it as long as we could, and then acted.”
“What did you do to them?” asked Mr. Witherspoon, with an amused smile, for he liked to see these wide-awake lads figure out their own plans, and was greatly interested in listening to their discussions as they worked them out.
“When it became unbearable,” said Rob, gravely, though his eyes twinkled, “we ducked the whole five in a frog pond, and after that they let us alone.”
“Cooled ’em off, eh?” chuckled Josh, whom the account seemed to amuse very much. “Well, that isn’t a bad idea, fellows. Frog ponds have their uses besides supplying messes of delicious frog-legs for eating. Anybody know of a pond that’s got a nice green coating of scum on the top? That’s the kind I’d like to see Tony and his bunch scrambling around it.”
“Oh! the pond will crop up all right when thetime comes,” asserted Felix Robbins, confidently; “they always do, you know.”
“But what are we going to do about this thing?” asked Tom, as the chairman of the meeting. “Motions are in order. Somebody make a suggestion, so we can get the sense of the troop.”
“One thing certain,” observed George, “we’ve got to give up the plan we’ve mapped out, and change our programme—or else count on running foul of Tony and his crowd. Which is it going to be?”
A chorus of indignant remonstrances immediately arose.
“Why should we take water when we laid our plans first?” one demanded.
“There are only four of them, all told, while we expect to number ten, perhaps a full dozen!” another scout announced.
“I don’t believe in knuckling down to any ugly lot of fellows that chooses to knock up against us,” and Josh must have expressed the feelings of most of those present when he said this, for there was a chorus of “my sentiments exactly,” as soon as he finished.
Then, somehow, all eyes began to turn toward the scout master. They had come to think a great deal of Mr. Witherspoon. He seemed to have a great love for boys implanted in hisheart, and was thus an ideal scout master; for there was always an exchange of sympathy between him and his charges.
“You want to know what I think of it, boys?” he started to say.
“It would have a heap of influence on our actions, sir—even if we did hate to play second fiddle to that crowd,” admitted Felix.
“But I can see no reason why we should do that,” the scout master immediately told them, and at this the anxious look on many faces gave way to one of satisfaction.
“Then you don’t want us to give up the Big Bear Mountain hike, and make up another programme; is that it, Mr. Witherspoon?” asked Tom, who had not been quite so much concerned as some of the others, because he believed he knew the nature of their efficient scout master, and that he was not one of the “back-down” kind.
“Why should we do that?” replied the other, quietly. “We are not supposed to be aware of the fact that these four rowdies have gone off in that direction. Our plain duty is to follow out our original plans, go about our own business, interfering with no one, and at the same time standing up for our rights.”
At hearing this some of the boys turned and exchanged expressive grins; others even shookhands with each other. Fair play was something they admired above all things; and this manly stand on the part of their scout master pleased them immensely.
“We’re all glad to hear you say that, Mr. Witherspoon,” the chairman of the meeting told him. “I’m sure I voice the sentiments of every scout present when I say that while we’ll try to avoid trouble up to a certain point, there’s going to be a limit to our forbearance.”
“And the frog-pond cure is always available as a last resort,” added the new boy from Winchester.
“Now let us try to forget all about this disagreeable topic, and go on with the discussion concerning the things we should take with us,” the scout master suggested. “Scouts should always be able to meet an emergency, no matter how suddenly it is forced on them. We’ll be prepared, but at the same time not borrow trouble.”
Accordingly all mention of Tony Pollock and his scapegrace cronies was avoided as they once more entered into a warm but perfectly friendly argument.
There was one among them, however, who seemed to still look troubled. This was no other than Carl Oskamp. Glancing toward his chum several times, Tom could see the lines on hisforehead, and he was also able to give a pretty good guess why this should be so.
Of course, it was all on account of the fact that when George made his announcement concerning the movements of Tony Pollock he had stated that Dock Phillips was one of the group that had left town, bent on spending a week on Big Bear Mountain.
This meant that the new scheme which Carl had expected to “try out” on the coming Saturday night could not be attempted, because the object of his attention would be far away.
Tom meant to comfort his chum after the meeting, when they were walking home together. He could see further than Carl, and would be able to find more or less encouragement in the way things were working.
Scout affairs were certainly picking up in Lenox of late. Perhaps the coming to town of Rob Shaefer and Stanley Ackerman, who had both belonged to troops in the past, may have had considerable to do with it.
At any rate the new Wolf Patrol numbered five, and other boys were showing a disposition to make application for membership. Rob Shaefer was booked for the patrol leader, because of his previous experience along those lines, as well as the fact that he was becoming well liked in Lenox boy circles.
The other new boy, while a pretty fair sort of fellow, did not have the same winning qualities that Rob did. Some of them even thought he felt envious because of Rob’s popularity, though if this were true, he took the wrong means to supplant his rival in the affection of their new friends.
As this would be the last chance to talk things over, every little detail had to be settled before the meeting broke up. Each boy who expected to accompany the expedition starting out to explore Big Bear Mountain was directed what to carry with him.
“And remember,” Mr. Witherspoon told them as a final caution, “we expect to do much tramping under a hot June sun, so that every ounce you have to carry along will tell on your condition. Limit your pack to the bare necessities as we’ve figured them out, and if necessary the strong will assist the weak. That’s about all for to-night, boys. Seven sharp on Monday morning outside the church here, unless it’s stormy. The church bell will ring at six if we are going.”
The boys gave a cheer as the meeting broke up. And it was a merry-hearted lot of lads that started forth bound for various homes where there would be more or less of a bustle and excitement until the hour of departure arrived on Monday morning.
Tom and Carl walked home together.
“I could see what ailed you, Carl,” the patrol leader was saying as he locked arms with his chum; “you felt as though things were going against you when George announced that Dock had left town.”
“Because now I’ll not have a chance to try out that second plan we’d arranged for, and which I had great hopes might succeed,” complained Carl, gloomily.
“Cheer up,” urged the other, in his hearty fashion; “perhaps things are working your way after all. How do we know but that a glorious chance may come up and that you can win out yet? Dock has gone to Big Bear Mountain, where we expect to camp. In a whole week or more we’re apt to run across him maybe many times. And Carl, something seems to tell me your chance is going to come while we’re off on this hike. Dock hasn’t settled with Mr. Culpepper yet, that’s certain; and he’s got that paper hidden away still. Keep up your hopes, and it’s sure to come out all right yet. Besides, think what a grand time we’re going to have on our outing!”
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On the following day, which was Saturday, there was considerable visiting among the scouts who so proudly wore their new khaki suits. Conferences were of hourly occurrence, blankets brought out for inspection and comment, packs made up and taken to pieces again, and all manner of advice asked concerning the best way to carry the same.
Each boy had a written list of what he was expected to provide. This was a part of the wonderful system Tom Chesney had inaugurated. He had told them it was copied from the methods in vogue in the German army, so that in case of a hurried mobilization every man capable of bearing arms in the whole empire would know exactly what his particular duty was.
This scout was to carry a generous frying-pan, made of sheet-steel to reduce the weight; another had to look out for the coffee-pot, which was also to hold enough for at least six thirsty campers.So it went on through the whole list of necessities.
There were to be two messes of five or six each, and the second had a duplicate list of cooking utensils, as well as food to look after. Nothing had been omitted that Tom, assisted by several others who had had more or less camping experience, could think of.
It was about eleven this Saturday morning when Tom, doing a little work among his vegetables in the kitchen garden, heard his name called. Glancing up he discovered Carl standing there by the fence that separated the garden from the highway.
Immediately Tom realized that something new must have happened to make his chum appear so downcast. His first fear was that Mr. Culpepper had been asked by Carl’s mother for the securities, and had flatly denied ever having had them.
“Hello! what’s gone wrong now, Carl?” he asked, as he hurried over to join the boy who was leaning both elbows on the picket fence, and holding his head in his hands.
“It seems as though everything is going wrong with us nowadays, Tom,” sighed poor Carl.
“Anything more about that stolen paper?” asked Tom.
“No, it’s something else this time,” Carl replied. “Just as if we didn’t have enough to worry about already.”
“No one sick over at your house, is there?” demanded the other, anxiously.
“I’m glad to say that isn’t the case,” Carl told him. “Fact is, some bad news came in a letter mother had this morning from a lawyer in the city who manages her small affairs.”
“Was it about that tenement house she owns, and the rents from which comes part of her income?” continued Tom, quick to make a guess, for he knew something about the affairs of Carl’s folks.
The other nodded his head as he went on to explain:
“It burned down, and through some mistake of a clerk part of the insurance was allowed to lapse, so that we will not be able to collect on more than half. Isn’t that hard luck though, Tom?”
“I should say it is,” declared the other, with a look of sympathy on his face. “But if it was the fault of the lawyer’s clerk why shouldn’t he be held responsible for the loss? I’d think that was only fair in the eye of the law.”
“Oh!” said Carl, quickly, “but my mother says he’s really a poor man, and hasn’t anything. Besides, he’s been conducting her little business since father died without charging a cent for his labor, so you see there’s no hope of our collecting more than half of the insurance.”
“Too bad, and I’m mighty sorry,” Tom told him.
“Coming on top of our losing that paper you can imagine how my mother feels,” continued the other; “though she tries to be cheerful, and keeps on telling me she knows everything is sure to come out right in the end. Still I can see that while she puts on a brave face it’s only to keep me from feeling so blue. When she’s all alone I’m sure she cries, for I can see her eyes are red when I happen to come in on her unexpectedly.”
“Nothing can be done, I suppose, Carl?”
“Not a thing,” the other boy replied. “That is what makes me furious. If you can only see what’s hitting you, and strike back, it does a whole lot of good. Unless something crops up to make things look brighter between now and fall there’s one thing certain.”
“What’s that?” asked Tom, though he believed he could give a pretty good guess, knowing the independent spirit of his chum so well.
“I shall have to quit school, and go to work at something or other. My mother will never be able to meet expenses, even in the quiet way we live, now that part of her little income is cut off. A few hundred dollars a year means a lot to us, you see.”
“Oh, I hope it won’t come to that,” said Tom.“A whole lot may happen between now and the beginning of the fall term. For all we know that missing paper may be recovered, which would put your folks on Easy street.”
“That’s about the last hope, then,” admitted Carl. “It’s all I’m counting on; and even then the chances seem to be against us.”
“But you won’t think of backing down about going on this grand hike over Big Bear Mountain, I hope?” remarked the patrol leader.
“I believe I’d lack the heart to do it, Tom, leaving mother feeling so bad; only for one thing.”
“Meaning the fact that Dock Phillips is somewhere up there on the mountain; that’s what you’ve got in your mind, isn’t it, Carl?”
“Yes, and what you said last night keeps haunting me all the time, Tom. What if I did run across the chance to make Dock own up, and got him to give me that precious paper? It would make everything look bright again—for with the boom on in the oil region that stock must be worth thousands of dollars to-day, if only we can get hold of the certificate again.”
“Well, you’re going to; things often work in a queer way, and that’s what is happening now. And I feel as sure as anything that Mr. Culpepper’s stinginess in holding out against Dock’s demands is going to be his undoing.”
Such confident talk as this could not help having its effect on Carl. He had in fact come over to Tom’s house knowing that he was sure to get comfort there.
“You make me feel better already, Tom,” he asserted, as he took the hand the other boy thrust over the top of the garden fence; “and I’m going to try and look at it as a true scout should, believing that the sun is still shining back of the clouds.”
“I’m about through with my work here in the garden,” Tom told him, “so suppose you come around to the gate, or hop over the fence here. We’ll go up to my room and take a look over the stuff that I expect to pack out of Lenox Monday A. M. I want to ask your opinion about several things, and was thinking of calling you up on the ’phone when I heard you speak just now.”
Of course the main object Tom had in view was not so much getting Carl’s opinion as to arouse his interest in the projected trip, so that for the time being he might forget his troubles.
The two boys spent an hour chatting, and consulting a map Tom produced that was supposed to cover most of the Big Bear Mountain territory. It had been made by an old surveyor some years back, simply to amuse himself, and while not quite up to date might be said to be fairly accurate.
Mr. Witherspoon had secured this chart and loaned it to Tom, for there was always a possibility of his receiving a sudden call on business that would take him away from town, when the duty of engineering the trip must fall to the leader of the Black Bear Patrol as the second in command.
That was going to be an unusually long and tedious Sunday for a good many boys in Lenox. Doubtless they would have their thoughts drawn from the sermon, as they sat with their folks in the family pews. And, too, looking out of the window at the waving trees they would probably picture themselves far away on the wooded slope of Big Bear Mountain, perhaps making their first camp, and starting the glorious fire around which, as the night drew on, they would gather to tell stories and sing school songs.
And it could be set down as certain that few of those who expected to join the adventurous spirits starting forth on the long mountain hike slept very soundly on the last night.
When the hour agreed on, seven o’clock, came around, there was a scene of bustle under the tower of the church, where the scouts had gathered, together with many friends both young and old who meant to give them a noisy send-off on their hike over Big Bear Mountain.
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