A Scout of To-day Part 14

For half a minute a rainbowed--almost awed--silence held the three upon the clearing. Toiney was the first to break it. He flung his arms rapturously round the hitherto fear-bound boy.

"Bravo! mo' fin," he cried, embracing Harold as his "cute one." "Bravo!

mo' smarty. Grace a bon Dieu, you ain' so scare anny longere! You go for be de boy--de brave boy--you go for be de scout--engh?" His eyes were wet and winking as if, now indeed, he felt "lak' cry"!

"Certainly, you're going to be a scout, Harold," corroborated Nixon, equally if not so eloquently moved. "Now! don't you want to learn how to tie another knot, the fisherman's bend? You ought to be able to tie that, you know, because your father was a great fisherman."

Harold was nothing loath. More and more his father's spirit flashed awake in him. Through the rest of that afternoon, which marked a new era in his life, he seemed to work with his father's fingers, while the October sky glowed in radiant tints of saffron and blue, and a light breeze skipped through the pine-trees and the brilliant maples that flamed at intervals like lamps around the clearing.

"We'll come again to-morrow or the day after, Harold, and teach you more 'stunts'; I mean some other things, besides knot-tying, that a boy ought to know how to do," said Nixon as a filmy haze hovering over the edges of the woods warned them that it bore evening on its dull blue wings.

"Aw right!" docilely agreed Harold; and though he shuffled his feet timidly, like the "poltron" or craven, which Toiney had in sorrow called him, there was a shy longing in his face which said that he was sorry the afternoon was over, that he would look for the return of his new friends, the only boys who had ever racked their brains to help and not to hurt him.

Before their departure he had learned how to tie three knots, square or reef, bowline and the fisherman's bend. He had likewise admitted two more persons within the narrow enclosure of his confidence--the two who were to liberate him, the _eclaireurs_, the peace scouts of to-day.

And, for the first time in his life, he had awkwardly lifted his cap and saluted the flag of his country as it waved in miniature from the planted staff.

That afternoon was the first of several spent by Scout Warren and his aide-de-camp, Coombsie, on the little farm-clearing in the woods, trying to foster a boyish spirit in Harold, to overcome his dread of mingling with other boys, to awaken in him the desire to become a boy scout and share the latter's good times at indoor meeting, on hike, or in camp.

When the date of the second meeting drew near at which seven new recruits were to take the scout oath and be formally organized into the Owl Patrol, they had obtained the promise of this timid fledgling to be present under Toiney's wing, and enlist, too.

"I wonder whether he'll keep his word or if he'll fight shy of coming at the last minute?" whispered Nixon to Coombsie on the all-important evening when the other recruits led by their scoutmaster marched into the modest town hall, a neutral ground where all of diverse creeds might meet, and where the members of the local council, including the doctor and Captain Andy, had already a.s.sembled.

"If he doesn't show up, Nix, you won't be able to pa.s.s the twelfth point of test for becoming a first-cla.s.s scout by producing a recruit trained by yourself in the requirements of a tenderfoot," suggested Marcoo.

"You've pa.s.sed all the active tests, haven't you?"

Scout Warren nodded, keeping an anxious eye on the door. Having been duly transferred from his Philadelphia troop to the new patrol which had just been organized in this tide-lapped corner of Ma.s.sachusetts--where it seemed probable now that he would spend a year at least, as his parents contemplated a longer stay in Europe--he had already pa.s.sed the major part of his examination for first-cla.s.s scout before the Scout Commissioner of the district.

He was an expert in first-aid and primitive cooking. He had prepared a fair map of a certain section of the marshy country near the tidal river. He could state upon his honor that he had accurately judged with his eye a certain distance in the woods--namely, from the top of that towering red-oak-tree which, when lost, he had chosen as a lookout point, to the cave called the Bear's Den--on the never-to-be-forgotten day when four painted boys and a dog finally took refuge in that rocky cavern; the boy scout's judgment of the distance being subsequently confirmed by lumbermen who knew every important tree in that section of the woods.

He had pa.s.sed tests in swimming, tree-felling, map-reading, and so forth! But he would not be ent.i.tled to wear, instead of the second-cla.s.s scout badge, the badge of the first-cla.s.s rank, beneath the two white bars of the patrol leader upon his left arm, until he produced the tenderfoot whom he had trained.

But would that timid recruit from the little woodland clearing--that half-fledged Owlet--appear?

"Suppose he should 'funk it' at the last minute?" whispered Marcoo tragically to the patrol leader. "No! No! As I'm alive! here they come--Toiney, with Harold in tow. Blessings on that Canuck!" he added fervently.

It was a strange-looking pair who now entered the little town hall: Toiney, in a rough gray sweater and those heelless high boots, removing his ta.s.seled cap and depositing in a corner the lantern which had guided him with his charge through the woods, as facile to him by night as by day; and Harold, timidly clinging to his arm.

The brown eyes of the latter rolled up in panic as he beheld the big lighted room wherein the boy scouts and those interested in them were a.s.sembled. All his mother's unbalanced fear of a crowd returning upon him in full force, he would have fled, but for Toiney's firm imprisonment of his trembling arm, and for Toiney's voice encouraging him gutturally with:--

"Tiens! mo' beau. _Courage!_ Gard' donc de scout wit' de flag on she's hand! V'la! V'la!" pointing to Nixon, the patrol leader, supporting the Stars and Stripes. "Bon courage! you go for be de scout too--engh?"

His country's flag, blooming into magnificence under the electric light, had, to-night, a smile for Harold, as he saw it the centre of saluting boys.

Something of his brave father's love for that National Ensign, the "Color" as the fisherman called it, which had presided over so many crises of that father's life, as when on a gala day in harbor he ran it to the masthead, or twined it in the rigging, at sea, to speak another vessel, or sorrowfully hoisted it at half-mast for a shipmate drowned,--something of that loving reverence now began to blossom in Harold's heart like a many-tinted flower!

"Well! here you are, Harold." Coombsie was promptly taking charge of the new arrival, piloting him, with Toiney, to a seat. "I knew you'd come; you've got the right stuff in you; eh?"

It was feeble "stuff" at the moment, and in danger of melting into an open attempt at flight; for Harold's eyes had turned from the benignant flag to the figure of Leon Chase.

But Leon had little opportunity, and less desire, to hara.s.s him to-night.

For, as the kernel of the initiatory proceedings was reached, the first of the seven new recruits to hold up the three fingers of his right hand and take the scout oath was Starrie Chase:--

"On my honor I will do my best, to do my duty to G.o.d and my country, and to obey the scout law: To help other people at all times, to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight."

Captain Andy cleared his throat as he listened, and the doctor wiped his gla.s.ses.

Then, as corporal or second in command of the new patrol, Leon stood holding aloft the brand-new flag of that patrol--a great, horned hoot-owl, the Grand Duke of the neighboring woods, embroidered on a blue ground by Colin's mother--while his brother recruits, having each pa.s.sed the tenderfoot test, took the oath and were enrolled as duly fledged Owls.

Harold, the timid fledgling, came last. Supported on either side by his sponsors, Nixon and Coombsie, he distinguished himself by tying the four knots which formed part of the test with swiftness and skill, and by "muddling" through the rest of the examination, consent having been obtained from headquarters that some leniency in the matter of answers might be shown to this handicapped boy who had never been to school and for whom--as for Leon--the Boy Scout Movement might prove The Thing.

Captain Andy declared it to be "The Thing" when later that night he was called upon for a speech.

"Boys!" he said, heaving his ma.s.sive figure erect, the sky-blue rift of his eye twinkling under the cloudy lid. "Boys! it's an able craft, this new movement, if you'll only buckle to an' work it well. And it's a hearty motto you have: BE PREPARED. Prepared to help yourselves, so that you can stand by to help others! Lads,"--the voice of the old sea-fighter boomed bl.u.s.trously,--"there comes a time to 'most every one who isn't a poor-hearted lubber, when he wants to help somebody else more than he ever wanted to help himself; and if he hasn't made the most o' what powers he has, why! when that Big Minute comes he won't be 'in it.' Belay that! Make it fast here!" tapping his forehead. "Live up to your able motto an' pretty soon you'll find yourselves going ahead under all the sail you can carry; an' you won't be trying to get a corner on the breeze either, or to blanket any other fellow's sails! Rather, you'll show him the road an' give him a tow when he needs it. G.o.d bless you! So long!"

And when the wisdom of the grand old sea-scout had been cheered to the echo, the eight members of the new patrol, rallying round their Owl flag, broke into the first verse of their song, a part of which Nixon had sung to them by the camp-fire in the woods:--

"No loyal Scout gives place to doubt, But action quick he shows!

Like a knight of old he is brave and bold, And chivalry he knows.

Then hurrah for the brave, hurrah for the good!

Hurrah for the pure in heart!

At duty's call, with a smile for all, The Scout will do his part!"

"Sing! Harold. Do your part, and sing!" urged Nixon, the patrol leader.

"Oh, go on: that isn't a scout's mouth, Harold!" looking at the weak brother's fear-tightened lips. "A scout's mouth turns up at the corners.

Smile, Harold! Smile and sing."

A minute later Scout Warren's own features were wreathed by a smile, humorous, moved, glad--more glad than any which had illumined his face hitherto--for by his side the boy who had once feared the stars as they stole out above the clearing, was singing after him:--

"Hurrah for the sun, hurrah for the storm!

Hurrah for the stars above!"

"He's going to make a good scout, some time; don't you think so, Cap?"

Nixon, glancing down at the timid "poltron," nudged Captain Andy's arm.

"Aye, aye! lad, I guess he will, when you've put some more backbone into him," came the optimistic answer.

But Captain Andy's gaze did not linger on Harold. The keen search-light of his glance was trained upon Leon--upon Corporal Chase, who, judging by the new and lively purpose in his face, had to-night, indeed, through the channel of his scout oath, "deepened the water in which he floated,"

as he stood holding high the royal-blue banner of the Owl Patrol.

CHAPTER IX

G.o.dEY PECK