Boy Scouts in Glacier Park Part 3

"Oh, sure, mine too," laughed Walt. "They always say that. Seems as if they thought we were splitting kindlings because we liked to split kindlings, instead of because we like old Joey."

"That's the dope," said Tom. "Funny how folks don't see things sometimes."

"Ain't it?" said Bob. "Well, so long, Joe, old scout. Hope you sleep well in the tent."

"So long, Bob."

"So long"--from the others.

"So long, fellows--much obliged."

Only Tom was left.

"It's pretty nice to have so many friends," said Joe, "even if you have to get sick to find it out."

"Now you've found out, you get well again," Spider laughed. "I'll stop on my way to school in the morning and see you, and find out what books you want brought home. So long, old top."

"So long, Spider."

Tom went out of the gate, or, rather, over it, vaulting it with one hand. Joe's mother came out on the porch and put one arm around the boy's neck, and with the other hand felt his forehead.

"I don't think you've got so much fever to-night," she said.

"It's 'cause the fellers have cut all the wood and hauled the coal, that used to make me so tired. Gee, they're good scouts, aren't they, ma--'specially old Spider."

"Yes, Joe," said she, "there are a lot of good people in the world."

"You bet," said Joe.

CHAPTER III--Spider Finds a Way to Get to the Rocky Mountains, to "Pump Joe's Pipes Full of Ozone"

There are no doubt a lot of good people in the world, as Mrs. Clark said, but there is no doubt that a great many of them are forgetful. Tom Seymour found this out in the next few weeks. The scouts meant well, but every two or three days the one whose turn it was to look after the Clark wood and coal and do whatever heavy work there was to be done,--work too heavy for Joe's little brother and sister--would forget the duty. Tom, however, never forgot, for he went there every day, to study his lessons with Joe so Joe could keep up in his school work, and when the kindlings had not been split or the coal brought up, he did it.

"I don't know what I should do without you, Tom," said Mrs. Clark. "I feel guilty, too, because I feel as if you ought to be at home doing it for your own mother."

Tom laughed. "It's a funny thing," he said, "but having this on my mind has stopped my forgetting at home. I used to forget all the time, but now, when I go home, ma's wood-box is the first thing I think of. I kind of got the habit, I guess!"

Meanwhile Tom was turning over and over in his mind plans for getting Joe out into the high, dry air of the Rocky Mountains as soon as school was over. The first thing to think about was how to raise the money to get there. In his own case, it would be easy, because he had over a hundred dollars in the savings bank, which he had earned in the past five years, or which had been given to him at Christmas, and which he had saved up. But Joe had never been able to save his earnings--he had needed them all for his clothes and to help his mother out. It was Bob Sawtelle who solved that problem.

"Let's us scouts give a dance and a strawberry festival for old Joey,"

he said. "We can all of us pick some strawberries, enough for the feed, an' get our mothers to make cake, an' Bill Andrus's father'll give us the cream from his dairy, an' the girls'll help us serve, an'

everybody'll come when they know it's for old Joey, an' there'll be two hundred people there, an' we'll soak 'em fifty cents, and that'll clear 'most a hundred bones, an'----"

"And you'd better take in some breath," laughed Tom, "while I tell you that's a fine idea. It's as good as settled now."

Tom was so sure of the success of the strawberry festival, in fact, that he began at once to consider what they were going to do when they got out West. Here he had to have Mr. Rogers' help. The scout master wrote some letters, and a week later called Tom into the studio.

"I think I've got it," he said, "that is, if you are willing to work, and don't care what you do."

"That's me, when it's for old Joey," Spider declared.

"Well, here's the proposition. Ever hear of Glacier National Park?"

"I've seen some pictures of it in a magazine," said Tom. "Looked good to me, too!"

"I guess it's a pretty fine place, though I was never there. It is up in the northwestern part of Montana, on the Great Northern Railroad, and there are two big hotels in the Park, right under the mountains, and some smaller hotels they call chalets, because they are built like Swiss chalets. A friend of mine who is connected with the railroad tells me these hotels, which open late in June, always need bell-boys. They are so far from any cities, or even any towns of any sort, that it's hard to get labor out there. Now, I guess you could get a job as bellhop all right, though I don't know whether Joe's strong enough to work yet. We'd have to ask the doctor first. If he isn't, my plan would be for you to take your tent along, and two folding cot beds, and get permission to pitch it out in the woods near the hotel. You wouldn't have any other use for your money out there, so you could probably support Joe all right, and he could do the cooking. He's a good cook, isn't he?"

"Sure--the best in the patrol. He's got a merit badge for cooking, you know."

"Of course, they might object to having a tuberculous person in the hotel, but if he kept out in the woods, there wouldn't be any trouble, my friend says. Besides, Joe isn't a bad case. He's plainly getting better all the time. I think we can fix it, if you are willing to take the job, and look after him. Being a bellhop isn't just the job I'd pick out for you, or any boy, if I had the choosing. You have to be a bit of a bootlick, and people will give you tips, which is against all scout rules."

"But the tips won't be for me, they'll be for old Joey," said Tom.

"Exactly. And they will be given to you for work you do. They will really be your pay, for you won't get much other pay. It all depends on how you take them. If you serve people who don't give you tips as well and as cheerfully as you serve the others, it will be all right. We've got to get Joe well, and we can't pick and choose. So I'll put it up to you. I guess I can trust you not to become a tip hog. And if you find any better way to earn Joe's keep out there, where you won't have to take tips to get your living, you take it, won't you?"

"You bet I will!" cried Tom. "Maybe I can become a--a cowboy, or something."

Mr. Rogers smiled. "You'll have to learn to ride a horse first."

"Oh, I can ride a horse."

"You may think you can, but after you've seen a real cowboy ride, you'll know you're only in the kindergarten cla.s.s," the scout master laughed.

Now that it seemed reasonably sure that he could get Joe to the Rockies, and find a way to live after they got there, Tom went at the task of arranging the strawberry festival. Of course, he made Bob Sawtelle chairman of the "festival committee," because it was Bob's idea to start with. All the scouts whose fathers or mothers had strawberry beds were "rounded up," and a list made of how many baskets could be expected.

Little Tim Sawyer, who was clever with a pencil or brush, made several posters to hang in the post-office and the stores. Spider himself wrote some notices for the weekly paper. Mr. Martin, who owned Martin's block, where the festival was to be held, promised them the hall rent free, and as the cream was promised to them, also, and the cakes were made by the mothers, about all they had to buy was the sugar.

"Oh, we're forgetting the drinks!" Bob suddenly cried, "and the music!

We can't have a dance without music."

Some of the high school girls, Joe's cla.s.smates, promised to furnish the fruit punch, and serve it, too, so that was easily settled. The music--a pianist and two violins--the boys hired from a near-by town, at a cost of fifteen dollars. With the sugar and a few other little expenses, their total outlay was about twenty dollars. The affair was so well advertised, however, and all the scouts went around selling tickets for so many days in advance, that when the evening came (it was a fine night, too, in June), there were two hundred and fifty people in the hall, and the scouts who took tickets at the door were kept busy till their fingers ached. The strawberries were all used up, and Bob and Tom had to rush out to the drug store to buy ice-cream for some of the late comers. That cut into part of their profits, but of course they could not refuse to give something to eat to the people who had paid for it.

When the hard work of serving all these people was over, and the dancing had begun, Bob and Tom took all the money into a back room, and counted it up. With the musicians and the sugar paid for, and the ice-cream from the druggist's, there was left a little over ninety dollars clear profit.

"Hooray!" cried Tom, "that'll get old Joey to Glacier Park easy! Now, if I could only hear from my application for a job, we'd start next Monday.

School is over. Gosh, there's no sense hanging 'round here."

"Bet you hear to-morrow," said Bob. "I wish I was going, too, Spider."

"Come along," cried Tom. "It's going to be great. I'm going to get a job as a guide, or something, when I get out there and learn the ropes, and climb all over the mountains and maybe see a goat or a grizzly bear!"

"Well, you bring me a bearskin for a rug, and we'll call it quits," Bob answered. "I guess next year I'll get up a strawberry festival for myself. Maybe I can get sick, or something, this winter."

"A lot you can, you old fatty," Tom laughed. "You look about as sick as--as a pig before killing."

Bob nearly upset the pile of money, trying to reach for Tom's head, to punch it.