CHAPTER IV
A QUICK RETURN FOR SERVICES RENDERED
That night turned out clear and frosty. Winter having set in so early seemed bent on keeping up its unusual record. The snow on the ground crackled underfoot in the fashion dear to the heart of every boy who loves outdoor sports.
Overhead, the bright moon, pretty well advanced, hung in space. It was clearly evident that no one need think of carrying a lantern with him to the meeting place on such a glorious night.
The Boy Scouts of Stanhope had been fortunate enough to be given the use of a large room under the church with the clock tower. On cold nights this was always heated for them, so that they found it a most comfortable place in which to hold their animated meetings.
There was a large attendance on this occasion, for while possibly few among the members of the troop could take advantage of this midwinter trip into the wilds, every boy was curious to know all the details.
In this same spacious room there was fitted up a gymnasium for the use of the boys one night a week, and many of them availed themselves of the privilege. As this was to be a regular business meeting, however, the apparatus had been drawn aside so as not to be in the way.
As the roster was being called it might be just as well to give the full membership of the troop so that the reader may be made acquainted with the chosen comrades of Jack and Paul.
The Red Fox Patrol, which contained the “veterans” of the organization, was made up of the following members:
Paul Morrison; Jack Stormways; Bobolink, the official bugler; Bluff Shipley, the drummer of the troop; “Nuthin” Cypher; William Carberry; Wallace, his twin brother; and Tom Betts. Paul, as has been said, was patrol leader, and served also as assistant scout-master when Mr. Gordon was absent from town.
In the second division known as the Gray Fox Patrol were the following:
Jud Elderkin, patrol leader; Joe Clausin, Andy Flinn, Phil Towns, Horace Poole, Bob Tice, Curly Baxter, and Cliff Jones.
The Black Fox Patrol had several absentees, but when all were present they answered to their names as below:
Frank Savage, leader; Billie Little, Nat Smith, Sandy Griggs, “Old” Dan Tucker, “Red” Collins, “Spider” Sexton, and last but not least in volume of voice, “Gusty” Bellows.
A fourth patrol that was to be called the Silver Fox was almost complete, lacking just three members; and those who made up this were:
George Hurst, leader; “Lub” Ketcham, Barry Nichols, Malcolm Steele and a new boy in town by the name of Archie Fletcher.
Apparently, the only business of importance before the meeting was in connection with the scheme to take a midwinter outing, something that was looked upon as unique in the annals of the association.
The usual order of the meeting was hurried through, for every one felt anxious to hear what sort of proposition the assistant scout-master intended to spread before the meeting for approval.
“I move we suspend the rules for to-night, and have an informal talk for a change!” said Bobolink, when he had been recognized by the chair.
A buzz of voices announced that the idea was favorably received by many of those present; and, accordingly, the chairman, no other than Paul himself, felt constrained to put the motion after it had been duly seconded. He did so with a smile, well knowing what Bobolink’s object was.
“You have all heard the motion that the rules be suspended for the remainder of the evening,” he went on to say, “so that we can have a heart-to-heart talk on matters that concern us just now. All in favor say aye!”
A rousing chorus of ayes followed.
“Contrary, no!” continued Paul, and as complete silence followed he added hastily: “The motion is carried, and the regular business meeting will now stand adjourned until next month.”
“Now let’s hear what you’ve been hatching up for us, Paul?” called out Bobolink.
“So say we all, Paul!” cried half a dozen eager voices, and the boys left their seats to crowd around their leader.
“I only hope it’s Rattlesnake Mountain we’re headed for!” exclaimed Tom Betts, who had a warm feeling in his boyish heart for that particular section of country, where once upon a time the troop had pitched camp, and had met with some amusing and thrilling adventures, as described in a previous volume, called “The Banner Boy Scouts on a Tour.”
“On my part I wish it would turn out to be good old Lake Tokala, where my heart has often been centered as I think of the happy days we spent there.”
It was, of course, Bobolink who gave utterance to this sentiment. Perhaps there were others who really echoed his desire, for they had certainly had a glorious time of it when cruising in the motor boats so kindly loaned to them.
Paul held up his hand for silence, and immediately every voice became still. Discipline was enforced at these meetings, for the noisy boys and those inclined to play practical pranks had learned long ago they would have to smother their feelings at such times or be strongly repressed by the chair.
“Listen,” said the leader, in his clear voice, “you kindly asked me to try to plan a trip for the holidays that would be of the greatest benefit to us as an organization of scouts. I seriously considered half a dozen plans, among them Rattlesnake Mountain, and Cedar Island in Lake Tokala. In fact, I was on the point of suggesting that we take the last mentioned trip when something came up that entirely changed my plan for the outing.”
He stopped to see what effect his words were having. Evidently, he had aroused the curiosity of the assembled scouts to fever heat, for several voices immediately called out:
“Hear! hear! please go on, Paul! We’re dying to know what the game is!”
Paul smiled, as he went on to say:
“I guess you have all been so deeply interested in what was going on to-night, that few of you noticed that we have a friend present who slipped into the room just as the roll call began. All of you must know the gentleman, so it’s hardly necessary for me to introduce Mr. Thomas Garrity to you.”
Of course, every one turned quickly on hearing this. A figure that had been seated in a dim corner of the assembly room arose, and Bobolink gasped with a delicious sense of pleasure when he recognized the man whom he and his fellow scouts had assisted that very afternoon.
“Please come forward, Mr. Garrity,” said Paul, “and tell the boys what you suggested to me late this afternoon. I’m sure they’d appreciate it more coming directly from you than getting it secondhand.”
While a hum of eager anticipation arose all around, Mr. Garrity made his way to the side of the patrol leader and president of the meeting.
“I have no doubt,” he said, “that those of you who were not present to-day when our old ice-house fell and caught me in the ruins, have heard all about the accident, so I need not refer to the incident except to say that I shall never cease to be grateful to the scouts for the clever way in which they dug me out of the wreck.”
“Hear! hear!” several excited scouts shouted.
“I happened to learn that you were contemplating a trip during the holidays, and when an idea slipped into my mind I lost no time in calling upon Paul Morrison, your efficient leader, in order to interest him in my plan.”
“Hear! hear!”
“It happens that I own a forest cabin up in the wilderness where I often go to rest myself and get away from all excitement. It is in charge of a faithful woodsman by the name of Tolly Tip. You can reach it by skating a number of miles up a stream that empties into Lake Tokala. The hunting is said to be very good around there, and you will find excellent pickerel fishing through the ice in Lake Tokala. If you care to do me the favor of accepting my offer, the services of my man and the use of the cabin are at your disposal. Even then I shall feel that this is only a beginning of the deep interest I am taking in the scouts’ organization; for I have had my eyes opened at last in a wonderful manner.”
As Mr. Garrity sat down, rosy-red from the exertion of speaking to a party of boys, Paul immediately rapped for order, and put the question.
“All who are in favor of accepting this generous offer say yes!” and every boy joined in the vociferous shout that arose.
CHAPTER V
A STARTLING INTERRUPTION
“Mr. Garrity, your kind offer is accepted with thanks,” announced Paul. “And as you suggested to me, several of us will take great pleasure in calling on you to-morrow to go into details and to get full directions from you.”
“Then perhaps I may as well go home now, boys,” said the old gentleman; “as my wrist is paining me considerably. I only want to add that this has been a red day in my calendar. The collapse of the old ice-house is going to prove one of those blessings that sometimes come to us in disguise. I only regret that two little girls were injured. As for myself, I am thoroughly pleased it happened.”
“Before you leave us, sir,” said Bobolink, boldly, “please let us show in some slight way how much we appreciate your kind offer. Boys, three cheers for Mr. Thomas Garrity, our latest convert, and already one of our best friends!”
Possibly Bobolink’s method of expressing his feelings might not ordinarily appeal to a man of Mr. Garrity’s character, but just now the delighted old gentleman was in no mood for fault finding.
As the boyish cheers rang through the room there were actually tears in Mr. Garrity’s eyes. Truly that had been a great day for him, and perhaps it might prove a joyous occasion to many of his poor tenants, some of whom had occasion to look upon him as a just, though severe, landlord, exacting his rent to the last penny.
After he had left the room the hum of voices became furious. One would have been inclined to suspect the presence of a great bee-hive in the near vicinity.
“Paul, you know all about this woods cabin he owns,” said Tom Betts, “so suppose you enlighten the rest of us.”
“One thing tickles me about the venture!” exclaimed Bobolink; “That is that we pass across Lake Tokala in getting there. I’ve been hankering to see that place in winter time for ever so long.”
“Yes,” added Tom, eagerly, “that’s true. And what’s to hinder some of us from using our iceboats part of the way?”
“Nothing at all,” Paul assured him. “I went into that with Mr. Garrity, and came to the conclusion that it could be done. Of course, a whole lot depends on how many of us can go on the trip.”
“How many could sleep in his cabin do you think, Paul?” demanded Jack.
“Yes. For one, I’d hate to have to bunk out in the snow these cold nights,” said Bluff, shaking his head seriously, for Bluff dearly liked the comforts of a cheery fire inside stout walls of logs, while the bitter wintry wind howled without, and the snow drifted badly.
“He told me it was unusually large,” explained Paul. “In fact, it has two big rooms and could in a pinch accommodate ten fellows. Of course, every boy would be compelled to tote his blankets along with him, because Mr. Garrity never dreamed he would have an army occupy his log shanty.”
“The more I think of it the better it sounds!” declared Jack.
“Then first of all we must try to find out just who can go,” suggested Bobolink.
“What if there are too many to be accommodated either on the iceboats we own or in the cabin?” remarked Tom Betts, uneasily.
“Shucks! that ought to be easy,” suggested another. “All we have to do is to pull straws, and see who the lucky ten are.”
“Then let those who are positive they can go step aside here,” Paul ordered; and at this there was a shuffling of feet and considerable moving about.
“Remember, you must be sure you can go,” warned Paul. “Afterwards we’ll single out those who believe they can get permission, but feel some doubts. If there is room they will come in for next choice.”
Several who had started forward held back at this. Those who took their stand as the leader requested consisted of Jack, Bobolink, Bluff, Tom Betts, Jud Elderkin, Sandy Griggs, Phil Towns and “Spider” Sexton.
“Counting myself in the list that makes nine for certain,” Paul observed. It was noticed that Tom Betts as well as Bobolink looked exceedingly relieved on discovering that, after all, there need be no drawing of lots.
“Now let those who have strong hopes of being able to go stand up to be counted,” continued Paul. “I’ll keep a list of the names, and the first who comes to say he has received full permission will be the one to make up the full count of ten members, which is all the cabin can accommodate.”
The Carberry twins, as well as several others, stood over in line to have their names taken down.
“If one of us can go, Paul,” explained Wallace Carberry, “we’ll fix it up between us which it shall be. But I’m sorry to say our folks don’t take to this idea of a winter camp very strongly.”
“Same over at my house,” complained Bob Tice. “Mother is afraid something terrible might happen to us in such a hard spell of winter. As if scouts couldn’t take care of themselves anywhere, and under all conditions!”
There were many gloomy faces seen in the gathering, showing that other boys knew their parents did not look on the delightful scheme with favor. Some of them could not accompany the party on account of other plans which had been arranged by their parents.
“If the ice stays as fine as it is now,” remarked Tom Betts, “we can spin down the river on our iceboats, and maybe make our way through that old canal to Lake Tokala as well. But how about the creek leading up to the cabin, Paul? Did you ask Mr. Garrity about it?”
“Yes, I asked him everything I could think of,” came the ready reply. “I’m sorry to say it will be necessary to leave our iceboats somewhere on the lake, for the creek winds around in such a way, and is so narrow in places, that none of us could work the boats up there.”
“But wouldn’t it be dangerous to leave them on the lake so long?” asked Tom, anxiously. “I’ve put in some pretty hard licks on my new craft, and I’d sure hate to have any one steal it from me.”
“Yes,” added Bobolink, quickly, “and we all know that Lawson crowd have been showing themselves as mean as dirt lately. We thought we had got rid of our enemies some time ago, and here this new lot of rivals seems bent on making life miserable for all scouts. They are a tough crowd, and pretend to look down on us as weaklings. Hank Lawson is now playing the part of the bully in Stanhope, you know.”
“I even considered that,” continued Paul, who seldom omitted anything when laying plans. “Mr. Garrity told me there was a man living on the shore of Lake Tokala, who would look after our iceboats for a consideration.”
“Bully for that!” exclaimed Tom, apparently much relieved. “All the same I think it would be as well for us to try to keep our camping place a secret if it can be done. Let folks understand that we’re going somewhere around Lake Tokala; and perhaps the Lawson crowd will miss us.”
“That isn’t a bad idea,” Paul agreed, “and I’d like every one to remember it. Of course, we feel well able to look after ourselves, but that’s no reason why we should openly invite Hank and his cronies to come and bother us. Are you all agreed to that part of the scheme?”
In turn every scout present answered in the affirmative. Those who could not possibly accompany the party took almost as much interest in the affair as those intending to go; and there would be heart burnings among the members of Stanhope Troop from now on.
“How about the grub question, Paul?” demanded Bobolink.
“Every fellow who is going will have to provide a certain amount of food to be carried along with his blanket, gun, clothes bag, and camera. All that can be arranged when we meet to-morrow afternoon. In the meantime, I’m going to appoint Bobolink and Jack as a committee of two to spend what money we can spare in purchasing certain groceries such as coffee, sugar, hams, potatoes, and other things to be listed later.”
Bobolink grinned happily on hearing that.
“See how pleased it makes him,” jeered Tom Betts. “When you put Bobolink on the committee that looks after the grub, Paul, you hit him close to where he lives. One thing sure, we’ll have plenty to eat along with us, for Bobolink never underrates the eating capacity of himself or his chums.”
“You can trust me for that,” remarked the one referred to, “because I was really hungry once in my life, and I’ve never gotten over the terrible feeling. Yes, there is going to be a full dinner pail in Camp Garrity, let me tell you!”
“Camp Garrity sounds good to me!” exclaimed Sandy Griggs.
“Let it go down in the annals of Stanhope Troop at that!” cried another scout.
“We could hardly call it by any other name, after the owner has been so good as to place it at our disposal,” said Paul, himself well pleased at the idea.
Bobolink was about to say something more when, without warning, there came a sudden crash accompanied by the jingling of broken glass. One of the windows fell in as though some hard object had struck it. The startled scouts, looking up, saw the arm and face of a boy thrust part way through the aperture, showing that he must have slipped and broken the window while trying to spy upon the meeting.
CHAPTER VI
A GLOOMY PROSPECT FOR JUD
“It’s Jud Mabley!” exclaimed one of the scouts, instantly recognizing the face of the unlucky youth who had fallen part way through the window.
Jud was a boy of bad habits. He had applied to the scouts for membership, but had not been admitted on account of his unsavory reputation. Smarting under this sting Jud had turned to Hank Lawson and his crowd for sympathy, and was known to be hand-in-glove with those young rowdies.
“He’s been spying on us, that’s what!” cried Bobolink, indignantly.
“And learning our plans, like as not!” added Tom Betts.
“He ought to be caught and ridden on a rail!” exclaimed a third member of the troop, filled with anger.
“I’d say duck him in the river after cutting a hole in the ice!” called out another boy, furiously.
“Huh! first ketch your rabbit before you start cookin’ him!” laughed Jud in a jeering fashion, as he waved them a mocking adieu through the broken window, and then vanished from view.
“After him, fellows!” shouted the impetuous Bobolink, and there was a hasty rush for the door, the boys snatching up their hats as they ran.
Paul was with the rest, not that he cared particularly about catching the eavesdropper, but he wanted to be on hand in case the rest of the scouts overtook Jud; for Paul held the reputation of the troop dear, and would not have the scouts sully their honor by a mean act.
The boys poured out of the meeting-place in a stream. The bright moon showed them a running figure which they judged must of course be Jud; so away they sprang in hot pursuit.
Somehow, it struck them that Jud was not running as swiftly as might be expected, for he had often proved himself a speedy contestant on the cinder path. He seemed to wabble more or less, and looked back over his shoulder many times.
Bobolink suspected there might be some sort of trick connected with this action on the part of the other, for Jud was known to be a schemer.
“Jack, he may be drawing us into a trap of some sort, don’t you think?” he managed to gasp as he ran at the side of the other.
Apparently Jack, too, had noticed the queer actions of the fugitive. He had seen a mother rabbit pretend to be lame when seeking to draw enemies away from the place where her young ones lay hidden; yes, and a partridge often did the same thing, as he well knew.
“I was noticing that, Bobolink,” he told the other, “but it strikes me Jud must have been hurt somehow when he crashed through that window.”
“You mean he feels more or less weak, do you?”
“Something like that,” came the reply.
“Well, we’re coming up on him like fun, anyway, no matter what the cause may be!” Bobolink declared, and then found it necessary to stop talking if he wanted to keep in the van with several of the swiftest runners among the scouts.
It was true that they were rapidly overtaking Jud, who ran in a strange zigzag fashion like one who was dizzy. He kept up until the leaders among his pursuers came alongside; then he stopped short, and, panting for breath, squared off, striking viciously at them.
Jack and two other scouts closed in on him, regardless of blows, and Jud was made a prisoner. He ceased struggling when he found it could avail him nothing, but glared at his captors as an Indian warrior might have done.
“Huh! think you’re smart, don’t you, overhaulin’ me so easy,” he told them disdainfully. “But if I hadn’t been knocked dizzy when I fell you never would a got me. Now what’re you meanin’ to do about it? Ain’t a feller got a right to walk the public streets of this here town without bein’ grabbed by a pack of cowards in soldier suits, and treated rough-house way?”
“That doesn’t go with us, Jud Mabley,” said Bobolink, indignantly. “You were playing the spy on us, you know it, trying to listen to all we were saying.”
“So as to tell that Lawson crowd, and get them to start some mean trick on us in the bargain,” added Tom Betts.
“O-ho! ain’t a feller a right to stop alongside of a church to strike a match for his pipe?” jeered the prisoner, defiantly. “How was I to know your crowd was inside there? The streets are free to any one, man, woman or boy, I take it.”
“How about the broken window, Jud?” demanded Bobolink, triumphantly.
“Yes! did you smash that pane of glass when you threw your match away, Jud,” asked another boy, with a laugh.
“He was caught in the act, fellows,” asserted Frank Savage, “and the next question with us is what ought we to do to punish a sneak and a spy?”
“I said it before—ride him on a rail around town so people can see how scouts stand up for their own rights!” came a voice from the group of excited boys.
“Oh! that would be letting him off too easy,” Tom Betts affirmed. “’Twould serve him just about right if we ducked him a few times in the river.”
“All we need is an axe to cut a hole through the ice,” another lad went on to say, showing that the suggestion rather caught his fancy as the appropriate thing to do—making the punishment fit the crime, as it were.
“Keep it goin’,” sneered the defiant Jud, not showing any signs of quailing under this bombardment. “Try and think up a few more pleasant things to do to me. If you reckon you c’n make me show the white feather you’ve got another guess comin’, I want you to know. I’m true grit, I am!”
“You may be singing out of the other side of your mouth, Jud Mabley, before we’re through with you,” threatened Curly Baxter.
“Mebbe now you might think to get a hemp rope and try hangin’ me,” laughed the prisoner in an offensive manner. “That’s what they do to spies, you know, in the army. Yes, and I know of a beauty of a limb that stands straight out from the body of the tree ’bout ten feet from the ground. Shall I tell you where it lies?”
This sort of defiant talk was causing more of the scouts to become angry. It seemed to them like adding insult to injury. Here this fellow had spied upon their meeting, possibly learned all about the plans they were forming for the midwinter holidays, and then finally had the misfortune to fall and smash one of the window panes, which would, of course, have to be made good by the scouts, as they were under heavy obligations to the trustees of the church for favors received.
“A mean fellow like you, Jud Mabley,” asserted Joe Clausin, “deserves the worst sort of punishment that could be managed. Why, it would about serve you right if you got a lovely coat of tar and feathers to-night.”
Jud seemed to shrink a little at hearing that.
“You wouldn’t dare try such a game as that,” he told them, with a faint note of fear in his voice. “Every one of you’d have to pay for it before the law. Some things might pass, but that’s goin’ it too strong. My dad’d have you locked up in the town cooler if I came home lookin’ like a bird, sure he would.”
Jud’s father was something of a local power in politics, so that the boy’s boast was not without more or less force. Some of the scouts may have considered this; at any rate, one of them now broke out with:
“A ducking ought to be a good enough punishment for this chap, I should say; so, fellows, let’s start in to give it to him.”
“I know where I can lay hands on an axe all right, to chop a hole through the ice,” asserted Bobolink, eagerly.
“Then we appoint you a committee of one to supply the necessary tools for the joyous occasion,” Red Collins cried out, gleefully falling in with the scheme.
“Hold on, boys, don’t you think it would be enough if Jud made an apology to us, and promised not to breathe a word of what he chanced to hear?”
It was Horace Poole who said this, for he often proved to be the possessor of a tender heart and a forgiving spirit. His mild proposition was laughed down on the spot.
“Much he’d care what he promised us, if only we let him go scot free,” jeered one scout. “I’ve known him to give his solemn word before now, and break it when he felt like it. I wouldn’t trust him out of my sight. Promises count for nothing with one of Jud Mabley’s stamp.”
“How about that, Jud?” demanded another boy. “Would you agree to keep your lips buttoned up, and not tell a word of what you have heard?”
“I ain’t promisin’ nothin’, I want you to know,” replied the prisoner, boldly; “so go on with your funny business. You won’t ketch me squealing worth a cent. Honest to goodness now I half b’lieve it’s all a big bluff. Let’s see you do your worst.”
“Drag him along to the river bank, fellows, and I’ll join you there with the axe,” roared Bobolink, now fully aroused by the obstinate manner of the captive.
“Wait a bit, fellows.”
It was Jack Stormways who said this, and even the impetuous Bobolink came to a halt.
“Go on Jack. What’s your plan?” demanded one of the group.
“I was only going to remind you that in the absence of Mr. Gordon, Paul is acting as scout-master, and before you do anything that may reflect upon the good name of Stanhope Troop you’d better listen to what he’s got to say on the subject.”